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[h1][color=palevioletred]Marhazannet[/color][/h1][/center]
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	[color=757163][i]Sorriso is banished to the Omenaxan, and Virang stands poised to seize the day. Black King, however, has other plans, and calls in a favor from an exorcist. The demon, a fraud, shrinks back in fear, but Zarina's wildblood manas awaken and tip the scales back to a neutral position. The dragon and the exorcist prepare to battle, the dragon indistinguishable from a demon in the eyes of the Palaparese rebels. They seem evenly matched, but will anything survive their climactic showdown?[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar 5: The Dragon and the Demon][color=757163]It seemed that, for the time being, Devasa had been held off by friendlies and central command was safe. That was just as well, for Marco was healed not so very far from there. He was sitting on a cot, his armour on the floor, flexing his freshly healed calf when a tall black-clad figure appeared in the doorway. It was King. [color=gold]"You've dealt with demons before?"[/color] It wasn't really a question.

Marco did not immediately answer his partner in crime, but instead experimentally kicked at the air as high as he could, then held his foot there for several seconds. He seemed to be testing the strength of his leg, and after a brief silence transpired between the Volti and his prospective recruit, the Century appeared satisfied with the work of the medics and began preparing himself for battle once more. Their attempts at undressing him had nearly caused Marco's identity to be exposed. He had to fight tooth and nail to keep their mitts off of his helmet, which was the only piece of armor he refused to remove when the healers diagnosed his injuries.

Taking a knee in front of "King", Marco buckled the straps of his shin brace and tucked his pants into an armored boot. [color=7b6c64]"I don't deal with demons Black King. I [b]exterminate[/b] them. It's kind of the reason why the Century recruited me in the first place."[/color]

King waved him off. [color=gold]"[i]Is[/i] there any other way to deal with them?"[/color] he replied, gesturing out the tent flap with his chin. [color=gold]"Feel that flash of temporal magic - the one outside your range that's big enough that you still pick it up?"[/color] He nodded. [color=gold]"That's where [i]we[/i] need to go."[/color]

Then, he paused. He tugged at his ear and furrowed his brow. [color=gold]"You first. I'll be there."[/color] he stalked out of the room.

It was time to get back into the fight. Marco quickly inspected his weapons which were still splayed across the table atop a long roll of sackcloth. They were in quite the pathetic state after his run ins with Selma and the harlequin kite. Haghoridir's mana reservoir was still pulling material out of the environment in an effort to repair itself, and in its present state was barely two inches long at its broken tip. His witchwood bow, made from the living root of a writhing tree, was partially charred from magma and dragon fire and would require some tender loving care under the hands of a skilled binder. They were basically useless. 

[color=7b6c64]"I will return for you when this is over my dear friends."[/color] Marco tenderly brushed his fingers across the hilt of his trusted sword and then exited his tent without hesitation. Tools were not what made him strong. A Century's greatest asset was and always would be the strength of their faith, their body, and their Gift. 

An unexpected surprise awaited Marco as a familiar war horse appeared from beyond his line of sight and bumped his shoulder with her snout. It was the same horse that he had borrowed when he rode to recapture Tiger Hill. There was a scar on her rump where she had taken a stray bullet, although the healers had clearly patched her up. It seemed that her owner had still not come back. Maybe they never would. 

[color=7b6c64]"You're eager to bring an end to this war too, aren't you gal?"[/color] Marco climbed into the horse's saddle and affectionately stroked her mane. The chestnut colored steed flicked her tail in approval and released a gentle whinny. [color=7b6c64]"Hyah!"[/color] Marco shook the reins and took off in the direction of his most dangerous opponent of all. The moonlight was growing stronger now. Her signature was unmistakable. Zarina's power was comparable to only a handful of opponents he'd faced in his entire life, and he wasn't sure he would win this time. To say that he wasn't afraid would be a lie, but it was his ability to keep moving forward in spite of his fear that proved his devotion to Eshiran. He would die on his feet before he ran away from his duty. That would never happen again.

Zarina was, indeed, entranced. No response from her, pupils wide and matching the shape of Ipte's bloody moon she fixated. Marco knew she was going to turn. He could end this now, but alas, here stood a genuine monster seeking nothing more than the havoc the dragon would bring. The sort of game he so happened to specialize in.

The demon licked their lips, restoring order was not part of her objectives. The boy only called to her with the desire to kill the yellow masked Volto. . . and since they're no longer able to clash for a loooong time,  that means she has free reigns, right? But for as long as the scaly woman amuses her, she will play along. 

They noticed a foreign rebel approaching the entranced Zarina. Reshanas's grin disappeared for just a second. He did not look as interesting as the yellow masked one, nor did he hold the presence of the dragon lady. Since the fat man was quite filling, she only needed a small snack and the horse will do fine enough. . . and to watch a potential fall made it all the more appetizing. 

[color=C71585]"No, no, no. You won't ruin my fun. Missus Scales is for me."[/color] And she drew from the galloping mount.

And so the Century fell, just as the demon hoped he would. Marco had just come within eyesight of his quarry when he was suddenly flung from his saddle. He rolled into the fall with his shoulder, then his back, and finally landed in a low crouch. He turned his head to look for his horse, and was stung in the chest when he realized that the poor beast was literally falling apart at the skin, as if something was rapidly aging her into dust. She never stood a chance.

Marco straightened up and glared at the demoness from underneath his helmet. He was pissed now. [color=7b6c64][i]I thought Soldato was joking. That's an actual fucking demon. Feels like one from the top of the hierarchy. What would have happened if I wasn't here today?[/i][/color] Angling his gaze to the left, he could plainly see that Zarina's transformation was already halfway complete. Maybe he could still take her out of he acted now, but based on the demon's actions he could assume that it would do everything it could to get in his way. It was better to send this... thing back to the depths of hell so it wouldn't have a chance to team up with its Wildblood companion, whose body was already starting to grow beyond the constraints of her armor. 

[color=7b6c64]"False angel who steals the hearts of men, know that you have come here seeking only your demise! You stand before a scion of the sacred Pentad, and by my power you shall drink the wrath of Eshiran!"[/color] Marco's magic signature rapidly shifted into an unrecognizable wavelength. Whatever drawing source he was pulling from, it did not exist in this material plane, and it was not a kind of energy that the succubus was fond of at all. Just like particles annihilated on contact with antiparticles, there existed aberrations that could turn a human being into the antithesis on demonkind. Marco was one such mage, having consumed a white aberration in his childhood which granted him the power of an Exorcist, and as his manas grew fat with power, so too did the blinding aura that was visible only to the demon of Ipte. 

[color=7b6c64]"Begone!"[/color] Marco roared and blasted the vile being with a wave of holy magic.

[color=C71585]"Gross, are you a church boy? . ."[/color] The demon looked a little grossed out by their sheer being. [color=C71585]"Always so upright and brave. Mommy or daddy Eshi will be so proud o—h shit!"[/color]

The aura instilled hesitence within the demon. Soon the body would change, the frame becoming less overtly feminine.

[color=C71585][i]No more naps, mister vessel.[/i][/color] They shook the very soul of the rat. 

[color=C71585][i]Till you next time, Fisky.[/i][/color]
After a short while the demon had become but a human. A human that would inevitably get hit by the church boy's holy magic. It stung, it hurt, but in comparison, it could have been worse.

The little time Faiskal's now form bought for Zarina was enough for the gnarly metamorphosis to complete. A big puddle of blood was left at the wake of numerous bones cracking, skin ripping and scales piercing through what was once human flesh. Thick and not yet coagulated, the mass of red was all that was left behind as the creature had simply vanished the moment attention was brought away from the demon and toward the moon-enthralled Virangish.

Following the compulsory shit-eating the recently possessed had to undergo, the threads of time and space rattled and echoed loud enough for Marco to be tipped off. Something was coming, something big. In an instant, she was to his right, though he had since seen it coming. She wasn't close enough to be literally breathing on him, but the immense heat generated from her core and the stench of sulfur were already overpowering. No attack came just yet, only an ebony creature hunched and on all fours.

Her face held evidence of her humanity, it resembled Zarina in many ways, but the bone structure had slightly alterned to favour more draconic traits. The horns had matured, curled like a goat's and had reduced her hairline by a good third, though said hair still remained and flowed in the endless gusts of wind born of the tempest of war. Her eyes were still amber, though they were just that, amber with no white sclerae and a singular, reptilian pupil. Teeth were thick, visible from her consistently parted lips. The rest of her body was covered in black scales, thick and mightier than most metals. A true apex predator, said to be long extinct by the few experts on the subject. Her arms were perhaps the most altered, being almost twice the normal length if one followed proportions and a membrane connecting them to the dragon's core. 

Zarina pushed on her hind legs, standing before the large, red moon and casting a mighty shadow on the Century. A good ten feet, if one counted the horns and she stood completely upright - a feat she did not display so far.

[color=#000000]“You should.”[/color] an unnatural pause from an even more unnatural voice. Her vocal cords had adjusted to the massive change in her throat's anatomy, creating this distorted, human-dragon mix where the latter was winning. One had to imagine a constantly roaring dragon, with its hisses and groans, trying to speak, all the while having the the pitch of a young woman. [color=#000000]“Go.”[/color]

Marco's entire body was paralyzed. He felt like if he moved even an inch, this beast with the face of a woman would bite his head from his shoulders. Every breath was taken manually, every heartbeat filled with fear-induced adrenaline. The young Century could feel his gloves pooling with sweat. He couldn't help himself. No matter how mature he was mentally, this body he had stolen from his past self was still just that of a student. Some fears could only be overcome through physical experience, and that he currently lacked. 

[color=7b6c64][i]She can manipulate time just as easily as I can. What am I going to do?[/i][/color] Marco licked the perspiration from his lips. Black King possessed magic that the holy knight had never encountered before. He had outrageously strong allies of his own. That man had to come to [i]him[/i] to finish the job. Something had gone horribly wrong with their plans. If it had come to this, then Marco's defeat would probably result in the complete capitulation of the entire Republic army. That burden placed a weight on his shoulders that he wasn't sure he could carry on his own.

[color=7b6c64][i]I guess I'll just go for it! If I can't beat her, the war will continue exactly as it did before and the future will be lost![/i][/color] The two enemies stood frozen, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. The wind pulled a leaf from a small sapling a short distance away, and when it touched the grass, Marco and Zarina vanished from sight. 

An unseen impact caused the ground to explode, leaving behind a smoking crater. Invisible forces collided and created a rippling shockwave that blew back any bystanders that happened to be standing nearby, impossible for a normal person to see with the naked eye. The fighters clashed with fist and tooth and claw, sparring at the speed of light as they engaged in a battle of temporal acceleration. Only a few bystanders who hadn't fled the scene could even comprehend the individual movements exhibited by each duelist. A stone crushing backfist which passed over Zarina's head. A blade-like talon that missed Marco's throat by centimeters. This was not a showdown between humans any longer.

For every four missed attacks from either party, one collided with the other. Colossal powers clashed and ushered in shockwaves that inevitably swept those nearby and left lines of craters in their wake. An imperceivable fight that took lives seemingly at random, Virangish and Rebel alike. A sense of dread washed over all those that witnessed the event, an experience no different than a rookie's first fire fight where at any second a bullet could enter their skull. At any moment, it would be lights out, no matter what they did.

Zarina was truly a beast, relentless and indifferent to any sort of punishment she'd take. Tales of her scales were anything but hyperbolic, they could sponge the mightiest of cleavers and regrew at a staggering rate. An arm was even sacrificed at one point, only for a new one to progressively burst out of the stump until fully renewed. To compare her to a demon was about as accurate as said tales. And she wasn't all defense either, every strike came with the potential to end things. Bites, slashes, jabs, tail whips. Then came the fiery breath and its toxic aftermath. This thing was truly an instrument of Ahn-Eshiran, administering pure death by design. What sort of animal could exist to produce such a specimen?

The core heated up more and more as their brawl persisted with little progress on either side. The hotter it got, the brighter the flames were, until their converted into pure, death rays of nuclear devastation. Land cut by these blades of blue energy soon erupted into flames. And following the beams were her very claws igniting with that same, destructive energy - a human touch, she still had a partially human mind. There were tactics, she recognized his approaches. 

Something was coming. The escalation of her destructive capabilities promised as much. It was going to be devastating. Standing near her would be unbearable to most without Marco's abilities.

In the middle of their fight, the titans wordlessly concluded that they were equally matched in their ability to twist and pull the threads of spacetime, and with an explosion of light the warriors reappeared into view. Marco swung his fists only to have them caught in the palms of her scaly hands, pushing the two of them into a contest of strength. For a few seconds they were dead even, but it didn't take long until his boots began to sink into the ground. Even with full body kinetic augmentation, he was still just a human. He could see the glint of humor in the creature's eyes as she patiently overpowered him, not even exerting the maximum extent of her strength. 

Rather than let his arms get ripped out of their sockets, Marco ended the struggle by jumping into the air and kicking at Zarina's exposed chin. The wildblood released her grip and swayed backwards, leaving him hanging helplessly in midair long enough to deliver a punishing kick to his midsection. The rebellion's final weapon was sent flying across the field like a ragdoll. 

Forcing himself to his feet once more, the wounded Century struggled to regain his focus as his vision blurred from sweat and exhaustion. When he tried to breathe, he felt pain deep inside of his chest. Marco had caused more damage than he received, but his opponent possessed endless stamina and regeneration. The longer they fought, the more the scales tipped in Zarina's favor. 

[color=7b6c64]"Grr...! It's not over yet!"[/color] Marco stretched his arms out and used his telekinesis to steal a pair of bayonets from the rifles of two fallen soldiers, then took a new stance. His body began to vibrate rapidly as he kicked his acceleration into high gear, but unlike their first clash Marco was not altering the flow of time. This was pure physical speed. The Century's afterimage was disappearing and reappearing so quickly that one Marco became two. The twin warriors closed the gap between themselves and Zarina at breakneck speed, leaving a massive trench in the earth created in the wake of his kinetic charge. A pair of blades swung at Zarina from both sides, but only one of them was the real Marco. Would she avoid and counterattack? Was her regeneration so powerful that she could simply take the attack head on and crush him? He didn't know or care. He was just using every trick he had to try and catch her off guard.

Two enemies. It hardly mattered which was fake and which would explode should she stare at it long enough. They both were going to be swallowed by the dragon's fury. 

Space was instantaneously created between Zarina and literally everything around her - an omnidirectional Extend Space bolstered by an inhuman magic capacity. Marco was also a temporal mage and could likely adapt, but his approach no longer had the coordination he had hoped for. And with this change in distances came a sudden burst of searing heat from her body. The closer he got, the more intense the heat and the stronger the metal taste in the air was. If he hadn't caught on already, the area was becoming increasingly irradiated. 

The peak of this exchange was imminent. The absurd power accumulated in the nuclear reactor that was her core - her very heart - was ready to unleash Eshiran's flame. In a singular flap of her arm-wings, she generated a tempest of wind and repositioned herself high above. 

A final, quake-inducing draw rang like a swan song to those that met the dragon's gaze. It was now or never, Marco.

