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Gilgamesh      The King of Heroes does nothing halfway.

     The Preserver of Life is a beautiful ship by any imagination. Setting foot upon its wooden deck, the pulsating red lines of magical energy shining around its sides, is an experience unlike any other. It is a vehicle made of the finest of wood, wood so old and so ancient that it literally no longer exists in the world of Man. Its mere existence is decadence itself, antediluvian finery of the highest order designed to weather the most brutal storm and the most terrible monsters. Its slopes and curves are things of beauty. The laser cannons that thrum with red light are at once dangerous and entrancing, speaking of the ancient miracles of a time before Time. Just *standing* on the Preserver is something wonderful and unique.

     Inside the main hall, though, is something out of this world.

     The King of Heroes is the first thing that draws the eye. Gilgamesh sits atop a majestic throne of gold, arrayed at the end of a long and fanciful table. He is not dressed in his usual patchwork robe. He has discarded it for something more regal - a topless appearance that exudes power and charisma, crossed with the same red lines as the Preserver of Life, matched by golden armor bottoms with rippling red cloth that drapes over the throne like water. The throne itself sits above the rest of the seating on a raised dais, that Gilgamesh alone sit highest of all arrayed at the table. Before him is laid out a feast of impossible wealth and splendor. The finest foods from across the ancient world sit atop the tablecloth under shimmering magical lights embedded in the ceiling. Sweet and sour breads, meat from mythical monsters that drips with perfect flavor onto golden plates, nectar and ambrosia and beer and wine in cups of surpassing decadence, all lay out in front of seating that is, in two words, impossibly comfortable. Even the silverware is shining, shimmering, splendid in its majesty.

     The rest of the room is only less magnificent because it lacks the demigod himself. Banners hang all across it, most gold to represent the King of Uruk, but some in the colors of the Empire, and others in the color of the King of Engines. Shapeless, formless clay golems, little more than bipedals with fingers and eyes, stand at attention in ancient Babylonian servants' robes, carrying trays of various foods and drinks. More of those golems play in the corner, strumming their fingers across glorious Babylonian musical instruments to recreate some slightly more modern music - specifically, the King apparently decided to teach them something from the Greaser era, because they're playing a Babylonian instrumental rendition of /Greased Lightning/. What appears to be a gold-and-silver dance floor has been set up, and a long table full of...prizes?...with a...raffle?...silent auction?...stands in the corner, attended by several more golems.

     The King of Heroes does nothing halfway.
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone had been true to her word if there was a chance to talk she would be all for it. She has several encounters with the King of Heroes, he does not do anything halfway. No, he does not do anything halfway at all. Thankfully she knew in advance so she's dressed up a bit for this meeting in some kind of blue china dress and has cleaned herself up a bit. She just takes a moment though as she's floored still by this display of money, and power. She had an idea but Gil has outdone that once again.

The Music also catches her a bit off guard but well that's something worth saving as a soundbyte for later and as she finally comes over being shocked at the display she shows herself in and gets ready to mingle but more impornatly for the coming talks.
Riva Banari Permission is given, permission is received.

Even in modern times, it is tradition to request permission to come aboard a ship if one is not a crewman. Riva doesn't bat an eye when the word comes out over the radio. In the aftermath of the scrum on the Church Refinery, things have become tense as combat gives away to something more difficult.

Talking.

Riva's only known the situation in the Line for a little while and even she can see the massive faultlines that run through the two major empires. She doesn't seek to mend them, precisely. She isn't looking for a way to repair the rifts.

She's looking for a way to balance the scales. If either side wins, the Line will be lesser for it. The Line was created through the clash of two equally uncompromising forces. The Line needs to be put to an end, the Treasure removed... But some of the spirit can live on. Maybe she can help with that. Maybe not. But she'll try anyway.

The environment is certainly something that shows that Gilgamesh is taking this seriously. Riva gives a half-bow to the King as she enters. Politeness costs nothing and this is his turf. Showing a little deference is not untoward.

More important to Riva, however, is the feast. The moment she has a chance, she's at the table, marvelling at the splendor arrayed before her. Foods she doesn't even know the name of are present. Immediately, she plops into a chair, fills a plate, and begins sampling some of the finest legendary cuisine she's ever experienced. She's lost in her own world now. She'll be back when it's talking time.

Probably.
Starbound Flotilla     The meeting here is a full-attendance event. Here comes the King of Engines; his prominent pompadour befits the pomp and circumstance of the rich display, baring all five crowns with stylishly intertwined hair. His black leather jacket gleams with a small assortment of similar Greaser ornamentation, and his sharp features are almost as sharp as the switch-comb he adjust his hair with. Flanking him as a bodyguard of sorts is Hexane, the friendly Novakid gleaming gasbag cowboy, though he's taken off his train-hopping leathers and now is wearing more of a formal western outfit, one that draws a bit from formal civil war uniforms. Sort of like a bodyguard?

