Maggie
*In the ancient annals of Gaia's roots, deep within the bosom of the tall tree, a small gathering of mortals had convened. It was a tranquil haven where they sought refuge from the chaotic worlds above, a sanctuary hidden in the heart of the living tree. Bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of luminescent roots that sprawled across the underground chamber, they gathered in a loose circle, their faces illuminated by the natural radiance that emanated from the very core of Gaia

As they settled on the mossy ground, these denizens of the subterranean realm engaged in the most ordinary yet cherished conversations, their voices like whispers of the Earth herself. They spoke of the simple, yet profoundly human matters that bound them together. Conversations flowed like gentle streams, carried along by the unity of their shared existence.

In hushed tones, they reminisced about their families, weaving tales of siblings, parents, and children. They spoke of the joys and challenges of kinship, sharing the warmth of familial bonds that transcended the ages. Their words danced amidst the subterranean roots, creating a mosaic of interwoven stories.

As the soft glow of the roots bathed their faces, they recounted stories of enduring friendships, the trust and laughter that had sustained them through the ebb and flow of time. Each tale was a tribute to the connections they had forged, a testament to the profound importance of companionship in their lives.

The memory of departed loved ones lingered in their hearts, and they spoke of those who had moved on to the great beyond. With reverence and love, they recalled the dearly departed, sharing stories that served as tributes to their legacies, ensuring that their spirits lived on in the embrace of their memories.*

*Marriage, the timeless union of souls, was another topic of great fascination. They discussed the bonds formed through marriage, the rituals and celebrations that had marked the milestones of their lives. With each tale, they celebrated the union of hearts and the strength it bestowed upon their community.

In this hidden haven, a place untouched by the hustle and bustle of the world above, these mortals reveled in the ordinary magic of mortal existence. The subterranean roots, pulsing with the very life force of Gaia, bore witness to their conversations, and in their shared stories, the essence of what it meant to be human was profoundly cherished.*
Alma
But...

Without the hustle and bustle of the world above, there came with it isolation. Being secluded from the countless other realms and mortals was a peaceful existence, yes. But their isolation came with a dangerous cost. They had no protection. They were alone in their hiding place, but should an intruder arrive or should they, perhaps, *Be* The intruders... They would have no saviours amongst them. Amidst their merriment lurked a hidden predator. A mortal, much like them, but made to be stronger. Made in the image of a god that cared little for *Them*. Truth be told, even the god that had a hand in its creation cared little for this one in particular. Perhaps that was why it was there. Jealousy. Envious of the happiness of these simple, weak people. These fools who had such small views of the world.

The gentle light of the roots grew dimmer with each passing moment. The air grew cold. The little people found themselves shivering. Not that it was freezing or anything. They huddled together. Mothers, children, fathers. Grandparents, too. Huddled around the little people was the dark. An unnatural, cloying darkness. It was as if the essence of night itself had slithered beneath the Great Tree, clutching those little mortals like a crab clutching a little fish, itching to crush its prey.

And then...
*It did.*

From above there was a deep, raspy snarl. Like swords doing their hardest to slice through rocks. In an instant one of the little Fathers disappeared, leaving behind only a pool of blood and a severed leg. Not even a cry of pain or fear. Another moment passed. The cool air had grown humid with the fear radiating from the scared little people. The monster seemed amused. Something in the dark dragged a few of them away, trails of blood being tracked across the ground.

Only the gods could help them, now.
Maggie
*As the malevolent Monster descended upon the trembling populace, a palpable aura of dread enveloped the hapless onlookers. Their hearts pounded with a symphony of fear, their eyes wide with terror. Just when all hope seemed lost, a voice, like a divine echo from the depths of the obsidian shadows, pierced through the chaos.

From the very core of the earth, the roots that entwined the underground chamber radiated a newfound warmth, bathing the scene in a gentle, otherworldly luminescence. And then there was an explosion, from which emerged a figure shrouded in dark, imposing armor, a solitary sentinel against the encroaching darkness.

In a resolute tone, the enigmatic figure bellowed,*

 " Esrever Tantum, Cursed Sun Reversal Technique. " 

*His words carried the weight of ancient incantations, and as they reverberated through the cavernous expanse, time itself seemed to shift and buckle. The people who had previously been taken and killed seemed to be put back in place, right before their deaths. As if they had never been harmed. 

With a flourish of the blade he held aloft, it erupted in an incandescent blaze, casting a brilliant, daylight-like radiance that banished the oppressive shadows. The area around them transformed into a realm of perpetual noon, where no darkness could hide.