Marco could feel, in that moment, something reach for him through the distorted space and time all about. It was a tentative tether: a lifeline from someone less well-versed in temporal magic, but it was an anchor nonetheless, and it reached him and bound him to this moment in time should he need to return to it.

Lunti could feel them again: too close, the monsters. Above, a little red dragon shot up at a vast grey one. The first one was an ally, he thought. Then they were thrashing about in the sky and anybody remotely close might die from it.

He ran and an enemy soldier swiped at him, but she missed and then they were apart and it was pointless to turn back and try to kill her, for she was not pursuing him. He missed a step and stumbled over a boot. It was heavy and there was probably a foot in it, but he didn't have time to consider, as it was all that Lunti could do to keep his balance. He hoped that Sinta was away from the dragons. 

Then, with no warning, the world... stretched. It stopped making sense and he was in the same spot but everything between he and the distant hellscape where the yawa and the armoured man fought seemed longer and further. He stumbled back without understanding and broke his own cardinal rule. 

It was both the most and the least surprising thing as a bayonet pierced him through the back and poked out of his bloodstained jacket.

Marceline had been trying to get through to Zarina for the past three minutes, but she could not find her half the time. The battle had stained the ground with the blood of over ten thousand casualties on each side. These two things combined to remind her of just how small she was and how little she could do. 

There was nothing. Zarina was lost to the dragon and its fury and, if Marco did what she thought he was going to do, they might both be dead from it. Already, Marci could feel the first hints of temporal pressure building: just a slight feeling of tightness atop her stomach, a little discomfort behind the eyes. The spell that she now cast, taking one of the rare moments that her sister was accessible and pulling free a thread from space and time for her, would accelerate the discomfort. She had the sense that it wouldn't matter, though. An end was coming. She knew it. One way or another, it was imminent.

With a single spell, the path of time split into branches. How many times did Marceline try to save Marco only for him to die on the spot? Because of the laws of nature, there was no way for either of them to comprehend the countless tragic fates he suffered as he was slain by Eshiran's flames. Too slow to react, too weakened by radiation sickness, too hesitant to end the life of a fellow student of the academy. In countless versions of history, this was where the Century's life came to an end. 

But today's history was the one in which Marceline succeeded. She watched from afar with bated breath as the battered soldier reached for the sky and began to absorb the dragon's attack, protecting the hundreds of Virangish and Palaparese soldiers who would have otherwise succumbed to a roiling wave of atomic fire. Nobody really believed that his capacity could match that of a draconic wildblood. Many began to pray as they waited for the end to come, as the foreign warrior, mighty as he was, would inevitably reach his limit and die from an overdraw. That was the natural conclusion that they expected to take place. 

So why could they feel his power still growing? 

[color=7b6c64]"Hah... hah.... are you there Soldato?"[/color] Marco gasped. He could feel the magusjaeger nearby, but the Volti's incomprehensible magic was hiding him right at the edge of the Century's awareness. Marco wondered, was he watching from the sidelines because he knew there was nothing he could do, or had he been helping the entire time? 

[color=7b6c64]"Well, even if you're... not there... I guess I'll just talk... huff... anyways. I might be... dead soon."[/color] Marco's old wounds began to run with fresh blood. The immense pressure building inside of his manas was causing his blood pressure to skyrocket. [color=7b6c64]"I've met someone like you once. Someone who gave me the same impression you do."[/color] He was already at his maximum capacity of eight point five. [color=7b6c64]"You've seen it... haven't you? The grove I mean. You've been m-marked with a special fate."[/color] Marco gasped for air. He was beyond his limit now at eight point seven. [color=7b6c64]"I'm not s-special. I can't change the laws of reality or... or... transform myself into a dragon..."[/color] Eight point eight. Eight point nine. Nine point one. Marco's energy intake was reaching inhuman levels. Bystanders were already beginning to faint under the weight of his gigantic magical presence. Nine point two. Nine point three. Nine point four.

[color=7b6c64]"But..."[/color] Marco grunted. The pain was becoming extreme. Ironbloods couldn't hold onto their charge forever or they would literally explode from the inside. The Century turned his head to where he thought Desmond might be and smiled from behind his visor. 

[color=7b6c64]"I can protect all of you!"[/color] Zarina's dragonflame finally abated, against all odds unable to break through Marco's mind boggling defense. He could feel his skin tingling. If he didn't release his stored up energy now, he was going to kill himself. The young knight clapped his hands together and spread them out, creating a portal twice the size of Zarina herself. As she gazed into the opening in space, she recognized what looked like the middle of the rebel encampment. It was the spot where they had helped him gather his secret weapon, which he had spent an entire week preparing in anticipation of fighting someone like her. 

[color=7b6c64]"My turn."[/color] Out of the portal erupted a shower of spears so vast that it blocked out the sun. Thousands of fragments of sharpened rock and steel, that he had beaten into shape over the course of several days, fired out of Marco's gateway like a Sirrahi machine gun. She tried to avoid them, but it was like trying to dodge rain. As soon as the first stake pierced her hide, dozens of them, hundreds of them followed, until her body became more iron than flesh. Zarina kept regenerating, and Marco kept shooting until the stakes started bouncing off of each other. The assault lasted for well over a minute, until Marco's manas finally ran dry and the portal ultimately closed itself. 

Marco couldn’t witness the result of his final gambit. When the attack was over, he blacked out on the spot.

Lunti could feel them again: too close, the monsters. Above, a little red dragon shot up at a vast grey one. The first one was an ally, he thought. Then they were thrashing about in the sky and anybody remotely close might die from it.

He ran and an enemy soldier swiped at him, but she missed and then they were apart and it was pointless to turn back and try to kill her, for she was not pursuing him. He missed a step and stumbled over a boot. It was heavy and there was probably a foot in it, but he didn't have time to consider, as it was all that Lunti could do to keep his balance. He hoped that Sinta was away from the dragons. 

Then, with no warning, the world... stretched. It stopped making sense and he was in the same spot but everything between he and the distant hellscape where the yawa and the armoured man fought seemed longer and further. He stumbled back without understanding and broke his own cardinal rule. 

It was both the most and the least surprising thing as a bayonet pierced him through the shoulder and poked out of his bloodstained jacket. He let out a strangled cry and ripped himself free, not even comprehending the pain, the sheer [i]damage[/i], that another human being had done to him. He tried to turn, dully preparing himself for the fatal blow, thinking that it was as good as any other way to die, even though he did not want to. 

But the blow didn't come. 

Instead, some ways - but not [i]enough[/i] ways - away, there came a point of light and power so intense that Lunti could feel it inside of him, even over the pain and exhaustion that dulled everything else. He watched and he realized what it likely meant. He was not able to summon hatred. [b][i]Why?[/i][/b] It was all that came to him, and there was no more. 

The glow erupted as Lunti and thousands of others like him watched from afar. It seemed destined to destroy them all, for one man, one [i]mortal[/i] man, even as powerful as the Gods had made him, could not contain that. And so the soldier watched, because that was all he could do. He had not always been a soldier, but he might die one right now. Dimly, it occurred to him to kill his enemy, and his eyes and those of the man who had stabbed his shoulder met for a wary moment. They would both die by dragon. These mages couldn't tell one little beetle from another.

But then, the armoured man kept pulling it in: more of it, and more still. Something in Lunti returned, for a moment. It returned and he watched, hoping that this one man could do it: that he could stand against evil and - 

The light was gone. The death of them all was contained, in one man. The soldier couldn't really even see him. And then, it rained death. A thousand holes in the sky opened, and he recognized, as he watched them rain down on the yawa, that the things striking her were those strange metal shards that people had been hiding just behind Tiger Hill over the past few days. 

The dragon fought them, and Lunti hoped. She dodged them, swallowed them with her own portals. She disintegrated and blew them up. She forced them away, but then they struck. This man was not a man, the former fisherman understood. He was a God. People had said that a God had saved the city of Betalo from the Virangish. 

More of the projectiles struck, and they skewered her. More, still, until she lay, a great misshapen heap of the things growing out of the ground all around her. Still, it grew, and the portals began to flicker and close, but it was not enough. It would [i]never[/i] be enough, for she was - 

He felt the steel touch his neck: cold and impossibly hot, and he knew no more.

They were thrashing about in the sky and anybody remotely close would die from it. Lunti ran and an enemy soldier swiped at him, but she missed and then they were apart and he hesitated before turning to kill her, for she was not pursuing him. He missed a step and stumbled over a boot and she was gone. It was heavy and there was probably a foot in it, but he didn't have time to consider, as it was all that Lunti could do to keep his balance. He hoped that Sinta was away from the dragons. 

Then, with no warning, the world... stretched. It stopped making sense and he was in the same spot but everything between he and the distant hellscape where the yawa and the armoured man fought seemed longer. He stumbled back without understanding and broke his own cardinal rule. 

It was both the most and the least surprising thing as a bayonet pierced him through the shoulder and poked out of his bloodstained jacket. He let out a strangled cry and ripped himself free, not even comprehending the pain, the sheer [i]damage[/i], that another human being had done to him. He tried to turn, dully preparing himself for the fatal blow. It was as good as any other way to die, even though he did not want to. 

But the blow didn't come. 

Instead, some ways - but not [i]enough[/i] ways - away, there came a point of light and power so intense that Lunti could feel it inside of him, even over the pain and exhaustion that dulled everything else. He watched and he realized what it likely meant. He was not able to summon hatred. [b][i]Why?[/i][/b] It was all that came to him, and there was no more. 

The glow erupted as Lunti and thousands of others like him watched from afar. It seemed destined to destroy them all, for one man, one [i]mortal[/i] man, even as powerful as the Gods had made him, could not contain that. And so the soldier watched, because that was all he could do. He had not always been a soldier, but he might die one right now. Dimly, it occurred to him to kill his enemy, and his eyes and those of the man who had stabbed his shoulder met for a wary moment. They would both die by dragon. These mages couldn't tell one little beetle from another.

But then, the armoured man kept pulling it in: more of it, and more still. Something in Lunti returned, for a moment. It felt like he had seen this, in some strange way. He returned and he watched, believing that this one man could do it: that he could stand against evil and - 

The light was gone. The death of them all was contained, in one hero. The soldier couldn't really even see him, but he knew where he was. And then, he found himself looking up to the sky. It rained death. A thousand holes in the heavens opened, and he recognized, as he watched them rain down on the yawa, that the things striking her were those strange metal shards that people had been hiding just behind Tiger Hill over the past few days. 

The dragon fought them, but Lunti believed. She dodged, swallowed them with her own portals, she disintegrated and blew them up. She forced them away, but they struck. This man was not a man, the former fisherman knew. He was a God. People had said that a God had saved the city of Betalo from the Virangish. 

More projectiles landed, and they skewered her. More, still, until she lay, a great misshapen heap of the things growing out of the ground all around her. Still, it grew, and the portals began to flicker, but it was not enough. It would [i]never[/i] be enough, for she was - 

He whirled just on time, as a sword came for his head, ducking away and staggering back. The Virangish soldier across from him shouted something in a language that Lunti did not speak, and he did not want to kill this man, but he would have to in order to live. He did not see the armoured man - the hero - collapse. Instead, he sunk his bayonet into an enemy, and then another, until a frightened young woman hacked deep into his chest with her sword and he lay there on the ground and bled out, staring up at the sky.

With no warning, the world... stretched. It stopped making sense and Lunti was in the same spot but everything between he and the distant hellscape where the yawa and the armoured man fought seemed longer. He stumbled back, somehow expecting it, and twisted on the spot. 

It was both the most and the least surprising thing as a bayonet came for him. He stumbled out of its way, beholding surprise on a mustachioed face, and then drove the butt of his sword into the enemy's nose. The Virangishman staggered back, spitting up blood and blinking furiously, and Lunti was a thing of war. He stabbed the man through the neck and, exhausted but triumphant, watched him fall.

He turned, for some reason.

Some ways - but not [i]enough[/i] ways - away, there came a point of light and power so intense that Lunti could feel it inside of him, even over the pain and exhaustion that dulled everything else. He watched and he somehow knew what it meant. He was not able to summon hatred. [b][i]Why?[/i][/b] It was all that came to him, and there was... why couldn't he stop it? Why couldn't [i]someone[/i] stop it? 

The glow erupted as Lunti and thousands of others like him watched from afar. It seemed destined to destroy them all but, as if answering his question, one man, one [i]mortal[/i] man, made powerful by the Gods, stepped forward to contain it. And so the soldier watched, because he was not that man and this was all that he could do. He had not always been a soldier, but he might die one right now. Dimly, it occurred to him to kill his enemy, but he remembered that he already had. Lunti would at least die by dragon or monster, whenever that would come.

But then, the armoured man kept pulling energy in: more of it, and more still. Something in Lunti returned. He returned and he watched, knowing that this one man could do it: that he could stand against evil and - 

The light was gone. The death of them all was contained, in one hero. The soldier couldn't really even see him, but he knew where he was. And then, his eyes went to the sky. It rained death. A thousand holes in the heavens opened, and he recognized, as he watched them hammer down on the yawa, that the things striking her were those strange metal shards that people had been hiding just behind Tiger Hill over the past few days. He felt a sense of satisfaction: his contribution to the death of a monster that would've killed them all.

The dragon fought, but Lunti knew. She dodged, swallowed them with her own portals, she disintegrated and blew them up. She forced them away, but they struck just the same. This man was not a man, the former fisherman was certain. He was a God. People had said that a God had saved the city of Betalo from the Virangish. Lunti had been blessed. he had met divinity.

More projectiles landed, and they skewered her. She lay, a great misshapen heap of the things growing out of the ground all around her. Still, it grew, and the portals flickered, and the soldier wondered if it would be enough. Could it [i]ever[/i] be enough? Would they ever be safe, for she was -

He whirled just on time, as a sword came for his head, ducking away and staggering back. The Virangish soldier across from him shouted something in a language that Lunti did not speak, and he did not want to kill this man. For a second, he hesitated, wondering what would happen if he simply did not. They stared at each other for a moment, searchingly. Then, came the slash and Lunti was too slow. He died, staring up at the sky, with regrets.

It was both the most and the least surprising thing as a bayonet came for Lunti. He stumbled out of its way, and he and his mustachioed counterpart stared at each other with wide eyes. Then, he had the thought that, if he didn't strike, he would be killed instead. The man looked at him and the soldier cut him down.

He turned on time to see it and began walking.

Some ways away, there came a point of light and power so intense that Lunti could feel it inside of him, even over the pain and exhaustion that dulled so much. He watched and he somehow knew. He was not able to summon hatred. [b][i]Why?[/i][/b] came the thought to him, and he somehow had a strong feeling about what would happen next. He would have to stop it. Somehow, he would. Why would nobody help... Well, he did not know who, but there was someone who would step up to stop it, who would die doing so. He needed help.

The glow erupted as Lunti and thousands of others like him watched. It was intended to destroy them all but, as if answering his summons, one man, one [i]mortal[/i] man, made powerful by the Gods, stepped forward to contain it. But the soldier kept walking, even as his stomach turned and a pressure built in his head. He walked past a man who he could imagine, in his mind's eye, trying to kill him, and a scared young woman who did not.

