Red hovered his hands over the obsidian console. He tracked the digital timers ticking down on the holographic grid. Five minutes passed in complete silence. No incoming communications from Gorvash or Sylis flared.
The rival gods were actively ignoring him. Red tapped the localized comms rune on the terminal and broadcasted his voice directly into the minds of his Vanguard.
"Stop playing with your food," Red ordered. "Take the Spire."
Down in the courtyard beneath the towering obsidian and violet crystal statue, Gorak dropped the half-eaten roasted meat onto a silver platter.
The grease splattered across the polished white marble. Iron-Scale adjusted his quartz monocle and leaned on his Star-Iron cane. The Kobold Inquisitor stared directly at the Orc captain.
"The feast is over," Iron-Scale announced. "Evacuate the premises immediately."
The Orc captain burst into a booming laugh. He drew his jagged broadsword and pointed the rusted tip at Gorak's chest.