Fixing his unwavering gaze upon the grotesque Beast, the figure continued, his voice a solemn condemnation,*

" Beast, you who lay waste to innocent lives, who inflict agony upon the blameless, May the firey depths scorch your bone and flesh while you descend. "

*His grip tightened around the blazing blade, a symbol of justice and retribution. With every ounce of determination, he awaited the Monster's response.*
Alma
The aura of malevolence the beast had given off was burned away by the godly flames. The aura of dread from the civilians had shifted. They were no longer the ones filled with dread. No, it was the beast that feared for its life now.. The shadows sizzled and boiled, bubbling and spitting like fresh-poured tar as they retreated from the divine light. No longer able to hide in the shadows of its own creation, the beast unfurled its body from behind one of the roots. It was large. About the size of an average mortal's house. Its body, long and and vaguely crocodilian in shape, potbellied as it was, did not possess visible wings. Its skin was smooth and black with yellow, triangular scales infrequently breaking the otherwise monotonous colour scheme. Its head was froglike, two tusks jutted from its upper jaw, each one dripping with luminous red liquid. It licked its chops, noticing the distinct lack of the iron-taste of blood. Though its eyes could show no fear (additionally having strange, cross-shaped pupils), it was not difficult for the god to sense the palpable fear it felt at this moment.

The dragon dropped from the root, its collision with the earth causing it to tremble beneath the other mortals feet, making a few of them stumble and fall. Its tail whipped back and forth, seemingly without input from the beast itself. It was long and whiplike, with a single, disc-shaped bone at the very tip emanated a shrill whistle each time it sailed through the air. There was a long pause as the dragon regarded the armoured god, particularly focused on the flaming sword that they carried.
It is said that the fear of predators, of beings in higher echelons of the natural order than you, is a truly primal fear. *This* Was the terror that Psychobos was experiencing as he stared down a being so mighty that it could end him with a flick of its wrist. 

*"...AAAAAAAAaaaahem..!"*

The beast cleared its throat, causing the froglike pouch on it to expand slightly.

*"But... I, too, am innocent! I too, am blameless. My dear, dear greater being, would you punish a cat for catching a mouse? An owl for snatching a young chick from its nest? Are these evil too? So evil, could I be? I think not, Greater Being. Simply born... With sharp teeth."* The dragon croaked.
 Its voice betrayed no emotion. If anything it seemed completely calm. Not that Samael couldn't tell otherwise. It was absolutely pissing itself with fear. Any moment now the god could strike him down, burn him to cinders, chop him into a feast for what would have been his prey. 

*"Come now... Come now! Surely you would not be so... Unfair. You have not punished these mortals for their slaughter of their plants and their pigs and their cattle, why would you punish... Little old me?"*

Psychobos gave the best approximation of a smile as it could, revealing two rows of needle-thin, razor-sharp teeth behind his red gums.
Maggie
The man advanced with unwavering determination, his grip on the blazing blade never faltering. As he spoke, his words were laden with a profound conviction that cut through the tension in the air.

" I am not an advocate of injustice, " 

*He declared, his voice a thunderous proclamation.*

 " I condemn the slaughter of animals by both humans and creatures like you. These people, the ones you target, belong to a peaceful vegan tribe. While you may argue that you were born with fangs and a predatory nature, you possess consciousness enough to understand the gravity of your actions. The animals humans consume do not share your level of awareness, making your deeds equally reprehensible. "

*With each step, it felt as though the world itself was on the brink of collapse. The blade's searing light, far from comforting like the morning sun, bathed the scene in an eerie radiance akin to a sterile, clinical light. It was the kind of illumination that blinded, controlled, and brought torment to all who encountered it. The man's intentions were pure, but his aura exuded an uncanny malevolence, like the very embodiment of a devil.

As his words echoed through the cavern, a pervasive sense of dread washed over those present, an inescapable tide of fear that cut to the core. It was as if he held the power to deliver a fate worse than death, a reality that defied the imagination. There was no refuge for shadows or distant realms to hide from this unrelenting light, only pure terror that gripped the heart of all who bore witness.*

" These are your final moments, Tell me O beast, will the weight of your sins not break your back on the way down to hell? It may be wise to pray for mercy to your God. "

*He intoned, his words carrying a weight that foretold an impending reckoning, the likes of which none could have ever imagined.*
Alma
The light burned and tore at the dragon's form. Inky black tendrils erupted from his back, doing their best to shield the beast from Samael's burning light. By the time they managed to protect themself from the brunt of the god's onslaught a good three quarters of the beast's skin were charred and cracked, blue blood leaking from the abrasions in the flesh. Psychobos groaned in pain, the mere sensation of moving causing his vision to blur from the burning torture he'd been put through.

*'All this effort for a bunch of hippies?'* He thought to himself, *'What kind of god would even bother?'*

It was at that moment, shortly after Samael commanded him to pray for mercy that Psychobos got an idea. An awful, horrible, terrible idea. The beast coughed, a pitch-black clump of phlegm and blue blood launched itself out of his throat and onto the ground. That wasn't intentional. He was pretty sure the air had ignited in one of his lungs. The utter agony of speaking caused him to wince and writhe with each few words.

*"...Alas... Very well..."* Psychobos whispered, a glum expression suddenly cast over the beast's froglike face, *"Could you at least... Allow me to sing a final hymn to my dear, dear creator? It is... Customary... For my people, to sing one last song at the time of their death. Please... Good sir, KIND sir... Let me do this one, last thing? It is all I need to get to the afterlife peacefully."*
Maggie
" Make it quick. "

*The simplicity of the response was terrifying, yet that was all. A cold blunt response*