[center][h2]War[/h2][/center]
[hr]
[i]The Hills of Western Nalusa.[/i]

A cool, moonlit night watched over the plains. There was a chill in the air, but the Lion didn’t shiver.

Tall grass rustled gently all around. That was just the wind; the Lion crept silently through the growth, so quiet that his breaths were softer than the gentlest of sighs. Others followed close behind and low to the ground… advancing up even this little mound took the better part of two hours, but the lookouts never saw them coming.

Above the maramoda den, there were small holes gouged into the ground. That was how the beasts got air and circulation through their warrens even when the entrances were firmly shut. When the nights grew too cold or the rains came and gave the earth a chilling damp, they sometimes lit fires down there, and these holes likewise let out smoke. But this was a fireless, smokeless night just as they’d counted on.

As quietly as they could, one of the warriors took out a few hot embers from a small hide pouch, pressed them against an unlit torch, and blew. Once the fire had started, they quickly lit the other torches, and then (before they were discovered by the weary sentries!) they squeezed down the air holes, barely fitting through and halfway collapsing one or two of them, and then they fell into the warren with soft thuds. Even while under attack in the dead of night, the maramoda were disciplined enough in their convictions to not cry out or make any sound louder than a sharp whisper, but that was their own stupidity. Grunts, gurgled, and muffled gasps of pain followed as the human attackers poured through the labyrinthine tunnels and began massacring the sleeping and dazed maramoda.

Atash the Lion only broke his silence when he came before the greatest den and beheld a hulking brute in the torchlight, the maramoda gripping a spear in one hand and a club in the other. Atash had only his one spear for his other hand held the torch – without its light, he would stand no chance of fighting these rats inside their own tunnels – but he still met the challenge with a ferocious roar that seemed to shake the tunnels. It could have woken a sleeping god, if the gods truly did sleep. It could have woken the whole tribe of warriors, if the freshly slain could be roused from their slumber.

Instead the sound only drove that brute into a wild frenzy. He lunged forward with his spear and his body barreled forward not far behind the point of the spear even as Atash leaped to the side. The cramped tunnels left little room for evasion or maneuvering. A crazed close-quarters swing of the barbarian’s club almost cracked the Lion’s skull as he ducked down to barely dodge it. As Atash tried to adjust his grip on the spear to hold it further up so that its length wouldn’t be such a hindrance in the cramped duel, the end of its haft brushed against the earthen wall. There was no space!

A quick swing of the club caught him on the shoulder and fiery pain radiated through the whole of his arm, though he hardly felt or registered it in the moment. The maramoda drew back his own short spear and tried to ram it through Atash’s chest, only for the human to wave the torch in his snarling face and blind his night-eyes with the brightness, heat, and smoke. With his spear thrust into the wall with enough force to make quickly pulling it out futile, the maramoda abandoned it and spun around to face his adversary.

“I am Harga Flat-tooth,” the brute spat in a panting whisper, “and I will silence you!”

Atash bellowed and cackled from where he’d darted down the tunnel. “Your tribesmen sleep with your god now, forever. The dirt drinks their blood. I am the Lion of the Night, and I swear that before you die, you shall scream!”

Their duel was a vicious one. Orange glows and echoing shouts came from tunnels back behind where Atash’s human warriors continued their butchery, while the tunnel behind Harga had a thick door from which came the faintest sounds of mewling… the nursery.

The fevered barbarian struck a glancing blow upon Atash’s ribs with that big club of his, but even as the Lion fell down to gasp his spear shot forth at his foe’s legs like a striking snake, and its point bit into the meat of a calf. Harga winced and tried to grab at the haft of the spear, but Atash brought it back too quickly and then lunged again. This time he missed, and when Harga exploited the chance to stumble forward on his wounded leg and close the distance, he brought the club down towards the Lion’s open head. Atash swung his torch and barely deflected the blow, but then the light sputtered into nothingness as the fiery brand was knocked out of his hand and sent rolling across the dirt floor.

