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The Terminus High above the Silver Tree, deep in the cold red space of the Terminus itself, darkness billowed from the nothingness. It formed first into a black crescent that glowed with an impossible black radiance, then from the crescent there swelled a long spear with a pentagram at the tip. From the crescent resolved the figure of a pale-skinned woman, the spear in one hand and the crescent of shadow billowing behind her like a cape - her eyes deep voids of blackness as she looked down at the world of the Furions beneath her. Clutching her weapon, which was Starkiller, the slayer of suns in her hand, she waited in the void until the Furions came for her - and when they surrounded her, weapons glowing, she threw aside Starkiller and declared in a booming voice that resounded even in the true vacuum of the Terminus. "I am Tarva the Terrible! I bring grave tidings from the streets of Nihilor. But I will speak only to the Fleet-Footed!" --- March 1, 2014 As happens more often than you'd think, a swirling dimensional portal opened above the Martel Castle suspended itself a full hundred stories above Freedom City. Out stepped a man, if that was a man, all in black - the darkness of his garb marred by silvery lines that criss-crossed his muscular body in an abstract pattern and by his facemask - a white goat's face like that of Baphomet himself! Wielding a staff that glowed with searing red flame at the tip, he folded his arms expectantly and awaited in cold silence the arrival of his host and her escorts - for this was Scavros the Scarred, darkest and most terrifying of the Furions!

14 April 2012 The weather is nice today, Eve thought as she looked out across the Great Bay. It was a fleeting thought, and only a momentary distraction from the anxiety gnawing at her, for guests would be arriving soon. Eve was never one for drawing attention to herself--the few friends she had knew she preferred to be the quiet, unseen hand in the background--but there were certain things she was unable to avoid. Unavoidable, perhaps, but not immutable. By floating out an invitation to her friends and teammates, and most importantly Etain, Eve was able to neatly sidestep the preconceived notion of what an eighteenth birthday party for someone of her wealth and status should be like. Taking things into her hands would allow the Martel heiress to do things her way. That thought brought a smile to her face as she slipped back into her room then headed down the stairs, guests would be arriving soon, after all.