    Across is another figure. Draped in robes, her body has the posture and the atmosphere of a church's mourner amid a burial ceremony. Her hood is low, her sleeves long, and the fabric of her ceremonial dress of sorts is deep black, similar to the King's jacket. She's flanked on each side. The Saint of Carbon is here, a powerful crimson Avian hawk-looking man with aviator shades and a bomber jacket. On her other side is the Saint of Glass, a scarred greenish Hylotl with an elaborate asian-inspired ceremonial robe that covers up the many nanobandages keeping him steady and alive. He's not likely to be a combat risk, though the Saint of Carbon has a dangerous, bodyguard look to him too.

    Both have brought their "nobility" as well, in as much as such a thing exists. The King has brought mechanics, craftsmen, and other folks who create great mechanical works; there's some Florans, a nice chunk of Apex, a lot of humans, and no shortage of Novakids. The Priestess has brought people who seem mostly like generals (and their associated assisting folks); many more Apex, various Hylotl, and several religious-looking Avians, primarily. This fills out the party quite well; they'll likely be participating in whatever the business is with prizes, if such a thing can be participated in.

    The two leaders and their bodyguards take the seats provided immediately, leaving the nearest seats to the visitors to the Line. The Flotilla, too, have also arrived, in wear that could have been described as formal for each of them. Even Biteblade, the Floran, had some stylish hunt trophies and body paints. "Alright, actor, looks like you've got a boss blast here, good place to tuck the blanket. You wanted to bash ears, let's bash." The King seems ready to talk, albeit with a tense scowl whenever he glances to the Priestess.

    The Priestess finally removes her hood, revealing a soft, ape-like Apex face, with highly intelligent eyes in a constant state of assessment, and a lighter brown sort of fur about her. As befits her race, she's all business. "Some of you have conditions you required to establish an alliance. We will hear them." She's not here for peace with the King -- but that doesn't mean it can't be taken in that direction, if people pursue it.
Dexter Arkwright Tonight is the big night. One to impress, if he's going to make changes. Dexter Arkwright steps onto the Preserver dressed in his finest three-piece suit, pinstripe, his blonde hair slicked back. He moves at a brisk pace, confident in every step, as he decides to take a seat not far from Riva, immediately moving for the alcohol. He takes a sip.

Holy crap, that tastes divine.

And then, taking a moment to glance from each person at the table to the next, Dexter speaks up. "Well! Looks like everyone's here. My name is Dexter Arkwright, owner of Arkwright Diesel, adventure capitalist by trade. As you know, I refuse to destroy the treasure. There's too much potential to be had in it. Technically, that'd mean my alliance is best served with the Holy Empire. However..."

Dexter opens his hands in the air, gesturing to each side. "I think I'd like to work out a way that can benefit all present parties. Something that no one can regret. The working plan, thanks to our gracious host King Gilgamesh, as well as the lovely miss Riva Banari, is simple, but open to some changes."

Dexter moves to sample the food. Oh, man. He wants to keep eating, but he needs to keep talking, and he regrets it. "The offer I have for all of you is simple. We split the treasure. I hire a team of scientists to research it, learn how to use it. We use its power to benefit both the Empire and the Kingdom, allowing you both to survive the end of the Line. King Gilgamesh proceeds to take the treasure and throw it in his vault for all time, never to be fought over again. We all celebrate at peace, instead of at war."

With an optimistic smile, Dexter is hoping that this is something they might be open to, if at the least, not hard against. "I know this is probably a lot, and difficult to accept, seeing how you've been at war. But, the alternative is tearing each other apart. Do you really want that?"
Gilgamesh      The King of Heroes does not stand as people come filtering in to inspect the food and the prizes. The prizes are clearly part of some sort of raffle or game - it's hard to tell which - and are generally expensive jewelry, but nothing particularly stand-out or astounding. Something that could feed a family for a year, but nothing magical, or ancient, or irreplaceable. It's entirely likely the King just went *shopping* for earrings and necklaces and such. Again, expensive for a random raffle prize, but not irreplaceable. Not magical, incredible treasures. Anybody can win, and it doesn't even cost anything - evidently it's...

     ...oh, no.

     That's too ridiculous.

     That's too insane.

     And yet there it is. A clay golem, wheeling out an array of electronic games from the pit of modernity - karaoke, strength testers, arcade games, literally whatever stupid thing the clay golems could acquire when left to their own devices and told to 'go get games.' Several of them even have entire chess tables, which they just plop down near the prizes like idiots, sitting on the other side like ancient chess-playing computers.

     Only once people are seated and eating does Gilgamesh stand.

     "Hear me."

     He doesn't need to speak again; his voice echoes through the hall. Whether magical or otherwise, it's impossible to say, but he's certainly radiant today. "I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, King of all that is, was, and ever shall be. Unto me was granted all the gifts of Heaven. Unto me was granted all the wisdoms of the world. All things worth owning belong to me."

