The city of Domea. The sparkling white city of all religions, faiths, and creeds. And it was alive with all sorts of people from all sorts of places. There were men from the North with their pale skin and blue eyes, who worshiped darkness. There were men from the South with their brown bodies and black hearts who worshiped money and profit. There were angels, devils, halflings and kobolds, and for the first time in a good long while, things that could have been elves. And they had come from all over the mutli-verse for the Festival of Lights, held every hundred years. The king was there, the good Emperor of Jord. He had ruled this world for only five years, but showed a wealth of wisdom and charm despite his youth. He had invited nobles from all across the world, heroes from other planes of existence, and watched the festivities. He was young. He wanted everybody to get along. He was king, and this was the first time in a hundred years that these festivities had taken place. He wanted everything to be absolutely perfect. From his high booth far above the crowd, he watched the people and activities with a close eye. He had heard that there were great men and women that he was not even aware of, hidden in the crowd, lost in the wave of people and colours. Not all was well, at the Festival of Lights, though. There had been men and women disappearing from off the streets. It was as if the ground had swallowed them up. They were all great heroes, too. The magnificent Ursus, who returned to the earth after sacrificing himself to save his battalion. The honourable Sir Raleigh, captain of the King's guard and model knight. The troublesome, but clever Fortenous of Chalice. Aleron of the Libon House. Lord Wolperting of the North. All gone. All swallowed. All disappeared. The king knew little of it, but it filled him with fear. The festival had to go on. They could not stop. And so, on it went... -------------------- Aegis Mandubrath hated festivals. They were gaudy and ridiculous, and distracted from what needed to be done, but yet, here he was, infront of a vendor selling what appeared to be icons of the Prophet Taiga Balaika. He scoffed, and folded his arms across his chest. This was the first time anybody had seen the young prince in person since the black cloud had moved over his homeland, Brathis. He was here with Vitesse Kreig, and he wondered what people were saying about that. Vitesse had been partially responsible from the black cloud. He had been at war with Aegis for nearly a year, and here they were, making a public appearance with one another. It was eerie, almost, and flashes of their war and his memories flashed behind Aegis's eyes. He couldn't help it. He picked up one of the idols, inspecting it slightly, with cool, bored blue eyes. The elven saviour did nothing for him. There was a chapel for his gods here, but of course there was. Domea was the city of all churches. All of the taverns had religious names, and stuffy priests shot nasty looks, depending on what you ordered. He looked through the crowd, trying to find Vitesse, "We need to book a room for the night," He said flatly.