The armoured man was mighty, and Lunti admired him. He kept pulling energy in: more of it, and more still. Something in the soldier stirred. He reached out, knowing that this one man couldn't do it alone. He could stand against evil, but -

The light was gone and the death that it contained now burning through that singular hero. The soldier could see him clearly in his shining armour, even as his head began to pound and he felt like he might retch. His eyes went to the sky and it rained death. A thousand holes in the heavens opened, and the things that poured forth were the things the armoured man had made and that Lunti and a thousand others like him had spent days moving into place behind Tiger Hill. he had helped the armoured man then. Was there no way that he could help [i]now[/i]?

The dragon fought, but the end felt inevitable. What had made her want to do this? Was she truly a creature of evil? He felt as if he might not have thought so much about it before. She dodged, swallowed them with her own portals, she disintegrated and blew them up. She forced them away, but they struck just the same, just as he knew they would. Whether this hero was a man or a God, the former fisherman thought, he did not deserve to have to do this alone, for he was savign them all, and he would suffer for it. 

More projectiles landed, and they skewered her. She lay, a great misshapen heap of the things growing out of the ground all around her. Still, it grew, and the portals flickered, and the soldier knew that it was enough. He could see the armoured man waver. He, too, was wavering. [b]"Stop!"[/b] he croaked. [b]"You've done it. She's beaten."[/b]

He managed to make it a few more steps, as his field of vision narrowed. The energy was unfathomable. He stayed with the world for just long enough to watch a hero fall alongside a demon.

Lunti was bleeding from where a bayonet had stabbed him in the shoulder. He and his mustachioed counterpart stared at each other with wide eyes and the enemy stammered... an apology. He grimaced and nodded and both turned to watch the sky.

It occurred to him that he needed to reach the hero and the yawa and he tried to run, but the bloodstain on his shirt grew. He noticed that there were dozens of people heading closer - maybe hundreds. 

There came the dragon's point of light and power and Lunti could feel it inside of him, as he knew he had before. The pain and exhaustion was there, but it not control him. [b][i]Why are you doing this?[/i][/b] he thought at the dragon, for she had been a person, too, at some point. He gave voice to his thoughts, and there were other shouts as well. He knew how this would end. They all knew. This attack would kill her and it would kill...

The glow erupted as Lunti and thousands of others like him ran forward, and the hero arose to stop it: on mortal man who was, in a sense, all of them. The soldier coughed up blood. he staggered and he coughed, but he kept on moving. Cries erupted from the thousands gathered: Palaparese and Virangish alike. Why was this necessary? Why the indiscriminate death? 

Lunti saw them in the crowd: men and women who he had killed, or who had killed him. It all felt, in truth, like some kind of strange dream that he had lived already. How many times? He could not say. His stomach turned and pressure built, but he tried to do as he saw some of the mages doing. He tried to draw, with his capacity for magic so meagre as to be effectively nonexistent.

And the armoured man drew too, for he was mighty, and Lunti admired him. He kept pulling energy in: more of it, and more still. They all did.

The light disappeared, the death that it had promised now contained, harmlessly, within each of them. Lunti felt weak, and he swayed on his feet from the loss of blood. Sinta. Where was Sinta? 

The shining knight stood there in his armour and a thousand holes appeared across the heavens. It seemed, for the first time, like a threatening thing in its own right, but the projectiles that the armoured man had created and Lunti and a thousand others had moved behind Tiger Hill, rained down upon her nonetheless. 

The dragon fought, just as Lunti did, but the end felt inevitable. He was not a soldier. He had been a fisherman before. Sinta had been a seamstress. Tanyag had farmed. The projectiles were dodged or destroyed or deflected, and some struck true. They began to skewer her and he wondered, as his own pain began to fade and he thought that he migth take a seat, if the pain might set her back to her humanity or, if she was feeling less of it, as well, like he was. The portal flickered as the Armoured Man ran out of energy, though Lunti did not see it.

He knelt, exhausted, upon the ground in his shining steel, trembling. The dragon, lying there, impaled a dozen times over, twitched and groaned. Thousands gathered round them: Palaparese and Virangish, warily mixed, guarded. The blood of one good fisherman seeped out of his battered body and into the battered ground, for he had given it freely, as a soldier.

Some ways away, blood leaked from a girl's nose. The people around her were uncannily still, but for a tall middle-aged Virangishman, his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. He reached up with his other to adjust his eyeglasses. The girl swayed where she sat, for she could not have walked even at the best of times. [color=598527]"I..."[/color] she grated. [color=598527]"Are they...?"[/color]

He nodded and squeezed her shoulder, and she deflated in relief. [color=598527]"Thank... Oraff. I... don't think... I can..."[/color]

He shook his head and sighed and gazed out at the battlefield. [color=FFFF00]"Nor will you,"[/color] the man promised. [color=FFFF00]"It's up to them now."[/color]

Zarina had become a dragon, and it was a gruesome image for the Palaparese. There was so much blood, bones snapped and fell to the ground—was Zarina still there, or had her body been consumed and replaced by this beast? In some ways, it was an act of desperation. As Marci tugged on Raffie, warning her not to engage, she proceeded anyway into the blooming death between them.

She tried to draw from Zarina's attack, to stop her from obliterating the battlefield indiscriminately, for that was not the girl that Raffie knew. In the end, she had to rely on that divine power that she used against Ren—the fruit of the gods—just to survive their clash, and her efforts had made no difference. Both lay dead, herself the only survivor, floating high above in all of Raffaella Mataraci's radiance. Perhaps she was an inspirational image for the Virangish, but what was it all for? Zarina was dead. This wasn't what she wanted. It was—

—an act of desperation. As Marci tugged on Raffie, warning her not to engage, she proceeded anyway into the blooming death between them. She could not shake the feeling that Zarina would not survive what was to come. She tried to stop Marco's attack, but he continued to draw well beyond her enhanced capacity, and she was so, so exhausted. Would she die here? This wasn't what she wanted, but perhaps it was what she deserved. It was—

—an act of blind loyalty. She proceeded into the blooming death between them. She would stop Marco, somehow, even if it meant Zarina would obliterate thousands. They would both survive this. They had to. As she attempted to add even more power to Zarina's attack, multiple people tried to stop her, but they could not. In the end, however, she stayed her hand. It was an uncanny and vivid scene. She imagined herself and Zarina standing over Palapar, a wasteland bought with the blood of an unknowable number of lives both innocent and not. She knew that neither Zarina nor her wanted this. It was—

—an act of cowardice. She observed the blooming death between them, and knew that she could do nothing to intervene. It was an ambition of a kind, and perhaps there was some manner of truth to her connection with Vashdal, or perhaps the entity from her dreams was a demon and she was a charlatan after all. It wouldn't matter to her in the least if she could just help Zarina survive, but in the end, it was—

—an act of foolishness. What were these people doing? They were all rushing into the blooming death between them—so many common people with no RAS to speak of. It reminded her of when she was a powerless little thing, with a few curious mana types but nothing more to her name. Only her adoptive mother had seen her for what she was, an ambitious and stubborn girl who didn't know when to quit, hiding behind a facade of feigned helplessness. That persona would not help her here. It was—

—an act of foolish courage. If she was a charlatan, then so be it, but they would both survive this. Across the battlefield she bolted with every ounce of speed that once aided her in running away, when it was the only thing she was good at. She appeared before the Virangish an image of the divine. [color=palevioletred]"If we wish to survive this, and spare Palapar's bounty, we must UNITE!"[/color] she commanded.

She appeared before the Palaparese an image of humility, a freckled redhead of unknown origins, or perhaps a lucky little maiden who handed out food at the Blue Star Idasque and managed to survive its burning. She did have burns on her face, after all. [color=red]"This attack will flatten your homes! Food will not grow for a long time! To stop it, we must UNITE!"[/color] she commanded.

It hadn't worked before, but this time, it would. It had to. Soldiers on both sides of the conflict drew from Zarina's attack as one, and with substantially less to feed on, Marco's attack would not be the end for Zarina. It was the only path forward. It was—

—over.

[color=red]"Zazzy!! ZAZZY!!"[/color] Raffie cried, rushing to Zarina's side, weeping over her friend's crumpled form—and she was a strange image. Who was this girl, who was neither Palaparese nor Virangish? She carried something close to the educated bearing and magical talent of a noble, but in her maidsclothes, she could have been the dragon warrior's servant for all anyone knew. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting trails of white through the dirt on her face.

[color=red]"MEND!! MEND!!"[/color] she commanded, to little effect, just as before. Even if she had the same training as a binder—and she did not—Zarina's body was a mystery in this state. Her work was slow and not gaining much ground against the dragon's blood loss, and as that realization hit her, the girl's weeping began in earnest, and for a moment there was no war, and no enemies looming behind her back ready to remove her humble red head from its shoulders. Perhaps there were, but she did not perceive them, for in her tiny little world, there was only the imminent death of a loved one, and hollow acceptance of the inevitable—the image of purest tragedy for all to see.

[hr]
Fire, first white, then a concentrated blue. So much fire just to destroy one man. Marco terrified this monster for she had never been pushed this far, especially not as a monster herself. Fear brought out the beast even more and the beast had absolutely no human qualms. And so, we end up with only fire. Not to warm the cold or purify a meal in progress, but to purely destroy and leave nothing but poisonous ash. 

As anathema as the result would be to Zarina, the terror was great enough to push out any semblance of conscience she may have at this moment. Everything burned, until the Century unleashed his own trump card. Portals, much like the ones she enjoyed to leverage against difficult enemies. Out of them came the instruments of her downfall. Metal tools of the common en masse, initially consumed by the flames of a tyrant but their numbers were far too great.

The dragon ended up completely skewered while the armoured warrior burned after exhausting himself completely. A painful and horrible death for both. Not the end neither had hoped for either. The battlefield became a wasteland and the plains of Fortuna would remain tainted by the fallout for decades.

[hr]

The flames were once again building up in her belly. Awakening from the blackness engendered by her final clash with Marco, Zarina found herself ascendant toward him, flames about to be unleashed. They had to be as she felt like her innards were about to melt. Her bestial mind did not question it, it must’ve been another trick. Another reason to wipe this threat from her sight.

Wait, was her goal to kill? She couldn’t quite recall. The burning belly was all that she could think of and the sweet release of unleashing all her power.

And so on again they clashed. 

One skewered. One burned. Thousands dead afterward. Fortuna scarred. This wasn’t right, she thought, as the lights went out once more.

[hr]

[color=#E5E4E2][i]It burns so much …[/i][/color]

Zarina felt like she was going to explode. In fact, should she not unleash what she had contained. Marco was poised for a counter and she knew what was coming. But what else could she do? Death was ordained the moment her bestial rage was unleashed and control was but fool’s gold to a Wildblood. 

[color=#E5E4E2][i]It’s going to come out.[/i][/color] she clenched her jaw, delaying the blast ever so slightly. A mere second and a half later than before. [color=#E5E4E2][i]I … Can’t …[/i][/color] the flames focused into a singular blast of xenon-coated energy befell Marco and the rest of Fortuna. 

The impalements took longer to kill her - she knew where the coup the grâce was coming from. One sought her heart but melted instantly with a simple nudging of the dragon’s head. 

Instead, her left horn completely shattered and her life ended instantly from a harpoon to the skull.

[hr]

[color=#E5E4E2][i]IT BURNS! IT BURNS! IT BURNS![/i][/color]

The all-consuming light of the tyrannus horrifer was inevitable. 

[color=#E5E4E2][i]IT HURTS SO MUCH! I CAN’T! IT WON’T STOP![/i][/color]

Her jaw was forced open. It was like fighting back the need to vomit when suffering from a uniquely potent plague. 

There was nowhere to turn, everywhere she’d kill thousands. There was no teleporting, all her power was dedicated to her core. The only chance for any sort of salvation for anybody, was to keep it on Marco. 

Releasing it was relief. A poisoned relief she loathed. A necessary relief. Soon, she died and Marco fell from exhaustion into the poisonous flames.

[hr]
[color=#E5E4E2][i]STOP! I CAN’T STOP! STOP STOP STOP! TAKE IT OUT![/i][/color]

The dragon pleaded, but was bound to the strings of her rage and pain. The only out was carnage. 

[color=#E5E4E2][i]HELP! HELP! I CAN’T STOP! I CAN’T SCREAM! I CAN’T STOP BUUUUUURNING![/i][/color]

Here it came. A fifth ushering of death. 

But something changed. A relief, one that came before she belched her purifying flame. Like an abscess finally being drained of its pus, the festering wound that had been torturing her in this infinitesimally small moment in time.

The flames came regardless. No longer all-consuming. She heard the voice of Raffaella, in the distance, somehow. The alleviation of the burden had perhaps allowed her consciousness to use a modicum of spare energy to listen in. All had rallied around a few courageous heroes, her young friend included, to stop this nightmare. 

The nightmare. Ever since she had stepped on this island Zarina had believed she alone was the only one that could prevent the nightmare from taking both Palapar and Virang. It was obvious just how wrong she was - the very power she believed in, that would make armies tremble, was the very essence of the nightmare all, no matter the creed or places of birth, fought against with a common goal to stop it.

The dragon fell, skewered all the same, but barely spared death. Raffie found her just as much ripped apart as she was burned by her own failed finisher. The slow heaving of her chest was the only evidence the young mender would have of Zarina’s survival. Scales fell and regrew, manas regenerated and a completely mangled face regained a partial resemblance to the friend Raffie had made ever since they were first brought together by that lovable fool Tommy. 

Zarina opened her eyes, still a ten foot and gravely injured monster. She moved to lie on her side, tail wrapped around her waist. She couldn’t produce a sound - her throat was still recovering from the burns. She reached out for her minuscule ally’s hand with her oversized set of partially charred claws as she exhaled, unleashing a soothed, almost purr-like sound coming from her still steaming chest.

Raffie took Zarina's clawed hand in both of her own, small and trembling, and smiled. [color=red]"I told you I'd be here when you win,"[/color] she whispered, and there was a silent understanding that she'd emerged victorious against the monster within. The redhead employed her chemical magics, now, to ease the burning pain Zarina was feeling, and accelerate her body's own healing factor. Of course that had been the better solution all along, but she hadn't been thinking about that, or about how her actions today would shape her image as Raffaella Mataraci. Right now there was only Raffie, and Zarina, and this moment of them together, however long the soldiers around them might allow it to last.

The dragon could still smile, the bone structure change hadn't quite dehumanized her just yet. No speaking, still, and she didn't particularly want to either. Zarina was content where she was, lying down as tensions rose again around them. She could sense Nilay patrolling, safeguarding the two from an ambitious rebel seeking to make a name for themselves. 

Eventually, the hulking mass of now mellowed Wildblood sat up. Legs crossed and long arms lumped over her jagged knees. The breathing was improving and her vigour was returning, evidenced by the increased activity of her tail, swaying from side to side. She had hoped to find Marco. 

After a long, smoky sigh she pushed herself on her legs, though she needed to stay on all fours to maintain her balance. The dragon walked, beckoning Raffie to follow her with her tail, and ignored everybody else. It looked as though she was done.