Darkness. But they had fought for long enough that the maramoda’s eyes had likewise grown accustomed to the torchlight, and though they would quickly adjust again, Atash still had at least a few moments to find his bearings before he would be doomed.

He scurried in a random direction to create space, then slowed his breathing even as he was exhausted. Oh, if only he could also slow his heart – it pounded like a drum, loud enough to betray his place if the maramoda’s sensitive ears could discern its sound among the tumult coming from further down.

From a short distance away in the darkness, Atash thought he just barely heard the maramoda chortle. They both knew that he was almost certainly finished now. Thoughts raced through his mind – perhaps some of his companions would come charging down the tunnel, torches in hand, to his salvation… but they all sounded preoccupied. Still, they surely would at least avenge him.

But then he smelt the stench of iron, though he did not know of iron – the Lion knew it for what it [i]truly[/i] was: [i]blood.[/i] It was Harga and his bleeding leg, that was what Atash’s gut screamed, and so he trusted in it. With all his might, he gripped his spear in both hinds and blindly pushed it through the thick darkness. Its tip found meaty flesh, and then there was a sharp gasp and the smell of more blood. The club of Harga Flat-tooth fell onto the floor with a soft thud, and Atash roared in triumph as he pushed his impaled enemy onto the ground.

[hr]

The once-hulking Harga looked frail when his shadow wasn’t so ground, lit as the tunnel was by a dozen torches. Or maybe it was just that he was resting helplessly against the rounded curve where floor met with wall, entrails spilling out of his wound.

They shouted, prodded, and threatened him as they demanded the answers to questions: [i]Where is Garza the Frown? How many warriors fight in his confederation now? Where will he attack next?[/i]

Harga laughed at them, spat out one or two last insults, and then bit off his own tongue and spat that out too. Such was the way of the maramoda.

“Start slaying the captives before this chief, then,” the Lion of the Night decreed, and his bloodthirsty warriors were all too eager to knock down the doors of the nursery, the storerooms, and everywhere else where the young, the old, the wives, and the weak had been hiding. One by one, surviving maramoda were dragged into that tunnel and brutalized before him, but he did nothing but glare with defiance and hatred.

Atash grabbed Harga by the hair. Still fighting, the dying brute tried to bite at the Lion’s hand and claw at his chest, but it was futile. “Yes, we know that you can still talk with your hands. So tell us about Garza, or we will flay your children alive.”

Desperation flashed through those beady black eyes for a brief instant, and some choking wail escaped from the chieftain’s throat, distorted as it was by the ruined tongue. There was the screaming that the Lion had promised. There was a pregnant pause, and then Harga offered a few strange gestures and hand-signs, but Atash no longer liked the look in those eyes.

“What did that mean?” one of the warriors sharply demanded from a marawoman. When she gasped and didn’t answer quick enough, she was struck by the blunted end of a spear. “He curses you, and says that you will learn nothing from him, for we are all already dead,” she half cried, half whispered.

Atash answered with an enraged roar that made them all wince in terror, but no sleeping god woke up at the sound and came to save the maramoda from his wrath.

[center]---[/center]

It wasn’t long before they found where Garza the Frown had been. Atash and his warband had ventured far to the west, deep into maramoda territory, seeking to find the demon who had united all the disparate bickering tribes against mankind and led the most vicious of their campaigns. If they had found and slain him in his hole rather than that petty chieftain Harga, [i]perhaps[/i] the war could have been over if no other warlord rose up to fill that void, but by sheer coincidence Garza had been ranging far away on some attempt to bring yet more tribes into the fold.

When news spread, he had quickly turned around and brought his band back to defend his allies, but the local maramoda had not been idle while Atash rampaged through their lands either. Some other brute of a chieftain had assembled his own host and began trailing after the marauding humans, so now they were trapped, encircled in unknown and enemy territory with two warbands coming to soon combine and then finish them off.