     Dexter speaks, and Gilgamesh waits for him to get to the end before he sits back down, reclining in his glorious golden throne. "I do not care," Gilgamesh says openly and evenly, "Which of you wins the Treasure. I do not care what you do with it. I care only that at the end it is mine, and that it leaves the world with me, safe within the Gate of Babylon, as all things that are mine should be. In truth I could not care less if you came to blows with each other the instant you stepped beyond the Preserver's bounds."

     "But while within the Preserver of Life, while you sit and break bread, if you cross me, your claim to its use will be forfeit. If you draw blades, if you strike one another, if you come to blows having tasted of the fruits of my kingdom and broken bread at my table, you will have sealed your own fate, for neither of you can stand alone against the full force of those arrayed here, and each of you knows it."

     "Now," the King says, "We talk."

     He raises a cup of heavenly beer to the sky in a wordless toast.
Starbound Flotilla     Both leaders regard the King of Heroes. Each is politely silent in their own way. They wait until it's done, and as usual, the King of Engines is the first to speak. "Hell of an apple butter, clyde. I keep it cooled when it needs to be. I won't be taking any first swings here, and that's a fact."

    "We're here to assure the future of our Empire, not throw it away on hurting a heretic." The Priestess says, her head going especially high there. "And while we know the heretic has little interest, we'll use this opportunity to seek your own assistance. You've helped us a great deal, and if that can be rewarded with some ownership over the Treasure that gifts us with its power where we need it, then that's more than sensible payment."

    The Engine King regards Dexter critically, his protruding pompadour making for a prominent sort of indicator of his attention. "Cube, I'm sorry saying it, but you're cruising to get shot down with a pitch like that. It's the same way people feel when they bring their who civ down to eat street in the Line. You seem like you could be a good slodge, but you need to shoot lower. The fact is that I'm not gonna try for anything but getting that Treasure broken, destroyed, inert -- whatever keeps people from tossing more kingdoms down the hole. You'd better work with what's between here and that."

    The Saint of Glass leans over to Dexter, gesturing at him to listen a little. "The heretic King will likely not compromise on this point, but might on others. His own intentions are immutable -- perhaps you can change /how/ they are achieved." Normally someone as zealous as the Saint of Glass would abhor the idea of negotiating with the Engine King, but it seems like all Dexter's done to help them has given Dexter some insight into his HYLOTL DIPLOMATIC SKILLS!
Riva Banari Riva is chowing down. She isn't one for formal niceties, enjoying every bite, every sip, and making sure to show how much she enjoys it. This is the kind of comfort someone can drown in, be swept away and let themselves go to waste. Some part of Riva can appreciate how Gilgamesh hasn't lost his edge in the face of such finery. Maybe his edge is /why/ he hasn't lost it.

She leans back and swirls her goblet as she listens to Dexter's proposal. She nods, it's a good place to open. Her gaze goes from the Engine King to the High Priestess. The Omega Greaser's attire is impressive, and about what she expected, but the mourner's style affair of the High Priestess gets a squint. She's not so far gone that she can't see the analogue. That, and that quite lous bellow from the Saint of Fire, really points things out about some of the motivations at work here.

Gilgamesh lays down the Law, because that's what King does. There's a lot of archetyping going on in this thread. She relaxes visibly, however. The implicit peacebond will likely help keep things clean... At least for tonight.

The two sieds state their opening positions. Riva considers the situation, waiting and trying to listen to what's going on.

"There's a lot of things we can do about this." Riva says simply. "The most important thing is getting the Treasure off the field. That's not a problem. The thing we all disagree on is what to do with it once it IS." Riva spreads her hands, already having apparently figure out the same angle as the Saint of Glass. "The Church needs to have some of the power of the Treasure so they can bring prosperity back to their land."

A pause. "Honetly, there's no way these goals have to be opposite." Riva asks. "The Treasure can be removed from play entirely. It'll go into the Gate and no one will ever see it again. But the problem is this leaves you guys out of balance."

There is another wave of her hand, this time to the Engine King. "You want to be free. You want to be able to burn rubber and never have anyone try to stop you. But most of all, you want to protect your people. They trusted you. They still believe in you. And that's good. But if the Church gets the power of the Treasure, do you believe that threatens you and your people?"
Dexter Arkwright Dexter nods to the parties, though the Engine King gets a sharp frown as he disagrees with Dexter and continues on 'destroying the treasure'. But...the Saint of Glass comes in with the save, giving Dexter an idea. "Inert. You said inert. Because people will fight over it. Well, there's the solution."

Dexter beams. "Use as much of the energy of the Treasure as we can to help the two sides. Then we render it inert. There must be a way, nothing's impossible. Once done, we give it to the King - it's still a treasure, and I don't believe he planned to use it, so it being inert wouldn't be a problem, would it?" A glance towards Gilgamesh. "That way, no one will fight over it. The war is done."

Dexter waits, to see if there's any flaws in his idea, before continuing.
Gilgamesh      The King looks boredly at Dexter.