Zarina found the so-called Hero of Betalo in awful shape. He had suffered through self inflicted injuries from overdrawing, and the debilitating effect of atomic radiation was taking its toll. Without any particular expertise in Atomic magic, he had essentially absorbed a nuclear bomb without personal protection, and his manas were too weakened from the stress to fight for his recovery. The faceless knight lay peacefully in the grass, his armor dented and scorched by their duel. He was breathing but unable to move, as healers from both sides of the conflict gathered around to try and keep him alive. They had succeeded for the most part, as his heart was still beating strong despite his sorry appearance. The crowd that gathered around their savior stared at the approaching beast with a mixture of hatred and terror, and many of them raised their weapons in warning.

Raffie followed wordlessly beside her enormous friend, appearing almost corralled by a protective tail. Gone was the murderous rage, but in its place... what did she plan to do next? Was she going to finish off her opponent? She could only trust in Zarina, her friend Marci, and the plan she did not know. Weapons were raised, and with them, Raffie's arms as she made to stand between them and Zarina. She knew that this was war, but... couldn't this be enough, just for one day? Her eyes pleaded wordlessly for an end. Would they respond with an attempt on her life?

The beast lumbered closer, eyes on Marco and only acknowledged his entourage once blades and spears were raised. Zarina stopped and canted her head. More of her wounds had naturally healed since then. Her lips parted, revealing blackened, sharp teeth. A sign of hostility to any that had seen the destruction she had wrought with only her breath. But instead of flames or even smoke was a dry breath. She was trying to speak.

[color=#E5E4E2]“H- Hhhh-”[/color] nothing. It was hard enough for her to talk coherently when in perfect health, this wasn't going to work out. Instead, she leered at the dying man from her vantage point. The hand that had been holding Raffie's previously rose to about chest levels as she focused her draw. Zarina, the girl that didn't always wear the face of a horrible monster, was known to be a potent chemical mage. With the radioactive resilience of her current form, she had the chance to relieve Marco of his affliction. With a deep inhale, she tried to cleanse him and hoped to set an example for Raffaella to follow.

If it wasn't clean enough, a gentle tail nudge hopefully sparked some initiative.

Raffie wondered at Zarina's actions. Was she thinking clearly? Even if Ren was gone, this was a risky move. Still, when encouraged with a light tail nudge, she also lent her aid to the operation.

Their combined attempts at healing their former enemy paled in comparison to the master healers of the academy, but they were enough to pull Marco back from the point of no return. The sickness which crawled beneath his skin and burned his cells was still there, but its effects were weak enough that he would most assuredly live long enough to seek help of his own accord. His ability to sit up and gaze at the crowd of people hovering around him was proof that their efforts were not in vain. 

There was an uncomfortable silence as his sights fell upon Zarina, the terror that was responsible for his present condition in the first place. The soldiers and rebels squeezed their weapons in anticipation of what the knight would do now that he had regained consciousness. They wondered if he planned to finish their duel which had been left unconcluded, as both of them had apparently survived the other's ultimate attacks.  He answered the unspoken question with words.

[color=7b6c64]"Gods be praised, it looks like Eshiran has spared us both..."[/color] Marco unbuckled his breastplate and let the beat up hunk of metal fall to the ground. It was making it hard to breathe. His voice grew stronger as his lungs filled with fresh air. [color=7b6c64]"May I assume that this is a flag of peace?"[/color]

Raffie turned to Zarina hopefully, as if she already knew the answer.

Zarina canted her head once the fallen warrior inquired on their intentions. She hadn't thought too far ahead, it was hard to in this state. The reptilian eyes appeared human for once as she shrugged and half-nodded. Marco had done an effort to speak, and so she forced herself to do so as well. [color=#000000]“Ee-”[/color] a high pitched and dry sound came from that deadly weapon of a throat. [color=#000000]“En-uf.”[/color] was what she could muster before retreating her hand back down to the dirt for support. [color=#000000]“Enuf.”[/color] she peered down to regard her guardian and friend. Did Raffie approve?

[color=red]"Yes,"[/color] she agreed, leaning on the dragon. It was a risky path they were taking, but Zarina was alive and still herself, and that was... [color=red]"Enough."[/color]

[color=7b6c64]"Good. Good..."[/color] Marco flopped back down on the grass and breathed a sigh of relief. [color=7b6c64]"Because I can't do that more than once."[/color] The knight stared motionlessly at the clouds for a little while. [color=7b6c64]"Cherish the lives of your enemies, for today's enemies may be tomorrow's saviors. Mercies, 2:14."[/color] He pointed a trembling hand at the scaly wildblood hovering over his head. [color=7b6c64]"I'll win next time. You better watch out."[/color]

Zarina's head went from one side to canting to the other. She needed to process what he was saying. His declaration, however, prompted an awkward chuckle. [color=#000000]“Hah. Hah.”[/color] they sounded more like grunts. 

The dragon then looked up to the horizon. There was less fighting, but the moment of unity hadn't suddenly created peace. [color=#000000]“Smile Monster. Gone.”[/color] she inhaled deeply. [color=#000000]“End is possible. How?”[/color] once again, she sought her friend's visage for guidance.

Raffie blinked. [color=red]"We... have to talk to Dani."[/color] She, too, hadn't thought very far ahead. That was the thing about war and politics. The ones who planned ahead, planned for victory—not compromise. Now that she realized what peace talks would entail, she wasn't looking forward to it. [color=red]"Ugh. Before another blood-mad tyrant like Ren starts barking more orders,"[/color] she emphasized to steel her resolve. There was [i]supposed[/i] to be a chain of command, and going around it would have consequences.

So many people had died, and only now, when re-entering the world of politics, did the deaths of "important people" start to matter more than the rest. Who was even in charge, now? Was there someone on the Virangish side she could convince to agree to a ceasefire?

[color=#000000]“Ka-kaaa.”[/color] an odd choice of word from Zarina. Was it a juvenile way of referencing the rebels? She seemed thoroughly aware of what she was saying as she quickly rose her long arm and shook her head. [color=#000000]“Shasha-ni. Kaa-shani.”[/color] a little twitch, words were still hard. 

Using her already raised arm, she then pointed at Marco. [color=#000000]“Dani. You.”[/color] a demanding dragon she was.

[color=red]"Yeah?"[/color] Raffie replied, considering as she stared off into the sky. [color=red]"He's a bit [i]much[/i], buuuut... more importantly, he's not Ren. Let's fetch him."[/color] She nodded.

[color=7b6c64]"Say no more."[/color] Marco sluggishly rose to his feet. There was an audible crackling sound as several of his joints popped. Helping hands appeared from the midst of the mob to carry him back to headquarters, but the armored man held them all at arms length. He felt rested enough already. [color=7b6c64]"Before I speak with the commander, I must first seek out an associate of mine. Please excuse me."[/color] Marco withdrew from the scene with a hobbling gait, favoring his right foot as he limped away from the scorched clearing. If he was going to pitch the idea of a ceasefire to Dani, he needed to talk to Black King first. No matter what happened after this the Volti wouldn't accept an outcome that didn't bring about Palapar's freedom, and after what he had been through to ensure the Republic's victory, Marco wasn't about to settle for the status quo either.

[color=CD5C5C]"Ask, and ye shall receive!"[/color] came a voice that fell equal parts between booming and haggard. Three liveried guards surrounding him, the viceroy of the Royal Palapar Trading Company - and also a Brigadier General - came striding over a knoll, a large kilij slung over his shoulder. 

He came to a stop and took stock of the people gathered, wrinkling his nose at Zarina. [color=CD5C5C]"I liked you better as a girl,"[/color] he muttered, lowering his voice, [color=CD5C5C]"but I digress."[/color]

Everything seemed to die down, the conflict was over. Fiske had won. 
His way was going to succeed. All he needed to do now was make Dani recognize the queen and use the two of them as a unifying factor for all the different peoples of Palapar. The Palaparese monarchy needed to stay around if they wished for stability. Be it as an actual form of governing or as a figurehead, the Queen only brings boons for their entrance on the world stage. 

Some foolish rebels had wished to burn everything down and establish a republic, yet reforming would be the best case scenario if they wished to not become a puppet once more. To whom he did not know, the Torragonese, the Rettanese. Hells, even the Revidians have shown that making countries their puppet was not beneath them with Segonia.

He had done what was necessary.
He had felled Ren.
He had caged the yellow-masked Nashorn like a wild beast.
He had crushed every obstacle placed in his way.

And now, exhaustion hit him like a leadvein's punch.

This victory was not sweet, not sweet at all. What he had achieved was nothing short of a Telbic, Moral Victory.

The Volti were not an altruistic band of brothers and sisters with the same goal, but a corrupt organization doing whatever they saw fit as the ‘greater good’. They kill each other on a whim’s notice. [color=FF00FF][i]How can they even hide behind the good cause of the Traveller when some are vile monsters like Nero?[/i][/color] 

Fiske’s eyes then turned to his hands, crusted with blood and dirt, shaking uncontrollably. He curled them into fists, but it only made the trembling worse. They were not the hands of a savior, but of a butcher.
Had he become just like Sorriso? He had to cut loose so many people, betray others and leave so many dead in the wake for the goal. Was this what Jascuan saw in him? 

The demon was a match for the fat man, in strength and cruelty alike. But deep down, a truth revealed itself.

He loved it.
He loved feeling strong.
And he hated himself for it.

[hr]
Upon a small hill, blasted and scarred with broken weapons and fortifications, overlooking the battlefield and two monsters attacking each other, a man shadowed by darkness sat. He looked on the battlefield as he watched everything unfold. Countless energies building and flowing, the man nodded to himself as he watched the world shift, winding, and unwinding.

His gaze both transfixed upon the battle and two people seeming almost impossibly distant. The man casting his hand at times. Shifting and feeling everything around him anchored. Yet it felt different for him, the world shifted in ways he could see and understand. He took in a deep breath and sighed, as a light ignited everything around him.

Then again, he was shadowed in darkness. Upon that small blasted hill. Almost completely turned to a smoldering boulder from the fighting. The man sat upon the hill, lightly casting his hand in different directions. He lightly pushed and tugged upon the world as he could feel the breaking of a girl trying to shift the world back.

The man looked on as from his side, the shadow next to him grew as a person appeared. He stood tall and strong, yet there was a faint worry in his voice.

[color=goldenrod]"Soldato, what is happening?"[/color]

[color=gold]"Our work"[/color].

[color=goldenrod]"If this is our work, what shall I do?"[/color].

[color=gold]"Whatever you feel is right, my sword. You will know it is right once it is all done"[/color].

They booth stood there for a moment before the two men were ingulfed in light. Then it left the original man there. Alone on a shadowed hill.

Power is power. No matter the skill, the work, or the spirit. Power can only be handled with power. His gaze shifted to the countless people below. Hundreds of men and women looking among each other, seeming all too aware of what is happening around them. Scrambling and trying to save themselves, then to save each other.

Power is power, even if it may come from a single individual wielding it all alone. His vision shifted to the fighting once more. Watching the two screaming and roaring out in pain and agony as their magic lashes out against them. The small girl who still struggled against the very notion of reality to try and find an ending she was happy with.

The man casted his hand toward both of them, aiding with the power he had before he shifted himself back. His gaze falling upon the hundreds of men and women. Each drawing and pulling upon the little strings of energy they could muster. Many never even knowing they could until they tried. In this desperate moment, all they could do was try. Yet as they did, and perished, they tried again and again. 

Power is power. No matter if it comes from one or one hundred people. It is still power that determines fate.

The man upon the hill sighed as he leaned forward. It had been so long since he could have taken a back seat. He had to always play center stage. He had to always be active, be strong, he needed to even be evil. Being the one who was the most martial and the lightning rod of strength to rally around.

Yet also the one to portray himself as radical to the extent of weeding out out those who would do more evil. Revolutionaries who turned completely radical, willing to kill women, children, innocent or otherwise. He had to kill people who trusted him and were once allied with the Revolution. Trying to create a future where Palapar could exist. Yet in what ways had he needed to lose himself in that pursuit. His head turned to the side as he looked at his broken weapon. A tool, a weapon, and extension of himself that followed him since his introduction to this world.

He had grown quite a bit, and yet he still felt small. He looked to his hand and thought how much was he alone?

As he looked to the great giants around him, he was nothing more than those below. The countless men and women fighting to survive.

Each one trying to find some way to make a difference. Maybe this was what was wished to have happen. 

[color=gold]"What a strange dream. Feels too good to be true. If I was a year younger, maybe I would find this wonderful. I may have even been down there, struggling with the rest of them, because that was all I could do. Just like them"[/color]. 

The man shifted slightly as he looked among the groups. Watching each of them struggle. [color=gold]"I even did in another life. Yet here I am, separated all the same. I'm not high enough to make a difference on my own, yet not weak enough not to be here. I'm neither ordinary, nor strong. Just enough to be something, yet not enough to fill or be accepted as either one"[/color].

The man laughed to himself for a moment. Leaning back as he was basked in light once more. Now left in a shadow once more. He casted his hand once more towards the two battles being fought. The battle between the two monsters and the armies to try and save the two titans of power and themselves from an atomic death. Then the battles the small girl is having against fate an reality. Trying to find the ending she finds the best.

Light shifts in reality surrounded the man for a moment before shifts happened within both battles. Light pulses of energy that reality changed just a little. If nothing, to help even a tiny bit. In whatever way he could.

Because to be strong is to be able to do something. 

And to be weak is to do everything you can.

The man sighed as he looked at the fighting once more. It seemed they all began to get it. They were being inched through time. Slowly creeping as some even began to be injured and wounded from the slow march. Actions once unwritten were being allowed to go as the world intended. Over and over, yet they all still kept trying.

He finally stood up, feeling that they had all figured it out. Now it was time to finish it. The man began to pull upon whatever energy he could from the two giants of power.

Then launched himself off from his lonely hill. Garbed in dark clothing and a mask. He began to use the immense energy of the two monsters and began to perform binding magic on those he could. Healing wounds that if left would be life threatening and allowing them to work as well to pull energy from the two monsters.

It would come down not to the work of a few, but the countless amount of work being done by the many.

Many had fully understood what was happening, which made it all the easier to heal them and get them moving. Black King moved like a man on a mission. Pulling all the energy he could as he used it to heal those he could see. No more had to die, and they all knew it now. It was just up to them to do it.

As finally, after all the work. It had been finished. The countless men and women who worked multiple times to subvert fate have done it. It was finally over.

Their combined efforts had done it.

Maybe it would also bring the war to an end. As they had just stopped the last biggest weapons that either side had.

Seeing the person across from them as different.

Black King lightly waved his hand once more. He could feel the strings of fate have been wound up. Tightened like a rope being twisted, countless twists that were ready to unwind, or burst. Yet he knew they needed this, it was just a small thing he could do to assist the girl who made this all happen. Once more, he pulled on the little bit of reality he could to assist her, even just a little with the strain she pulled upon herself for this.

Black King's gaze scanned the battlefield once more. Countless men and women were standing across from each other. Some with tension, some with relief. Some helping those who were injured. 

It was time they did what they had to, and quickly. Fate is not one to wait.

