Five days after the previous attack, you gather to prepare for the arrival of Small Made Large, the fourth Primordial you have faced and the sixth to manifest an assault on your world. You are better armed with knowledge than before, including where it will strike and an idea of what form it will take.

Shovash in particular has a plan to exploit the former, and shows up half a day in advance of the attack, ready to execute it. For the rest, planning and preparation culminate in a state of readiness. Weapons are checked, spells prepared, power gathered and a fine meal eaten.

And then you gather at Quantium, the capital city of Nex. It's a desert city, fine architecture rising out of the sands. Everything seems peaceful, for all that there are evident signs of readiness for battle in the city, but all available evidence says that this is where Small Made Large will strike, in just a short time.

As the pre-ordained hour approaches, Tolben shrouds himself in powerful magics. First those expected to last hours, then several minutes. Most visibly, several copies of him appear as he opts for Mirror Image over invisibility. The shortest-lasting spells will need to wait until the enemy arrives.

A harsh rain dampens the sand for a full two miles from his location, the weather answering his will. Such torrents are known in deserts, but seldom for so long.

"For those who don't already know, I mean to draw the Primordial's ire. Its predecessors have responded fiercely to others claiming their domains, and the response will likely be just as vicious today. Stay well clear!"

  Today, for the first time since the group had reconvened, Shovash is absent from the preparations. Her own take far longer and have been ongoing since the previous night, and she sends her smoke and ember servant, Sting, to gather with the rest of the Compact in the council chambers of the Three. He (it?) conveys her insincere regrets and a report.

  "The Mistress wishes you to know the ritual is nearly complete. She wished to finish as shortly as possible before the ትልቁ አገላለፅ arrives, that the shelter may be fresh and secure. She says it also keeps the Cataclysm from growing bored." The mephit's head splits in a grin all the way through, and the crackling sound it makes has a few things in common with laughter, at least.

  "You have until She puts another star in the sky to defend yourselves from the pull of the shelter. 'Lock the room,' She said. Any minute now." With its job done, Sting catches a light breeze, leaves humanoid shape behind, and whorls away.

"So plan is, what, Shovash makes the city not... there? Then Tolben gets this bastard angry at him in particular while the rest of us just hit it as hard as we can?" He shrugs and looks out the window after Sting, "Easy enough, almost feel bad for this one. Shouldn't we give it a sporting chance or something?"

Ragnar, normally the picture of serenity before a fight, is atypically restless - noticeable largely because the movement makes him constantly flicker in and out of visibility like a badly tuned crystal ball. His inquiries and spies sent out to ascertain whether Tar-Baphon was indeed actively mustering power again had yet to provide solid returns, and his initial research into the origins of Geb were similarly fruitless. The former would take time, the latter needed a consultation with either Tolben or Dharmesh, and both had been occupied till now.

"Excellent idea, Damien. Howbout we just let you handle this one by yourself, then? That seems like a fair fight, after Shovash and Tolben do their things."
"Yeah! Hey! Wait, what?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:25, Thu 21 May 2020.