It was the yet another sunrise for Solium, the pristine structures of the Talos gleam in dawn's early light, the golden glimmer from the great temple of Deus Mammonas even visible from the common man's sectors at the outer rims or the citadel walls. To the non-Talos, the true natives of this world, the sunrise was like a constant reminder of who was now in charge, who had ultimately won the war, yet came as uninvited guests to it. With the rise of the sun, came a resonant chime signaling an end to the curfew, and slowly life came to the streets once more.
One of the hot spots of activity remained the tavern, more so than ever, it was one of the few luxuries allowed to this world's "savages," to keep them placated, perhaps. It stood out among the efficiency oriented one-size-fits-all homes provided by the Talos, it had actual wood floors and tables, and only the bare minimum of Talos construction, and only for anything electronic, so they actually function on the Talos grid. It was one of the few places that one could at least try to forget they were here.
That was, at the exception of the bard leaned in a corner, strumming away at his strings, creating a contemplative little melody. A peculiar creature, calling himself "Orpheus," a Talos Nosos, an exile who dared to have desires other than what served their golden lord's efficiency. Regardless, it made him no more friend to the native barflies, who seated themselves away from him, a matter he had grown to accept. He was the outsider here, not them, he couldn't blame them for their suspicions.
"Perhaps a more joyous tune is preferred..?" he asks no one in particular, his voice soft, almost human, but it resonant. "Or perhaps my song would be best needed elsewhere?"
A light blond haired man sat at a table, his blue eyes into a cup as the bard's hard feet clattered against the hard wood floor. The man, Ezekiel, or Zeke, for short, was a peculiar sight himself, a remaining experiment from the war that started this all. A real mess he was, back then, uncontrollable, egotistical, but now... now... what was the point? It landed him here, with everyone else, stronger than the average civilian, but still just another mook under the eye of the golden palace. He sighs, pushing the glass away, laying himself over his table.
"Man, it is still too early for this," he mutters, but his body betrayed his words, his hand picking up the glass, and shaking it overhead for another drink.
A crescendo of warbles echoed throughout Solium, causing the veteran to drop the glass on the side as he stumbles from his chair, the barkeep deftly diving as the glass rolled off the table and into his hands.
"Blast that noise!" Zeke yelled, his voice slurred swinging his arm limply as he struggled to waken from his stupor, stumbling out the door in a frenzy. "I'll show em' what's comin' to em'!"
As he stumbled out into the street, the light of the sun struck his eyes, reflected by something shiny, covering them he stumbled through people who had gathered around. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts on what was going on. He looked up, a shimmer in the air as a projection formed in the sky. It was an announcement of some kind, Deus Mammonas himself was ready to speak, his massive golden godlike form unmistakable from any other Talos.
"The hell does he want..?" Zeka mutters, someone shushing him immediately, as the deep yet soothing voice of Mammonas washed over them.
"Do you think your Deus is deaf to your plights? Blind to your desires? Have I not provided you with everything you require? And yet, I hear of murmurs, of misinterpretations to my intentions. Have I not held my end? Surely you think not ill of my good works, after all, I've done all what is only for the best. Need I remind you all of your liberation from a savage war-torn world? Surely I do not. Should I state that I have removed the fears of pestilence and infirmity? Surely I should not. These I gave freely, charitably. And all your Deus asks is your adherence to the laws established, and the smallest bit of patronage."
"I took over your world, worship me," Zeke says under his breath, a wry grin on his face.
"But perhaps you believe more is required? Perhaps that is what you desire. It is your world, and you feel you should have more a hand in it, a higher position in it, perhaps. I can reason with this. But, you must earn your way back. Your world is still savage, untamed, neglected. My... foundation, has found itself having difficulty circumventing some problems you have left behind, beasts you had failed to tame. Simply put, perhaps there are those of you that are more informed of your peculiar fauna my Talos have been impeded by? If there are those among you able, here is your chance to redeem yourselves, to show that you are worthy of your world. This is me reaching out to you a desire only to get past any enmity that persists, to reach understanding. Those able can report your desire to assist to an Architect or Centurion. Praise to the Talos."
The projection breaks, and people begin to talk amongst themselves. This was something different, causing quite the stir among the people. It was a stretch, not many trusted the words, but wanted to. A chance to raise to relevant citizens in their own world again, a chance to be free of curfews and, more importantly, the damnable walls that bind them? It was too good to ignore.
"I'm having trouble conquering the rest of your world, so do it for me because I'm too important, and... worship me, again," Zeke mutters again, a crooked smirk on his face. He then sighs, scratching his side. "Honestly, who'd fall for this..? Then again... maybe I should..?"
Within the pristine gold-and-white palace of the Deus, the great Talos seated himself upon his massive circular throne after finishing the broadcast, his mood unreadable. They knew not to question, not to second guess, well, most of them did. A ruckus outside the throne room announced an arrival of someone, and Mammonas already aware of who. With a loud rumble, a scarlet Centurion came in, only to immediately drop to her knee and kneel before him, head lowered. Kokkino, one of the most faithful of his Centurions, and most obsessive.
"You disapprove, Centurion?" his voice smooth, piercing.
"My Deus, am I not faithful to you? Am I not loyal!?" she speaks, her voice cracking, borderline hysterical.
"I wasn't aware these matters were brought into question," Mammonas responds, brushing it off, only to meet the eyes of his zealot.
"Then why is your first choice to turn to these creatures instead!?" she yells, loudly pounding her breastplate, the sound echoing through the halls. Her eyes fix daringly into Mammonas's own, making the other attending Talos nervous as to what she may do. She again lowers her head, eyes dimming. "Order me and I will do so freely, without condition, to death if necessary. For Centurion, no greater pleasure is to serve you, our Deus."
"Exactly. There is nothing deeper to test, nothing to strengthen further than it already is. Your devotion is unconditional, unwavering. What have I to gain in sending you? The creatures of this world, however, they I've yet to achieve the same with. Does this satisfy you?"
"You wish to assimilate them?" she asked, her tone confused.
"If they serve a use."
"And if they they fail, if they refuse?"
"Then, by all means, as my blades, carve into this world my order."
Kokkino's eyes flare for a moment before narrowing, her arms crossing and banging against her chest. "Praise to the Talos!" She then stood up and backed out of the throne room, head respectfully lowered until out the door.
"Hm, should I consider reforging that one?" he asked, stating so rather coldly.