In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Chopsuey was in the very middle of the dusty coliseum, showing off his moves to a rather small audience of .... 6 or 7 or so people. A green blast of plasma rocketed through the air with a screech until it exploded in a gooey mess up high. Another, brighter red blast was shot right into a pillar, leaving a singe.
"Heh. Breeng on theez fighters." He whispered to himself. Perhaps he will fight with one of those magical human warriors he keeps seeing ....
After tiredly watching the little alien show off for the majority of the morning, Nyra finally straightened from where she had been leaning on one of the Coliseum pillars. Nobody else was challenging him. Meaning, the little cretin would be the only competitor for a while. Quite frankly, she was too impatient to wait for a different one.
"Long time no see, little fella," Nyra said with a rather stiff half-grin, striding forward, Nocturne already prepped in her hand. "Bored?"
The blaze of the sun was tempered by pink drifts of clouds. The odd, angular, swirly wisps were native only to Olympus - luckily so, otherwise the heat might have been unbearable.
A brief thought crossed Nyra's mind regarding whether aliens felt temperature like humans did.
Who cares? she thought. If one of us is gonna be knocked out in the next few minutes, what does it matter if the other feels a bit warm?