[hr]
Casting about, the Viceroy raised his voice again. [color=CD5C5C]"What we have witnessed here, people of this land, is nothing short of an Act of the Dreamer."[/color] Hastily and reverently, he made the six-pointed circle with his hands. [color=CD5C5C]"It is His will that we should stop spilling blood, and so I, as a man of faith and conscience, am honour-bound to follow his infinite wisdom."[/color] 

He glanced, momentarily, at a cluster of Palaparese, pagan savages that they were, but kept the distaste from his face. There were, most likely, some good people among them as well, though he had seen precious few. [color=CD5C5C]"Even if you believe not in He who has brought All into being, then attribute this to your own Gods. Who am I to question them?"[/color] He shook his head. [color=CD5C5C]"This is clearly an act beyond the scope of mere men."[/color] 

He made a show of sheathing his sword and took a seat on the grass across from a rebel who looked... [i]somewhat[/i] important, he supposed? In truth, they all looked the same to him, though he'd not admit that except in the confidence of friends and some of his better lovers. This was good, though. The rebels had not breached Sabu and, this way, they never would. He had a bargaining position. He might yet negotiate a peace both on somewhat equal terms, and that depended upon him, Ertan Kashani, as guarantor and central figure. [color=CD5C5C]"So, then,"[/color] he offered, [color=CD5C5C]"shall we speak?"[/color][/color][/hider]

	[color=757163][i]The revolution is over, or so it seems—if only the consequences of meddling with temporal magics could be so easily dismissed. Chaos ensues—in the end, will the fighting simply continue?[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar 5: Negotiations Interrupted][color=757163]Zarina let out what may have been a snort. Or was it a snarl? It was hard to say as dragons seldom strayed from a permanent rested bitch face unless they were with their tongues out. [color=#000000]“Still. Girl.”[/color] her lips folded to reveal rows of still red-hot teeth and a breath of hot sulfur. The creature perpetually loomed over Virang's leadership like a sentinel gargoyle both serving as both guardian and judge. 

[color=#000000]“Dani. Bring him.”[/color] the dragon demanded again well after Marco had taken off for his superior. Her tail swayed, slowly on one occasion, as swift as a whip in some others. It wasn't the sort of happy swaying one found in a canine, but rather the wary disposition of a cat - Raffie was becoming the new Ayla.

Then arrived Tku. Amber reptilian eyes widened in his direction. The face of a monster melded with a human's watched him closely, slightly canted to the right with what remained of her hair cascading over her shoulder. She made a couple of now obliterated pebbles the casualties of her whipping tail.

[color=red]"Hmpf. Dragons are cool. Man has no taste,"[/color] Raffie mumbled.

Tku made notice of Raffie. Just how long had she been on the battlefield? Tku couldn't know so he simply accepted she was here. [color=734960]"I'm not here to fight,"[/color] Tku announced to Zarina and Raffie, Though mainly Zarina. [color=734960]"Just wondering what is happening here."[/color] He looked to Raffie and Zarina, hoping they may enlighten their old peer.

He did not wait for an answer to take a seat though, forming a few chairs, a table, a spread, and some tea. He looked if Raffie wanted a seat. He was awfully tired.

Ertan Kashani, clearly invited, rose to his feet. [color=CD5C5C]"A very sensible idea, Pictor."[/color] He stepped forward, pulled out a chair, and sat. [color=CD5C5C]"You have my thanks."[/color] He nodded, beckoning for others to join him.

Raffaella was among them, and she began to speak as the others did but, in her cup, she noticed something strange: a yellow... nothingness. It seemed like... an aberration, but it couldn't be one. There was no such thing as a yellow aberration!

The viceroy glanced down at the spread thoughtfully, and smiled. [color=CD5C5C]"This is very nice,"[/color] he admitted, [color=CD5C5C]"Very thoughtful."[/color] Then, he glanced over at Raffie's cup and scowled. [color=CD5C5C]"Wait... is that a... [i]lemon[/i] in your cup?"[/color] he reached over wonderingly.

[color=red]"Trying to stop all the violence,"[/color] Raffie piped up, letting Tku know that he was in like-minded company. She still checked the chairs he'd conjured for adhesive before sitting, though.

[color=734960]"That's all well and good,"[/color] Tku ate a piece of bread dunked in some oil and herbs. [color=734960]"But I meant the time shenanigans."[/color]

Zarina could not sit on a mere chair, and her tail generally got in the way of proper seating. The floor would have to do. She did not speak, words were still hard. Staring would have to do, long, wide-eyed staring. Tea was drank, as well as any that wasn't claimed. 

Those same, wide optics captured the aberration. Yellow and shiny. More cat-like behaviour, though she didn't dare. It was in Raffie's cup, after all. [color=#000000]“Odd.”[/color] she remarked, an easy word to concoct.

[color=red]"Oh. I assumed it was Zazzy and the other guy, but I don't actually know,"[/color] she replied, eyeing the cup of tea in front of her. After checking it for poison like any sensible chemical mage would, she put the cup to her lips, pretending that she hadn't seen what was inside. She needed a pick-me-up right about now.

It seemed as if the peace talks had begun, good. He had no time to think about his own issues, he had to make sure the peace will bring forth stability and lingering peace. 

The boy who had been the Queen, rebel, unwilling virangish hero, he had seen it all. His face turned to the hero of Weggos during his approach.
[color=FF00FF]"You made it in one piece, good. I'm glad."[/color]

[color=734960]"I see,"[/color] Tku took in whatever information Raffie could give and simply accepted. [color=734960]"I do not even know how many times I was reset. But it had to be a few times."[/color] 

He finally turned to Zarina in her beastal form, he sighed and made a roast for her along with a cup of coffee. The coffee was more or less instinct. He wished he hadn't but what was done was done. 

Hearing Fiske's voice was somehow relieving and grating. He simply made another seat for him.

Raffie's cup came up but the aberration didn't. It was not actually [i]inside[/i] of the teacup. Aberrations existed where they existed and, generally, could not be moved. Instead, bright orange, now, it appeared to perch there on the table for all to see.

Ertan Kashani stared wonderingly at the orange nothingness. [color=CD5C5C]"I could've sworn, by  the Dreamer, it was yellow."[/color] Then, in front of him, shaped like a carronade shot, was a black aberration. He glanced at the others. [color=CD5C5C]"I sense that there may be but the first of many."[/color]

The dragon's gaze was completely taken by the aberration.

Until the smell of a roast caused her to sniff about. She could not help herself, she was hungry after fueling a literal nuclear reactor. First, the coffee, and then she chowed down. She would have been messy if her chomps weren't so all-encompassing. Utterly terrifying jaws. Perhaps Kashani was right, there wasn't much 'girl' left in this one.

[color=734960]"Would you like me to remove them from the table?"[/color] Tku offered.

The viceroy tilted his head. [color=CD5C5C]"That's... possible?"[/color] He turned abruptly at the sound of a loud smack on the table. Raffie's hand slapped down on the orange thing as though it were a bug to be squashed. Only, it turned white before her hand could reach it. [color=red]"Wups,"[/color] she said, deadpan, her face white as a sheet.

[color=CD5C5C]"I say, miss,"[/color] he remarked, rather alarmed, [color=CD5C5C]"Did you just absorb a white aberration? Were you in need of healing?"[/color] His face was perfectly in sync with his voice, but his eyes flashed for just a second. He knew and he was covering for her.

[color=red]"Um, is that what it was?"[/color] Raffie stammered, alarmed. [color=red]"I-I mean, in a manner of speaking? I think we all need a little healing after this,"[/color] she nodded sagely.

Tku's hand went to his bag of infinite tricks, [color=734960]"But of course."[/color] Out came one gloved hand as he quite literally plucked the aberration from the table and set it next to him. Tku side eyed Raffie but ignored it after all.

It was mere moments before a pure black tree stump appeared beside Tku. It was, as well, an aberration. Behind Zarina, there was a grey gap in reality, shaped like one of Marco's massive metal shards, twisted and warped.

[color=734960]"This isn't good."[/color] Tku spoke to himself.

[color=red]"Um, yes. If there are going to be more of them, maybe we should—"[/color] Raffie began, but abruptly stopped.

More meals. Zarina sensed it - a familiar power. A sweet nectar of immense potency. 

The dragon turned around, still chewing, and canted her head to the opposite side. [color=#000000]“.... Where is Marci?”[/color] she inquired for all to hear. The temptation remained strong.

[color=734960]"In the backline, I can contact her if you want."[/color] Tku offered quietly.

[color=#000000]“Yeeeesssssssssss.”[/color]

[color=734960]"Alright."[/color] His hand went down into his bag and out came a blue fruit. [color=734960]"Marci, are you alright?"[/color]

[hr]
[color=teal]"Keko?"[/color] came Keearah's distinctly-accented voice. [color=teal]"Keko!?"[/color] Vaguely, Marceline remembered that it meant something like the yasoi 'suunei'. The eeaiko had used it with her a handful of times, their constant work together having brought them surprisingly close.

[color=598527]"Yyyuh?"[/color] Marci was surprised at the ragged sound of her own voice. People were scrambling about and she was vaguely aware that this was the aftermath of...

Had there been a time loop?

She tried to turn her head to glance at the merchant - Ghazi was his name, she thought - but then she became aware of the blood and the weakness through the haze and the throbbing. He... wasn't there. Had he been there?

[color=teal]"Marcee,"[/color] came Keearah's voice, [color=teal]"Yoo look lyke deth!"[/color] Her hand was on the human girl's shoulder, shaking her, and that was when the [i]real[/i] shock came. [color=teal]"Yoo were doeng yoor tempaurel spell end then - "[/color]

She just started to slide to the side. Marceline tried to clench up her abdominals, like she always did to keep her balance, but they weren't there. There was blood all down the front of her dress, and pooling into her lap, half-dried, but it wasn't the most alarming thing by a longshot. Dimly, she registered Keearah unlocking her wheels and wheeling around to the front of her.

[color=598527][i]The line.[/i][/color] A line could be many things but, to a tethered, it was only one: that hazy pins-and-needles area where sensation ended and nothingness began. For most of her life, its position had varied: somewhere just below her ankles, partway up her calves, right at her knees, or just a tingling numbness in her toes. For the past 197 days, however, it had resided in a band just above her hips, and she was determined that it should rise no further.

She could not feel her chest.

She could not feel her stomach or her ribs or her waist, and an abyssal fear seized the young tethered. [color=teal]"Fuck, yoo've overdraun,"[/color] Keearah hissed, helping her friend sit up. She was tethered too. She had overdrawn in the past and, just as with Marci, it had cost her her legs. [color=teal]"Rese yoor aurms."[/color]

They felt weak. They didn't want to go up, but she managed to do it. Her pulse was pounding behind her ears. Her thoughts were racing, unable to settle on anything. The tingling: she could feel it in her [i]hands[/i]. She looked down, scrambling to keep her balance, and her fingers were curled. Tentatively, awkwardly, she straightened them. She tried to clear her throat. Aberration - she needed a grey aberration - now! [color=598527]"I -"[/color] she coughed. [color=598527]"I can't... live like this."[/color] It was bad enough to be anchored to a deadweight lower body that could not move or feel and needed constant care, both mundane and magical, but she had managed. She had only recently gone off of the metabolic stimulation, and it had helped her body change. She had the arms, shoulders, core, and - most importantly - the [i]Gift[/i] to navigate life and, except in those occasional moments, when she simply [i]couldn't[/i] do what those around her did, she didn't dwell on it. She simply lived and looked forward to the future.

[color=teal]"Baut how?"[/color] Keearah was murmuring. [color=teal]"You were fine and then, just..."[/color]

[color=598527]"Ghazi,"[/color] Marci croaked. [color=598527]"Where's Ghazi?"[/color]

Keearah, still with her hand on the human girl's shoulder, tilted her head and made a quizzical face, and Marceline's heart dropped into her stomach. [color=teal]"I... [i]Ghazi[/i]?"[/color]

[color=598527]"Yes, Ghazi,"[/color] the slightly younger tethered snapped irritably. [color=598527]"The man with the glasses, who was [i]just[/i] here."[/color]

Keearah cast about, brow furrowed in confusion, and Marceline flexed her half-numb fingers once more. [color=teal]"I'm saurry. I doon't -"[/color] Awkwardly, the human went to unlock her brakes and set hands to wheels. [color=598527]"Zarina and the knight,"[/color] she demanded.

The eeaiko pivoted to roll along with her. [color=teal]"They're... elive."[/color]

She felt like a newborn: uncertain and imprecise. [color=598527]"Tku and Desmond?"[/color]

Keearah looked alarmed alongside her, wheeling so fluidly. [color=teal]"Tku's fyne. I mede soore auf it."[/color] She paused, a hitch in her pushing. [color=teal]"Waet, [i]Desmaund[/i]!?"[/color]

Marci realized her error almost immediately. [color=598527]"Fuck. No, I meant..."[/color] she trailed off, head still spinning. Had it even [i]been[/i] Desmond. She wasn't sure of anything at this point. [color=598527]"Ugh. I don't know what I mean."[/color]

[color=teal]"Maurcee, yoo're worryeng me."[/color]

[color=598527]"I'm worrying [i]me[/i],"[/color] the more experienced tethered replied, turning her head warily, still not certain of her ability to balance. [color=598527]"I need a grey ab."[/color]

Keearah's gaze was searching, but then she nodded. [color=teal]"Yoo do,"[/color] she admitted, as they rolled out of the door. Marci had no choice but to rely on the Gift to help. [color=teal]"I theenk we're ebaut to see lots auf eberratiauns,"[/color] the eeaiko remarked, taking the lead. [color=598527]"Can't come soon enough,"[/color] came the reply. Keearah pushed quickly a few more times and then turned one-eighty to face Marceline, directly in her path. [color=teal]"Keko, where aur we goeng?"[/color]

Marceline came to a stop. The ground was soft and she would not make it much further anyhow. She regarded her watery friend. [color=598527]"To them, even if you have to carry me."[/color] It was at that very moment that a black aberration, as big as Keearah and in the shape of a man falling backwards, appeared right on top of the eeaiko.

Marci had no choice. It would kill the girl. She couldn't let that happen. Even as aberrations began to pop up everywhere, she reached out and drew from it. That was when she heard the call, in her head, as Tku sometimes like to do: [color=734960]"Marci, are you alright?"[/color]

[hr]
In an instant, Raffie was sent back to Kiluaho, to the place where she had taken Ren's side over that of Tku and all the others. Her eyes widened. How was this possible? Had the temporal prodigy revealed themselves? It was no matter. She knew how this battle would unfold, or actually... perhaps she would join the others this time, after all. She now knew for a fact that spending time with Ren was a poor investment, she thought gleefully. Though, the others refused to trust her here simply by virtue of being 'Virangish.' Should she just go home and let this one play out without her?

But before she could make a decision, she noticed something very odd—herself. She was not herself, she was... by process of elimination, the boy who died that day. Her thoughts remained scattered like the ships' debris, but one idea floated to the surface—could she [i]save his life?[/i]

The threshers came, and Raffie reached out her—his, hand—but, the command she intended to give to the swarming threshers did not come out. Instead, the boy began his own struggle, and Raffie quickly realized that she was not in control of this situation. She would witness how he died. She would... die with him.

She had no mouth with which to scream. She saw the boy's body become pieces in the bloody red water, felt the flesh rip from his bones, the burning as the water boiled, and the darkness of death creep in as their shared vision faded.