Some suggested that they try to move by night and cover of darkness to make it back to their own lands, but they were too distant now,  and so Atash had instead ordered them to quickly occupy a place where there were some rolling hills bestride a small stream that cut through the otherwise flat grasslands. Atop the steepest of those small rises they made camp; that was the most advantageous place they could make a stand, and they would need every advantage and good fortune besides to have any hope at all. They were perhaps outnumbered three or four to one, the Lion reckoned.

“The moon goddess has led us to this place,” Atash the Night-Lion proclaimed to his warriors, “And the Great Sun decrees that we fight and water the grass with blood. So it shall be! Sharpen your spears! The beasts are coming, but we are not afraid – let them fear us and learn to cower in their silent holes!”

Then came the arrival of the dawn, earlier than expected and accompanied by a cascading wave of euphonious music filling a brightening sky now painted with a myriad of colors. Rivers of light danced in rhythm to a great and tremendous melody that thundered across the lands, and was the only warning before three titans suddenly appeared in the sky, led by a shimmering streak that became a bejeweled vessel with four fiery haired girls standing upon the prow looking down upon those that kept to the earth.

Spectacular as that sight was, it didn’t entrance the men on that hill so thoroughly that they failed to witness the great hordes of maramoda. Hundreds of the beasts had been approaching the high ground under cover of night and dead silence, but when this divine radiance burnt away the darkness, they were left to just simmer, covering their ears at the unholy din and cursing the sky-demons with every obscene gesture that their fingers could contort into.

The three titans danced languidly in the sky - their immense shapes seemed untethered to the weight of the world, unfazed by the wind or any known weather, as those that descended from the heavens were beyond mortal phenomena. The two stone-covered, metallic colossi were each the size of a mountain, and each had another burning maiden standing atop their crowns. The third giant was larger than the other two combined, possessing six vast wings and covered in scales and feathers as opposed to rock and metal. They reared their legs and beat their wings as the otherworldly song was heard throughout the rolling hills and the far away plains.

[b][i]“I am Anath Homura, Goddess of War, and I have come to test the mettle of those that wish to become true warriors!”[/i][/b] An echoing voice called out from everywhere at once, shaking the world with its power and authority. [b][i]“Cease this farce of a conflict, and gather before me! Else, know the ire of the Divine, She Who Carries the Radiant Flames of Heaven!”[/i][/b] Homura proclaimed, and the water of the nearby steam became red like blood, and arose like steps leading towards a great glittering platform of silver and gold that had manifested.

The souls who glowed brightest, leaders of each pack in the knotted fray, heard her words. Unlike those around them, however, they found their resistance lowered. Homura was not magically compelling other than her Divine might, but nonetheless, those who might otherwise have foolishly resisted found themselves persuaded. A small musical note, beyond the reaches of mortal hearing, in each of their ears. Why should they fight and die? War is hell, and the intervention of a Goddess of War to solve their conflict in an orderly and honorable fashion could only be good.

Desire sagged, exhausted by her workings. Never had she used her aspect so quickly on so many individuals. Looking at her sisters, she flashed a weak thumbs up, the signal that she had done her part. The plan could proceed and the mortals should listen to reason, logic, and Honor. As Desire looked away, however, Wanderer saw a flash of green among the red. The kind of tell that one would miss by blinking. But Homura’s champion was a cut above mere mortals and did not blink.

Without further word, Courage and her Reflection leapt from Skydancer, falling from the sky - a height that no man could survive - and alighted gracefully upon the platform where they stood on the edges and peered out towards the men encamped upon the hill, and the horde that had been approaching. Courage II strode to the point where the red waters reached them, and began walking down the crimson steps, as though the water were earth beneath her feet. As she descended, she beckoned to those closest to her, the humans upon the hill, inviting them with open arms and a warm smile, though strange were the swirling markings upon her skin that acted as though they were alive.