     "If it is deprived of its value, then it is no longer a Treasure. You will not use up all of its value for something as pointless as a mediocre solution neither side desires."
Dexter Arkwright Dexter sighs. There's one plan that failed. Hmm...consider what the Saint of Glass said, as well as the Engine King. "Well, hm. If that's not possible...then what alternatives would /you/ suggest, Mr. Engine King? Besides destroying it? After all, their Empress needs help, doesn't she? Is it unfair for you to offer a way to help both you and them?"

Yeah, Dexter's out of ideas. So he'll poke at that gaping hole, because he's not getting his way, and he's frustrated. And also he's not much of an idea man in general, that's why he pays for eggheads.
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone now bows to Gilgamesh, politeness costs nothing after all.

"Greetings Kings of Heroes."

She is taking in everything and it's hard not to notice how Gil is dressed either. He's clearly set to make an impression she might check out some of the food but she seems more focused. SHe understand there will be no fighting in Gil's house.SHe understands that and if they do well? Out goes any hope of bringing this to an end peacefully. She also awre she is not a front line player in this attempt at mediation. She's taking a moment to think before she says a darn thing here she's the least best spoken person in the room so far as she can tell, and Riva's made a hell of a point too, she will pay close attention to the response and make her move then.
Starbound Flotilla     "I don't think it would threaten us if the Church got their hands on it. We're on the stick, we know what we're doing." The King says, shaking his head. "But we don't think they'll get it. We think they'll fail same as everyone else has. The punks will wipe when they go to grab it. Killing the thing might be easier, we're pretty sure, than grabbing onto it youself. I know we could work just fine if the Church had its power and we didn't -- we just don't think that's ever how it's gonna be. And as long as that thing's still running, people will be chasing it. That's the problem."
Starbound Flotilla     "Hey bean, would love to give you the help for it. The problem is, you're thinking the sweat's about what it ends with. The sweat's what it starts with. If we decide, sure, we'll catch it first -- we'll wind up never catching it. Nobody's done it in over twenty years of this drag, and waiting just a little bit more isn't gonna get us where we need." The King says, finishing off his cigarette and searching around for some kind of, I don't know, the solid gold artisanally engraved super-glamorous ancient Babylonian First Ashtray. "I'm willing to do a lot. Ceasefires negotiated, timings settled -- sure, Clyde, no problem. But that's the one thing I'm not changing, not even for top Golden Daddy-O over there. It's the fact of who I've got to be."
Starbound Flotilla     Gil's chiming in is what gets the mourning Priestess to speak up. "You are correct. That is why we're seeking your assistance, King of Heroes. You have a vested interest in the Treasure persisting. We do too. We long as you and your ownership of it don't interfere with the blessing being granted to our people, you'd be free to do with it as you will. Or in your case, as you won't. In the final confrontation, we'd ask you to lend your efforts to us, to make sure the Treasure will be yours before this is finished. Whatever shape that final confrontation may be." She's not an Empress herself -- she has no issue taking a more respectful tone and posture that Gil probably finds befitting his status.
Starbound Flotilla     The Engine King, having finished his cigarette, goes back to fixing up his hair. "I'm waging war for the need of it, clyde. We'd rather rocket our screamers pure without troubles, but we do what we have to to clear the freeway. I'll negotiate as far /down/ as peace and as far /up/ as the war we're fighting now. If you wanna find some other way of settling the /fight itself/, you can give it a straight shot. As long as I get my shot to try to clean out the Line, it's fine. I'm gonna be trying to break the thing, but everything up until then, you can run the mix on." He points the switchblade comb at Dexter. "You dig?"
Gilgamesh      A clay golem presents the Engine King with, well, pretty much exactly that, collecting the ashes in a golden tray and throwing them overboard.

     Gilgamesh says nothing. It's hard to tell whether or not he respects the aswer of 'I'm not changing' or if he thinks it's fundamentally foolish. In fact, the King's face is completely unreadable, more or less the entire time.

     Finally, he moves, slightly. "You blame the Treasure for ambition. Your desire is to stifle ambition." Oh, it looks like he's going to say something now. "There will always be fools with ambitions that burn like the sun, only to set themselves ablaze. There will always be those with the ambition to do as they will, and the strength to back it. The destruction of the Treasure will not change that. It is an empty medicine you take because you tell yourself you must, because you want some empty, pointless hope rather than face the truth."

     The King's eyes open. They're full of gleaming red radiance. "Stupid mongrel. Only an idiot believes such a thing. People will chase even the ghost of possibility, the ghost of a chance for wealth. More lives have crashed against my Gate than you are even capable of counting. As I have already said - you do not care about destroying the Treasure. You care about being right. Unfortunately, your philosophy is as fleeting as the twilight, and as substantial as the breeze: self-serving and easily collapsed with but a moment's thought." The King tilts his head back to sip from one of the decadent cups. "If you wish to find a lasting peace, then kill yourself and do the rest of the world a favor."