Then, she was some kind of animal, being hunted by the denizens of Eshiran's heaven over, and over, and over. She couldn't tell if the existential dread was his, hers, or both. Were they now bound together in Eshiran's hell? Because she made the cowardly choice back on that backwater island?!

No!! This wasn't fair!! She'd redeemed herself, hadn't she?! She'd saved thousands of lives and just started to broker peace! She'd done everything she could to end the nightmare as soon as she could! This battle had been ended by HER HAND!!

Again and again she prayed to any god she thought might listen, but she had no mouth with which to speak the words—until, suddenly, she did, back at the negotiating table, but it was then that words failed her. A couple of people had been trying to get her attention as she sat there, living out an eternity of deaths in an instant, silently crying. When she came to, she clutched her chest, painfully. Her heart was racing [i]much[/i] too fast, and any decent chemical mage could sense the [i]unholy[/i] amount of fear that was spreading through her system. It had nearly been enough to kill her, until she began to use her magic to forcibly calm herself.

She did not speak, for what she had just seen and experienced was beyond words. She simply shot Faiskal a look that communicated a confused blend of terror and heart-wrenching sympathy. She held her face in her hands and sobbed, having long forgotten the imminent threat of the aberrations, which seemed to her a lifetime ago.

The Darhannic. .  Huulishman eyes were a little too late to meet the Virangish girl's gaze, but felt a shiver run down his spine. [color=FF00FF]"Hey, Raffaella. What's wrong?"[/color] He would have more tack before, but his current state let go of gentler words.

Eyes scanned the room, was something bad going to happen? Did his presence just make her sad? Was it a potential assassin? Did she ANOTHER Volto coming to the battlefield?

There was no response to Tku on the other end, at least not in a traditional sense. [color=734960]"Uhhh...Marci? Hola? Hallo?"[/color] Tku tried to keep it lighthearted, but it was becoming clear that something was wrong.

Then, all about them, aberrations began winking into existence by the dozens: mostly black, some white, and even a couple of grey ones. Most unsettlingly, however, were a few that seemed... to move?

Then, breathing heavily, Marceline's voice came through. [color=598527]"Yeah, it's me,"[/color] the tethered replied. [color=598527]"Keearah and I were on our way. She hit an aberration and I had to help her."[/color]

Keearah's voice came though, pained and snappy. [color=teal]"She's not okay. We need help."[/color]

Tku listened in, his light face turned serious. [color=734960]"Okay, we will come to you then. Hold out for us to get there,"[/color] he reassured. 

Tku turned to Zarina. [color=734960]"Marci and Keearah are being surrounded by aberrations. Keearah said Marci isn't okay. You will have to warp us."[/color] He wished a white one was around but he could see none.

Zarina listened closely, until Raffaella showed distress. Instinct was beginning to take over again. Breathing intensified, her tail nearly shredded the table behind her. One thing at a time. 

[color=#000000]“Do not touch.”[/color] she demanded whilst pointing at the nearby grey. Tku's arm was seized with an intendedly tight grip before entering a teleportation spree, time rejected around her to make the whole experience all the more disorienting for the Medrilaner.

[color=734960]"I will guide you-"[/color] Tku was roughly manhandled by the dragon lady, [color=734960]"I need that arm, Zarina,"[/color] Tku sarcastically replied as he applied some pain meds. Tku dirrected her to where they are. It felt unsafe but he would need to risk it for Keearah and Marci.

Black King watched as the battlefield began to be filled with aberrations. Tku and Zarina moved to help a friend, while others seemed to see this as an opportunity.

Black King stood and turned as he roared out across the battlefield. Having his voice be carried and reverberated through his magic and repeated by his people still active.

[color=gold]"Group up! Build large parties to handle what is to happen! These will turn you mad or dead!"[/color]

Commands began to flow from those who knew what was happening. Allowing Black King to move to begin to guide those who were near. He knew it would be needed for the giant aberration form. Reality twisted and ripped open as nothingness opened in front of them all. A giant form of a dragon appeared as a tear in reality. Nothingness given form.

Many looked around as he barked a command, [color=gold]"Draw from the aberration, the moment you feel pressure in the back of your eyes, stop! You will die if you go further"[/color]. He knew this was a lie, yet he knew it would damage them if they drew pass this point.

Black King moved between them patting and slapping them on their backs as he began to build up energy from all around them. Many of them began to feel intense energy swell within their bodies. They felt empowered and their bodies are more strengthened as if for some of them, they could sense countless things never experienced. While for others, they could feel as if their power was enhanced, they felt even more powerful than before, as if they could take on the world.

The moment Black King had grouped them up, he aimed his hand and called out, [color=gold]"Now!"[/color]

The band of soldiers made from both sides began to draw in what energy they could. The moment some felt the pressure behind their eyes, they stopped. Some very quickly, others it took longer. Yet for a few, they never reached that point. Many began to feel a twinge of pain behind the eyes, their head seemed to ping and ring out with pain, yet nothing more. It took only a few moments and they ringing pain in their dissipated.

Then, they were all fine. They watched as Black King continued to move to another group. As he was to perform the same with them. For many of them, they felt larger, stronger, and almost too tight in the clothing they were wearing. Yet they felt good, almost super human.

Black King himself never drew from these aberrations. He would find nothing from them, yet more importantly, he needed to be able to completely focus. One wrong move when he did any of this. He could ruin their body worst than any aberration could.

While Raffie broke down in tears, chaos unfolded around her. Zarina told them to stay away from the grey aberration, but two curious idiots didn't listen. Nilay had managed to stop one, while Kashani took the opportunity to stop the rank and file and 'slip' into the aberration by 'accident.'

Fiske attempted to intervene, but Kashani had unknowingly reached for a small portal rather than a grey aberration. He felt something on the other end that seemed pleasant to him, but at the sudden realization that what he had touched belonged to an animal, he recoiled, and this knocked Raffie onto the ground along with him.

[color=red]"W-What's... happening..?"[/color] she managed, slowly accepting that what she had seen and experienced was at an end, and she was here to stay.

[color=CD5C5C]"Nothing, my dear girl."[/color] The viceroy patted her shoulder comfortingly. He could tell she had just seen something terribly disturbing. He had felt such and could empathize. [color=CD5C5C]"You're safe now, because [i]I[/i] will protect you. You are under my umbrella."[/color]

[color=red][i]Oh. Great,[/i][/color] she thought, unenthused. [color=red]"But... It's not raining,"[/color] she replied, deadpan, playing the fool to take the wind out of his sails without insulting him.

[color=CD5C5C]"Because I am here."[/color] He nodded slowly, looking out over the former battlefield with mock satisfaction, for no one could put an end to his self-indulgence. Raffie resisted the feminine urge to take him down a peg.

Raffie looked around, and seemed surprised to see all of the death and destruction. She'd nearly forgotten about the war. She gasped, looking around for Zarina, a mixture of alarmed and embarrassed. [color=red]"We need to get away from here!"[/color]

Faiskal moved from one person to the other, getting increasingly frustrated at the curious onlookers seeking to steal the grey aberration that Marci desperately needed. [color=FF00FF]"Hey, what happened to the brave girl back at the Idasque?"[/color] Admittedly, he did not know that she had just witnessed his many deaths.

This was the last thing Raffie wanted to hear from someone who went to Eshiran's hell, but she couldn't muster any venom against the unfortunate boy. [color=red]"We can't [i]fight[/i] these things! We need to—"[/color] she began, but then the mysterious man, Black King began barking the order to stay huddled in groups, and she realized that he was right, and so was Faiskal. [color=red]"No, you're right. We have a better chance if we huddle close."[/color] As soon as she said it, she made a point of putting Faiskal between herself and the viceroy.

Ertan Kashani pivoted briskly on the spot as a portal opened. he bowed at the waist. [color=CD5C5C]"Just on time."[/color] None would see his shame. [color=CD5C5C]"I have taken care of things back here."[/color] He glanced Fiske's way. [color=CD5C5C]"Ahem,"[/color] he cleared his throat. [color=CD5C5C]"Faiskal was of assistance as well, to some degree."[/color] He nodded in the youth's direction and gestured the others toward the grey aberration as the aforementioned 'helper' wrestled an opportunistic one-legged woman away from it.

Marceline wasted little time in heading towards the aberration, but she was in no shape to move across this ground, and her manas were in awful shape from her temporal exertions of earlier. She twisted to regard Zarina. [color=598527]"I've forgotten to hug you, keko."[/color] Keearah grinned at the use of the term.

As Zarina caught up with Marceline and Keearah, helping them over to the aberration that they so desperately needed, Tku began searching for Joliin, remembering that she was a lightbringer. What [i]good[/i] the now-former slave could do here!

In the event, however, it was not [i]him[/i] who found her but, rather, A Mahal who had been circling, searching for her animals, other familiar faces and, in fact, Joliin herself.

The powergazer was sitting on top of a log in a mostly-burnt out thicket, not quite sure what to do with herself and her freedom. She shifted as the dragon came to land, her energies swelling a bit out of wariness. Her swollen face, at least, seemed to have been healed. Then, as she recognized Mahal's energy, the momentary hostility faded, though she did not let go of [i]all[/i] of her draw. [color=ECF6CE]"Oh,"[/color] she remarked, [color=ECF6CE]"i-it's y-you."[/color] She swallowed, pawing up at her eyes. With her blindfold gone, they were stony black pits. [color=ECF6CE]"Sadly, I've... h-hidden the evidence."[/color] She managed an awkward smile.

"It's all right. Ren is dead. I don't think you need to be afraid anymore." Mahal answered in a surprisingly gentle voice. Her eyes lingered on the spot where she had punched the girl and tried to push the guilt away. At the time, she had little faith they could kill Ren. The strong had no issues about making the weak suffer. "We need to get out of here. There's aberrations everywhere and I don't know how to handle them."

Zarina picked up Marci for a long and much needed hug. Unfortunately there was no chair to come along with a teleport, providing Tku with a final task while the dragon still had an errand to do. [color=#000000]“Kek. O.”[/color] she repeated. A moment later, she dropped the tethered on a nearby chair and did the same for Keeara if not already done.

[color=#000000]“Do not touch.”[/color] the same order again. What could she be planning? Although before she could lift off, her wide, repitilian eyes stared down Mahal with focused pupils. No lingering, she surfed the threads of space.

[color=#000000]“One.”[/color] Vasib was dropped where Kashani had once sat.

[color=#000000]“Two.”[/color] Sayeste was next, place comfortably on the floor near where Marci was sat.

[color=#000000]“Free.”[/color] the last was Mariana. These poor tethered were just yanked from their vantage points and brought at speeds they couldn't keep up with. 

[color=#000000]“Time.”[/color] declared Zarina with a voice that pushed through all the yelling in the background. [color=#000000]“It's time. Grey eating time.”[/color] she clapped her hands, inviting the tethered to indulge whilst she served as sentinel, scouring for any freeloaders.

Joliin nodded, going still for a moment, and Mahal supposed that was her way of 'looking' around. [color=ECF6CE]"None too- too close,"[/color] she replied belatedly. [color=ECF6CE]"I c-could undo them if I...I-I wanted,"[/color] she explained. [color=ECF6CE]"That was  w-what Master -"[/color] She paused and furrowed her brow. [color=ECF6CE]"- Ren -u-used me for."[/color]

Somewhere above circled Kidlat on Bonadeuce. The dragon was as threatening a presence as ever to those who didn't know him, helping to keep the peace. Then, rather suddenly, on one of his circles, he straightened and, rather abruptly, took off Eastwards, towards the city.

In the forest, Tku kept scanning but had little chance finding Joliin. [color=734960]"Joliin, Joliin, Joliin, JOLIIIIN! Please call out if you can!"[/color]

[color=598527]"There are some more at command who might appreciate this,"[/color] Marceline whispered, but she knew she had to take care of herself first. [color=598527]"We should find them another."[/color] She was on a chair, though it did not move, and she found herself anxious for her own wheelchair: trusty thing she had gotten from Jocasta. It had already been through so much with her.

Quick, polite introductions were made with the other three tethered they had been trying to kill and who'd been trying to kill them. They all understood the struggle that they shared and none begrudged the others for partaking here. Marceline reached out, on a count of three, and began to draw.

"Yes, but only if you wanted. That is up to you, but I think people might appreciate it. You're free to make your own choices now." Mahal stated as she considered something. "I know this is going to be new to you. After all this, if you need a place to stay... I can offer one until you can figure out what you want to do. Only if you want to of course."

Joliin's face showed the surprise that she felt at the offer. [color=ECF6CE]"Y-you know, I had-hadn't even th-thought about... it,"[/color] she replied with a blush. Then, she stepped forward and held her hand out. [color=ECF6CE]"I sup-suppose we should prob-ably know e-each other's names f-first. I'm Joliin.""[/color]

They were just in the midst of their introductions when the yasoi's ears perked up and she heard a semi-familiar voice. It was... she remembered his name! [color=ECF6CE]"Tku!"[/color] she shouted back, [color=ECF6CE]"Tku, Tku, TKUUU! I'm calling out. C-can you hear me, man!?"[/color]

Mahal couldn't help, but smile a bit. Her eyes lit up and broke her usual bitch face expression. She rubbed behind her ear as she considered her response. She had to admit, despite the eyes, she had a soft spot for blushing girls. The yasoi was rather adorable right now. 

Before Mahal could reply and take the offered hand, a faint shout caught her attention. It was Tku. Suddenly, Joliin had started to shout out his name. "You know him too?"

Tku came skating in on the grass, chucking himself like a puck on the ice. [color=734960]"Joliin! Oh thank the heavens you are alive."[/color] he breathed out a sigh of relief. [color=734960]"There is a lot of hurt people, I understand that it is a lot to ask but I implore-"[/color] Tku noticed the damage on her face, [color=734960]"That won't do,"[/color] Tku quickly healed her and continued, [color=734960]"That's better. There are people injured, the palaparese and virangish. I can only ask you will come with me and help those people."[/color] he did a small bow with his request. He did not feel right asking so much of her in the middle of a disaster just after she received her freedom.

Joliin nodded at Mahal. [color=ECF6CE]"Not our f-first time mmeeting."[/color] She twisted to face Tku and waved. [color=ECF6CE]"I will do w-whatever is n...needed."[/color] She nodded. [color=ECF6CE]"Because I w-want to."[/color] They were, for now, a trio, and there was much to heal, much to do. Joliin set out to do it.

Tku couldn't help but smile. It was a reminder to him of the natural charity people could have. Something he had nearly lost in its entirety. [color=734960]"Then we should make haste, I-"[/color] Tku gave a nod at Mahal, [color=734960]"- and Mahal will assure your safety from here on."[/color].

Walking back to the rest of the group for safety, Tku mouthed a small thanks to Mahal for sparing Joliin given the situation, nudging her with his elbow. Now that they were moving on towards their goal, Tku pulled out his banana, whispering into it.

[color=734960][i]Ring, ring, Kidlat you shouldn't be heading to Sabu. The battle may come to an end. There is no reason to attack the city right now. Besides, Bonedeuce being around gives more safety for us with the what the Virangish have at the table. Please stay yourself for now.[/i][/color]

When Tku mentioned they needed help, Mahal almost set herself between the two. She didn’t want the newly freed yasoi to feel pressured by his request. Her movement ceased when Joliin ensured she had decided this for herself. With a deep breath, her eyes looked to the dragon. The creature had started to sun itself in the aftermath heat of the battle with barely any scratches on her flanks. 