Silence.

“We do not know you, Anath Homura, or any of the rest of you,” one of the impious warriors eventually stated. No vitriol hid in those words, but it was the plain truth. The Great Sun, the Watching Moon, and the occasional tales of the River Spirit or Voligan the Earthheart dwelled within the minds and hearts of Nalusites, but they knew nothing of their maker Homura. Had she not borne the dawn to herald her arrival, they might have questioned whether she could even speak on behalf of that Great Sun that had bid them fight.

[b][i]“That is why I have come, as the Emissary of our Lords, the Kings in Heaven, those whom rule over reality. Come forth, Children of the Sun and Moon, and receive enlightenment, or remain blinded by ignorance… Let it be known I shall not allow heresy in my presence to continue.”[/i][/b] As the goddess spoke from everywhere and nowhere, massive red pillars slowly emerged from edges of the vast and glistening golden dais, reaching higher and higher until their peaks were close to the three titans suspended in the sky, and the luminous vessel carrying its blazing passengers.

The silver and gold platform continued to swiftly expand, becoming larger and larger until it was extensive enough to easily hold both of the two [i]smaller[/i] gigantic creatures. When the expanding of the dais and pillars came to a halt, Skydancer and its entourage descended to the base of the newly created colossal temple wherein the titans occupied the north and southern sections, leaving a spacious center where the soaring vessel finally alighted. The skyborne structure hung between the humans and the majority of the maramodas, suspended higher than the tallest hill, with endless stairs of scarlet water leading up to its central entrance.

With a single leap, Courage flew from where she stood on the first step, and landed among the warriors of the Nalusites. “Walk with me brothers, if you truly wish to live.” She exclaimed with an excited grin, her skin dancing with the marks of sorcery, and her eyes burning with cosmic lucidity. She pointed back towards the temple, to where Courage II on the platform’s precipice was gesturing for them to approach; to climb the beginning steps of ascension. The massive six-winged being that dwelled above roared in response, and its bellow shook the land once more.

Cowed into obeisance by the splendor and awed by the sights, the men did as they were told. One by one they filed towards that temple hewn from magic, mounting the staircase and beginning the long climb. None among them were prophets, for under Atash, the prophets of Kartar’s ilk had been cast down from their revered roles. Still, they did not need the Sight when they could [i]Feel[/i] the radiant power… but also the seething rage of all the maramoda around the hillock’s base. This was salvation from what would have been death – glorious but certain death.

Atop the steps, before the site wherein the goddess awaited them. They were greeted by the motionless and eerily silent sentinels that were the two colossi on each side of the entrance, and then by a gathering of six scarlet daughters of the divine whom welcomed them with a mingling of aloof and friendly faces - the bejeweled Skydancer floating just beyond them. As the last of the men reached the dais with plenty of room to move freely, the steps behind them fell back to the earth, severing their connection to the material plane… there would have to be another means of leaving this sacred space.

The daughter wielding the golden spear spoke, and from her came the voice of Anath Homura. [b][i]“Who among you leads? Who among you wishes to wield the blade and become royalty? Who among you is worthy?”[/i][/b] The fiery maiden asked, approaching them with blazing eyes and otherworldly grace, their minds touched with the unknown and profound by her mere presence.

Atash knew not what a blade was, but he understood what it meant to lead, and certainly had ideas about what made a man worthy. “I have led warriors across rivers, through the high grass, and into the depths of maramoda lairs. None are stronger than I!”

[b][i]“Tell me then, why do your people continually clash with those that now seek your demise? The creatures outside this temple would have overrun you and your brothers, had I not intervened.”[/i][/b] She directly addressed Atash, voice and visage burning like a hot flame as she came near, yet his skin was never seared. Her eyes then glittered like inquisitive rubies where he could see his reflection watching him, as the voice and avatar of Anath Homura received its answer in the next breath.

