The two forces glared at each other across the fraying lines of cobalt energy that barred the way from Taurus to Capricorn.

Admittedly, the glares from the Celestians on Taurus were both more impressive and more numerous than the single, wavering glare returned by the young Cacophonist whose greatpentagram was the only thing holding the enemy hordes at bay.

Beyond his obvious youth, his glare was further weakened by his current stance: seated - or huddled, really - around a flamed monolith sigil. His gaze also went distant every few seconds as he either frantically sent off another call for aid or assessed the current status of the fight taking place on the other side of the Capricorn.

From what he could tell, it wasn't going well. Which really did not help him sustain a glare worthy of a Legionnaire of the Engine.

Every few seconds he would feel the inevitable involuntary twitch in his crossed legs as a Celestine attempted to beckon him to his doom, or see the muted flare of light as an Aquamancer tested his protective shield. So far, the combination of being seated and shielded around a monolith protected by a greatpentagram on a separate (albeit only barely) Astral sphere had protected him from intrusion and attack and prevented the Dawn Brigade from flanking the Legion to steal their wild nodes, but it couldn't last. In fact, the lynchpin of his defense, the greatpentagram, had only a few minutes left by his watch.

And they were still fighting over by Virgo.

The ticking of the aforementioned watch served only as a reminder of how little time he had, and so the bard turned it over to re-read the inscription on back and think of happier (or at least less stressful) times. It read:
To our darling son,
always thinking of the future

You know, he thought, upon a quick review of my future prospects, that's not as reassuring as I would like.

Still, the watch itself was nice enough. It had been a gift from his parents, on the day he graduated from the College of Necromantic & Tainted Research (with honours), and became an official member of the Cacophony. At least he wouldn't lose it when he died.

Which brought to mind that obsessed Hallifaxian Researcher who had tried to determine which qualities determined what you could keep hold of when you died, and in absence of that, construct a detailed list of everything and whether you did or did not keep it. It had been a source of much amusement (to everyone else) as she repeatedly killed herself or had herself killed in an attempt to test every item in every circumstance of death and resurrection.

It had been rather less amusing for the other subjects when she moved on to confirming her results on the control group.

To add insult to repeatedly fatal injuries, all she'd managed to prove was what everyone with an ounce of common sense already knew: that for almost everything (See Appendices A-C), yes, you can take it with you. And you can bring it back, too. And watches were definitely on the approved list.

Well, that had served as an adequate distraction, although he'd lost his glare. Less than a minute to go now, and still no response to his increasingly frantic calls for help to the Legion. Well, he might be able to slow the tide for a few seconds. Colourmaelstrom, check. Song, check. Illusoryself, check. Octave, check. He'd been quite enthusiastic when prepping the room, gone all out. Pity it wouldn't really help.

As he resumed his interrupted glare across the border, his attention was caught by a merian tauntingly swinging a watch side to side, right behind the ageing barrier. As if he needed reminding.

Carefully standing up one last time - no need for fancy acrobatics here - he plucked a wavering dead tone from his screaming lyre, voice raised in defiance of the howling astral winds.

As he watched, breathing carefully regulated, body tensed, the cobalt lines of energy wavered one final time before dissipating.

The earth trembled as the enemy moved forward.

But ... did it tremble because they moved forward, or for some other reason?

Had he been so occupied by his own impending death he had missed the lack of others'?

As the vanguard of the Celestian forces stepped firmly onto Capricorn, the tainted land shuddered.

It rippled.

It opened a yawning mouth.

It disgorged the Midnight Legion, in glorious strength.

The air snapped and crackled with the energies of a telekinetic barrier as a sudden gust of wind picked up the relieved bard and flung him to safety. Deprived of both an easy target and an easy exit, the Dawn Brigade faced the Midnight Legion and battle was joined in full.

The young Cacophonist, however, did not rejoin his fellows. Instead, near to bursting with the joy of a job well done, he trundled off south to the Aries-Capricorn junction.

There, he carefully placed another monolith, wove a few glamours, and settled (but did not yet sit) down to wait.

Alone.

Defenceless.

Tempting.

The perfect bait.