Giving it a good stroke along the jaw, Mahal gave it gentle pat. “Rest well, you deserve it. If you don’t fly off, I’ll be back and we’ll figure out what to do with you. Personally, I think you will enjoy dozing in the coffee fields rather than getting into fights.” 

She didn’t expect the beast to understand her, but a small snort came from the nostrils. A small chuckle escaped her lips before she turned to follow the others. At Tku’s silent thanks and ribbing, she shrugged. Despite her indifferent action, a small earnest smile broke through her stoic mask. In the distance a trio of three canine shapes, hounded by a snow wyvern, began to rush toward them. The slowest one limped with a stubbornness to not lose his fellow pack mates. He naturally would be healed when they reached her.

It had taken some time, yet, the countless men and women across the battlefield had began to congregate together. As ruptures of nothingness appeared, groups handled them quickly, either drawing from them to send them away or waiting for those who would come and do so. The many of them had grown in power and strength from the mere presence of the enigmatic figure some referred to as 'King'.

Many of them looked among themselves, if not much before, they seemed more connected. Going from killing each other to fighting for survival against these strange things. Moments where they felt as if, they were the same, perhaps it was the situation they were in, perhaps something more. None would know, but they were happy to be here rather than anywhere else. Because if they were, they might find themselves turned into something horrid, if anything that was told to them was true.

Black King began to return to where the talks were first to be held. Where he saw multiple people had began to return to.[/color][/hider]

	[color=757163][i]A pulsating aberration appears, and both heroes and villains from both sides seize the opportunity to meet the gods and partake of their fruits. In this sacred grove, new connections are made, old wounds are reopened, and the truth is laid bare.[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar 5: The Many-Armed God][color=757163]There was a group of them who had gathered: former friends, former foes, or some other combination of the two. It was hard to tell at this juncture. However, they had at least stopped fighting and, for that, Dami was to be praised. 

It was Zarina, Raffie, Fiske, Ertan Kashani, Nilay, Marceline, Keearah, and, more recently, Tku, Mahal, and Joliin. The masked Volti agent who people referred to as Black King could be seen not far away. From another direction, Lunara had approached the table - in both figurative and literal terms. 

Barely had they gathered when Mahal was jolted by a pulse that seemed to hit her and move up and down her body. It relaxed every muscle to the point of near-collapse and spread outwards from there, fluttering the leaves of the few trees fortunate enough to survive the earlier battle, swaying people where they stood, and causing the very air to shimmer, ethereal in the light of the four moons.

A second pulse raced out, and it was clear that something of [i]profound[/i] power had been released into the world. Dimly, as its shimmering bands raced across the predawn sky, silhouettes of things that were not of this place, this time, or this world could be seen. 

Arcel the Victorious slew the demon Belthagor in shadow, Macianus III stood before his troops before their fateful charge at Carinae Mosca, Hildr the Red knelt before the Altar of the Divine Mercy in the ruins of Solenne, Oswentu the Wise sat the Ivory Throne for the first time, Hugo Hunghorasz and Enna Lantisca embraced, bodies intertwined, in secret in the Cathedral du Sacre Coeur. 

Yet, [i]they[/i] gathered about as well: dark tentacled shapes by the periphery. They watched, they pushed, and they encroached but, always, the pulses of light forced them back - the pulses of light that raced outwards from a brilliant nothingness that was [i]known[/i] more than seen, and [i]felt[/i] still more than known. Those pulses tested them: perhaps to their limits, perhaps even beyond, but they called to those who had fought heroically in Palapar. Yes, most of all, they [i]called[/i].

For some, it was a desperate race. Their bodies relaxed so completely that it was difficult for muscles to function, for hearts to beat, for lungs to draw breath. All were experienced in the Gift, however, and some had seen this before. They knew what it was and approached it with the eagerness and reverence that it was due. The gods of this place - not so very different from those of nearby Sawand - called to them. 

Those who knew urged the others to make it to the centre as quickly as they could. Mahal, closest but most stunned, was last in, and she felt Ahn-Eshiran bite at her heels as she stumbled through.

Tku, Desmond, Marco, Fiske, and Ertan Kashani found themselves together. The tethered Vasib and Jaico were present as well, the latter free of his cane from the effects of a grey aberration.

Mahal, Zarina, Marceline, Nilay, Keearah, Rafaella, Mariana, Joliin, and Lunara were there with the tethered Şayeste and Irana, the former standing unsteadily for the first time in over a year. 

The seven men looked around, and they took notice of something: it was only them. They cast about for the women, but... then, Desmond sensed it first. Their female counterparts [i]were[/i] there, but only in the faintest way: they were echoes and shadows, like the images illuminated by the pulsing earlier. Vasib, unsteady earlier, strode forward under a brilliant carpet of stars.

The eleven women, clustered closely and only starting to spread out, recognized the same phenomenon. It was Lunara who first saw the shadows. The men were there: close to them, even among them, but they could not be reached for now. Zarina, however,  was Zarina, as they had known her since meeting her, and not a half-draconic beast. Joliin let out a small exclamation of surprise and delight. She held her hands out before her, turning them around. Her head slicked back and forth, her hair swishing about and, soon, she was looking all about. Her eyes were restored. Marian lifted a foot from her footrest, tentatively, and Keearah did the same. If they no longer had the muscle to walk, they could at least move.

Before all eighteen rose a small grassy hill, beneath a predawn sky filled with brilliant stars. A soft, gentle wind flowed over the place and, at the very summit of that hill appeared an otherworldly figure. For the men, it was a beautiful woman, tall and dignified, sitting in a siddhasana pose, her eyes closed. For the women, it was a serene and powerful man, posed much the same, deep in meditation.

In both cases, the figure had ten arms, each one closed in a loose fist. A single eye opened with gentle purpose and evaluated them calmly. Then, five hands of the Many-Armed God reached forward. Each opened to reveal a fruit that those who had gathered knew to be divine.

Yet, not all of the men and not all of the women laid eyes on the exact same thing. For the former, Fiske beheld it. For the latter, sadly, there were a great many. In addition to the one young man among them, five could see the tree: Zarina, Marceline, Mahal, Rafaella, and Joliin. It was small and well-formed, but wild, not gardened. It had the oddest ring-shaped fruits one could imagine: almost like circular or loosely spiral peapods. It rose behind the great seated figure, leaves shimmering silverish-green in the moonlight. 

The deity, meanwhile, did not speak. Man or woman, it merely smiled and stretched its arms out a little bit more towards them. On the horizon, a faint band of royal blue illuminated the distant hills and forests with a soft glow.

Mahal cursed her laxed guard when something impossibly fast struck her. It raced down then up her form like invisible lightning. Her muscles tensed then relaxed against her will, causing her to unclench her teeth. Time had whipped past her as bodies rushed for the center, vanishing before her eyes for a split second. It was enough to have her instinct kick in and rush after them with someone else hot on her heels. 

She stumbled forward and fell on her knees, her chest heaving for air. Once her heart stopped racing, she straightened upright and moved back onto her feet. At Joliin's small gasp, her eyes shot to the yasoi. Her eyes were no longer pitch black. Zarina had transformed back to her human form. Another two were testing limbs that otherwise had been useless to them. As she silently counted the number, she noticed something. The men were missing. 

Before she asked about them, Mahal spotted masculine figure sitting upon a grassy hill. He had far too many limbs to be natural. When the eye opened, Mahal bristled at the sensation of being judged. Five of his ten arms extended toward them as if offering something. 

"Where are we?" Mahal asked anyone willing to answer.

Raffie cast her eyes about, taking in her surroundings. This was the second time she'd had an encounter with another pantheon's gods, and she didn't know what to make of it. The last one had introduced her to a kindly old thresher that gave her the power to stand up to Ren. This one appeared to be offering fruits of a divine nature.

[color=red]"I don't understand,"[/color] she confessed to the many-armed one. [color=red]"My people have..."[/color] Her vocabulary failed her. [color=red]"I don't understand at all,"[/color] she repeated, but the god remained silent, only smiling. Tears streamed down her cheeks. There could only be one reason why the god was rewarding her: he [i]knew it all.[/i]

Curious, she looked at each fruit in turn, and was about to ask the deity which fruit [i]he[/i] thought she should have, when she noticed the tree. [color=red]"What's that?"[/color] she asked, curious but not expecting an answer.

Marceline, who had been splitting her attention between gazing at her surroundings with wondering eyes and tentatively wriggling her toes, which rested on the soft cool grass, looked up. [color=598527]"This is a sacred grove,"[/color] she replied, [color=598527]"Recognize this figure from some old stories, maybe?"[/color] She furrowed her brow and glanced at Rafaella as well when she spoke. [color=598527]"Reminds me of the Many-Armed God of Sawand."[/color]

Marceline considered Raffie's words as well. [color=598527]"It reminds me of something I saw with the Pentad. They did not appear, but there was a tree with fruits representing each of them."[/color] She considered. [color=598527]"This has to be similar."[/color]

Zarina was herself again. No horns. No scales. Vanilla without the gory conclusion she'd have to traumatize Raffaella some more with. It was the first thing that hit her for it was rare of a phenomenon than ending up in a grove. Among her were other women, enemy and foe, and men mere wisps. She could barely discern their forms.

There was a man, offering many fruits with his many arms. Trees, animals and now, [color=#E5E4E2]“A man. That was my first thought too, Marci.”[/color] spoke the once vocally-challenged dragon. [color=#E5E4E2]“And yet, I see a tree.”[/color] the Al-Nader was drawn to the peculiar plant and its even more peculiar fruits. Her hand, no longer a mass of scales and claws, hovered over the red pea-pod shaped delight. [color=#E5E4E2]“Why is this here?”[/color] she inquired, directed at the divine presence without looking directly at him.

If she was not looking at him to see his soft smile, she could [i]feel[/i] it. She could feel, in a sense, that the fruits of this tree sought to heal her, to give her another chance.

Deep breaths. The pain Zarina hid from all, that she could always heal through no matter how mangled and broken it left it. It was there, she always remembered it. Her heart beat at the pace that the tree pulsed warmly, enticingly. Her hand neared a fruit until she very much touched one, but didn't quite pluck it, yet. The dragon did not show her pain that easily.

Instead of committing, she watched the others. Both her fellow of the fairer sex, and the essence of the men, further away. How did they take this moment?

"Truthfully, I stop trying to understand much of what happens to me. I think it's... less stressful that way." Mahal commented toward Raffie's moment of confusion. 

Upon having her question answered, it clicked. She had been to one of these before during the revolution in the school. Strange how she yet again found herself in a surreal and sacred place. She took a step toward the Many-Armed God and sized up the fruit on his hands, wondering which to take. Choices were never easy as she didn't practice it much. Her attention lingered over Mangosteen. However, she wasn't ready to take a fruit quite yet.

As she stretched her hand out toward it, the mangosteen did not seem to pulse... until it did, and the power of it nearly knocked her off of her feet. Like Raffie before her, Mahal could sense that it would appear only seldom but, when it did, a vast world of knowledge and power would be opened to her.

When the Many-Armed God emerged, Lunara didn't bow, she also didn't speak. The air around him shimmered with heat, like standing too close to a forge. His armed moved, each gesture folding the world slightly as if it were paper creased by invisible hands. 

Before him, the fruits hung in the air. Suspended. Each one pulsed with a rhythm. The red bandana thrummed with steady promise. The apricot was soft and low. The mulberry tugging at her memories. The mangosteen... shouldn't look at it long.

But the plum. For her, the plum bumped heavy. Slow. Strong. 

She stepped forward. "If you're offering."

Her hand reached out. The Many-Armed God watched with a stillness that suggested judgment or perhaps indifference. She took the plum.

And yet, how much of this was her own perception? It was hard to say, for none others who had stood upon Virang had felt much but a serene benevolence. She reached for the plum anyhow, and she knew that this boon would be with her occasionally at best, but it would give her the power to strike at those she might not normally be able to. She would be quick and sure, if perhaps not overwhelming.

The sensation forced Mahal to dig in her heels as she managed not to fall on her ass. It felt like a promise of knowledge and power wash over her. However, it wouldn't happen often. Still, the sensation tempted her. She had lived much of her life in ignorance and being weak, unlike her sister. Her eyes flickered to see Lunara take a fruit, a plum. Did that explain why she felt like the weaker of the two? 

She hesitated while was rare in her nature. Her eyes shifted across the various fruits and drinking the feelings they gave her. Each one left her digesting her own emotions. 

The whole time she observed and examined one, she tried to ignore the prick of anxiety in the back of her neck. She hated the dark, faint shadows of the men as they put her on edge. They felt more like lurking monsters than human.

[color=red]"Mhm. But there's only one god here. I wish I knew more,"[/color] Raffie replied to both Marci and Mahal. [color=red]"Hmm. Which fruit do [i]you[/i] think I should have?"[/color] she inquired of the many-armed deity.

The man smiled and it occurred to Raffaella that, perhaps, she should hold her hand out and pass it over each fruit.  The tree seemed to grow indistinct and shadowlike as she did so, however, almost like the men who she knew were there but who she could not directly interact with.

As she passed her hand over the red banana, she felt a pulsing in her chest: not particularly strong, but rapid. She sensed that she would have, from it, a constant and reliable boon that would help her in many small ways, no matter what.

Next, she passed her hand over the apricot, and the pulsing grew slightly stronger but slightly slower as well. She sensed that this power would often, though not always, be with her, and she felt that, with it, she could hurt her enemies in ways less direct and expected, but nonetheless powerful.

Her hand continued, and paused at the mulberry, and the pulsing slowed further, but each beat of it was felt strongly and distinctly. She sensed that this power would be with her sometimes, but that it was significant. Using it would renew, for her, powers she had lost or exhausted. Yet... there was more. For a moment, as she glanced over at the men, she beheld Desmond - yes, Desmond - reaching for a Chalta, though the others remained shadows. For a moment, she felt as if she could make it disappear before his very eyes or, perhaps, even the one before hers, but that quickly passed.

She paused for a good moment before passing onto the fourth fruit: the plum and, immediately, sensed the power of its pulse: not often at all, but it thumped deeply, resonating in her core. This boon, she knew, would be with her occasionally at best, but it would give her the power to strike at those she might not normally be able to. 

The final fruit was the Mangosteen, and it did not pulse... except that it did, and the power of it nearly knocked her off of her feet. Raffie could sense that it would appear only seldom but, when it did, a vast world of knowledge and power would be opened to her.

Finally, in the distance, the tree remained enigmatic. Its leaves shifted and returned, shifted and returned, and there was something uncanny about it. 

The Many-Armed God regarded her serenely... [i]hopefully[/i].

Marceline appeared beside Zarina and she was at eye level, grinning. [color=598527]"I feel as if the Many-Armed God has put this here for us. Do you think that the others see it?"[/color] She had not walked over, per se but, now, she was leaning heavily on Zarina and her feet were, indeed, upon the ground, knees locked. She, too, felt what her sister on all-but blood had felt: this was a fruit that could heal the broken, that could afford them chances that others might miss.