     "The world is not so simple that smashing a bauble will stop humans from chasing dreams. At least if your sole desire was the pleasure of denying others their fortune, I would respect you."

     Gilgamesh tilts his head in the direction of the Church. "So I do. But I did not call this because I have a vested interest in your victory. I called this because I was willing to deprive you both of supporters in order to force your hands."

     "The balance is tipped. You know this to be true. You can struggle all you like, but war will no longer suffice you. You can no longer win with force of arms alone, for you drew on Multi-Vars, and Multi-Vars has found you each wanting. Now you must draw rules for your conflict. Now you must draw limits. For without them, you will each be wiped off the map."
Riva Banari Riva ponders this new information and takes a drink. "Hun." She says, thinking. "So you're basing all of this on the idea that no one can actually get the Treasure, right? You believe it's impossible to actually capture it?"

She rubs her chin, then winces as Gilgamesh gives his own input on the matter. "People always try to achieve the impossible. The entire problem is that it's being focused on this one point. There's better things to do. Better places to be. I can totally get behind the idea that removing it is the best idea. It needs to go. No one disagrees on that point. In its current state, the Treasure just sits there taunting evertyone."

She then spreads her hands. "But if it's impossible to acquire, what's the harm in letting the Church and those who support them try? King Gilgamesh has already laid down his terms which will limit what the Church can get out of it in the first place. If you're willing to come to the table you can negotiate your own access as well, and then both your nations can grow and move on. Make war on each other, work to find peace, whatever you want. The important thing is that /you guys/ will be in the driver's seat, not the Treasure."

A pause. "Actually, I know what we can do. One chance. Give the people here one shot to get it. If everyone fails, then the Church stands down and lets you get your shot at destroying it."

Risky, but maybe it's a plan everyone can agree to.
Dexter Arkwright Dexter's getting really frustrated. He's at the point where he's gonna say 'let's negotiate a time and place'. However, Riva pitches an idea...and Dexter likes it. He doesn't like the part where they all stand down and let him try and destroy the Treasure, though, and his expression makes that super clear. But to know where to go from here, Dexter needs to listen.

What does the Engine King say in response to Riva's plan?
Starbound Flotilla     There's a quick twitch of the eyebrow. For a greaser, especially an alpha greaser, it's hard to keep things cooled under such circumstances. The King of Engines grits his teeth, makes a tense sort of noise, and sneers a little. "Nosebleed, trust me, I dig ambition. When you're a guy who wants to go as fast as me, you know it is to dream big. Now, I know you're all about treasure. And if that puts you on the other side of the switchblade, that's your decision and mine, and we're both some adults who know what we're doing. The only reason this one's different is because it's not waiting to be grabbed -- you have to /chase/ it, and it's outrunning whole empires. A rocket like that isn't a normal ambition."

    He shakes his head, letting out a breath through clenched teeth. "We're not about to agree no matter what. We're not about to bash ears to a middleground on this road, the important part is what's between here and the end of it. If we want rules of war, then I'll see what the rules of war on the table are."
Kotone Yamakawa Things are heating up a bit they are very much heating up a a hell of a lot here. She looks to the King for a moment well there are several ones here she looks for a moment and she finds herself wondering about Gil's word and the King's words. There's new information here to think on a good deal is, and looks to Riva.

"I would say this would be a far better choice than fighting out over it. For what it's wirth I am on board with Riva's plan."

She looks to the Engine King now for a moment though it does not seem to be going well here.
Gilgamesh      "Of course it is a normal ambition," Gilgamesh says in a tone that's almost bored, "What dream sits and waits to be grasped? What worthless desire simply awaits someone to walk up and pluck it at their leisure? All ambitions run. That it is larger than a single person's desire does not make it abnormal. That it has outrun empires does not make it abnormal. That it has killed countless does not make it abnormal. It simply makes it more desireable than most, dyed red in the blood of those whose dreams were cast into its pit."

     "Unfortunately," the King drums his fingers on the throne, "It is no longer you against me. It is now you and yours against those who think that your desire to destroy something because you *disapprove* of it existing is pointless, wasteful, and stupid."

     The King's smile is almost cruel. "For I also support the plan that grants us an unobstructed opportunity to claim it. And I have no doubt the Church will support it as well." He doesn't even ask if they will - he just takes it for granted.

     "If you wish to have any power left in the negotiation," the King adds, waving his hand idly, "You had best offer up your compromises quickly. You are quite thoroughly outnumbered, and even those who rode with you out of misguided justice have begun to see how empty your words truly are."
Starbound Flotilla     The Engine King gets a strained, sort of sad look, but one filled with just as much frustration. He gestures at Riva and speaks. "Because there's always one more, and they never hit the brakes. When they don't ice the plan after one failure, they won't ice it after a hundred. 'Just one more hit' is how you wind up jonesing for the next. And people will die between now and then -- they always do. The Church has had shots before. They've made the run in Fifth a few times. And no matter how many times they say /this/ is the time it'll shake out clean, it sure never does."