“We have hunted them in their own lands for weeks and overran many of their lairs. Never has my band been scattered! Who are you, of little faith, to say that we would have been scattered? Have you the Sight of the moon? I say that were the darkness not peeled back, then in the night I would have found Garza and smote him with mine own hand, and so won this war.”

With a flick of her hand, she lifted Atash into the air and slowly spun him around, letting all of those gathered around to observe him from every angle. [b][i]“By your own hand, hmm…”[/i][/b] She murmured, as she held out her own hand and pulled upon his limbs with unseen forces. Splashes of scarlet energy spread along the Nalusite, as his hand was severed from the rest of him and brought to the maiden where she carefully examined it. Despite the loss of his hand, no blood or viscera seeped from the fleshy stump at the end of his arm, while he remained suspended and silenced above his companions.

[b][i]“Water and wind and earth melded so freely together, miring the flames. How grotesque. I am curious, I do not know this Garza, but the true enemies beyond this temple cannot be slain with your meager strength and weak weapons. You are losing this war, and I find that I cannot simply watch from afar as my creations are led astray.”[/i][/b] Homura remarked before returning the thoroughly studied hand back to Atash, reattaching the appendage where it belonged and lowering the man back to the floor.

[b][i]“You are not winning, and have yet to prove you are worthy of leadership. I wish for you to become true warriors, and that requires you to train yourselves further, to transcend your limitations. This farce with the maramoda wastes time and effort. I shall end it, and discipline both sides for this mockery in view of the Divine.”[/i][/b] As she spoke, it began to reverse-rain; bloody droplets rising from all around and ascending towards the heavens where many luminous clouds coalesced and gathered rainrise. Anath Homura strode towards the edge of the temple and stared out across the landscape bloody tears soared skyward while the earth wept.

“Courage and Desire. Bring me the leader of the maramoda, and any among their number who seek enlightenment.” Homura ordained, and though the men of Nalusa could not see her true veiled form which still stood upon the prow of Skydancer, her two named champions saw past the illusion to the actual location their mother was - where she pointed outwards and awaited for the deliverance of what she asked for.

Desire stood, hopping down and speeding unerringly in the direction of the leader of the maramoda. Courage followed with her, the plan exchanged mentally in mere moments. Though the heavy use of her aspect earlier had taken much out of her, Desire was still a champion of Homura. The two of them could easily locate and persuade any number of mortal creatures, humans or maramoda. 

Landing before the maramoda, the mismatched sisters addressed the gathered crowd, voices booming out. “Leader of the maramoda and any of you who seek to walk the Sacred Path! The temple of Anath Homura soars above you! Come forth and be enlightened! Come forth and become more than you are now! Come forth and claim your place beneath the Chosen!” 

Green eyes and gold gauntlet flashing, the two stood implacable before the angered masses. Their arrogance stemmed from Divine right, and they bore no heed to the maramodan preference for quiet.

The maramoda recoiled collectively and thrust their heads down, wincing and covering their ears or stuffing them with grass. Between the low groans, pained glances and frenzied gestures coursed through the hordes. The undulating din was just loud enough, and the grass underfoot just dampening enough, that the pounding footsteps of Garza’s charge were muffled until the last second. There was no warcry or bellow as he leapt into the air, club in hand, ready to maul Desire.

Unfortunately for Garza the Frown, Desire was a trained champion of Homura. In the blink of an eye, he was disarmed and facedown in the dirt before her. Not so much as a scratch marred her clothes, nor a single strand of hair astray. “Your leader has fallen! Stop your fight and pledge yourselves to the Sacred Path! There is no victory or honor in senseless bloodshed. Submit to the honorable Path, decide the victor in a better way!”

They hurled stones and sticks and clods of dirt at her in response, even as Garza’s muddied chin broke its characteristic scowl just long enough for him to open his mouth and bite at her ankle. Desire’s sole response was a spine-shattering reverse kick, coupled with a continued glower at the rebellious people before her. Couldn’t they tell that they were being unreasonable?