Zarina coiled her arm around her sister, all while keeping her eyes on the proverbial prize. [color=#E5E4E2]“I don't think so.”[/color] she said after having watched others act and their potential decisions. [color=#E5E4E2]“I think this is for [b]us[/b] to see.”[/color] as alluring as the fruit was, her hand slowly retreated from it. [color=#E5E4E2]“I feel like something irredeemably broken within me could be undone. But, do I truly deserve it, Marci? After what I've nearly done to everyone.”[/color] she twisted her neck to regard her not-so-tethered best friend. [color=#E5E4E2]“What I did to YOU.”[/color]

Marceline regarded her steadily for a moment. Then, she snorted. [color=598527]"I'm not so innocent either. None of us are, but..."[/color] She trailed off and shrugged. [color=598527]"[i]He[/i] doesn't seem to judge."[/color] She tilted her head. [color=598527]"Still, we could look at some others, I guess?"[/color]

It took a moment for Zarina to concede with a nod. [color=#E5E4E2]“Yeah.”[/color] a light back on the small of Marci's back later and they were to appraise the other offerings from the Many-Armed Deity, known by some as a Spider, though perhaps this was more so a judgement toward Sawand that made the God its banner rather than the deity itself. 

Each fruit was graced with a gentle touch, feeling each palpitation from them. Stronger and stronger, but slower. What could it mean? Whether the women among them of the shades of the men, none seemed to truly grasp the nature of it all.

But it wasn't the case for Zarina. She knew the moment the echoes of each offering reverberated through her. It wasn't because she had some sort of greater insight or was more clever - in fact, it often was the opposite. 

It was pure feeling - instinct. There was something kindred to be felt. Essential. Her very being was tied to the very essence these fruits took their power from. They were just like her.

The young dragon kept her hand on the mangosteen. Deep inhales.

[color=#E5E4E2]“If I'm ever to help this world heal ...”[/color] she clutched the thing a little tighter whilst uttering words under her breath. [color=#E5E4E2]“I need to learn from my failures. Let them teach me. Remind me. I cannot let this happen again.”[/color]

Marceline pursed her lips and nodded. [color=598527]"You and me both, suunei. I know you tired. [i]We[/i] tried, and we're learning, right? That's what our teachers always tell us, Shune knows."[/color] She rolled ehr eyes and gave Zarina a little squeeze from the side. Had she grown in the past half year? She was quite tall, actually.

Then, however, as Zarina twisted to regard her, she caught a glimpse, out of the corner of her eye, at Tku: also grasping from the fifth and furthest hand on his side, alone among the men in visibility.

They had been on opposite sides this entire half-year. Bleeding, suffering, hustling for their ideals. Or at least, they believed it to be the case. Now, they were still on opposing 'sides' by virtue of their very sexes. And yet, they were choosing the same path.

The same wavelength. The same ideals. A better world. A means to make it better. They had never been enemies, the world was simply cruel enough to pit loved ones over things they had no hand in. At the very least, they could see it as a lesson, one day.

Deep breaths. There were a lot of those. This time, she committed. The fruit was picked and without anymore hesitation, she bit into the juicy delight. Only to spit out the skin and realize the outside was the rind, which she promptly spat out and indulged in the delicious core.

It should have been a surprise for Tku, like it had for Raffie. But instead he was happy, relaxed even. It was his friend without any audacious armor or draconic form. It was simply her. The person he could draw by memory alone. Always separated but always right next to one another. He wished he could take the moment and speak with her but he didn't. They could do that later. Maybe over some slavery free coffee.

He took the Fig and peeled of the outer flesh and indulged in it.

Nilay remained discreet. It was in her nature to avoid being noticed, and having what was the obvious enemy just half an hour ago now act all chummy from a moment of collective apotheosis did not convince her. She trusted in Zarina, at the very least, and so complied with the ceasefire. With that, she had a chance to explore this unusual realm and the even more unusual selection of good. Her colleague had her hand on one, and so she watched. Cautiously. The immortal dragon she had protected was going to be a poison taster too. Convenient!

[color=red][i]Des'm—Desmond was here?![/i][/color] Raffie was distracted for just a moment. He continued to be brave and reckless. Just [i]what[/i] had he been doing? Whose side—no, that didn't matter anymore, she told herself, willing it to be true.

She regarded the puzzle presented by the fruits. Was it better to be strong, or reliable? With regards to allies, surely it was better to have a reliable one, and so it was with weapons and powers as well, she decided—though she was fortunate indeed to have both in Zarina. Reliability, in her life, was always fleeting and elusive. She had spent her whole life chasing it. Would she ever find it?

Her eyes glanced between the red banana and the ring-like fruits of the mysterious and ethereal tree that seemed like it could disappear at any moment. Both fruits, coincidentally, were her favorite color of red. The choice of a reliable boon seemed obvious, and yet, in spite of herself, she found that her hands reached out for the tree that threatened to vanish any second. It promised healing for the broken, a second chance—but she had already seized it before the feeling could fully sink in.

[color=red]"I don't understand it,"[/color] she sighed, as though she were talking to herself about something the other women weren't quite clued in to. [color=red]"Maybe I never will."[/color]

Marceline and Zarina watched Raffie take the fruit and the former shot the latter a knowing look. [color=598527]"Good thing a tree grows many fruits,"[/color] she may have said in a fairly bad 'Retanese' accent. It was in Raffie's hand now, tingling and ready to be eaten but, first...

Slowly she turned, and her eyes set upon Joliin. [color=red]"It's you,"[/color] she exclaimed, yet she also realized that the yasoi woman might not remember her from that distant time that Ren had threatened her with very little subtlety after her award ceremony. She'd masked her voice as well as her looks, then, and now Joliin was the first person to see Raffie as she was, before seeing the facade of Miss Mataraci. [color=red]"You're free now."[/color] She stated the obvious. [color=red]"Hey... what's it like to see? This place is very beautiful, don't you think?"[/color]

Joliin, who was standing just a bit away, taking it all in with wide-eyed wonderment, twisted to regard Raffie, to actually [i]regard[/i] her. [color=ECF6CE]"I...I never th-th-thought I would... again."[/color] She breathed deeply and held her arms out, and spun on the spot, gazing up at the stars. From her throat came a giggle of pure joy. [color=ECF6CE]"I don't know if it's a dream, but I hope it isn't."[/color] She stopped spinning, swaying playfully where she stood, but her mirth faded after a moment. [color=ECF6CE]"Thank you,"[/color] she said softly and clearly, her ever-present stutter holding itself aloof for a moment. She swallowed thickly and regarded Raffaella with earnest eyes. [color=ECF6CE]"So, wanna tell me how it is?"[/color] she gestured at the fruit.

[color=red]"Hmm."[/color] The tiny, freckled girl with the sickly voice considered. [color=red]"It is a dream, but that doesn't mean it isn't real. It might be more real than where we came from."[/color]

Her heart jolted when the yasoi thanked her. [color=red][i]Does she know?[/i][/color] Deciding not to ask, she smiled and nodded. Then, glancing at the fruit, she held her pale hand up for Joliin to take the Camachile. [color=red]"I think you should try this one, too."[/color] She smiled knowingly.

Joliin considered. She swallowed. She smiled [color=ECF6CE]"I'll t-trust you're not p...poisoning me,"[/color] she squeaked, blushing fiercely at the attempt to make a joke. She reached out daintily and plucked a camachile from the tree. [color=ECF6CE]"Countdown?"[/color]

Raffie opened her mouth to protest before realizing that it was supposed to be a joke. [color=red]"Pfft."[/color] She covered her mouth to giggle about a half-second too late. [color=red]"Okay! Then, [i]üç... iki... bir!"[/i][/color] She reached up to feed the fruit in her hand to Joliin, expecting her to reciprocate with her own fruit.

They took the little pods one at a time, the gifts they carried filling each of the pair. Joliin's eyes lit up. [color=ECF6CE]"Mmm mm...[i]GOOD[/i]"[/color] the skinny yasoi squealed. Then, unexpectedly, she began to cry, even as they could both feel the ability to repeat their past, to cancel their mistakes, flow through them.  [color=ECF6CE]"It's... the b-best..."[/color] She swallowed.  [color=ECF6CE]"The-the best thing I... ever t-tasted."[/color] She began to cry some more. they were an odd mix of both happy and sad tears, one could suppose. She made sure to flash raffie a smile through them.

They took their fruits at near-exactly the same time, and each felt filled with power: Zarina and Tku, the power of endless resistance, and the power of vast knowledge. Both were rare visitors but they felt, instinctively, that they would know the gifts of each of the two fruits. 

Yet, they had bitten at nearly the same time, and this proved most auspicious. They looked over and beheld not only each other, but also all of the other men and all of the other women. Having eaten, they were free of their earlier bounds and all present could perceive the distant horizon lightening ever so slightly.

Then, something unexpected. As Joliin fed Raffaella a fruit and received one in return, as Fiske plucked from the same tree as those two, the Many-Armed God moved. His first and tenth hands - [i]Her[/i] first and tenth hands - came together, palms pressed upon each other. For a moment, from inside, there was a glow.

Then, the palms unfolded and, in the middle of them sat a tiny white-golden fruit, almost like a flower: a Mahura bloom. The glow faded, but it remained there, a little dollop of divinity before them.

Raffie's expression was one of mixed sympathy and contentment. She knew what the yasoi girl was feeling, for she had the same experience, once upon a time. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved a handkerchief for the girl. [color=red]"What will you do now?"[/color] she inquired curiously.

She sometimes wondered what she would do, as someone who was free on paper, but also not truly free. If, someday, she became truly free, what would she do? Would that kind of life have meaning? Or could her life only have meaning if she was bound to this heavy destiny of hers?

Joliin opened her mouth to speak. [color=ECF6CE]"I..."[/color] She trailed off, and it was not just her stutter. [color=ECF6CE]"I hon-nestly haven't giv-en it m-much thought."[/color] She shook her head. [color=ECF6CE]"S-so many possibili-ties."[/color] She swallowed. Then, not so very far away, she could see the others - there were the boys! - but things looked tense. She arched an eyebrow and glanced over and back at Raffie.

Raffie nodded in understanding, just a bit solemn. [color=red]"I think we can arrange something good,"[/color] she mused, thinking Zarina might have some useful connections through a certain yasoi. She, too, beheld the fiasco surrounding the viceroy who had seized the new, shiny fruit and simply shrugged. There was more at stake requiring his cooperation later. Though, if someone [i]did[/i] rough him up a little... well, the many-armed one would probably put a stop to it, anyhow. She nodded sagely as she let the scene unfold.

Unfortunately, the many-armed god did not instantly smite Kashani for his greed at acquiring two fruits. Raffie approached the second Mahura flower, her curious eyes joining many others. She did want to at least see it before someone devoured it, but didn't exactly expect to receive it. [color=red][i]It represents the joined beauty of the masculine and feminine,[/i][/color] she thought, considering the process that had caused it to appear. [color=red]"It's beautiful,"[/color] she said, wondering if anyone shared her unspoken thoughts. A few of the others agreed as they drew slowly closer, some with a mind to take it for themselves.

It wasn't as if Raffie [i]didn't,[/i] but she knew from experience that joining in as others dogpiled a prize would put a toll on her frail body, and coming out on top would incur even greater cost to her reptuation. Her hesitation would result in the prize being snatched by Lunara. Then, Marco and Black King—Desmond—would make an executive decision to give the third and final one to the least fortunate among them. This, Desmond decided, was Joliin. It hurt Raffie to hear Desmond say it, knowing what he did of what she went through—but if she was honest, he was right. She had been an orphan, but Joliin had been a slave. She pursed her lips and nodded her sulking approval. Desmond gave her a noogie. The nerve he had..! But, from him, she would allow it just once.

Joliin swallowed. [color=ECF6CE]"I..."[/color] Her eyes darted between the others. She still lingered on them with an almost uncanny reverence, reveling, perhaps, in her ability to see again and unsure if it would last. She cleared her throat. [color=ECF6CE]"I do not... deserve it. Oth-ers have done m-m-more and ris-ked more."[/color] She breathed in and out. [color=ECF6CE]"But if y-ou wish me t-to have ...it, then I w-will."[/color]

Tku was refreshed to see the consensus forming around Joliin. He would have preferred [i]all[/i] the flowers go to the rebels or those who had made strong efforts to end this war with less bloodshed, but nothing Zagnath runs fast in those Virangish. He would just try to turn the screws or use it to temper any more greed from them in the negotiations. [color=734960]"I have bore witness to Joliin's spirit and conditions more than others. I think it is only fitting that one who freed themselves under Virang's influence take the blessing."[/color] Tku supported Joliin's right to the fruit.

Marceline shrugged. [color=598527]"We all have our crosses to bear,"[/color] she decided, [color=598527]"some more obvious than others."[/color] She glanced in the direction of Zarina and Tku. Did her eyes flick Desmond's way too, for the briefest span of time? [color=598527]"I am of the opinion that these Gifts should go to those who will need them most in the fights surely to come."[/color] She furrowed her brow. [color=598527]"But who is to say that Joliin won't be?"[/color] She cast about again and shrugged a second time, perhaps uncomfortable in adding caveat to burgeoning consensus. [color=598527]"I won't stand in the way."[/color]

Ertan Kashani had taken his already, and so he was quite encouraging on the matter as well. In fact, there were no further objections voiced, and so, with a timid [color=ECF6CE]"A'lethei,"[/color] the bony yasoi girl stepped forward to take the mahura and gingerly eat it. It then remained only for Marco to take [i]his[/i]. For a moment, seven men and eleven women stood around in a sacred grove, waiting.

Then, the God raised his - her - hands and they were ten once more and the eighteen who had entered found themselves standing or sitting where they had been before any of this had begun. They were not alone anymore, though. Selma Balik had arrived, along with two squadrons of janissaries. Dani stood across from her with twice as many soldiers of the Republic, his arms crossed and posture standoffish instead of hostile. 

In the distance, as the sun threw long shadows across the former battlefield, dragons circled and soldiers returned to their tents. Some lay on the grass or in the mud, damp with morning dew, not dead or wounded, but too exhausted to move. Others bled out in triage. Some had begun to gather their dead and the previous day's debris. 

The war had almost certainly ended here, at Fortuna, with neither side claiming a decisive victory, and that seemed in some ways, both the most unsatisfying and most fitting outcome of all. Crops sat overripe in fields as a potential famine loomed in Palapar. Enemies circled a preoccupied Virang like vultures back on the twin continents. The simple fact was that this had been a final gambit because both sides could not truly afford to fight any longer.

Were they friends, suddenly? Had the very deep and recent wounds they had left upon each other healed or been forgotten? All who gathered knew that this was not the case, but it is often said that, while ideals start wars, practicalities conclude them. That was not to say that there had not been some victories of the righteous - and the terrible - over the mundane. They stood there on that field and they spoke to one another, one way or another. Palapar was no better off now than it had been some four months previous and was, by most measures, significantly worse. 

Yet, the paradigm had shifted. Whatever calamities had been brought to this place, they had come with an opportunity as well - one that the Traveler himself - herself - had gone to great lengths to ensure: the future would hold something new, something different, something owned by [i]all[/i] of the people who called this place home.[/color][/hider]