    He leans forward. "I've never gotten my shot. And I'm going to ante up the full stack when I do. Now, you could get me promising I won't mess up the next shot with war and sabotage, if you can get something like that same promise for me. But I'd want my shot first."

    The Priestess looks agitated, clenching her teeth. "You cannot be allowed to attempt it before we do. A failed attempt on our part means the Line remains unchanged -- a successful effort from you means our Empress is condemned to her half-death. Giving you some opportunity to 'go first' is unacceptable."

    Well, Riva's made progress. She has gotten them to agree to stand down for the other one -- but only if the other one isn't allowed to go first. So what's the plan to approach there? If neither of them want to go second, how can this war-less approach be performed?
Gilgamesh      People will die.

     "Yes," Gilgamesh says nastily, "People will die. That is what they do."

     "They spend their lives. Most of you worthless mongrels spend your lives drearily drudging about in modern man-made misery. You look up and think, perhaps, for an instant, that something could change. Then it does not, because they lack the will, the desire, the ambition to risk their comfortable existences, or what little they have managed to scrape together, for a chance at glory. Calling such creatures /people/, such empty-eyed and pointless meat dolls, is an affront to all that I am."

     The King stands. He walks down from the dais, stopping in front of the throne, cup in hand. "Some few manage to realize this. They, reaching for glory, risk everything. They gamble their homes, their futures, their safety, in a single, perfect moment. They burn themselves alive for a chance to grasp their ambitions."

     The King slams the cup down on the table hard enough to rattle silverware *all the way down it*. It's a big table. That's *scary* strength.

     "And you would insult all of them in a single blow by speaking as if that sacrifice has no meaning!"

     "You would compare /meat dolls/ drifting pointlessly through existence to those gambling everything for a chance at true glory." The King plants his foot against the table, leaning forward. He is...well-built, well-muscled, and here he's leveraging it to prove a point. A perfect, god-built body flexes in perfect time as his arm drapes over his knee.

     "Mongrel, you are brash, and that I appreciate. You are willing to do what you need to make your dream come true, and that, I respect. But speak again of people dying for a dream as if it is some tragedy, as if you have the right to dictate when a death is worthy or worthless, and you will find the anger of the King of all that is pointed firmly in your direction."

     "Even the lowliest of meat dolls chooses their own life. That they choose poorly and pointlessly, without will, going with the flow rather than taking charge, does not change that fact."

     "Do you think," the King says coldly, "That I do not know the shape of ambition? Do you think that the treasures you see before you were won in games, or inherited through the death of my father? Fool. I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes. I am as strong as a star from Heaven. Before the age of ten I had journeyed across the whole of the world. Each piece of meat you have eaten today comes from a monster I myself slew. Each jewel, each piece of gold, each wonder in my treasury is something that a thousand men died failing to claim."

     "Your Treasure is no different. You want it to be different desperately, to make yourself right, to give yourself a bargaining chip that you can leverage in this debate, but you are incorrect. That none has managed to seize it yet does not make it special. It makes it *valuable*. That people die in its pursuit does not make it evil. It makes it *worthy*."

     The King removes his foot from the table and re-ascends the dais. He sits back down, resuming his bored, apathetic look, cup of beer in hand.
Dexter Arkwright The Engine King's attitude is really pissing Dexter off. As he rejects the plan and instead demands that he get the first shot, Dexter is about to say something, when Gilgamesh gets /pissed/. The shaking of the table causes Dexter to momentarily freeze and just watch in awe. Once Gilgamesh returns to sitting, Dexter can't help but agree with him in some ways, even if Dexter's other thought is 'those people didn't have the power to win, so they didn't really matter'...but pursuit of ambition is always important. So, Dexter takes a swig of alcohol, rises, and turns to the king.

"You're actually unwilling to really compromise, aren't you? You only want what you want. What about their Empress? Apparently you just left her to freeze! If they've tried so many times in the past twenty years, why haven't you? Don't make any excuses. Were you too afraid? Thought that 'now wasn't the right time'? Or were you just not strong enough? If you couldn't win then, how can you win now?"

Dexter glances around at the group. "The difference between then and now is that we're here. And as you can see, you don't have many people on your side. You might have determination, but you've got a bad attitude, man. Unwilling to compromise on any grounds, because of what he said, all you care is about your pride! If what you want to negotiate is a battlefield, fine. Let's do that."

Dexter takes a seat back down, going back to the alcohol and food. "Name the most important battlefield of the Line. We'll do it there. If this is the end of the Line, it has to be a big deal, doesn't it? Unless you can actually compromise with us, find us a way to get what we want...I'm siding with the Empire. At least they're reasonable."