“Courage, take him back. He shouldn’t cause trouble. I’ll deal with the rest of them.”

Courage and Courage II had preoccupied themselves with attempting to communicate while also striking the myriad of maramoda all around them. They gently poked and prodded their foes with incredible precision, causing many to lose all strength in their limbs, or to just collapse entirely. Wanderer and Wanderer II fired arrows of light aimed to hit nearby their sisters, manifesting into glittering golden chains that entangled the numerous maramoda attempting to encircle those on the ground, though such support seemed unnecessary. The shifting symbols of the Gnosis shielded their skin as they internally cast the Incantation of Warding, and all sharpened stone and wooden spears, along with hurled rocks, simply bounced away from their bodies.

Leaping on the masses, Courage jumped to where Desire was, and lifted the paralyzed Garza above her before making her retreat. In a few swift strides and mighty bounds, she had flown over the horde and soared upwards to where the temple hung above. Courage II made her way to Desire, shoving and pushing maramoda out of her path before coming to a brief halt in front of her sister. “I don't think they're interested in coming with us, ya.” She said as she struck four maramoda in the blink of an eye, and tossed them back beyond those that still assailed them.

“No, I guess not,” Desire agreed, covering Courage’s retreat while following along herself. What a tragedy. An entire people, ungrateful for their creation and refusing to follow in the steps of the Divine. Desire allowed herself another moment of maudlin reflection before putting the maramoda’s plight out of her head for the time being. There was a war to adjudicate, after all, and she was there to learn from the best.

Courage laid out the broken Garza before Skydancer, where both the true veiled visage of Homura stood, as well as the illusion of Anath Homura that the Nalusites saw. The leader of the maramoda found that the pain he felt suddenly vanished, as white light poured forth from the palms of Courage, Wanderer, and Wanderer II, which seeped into him and was accompanied by the sharp and crunchy sounds of his spine being restored. However, now he stood before the self-proclaimed goddess of war, and her small form stared down on him, wielding a golden spear in one hand.

[b][i]“Why do you continually clash with these men? I see no evil in your eyes… What is your name, one who would oppose me?”[/i][/b] Homura inquired, scrutinizing Garza with her piercing gaze.

Not even a goddess could make that baleful glower bend; it was chiseled forever onto Garza’s visage. He pointed at it. She probably still didn’t understand. Loud, idiot of a sky-demon!

He grabbed his upper for emphasis and tugged at it, baring the sight of the yellowed teeth within his maw for a second – [i]’this is I, the Frown.’[/i]

A stubby finger pointed accusingly at her, and then at Atash, and then around in a great big circle – [i]‘you, you, [b]all[/b] of you…’[/i] He held a fist close to his mouth and opened it, splaying the fingers out of his hand and throwing it forward into the air, a few twists and sharp turns mingling with the motion, [i]’are too [b]damn[/b] loud!’[/i]

His head tilted and his eyes closed for a moment, then they seemed to burst open with a hatred that wasn’t even half mimery – [i]’and you will awaken the Magnificent Sleeper!’[/i]

Homura held up her hands, gesturing to all of the great and golden pillars that pierced the heavens that she erected with her power. She gestured to herself and then her shape shimmered like water beneath the majestic sun, before becoming translucent, and Garza could see that beneath the surface of her mien, there blazed a primordial flame - for her body was only an illusion and the truth of her form would be too much for any mortal to perceive. Languidly, the flames approached and engulfed the maramoda, before harmlessly passing over him, yet Homura had not moved.

Then she peered away, and held out a hand to the side, gently caressing the nothingness beside her, before stepping back and beginning a swirling stride around where Garza stood, her ethereal motions like the distant sands following the wind along the many ridges of the dune-filled desert, like the light of the receding sun bathing the land in a bloody, feverish, and dreamlike beauty that was the last vestiges of warmth before the coming of the cold night, and so she too left him, and that same coldness descended upon the maramoda.

