"Can you imagine how many different worlds must connect here? Just look at this place! It's even more diverse than Wing City! I've seen a lot since I moved to the mainland, but nothing like this."

Amidst the crowds, a young blonde man was walking alongside a tall armoured woman. Cináed wore simple clothes that one might have expected from any average teenager of Terra, an amusing contrast to the elegantly decorated black-and-gold armour of his companion. His face wore, as ever, an incredibly broad smile, and his amber eyes were alight with wonder.

"Hah! Youngling, you've hardly seen the start of it!" the impressively imposing warrior replied, her voice booming heartily over the general hubbub of the street. "I've spent many a day drinking at the fine establishments of this city, and trust me, there is far more to be seen here than even that old haunt in Wing City had!" Anria waved a hand out across the area, where in their field of view alone there must have been a dozen different species represented.

"I wish we could stay longer," Cináed said, sighing plaintively, "There hasn't been any need for me at the temple yet. This is the most exciting thing I've done all fortnight."

Anria patted the boy on the back, grinning, "The life of a hero isn't all glory and excitement, youngling, but you'll have your time. Nothing's ever quiet on Terra for long!"

The pair passed close to where Kaden was sitting, pausing outside a tavern just across the street. "I shan't be long, Cináed, I need only collect my wager from that damned elf and then we'll be on our way. Keep an eye out here in case he's plotted to backstab me with a gaggle of goons, not that I think he has the initiative!"

With that said, the armoured woman disappeared inside, leaving Cináed to lean onto the wall of the building with a bored flick of his hair.

As the starship pushed its way up from the ocean, it wasn't met with an empty island. No, Gonthar - along with the other two of the three titans - was in fact a popular tourist destination. The glittering oceans bordered by tranquil beaches were lined with tourists who scattered screaming as the cybrans emerged. People watched in horror from skyscraper hotels as the soldiers set about their work establishing bases on the beaches and other places beyond the city limits.

The local police force held back, protecting civilians but not challenging the beach assault just yet - contact had been sent to the TNG and a military response would be en route. News crews broadcast the event to the world as it unfolded.

In one particular penthouse suite, a purple-haired woman leaned onto the balcony as she watched. A blonde boy walked up next to her, jaw still hanging as though dehinged from when the first ships had emerged.

"Well, Castiel," Castala remarked, "I suppose that's that for our vacation."

"I thought we came here to get away from this sort of thing." the youth groaned.

"I suppose that's lesson learned," the magician said to her assistant with a dry chuckle, "Next time I want a relaxing holiday, I'm going offworld."

"Castala, you have twenty minutes."

Castala Melaidhrin, famed magician and illusionist extraordinaire, looked up from the mirror she was sat before, carefully putting the finishing touches to her appearance. The dressing room she sat in was part of a the trailer that the show had traveled in (obviously, inside a spacecraft at some points) to reach New Pastor. The stool she sat on was adorned with a plush royal red cushion with golden embroidering, and the furnishings were all of good quality wood. The carpet was a dark crimson, and its furry material tickled between her toes when she walked. The desk had a bright lamp beside the mirror, and a wide variety of cosmetics - though of course, she had brought her own.

"Alright dear, I'll be ready in plenty of time." Castala smiled at the younger girl who stood in the doorway, dressed in a tight-fitting colourful costume - she was one of the show's acrobats... Leah, if she wasn't mistaken. The older woman turned back to the mirror, running her gilded brush carefully through her hair for a final time. Placing it down, she brought her hands up to pat at the heavily conditioned cascades of buoyant purple locks, reflecting the light just right as she adjusted them. A magician's first and most valuable tool was their image - and Castala was more than aware that her sex appeal got her as much of an audience as her magic did. And in her view, if you've got it, why not flaunt it?

Humming to herself, the illusionist slipped her long black boots up over her stockings, and slipped carefully into her corset-top, before pausing to glance at the door. "Tiel, sweetie, would you be a dear and come zip me up?"

---

Outside, the circus-tent that had been assembled earlier that day was filled with the cheers and cries of an entertained crowd, as the denizens of the camp and those from several camps around enjoyed the show of Castala's acrobats, animal trainers, and various other circus performers. There was a great deal of anticipation for the arrival of Castala herself - in the week or so that she had been on the planet, she had gained something of a reputation already. But there was no sense of dissatisfaction in the acts that were already performing - after all, this was an entertainment-starved community of refugees, not a demanding crowd of wealthy theater-goers.

Talren followed Jon through the portal with only a brief parting glance at the mob, flashing them a mocking wave as he vanished.