Yeah, Dexter's kinda given up. He's used to getting his way - and right now, he's not getting it, so he's pushing back. Seft is probably disappointed.
Riva Banari Things go back and forth, and the Priestess begins to speak her mind as well. Gilgamesh and Dexter take exception to things that the Engine King says, and not without reason. However, it's also a problem. Tempers are getting heated,

Riva holds up her hands. "Everyone, please. We all came here for a reason. We're tryting to change things up here. For ages, people have tried to capture the Treasure. If you don't like the way the race course is going, you gotta pick a new track."

She leans forward, gesturing. "Keep focused on the important thing: This is the last one. There will /be/ no more. The Church and everyone who wants to get it need to understand that this is the last go. If the people who want the Treasure fail, I'll help you destroy it myself."

She spreads her hands, then. "The Line has to end. /Everyone/ agrees on that point. If everyone here agrees to it, then they're going to be expected to have that be binding."

She looks to Gilgamesn and points to him. "He's a King. If the King does not hold to his word, what kind of a King would he be?" She points to Dexter. "A proper capitalist knows that breaking a contract without due cause is really bad for their bottom line."

She then looks to the Engine King. "If the Church and those who want to help fail, they're going to be bound by the same rules. If they try to stop you, they're going to have everything we arrayed here have to make them pay the price."

There's another pause. "There is one other option, of course." She looks between them both. "Make it an actual race. Pure speed. Focus on getting to the Treasure, getting through whatever obstacles might be in the way. The entire culture of the Line is about speed and being the fastest thing around. You can both put your money where your mouth is on a clean run."

She looks between the Engine King and the High Priestess. "Do you want to go for the sure shot, Engine King, or are you willing to risk it all to have a chance to be the first?
Gilgamesh      "I am /the/ King," Gilgamesh corrects Riva, but otherwise says nothing else.
Starbound Flotilla     A greaser must not back down from a dramatic confrontation. The Engine King stands. His silver and steel gleams with a shining look, and there's a noise -- like muscle cars, revving in the distance -- and listens to each syllable. One can see each miniscule, individual facial twitch at the conclusion of each word, and his head shifts attentively in ways far too emphasized by that prominent pompadour.

    He listens, gives each piece its consideration, and replies.

    "If you asked the big turning world what it thought, then sure, clyde. They'd say an actor like you had a million things like what makes our Line. But the thing is, you're not bashing ears with the world. You're bashing ears with me, so let me shoot straight and hit a bullseye for you." He gestures around to the many treasures. "This isn't the world." He gestures out to the stars in the distance, streaking past in the surreal void at its collected forward light-barrier bubble. "Those? Not the world." He gestures off to the north, where the Empire is. "That? It's not the world -- except the slaves I didn't manage to take with me on my way south."

    He gestures to his people, the craftsmen, engineers, and workers he brought with him. "This? This is the world. And I wouldn't give half a damn how much you shove in my face that's just the same or shining brighter than this; this the world, and I'm its King. A King does what's best for his people. A King does what saves his world. The only world I'll ever care about and the only world that decides what's 'unique' or what's 'special' or what's 'different' to me, it's the world of my people. The people who depend on me and believe in me. All the parts they make together, all the fuel they need -- that's the Engine that I'm King of."

    "I don't care if it's not special to you. It matters to me -- in the only way something can matter. Now you'll call me some small-minded mongrel, I'm sure, on account of the fact that you know such a bigger world where my kingdom doesn't matter. And the fact is that as far as you can see and as far as you can know, you'll be right, so go ahead. But you're not making an inch of progress if your plan's making me a slave to ambition again; my boys and I promised we'd never in our life /ever/ go back to wilting around waiting for the Church to try again and again." He strikes a match directly on the surface of one of the passing golems and lights up a fresh cigarette. "You dig, clyde?"
Starbound Flotilla     "There's one thing that my boys and I want -- one thing only. Everything else, it comes off that like snow, you dig?" The Engine King says, crossing his arms and keeping his standing position to sort of prominently point his pompadour above Dexter and look down a bit on him. "And what I did? I fought my way from slave to King, daddy-o, I'm not a man with fear. And if you think I'm in need of a swarm to get where I need to go, you don't know just how much juice is in this tank, or just how much rubber I've laid with a handful of pals to get here. You're trying to slam me with how much you're negotiating from a position of power -- but I don't need /you/, I need /fuel/, and that's what I've got."

    The Engine King's jacket flutters in a breeze of motion that seems nonexistant, somehow, as if his body is full of /velocity/ without any clear source or any real motion manifesting. His arms are crossed ahead firmly. He is the picture of heroism in his stubborn refusal to compromise on this one, singular point -- though whether that heroism is also moral rightness seems to be increasingly muddied.

    "If we settle this anywhere, we settle it in Fifth Gear, the Freeway, the half-pipe at the center of the Line. That's where the Treasure moves, and it's the only place finishing this will mean anything." He says, tilting his head and "gesturing" with his pompadour towards the center of the Line, where the Treasure has so often been sighted screaming by in its clouds of plasma.
Gilgamesh      The golem is mildly offended by being used as a match lighter.