She came to halt in front of him once more, her eyes closed and her stance very still. When she opened her eyes, tongues of pale flames came out and danced like vipers in the tall grass. Her hand reached out with fingers curled like claws, and surged towards Garza before he could move, and she spoke, but no words came from her lips. Her clawed hand became delicate, fingers straightened outwards and beside each other, as she passed the appendage over her face, and her eyes were returned to their previous state.

The gesticulations were all recondite to Garza, whose frown only seemed to deepen as he snorted. At least she was being quiet now. She paced and forth, contemplating for a moment before she held up a hand and spoke softly. [b][i]“Your people have been defeated, and are hereby claimed as my prisoners, including yourself. In shadows and silence you will dwell, until I have a reason to bring you back into the light.”[/i][/b]

Outside the temple, the land rumbled and churned as a beastial burden was lifted from it - the horde of maramodas no longer rampaged across the earth, instead the entirety of their vast assembly had been lifted into the bloody sky, and held there imprisoned by an unseen power. All of them could do nothing more than flail helplessly, as the immense Phoenix stirred and set forth into the maelstrom of mortals with the thunderous beating of her six wings. The colossal spirit began burning brightly, too intensely vivid for even those that had closed their eyes to possess any protection against being blinded, and then she was among them.

Though they could no longer see, and were deafened by both the otherworldly music and the clamorous presence of Charis, all of the maramodas could feel the Umati as she passed through them and murmured her chthonic melody. She never pushed or tossed any of them, intangible in her true shape, but nonetheless she guided them towards the temple where the two other colossi emerged from, akin to a mother directing her children back to home where their elder siblings awaited.

[b][i]“I shall bring these slaves back to Keltra. My Heralds; Courage and Desire, I leave you in command of this site. I will return swiftly.”[/i][/b] Anath Homura proclaimed, as the glamor of the goddess vanished, and Skydancer carrying the hidden veiled Homura arose into the air. As she spoke, thousands upon thousands of the maramodas fell unconscious and were gently lulled into the two colossi, reminiscent of the times when humanity had been transported in such a manner. Garza himself was levitated upwards, and there was a crack in the air as even the fierce leader among the horde fell into a peaceful slumber, that menacing frown gouged into his face even in sleep.

With grace and fluidity, the two colossi were laden with their captured cargo, and led by both the goddess and the Phoenix back from whence they came. The far reaching heavenly music, and the light of day left with them, leaving the temple and its populace in the quiet of night once again. Courage had gathered with her sisters and the Reflections, speaking telepathically through their bond. “Well, that was easier than expected… I reckon we should speak to our brothers, ya?” Her gaze drifted towards the Nalusites still present as she shared her thoughts.

[hider=Summary]War rages in western Nalusa where men fight maramoda. Atash the lion and his warriors assail a maramoda den, and emerge victorious. Garza the Frown gathers his much larger number of warriors and marches upon where Atash has positioned his forces, and the two sides are about to engage in a great battle which would certainly lead to the demise of Atash and those with him.

Homura and her heralds arrive on the scene, pulling the humans out before they could die, and explaining that she will deal with this conflict and educate mortals on the way of warfare. She moves onto the maramodas, capturing and questioning Garza, but comes to the decision that the maramodas should just remain in Keltra for the time being. She takes the maramodas after putting them all to sleep, and leaves her heralds to deal with the humans.[/hider]
[hider=Vigor]Homura spends 3 Vigor to create the monument: Temple of War, which is resilient building that protects its inhabitants, and lets them conjure tools to train and practice with.
Homura has 0 Vigor remaining.

Desire doesn't expend any Vigor.[/hider]
[hider=Spirit]Courage, Courage II, Wanderer, Wanderer II, and Charis all gain 4 Spirit.

The Holy Quintet and the Order of the Phoenix both gain 2 Prestige.[/hider]