     No, that's a joke, it doesn't care at all. It isn't *intelligent*.

     Gilgamesh chuckles. It's not a pleasant sound, though strangely, it isn't unpleasant. It's.../neutral/. It's musical, sure, beautiful in that supernatural way that everything Gilgamesh does is, but it's not insulting, for once. It's just like he finds something funny about what the Engine King said.

     His fingers drum against the throne again. "Well said. Perhaps there is a glimmer of hope for you despite your foolishness. A slave cannot ever be a king, but at least you carry yourself respectably enough that I can forgive it. Though next time," Gilgamesh's voice takes a bit of a harsh tone, "Perhaps do not throw your subjects into battle against me and flee when you are losing."

     The King says nothing else. Evidently, that satisfied him enough that his temper is, at least, kept down, and he's already said his piece on the plan.
Kotone Yamakawa Things are just going deeper they are going a hell of a lot deeper for a moment she looks seeing something Gil says which causes her expression to go blank like some lifeless dolls for a moment. If one is paying attention her fist tightens with a bit of a crunch. She keeps calm she knows the promise she has made there. Though to ignore all of his issues with the modern era would be follow still though she feels an anger after all had he met her a few years ago? He'd see her as another one of those dolls.

She does her best to steady herself and the doll-like lifeless look on her face fades she's also finding the King's attitude to be off-putting somewhat as well this is just going to be one of those days.

"Your highness you are unwilling to reach an understanding this agreement could prevent more people from falling prey to the treasure. If anyone were to break this agreement everyone involved here from beyond the line would come down on them like a nuke."

She looks to Riva for a moment she'll leave the rest to her.
Starbound Flotilla     Riva catches something notable. At the start of this, the Priestess seems full of her righteous religious fury, starting to object to the idea of only being given /one/ more chance to do this; her faith in the newcomers is moderate and substantial, but it's hardly that high! "There will be no more only when the Empress is saved, that is the key to all of it. It is the only way we can end the Line the way it needs to be ended. We need--!" She starts, but... Oddly, the Saint of Carbon makes a short gesture.

    "Easy, Your Eminence."

    Just that seems to immediately silence her. The Saint of Carbon nods, and takes a relaxed, observant position, keeping an ear on what Riva says. It's when she gets past the pause that traction takes. There's a very soft rumble through various observers, and a quiet whisper that echoes through things. Carbon looks to the Engine King and flicks his aviators down, flashing a grin. Whatever history he has with the Engine King passes between them in silent wordlessness.

    "It'd fit the way we solve problems, Your Highness." Hexane says, brightly. The first time he's spoken. "They wouldn't be going first, you'd burn rubber the way we know you can -- I think it'd work fine." The Engine King glances to one side at his bodyguard, and then looks pensive. Thoughtful. Considerate.

    "Alright, 'Tone, you want an understanding, I can see an understanding. The arrangements and turn-taking, I can't, but... Alright, hell. If you gotta have a compromise, let's compromise. I'd be willing to agree to a race for the prize." He says. "Binding terms from the winner. First to reach the Treasure decides what's done with it -- and whatever comes out of what they do with it, nosebleed over there keeps." He jerks a thumb at Gilgamesh. "No battle-barges, no ark-to-ark combat, nobody putting their lives on the line but the people who choose, just wheels and wind and whatever guns you can mount. Bad news over there," He jabs a finger at the Priestess. "And I hit the freeway and lay a patch with our Dragster Thrones -- and you get whatever vehicles you can from whoever you're scooch with. If me and the boys on my side of the track get blown off first, you get another try at the Treasure. If I pound the Priestess and anyone else going to grab the Treasure, I take my shot at breaking it, whether it works or not."

    The Priestess works her lip, tense and stressed. She hates something that sounds increasingly like some kind of game to decide the end of the Line, but even her ultra-pragmatic mind has to agree that it sounds like a better option. "King of Heroes. Would this really be acceptable to you? Our side of the conflict is in desperate need of supplies. The Holy V-8 has disappeared and much of ours was taken in the raid after. We can... agree to a race. But we'd ask your help in equipping the racers who join us." Always practical, and clearly recognizing all that Defining Wealth and his habit of seeing things and replicating them. Surely he's got something like a spare Dragster Throne in there to help beef up a multi-car race.

    There's expectant looks all around. It looks like some kind of agreement can be settled on now... A massive race of some sort! As long as this can be finalized, a solution may be set.
Gilgamesh      The King of Heroes stands.

     "So let it be known," the King says, "That here and now was this pact made, by these hands. So let it be said. So let it be kept in the history of the Line, engraved in its end, and engraved in the future that lies beyond its edge."

     "I am Gilgamesh, King of all that is, was, and ever shall be. I announce it a worthy compact." The King sits once again and leans sideways.

     "I will provide you /each/," he stresses *each*, implying both sides, "With a king's ransom in gold. Do with it as you will to equip yourselves."

     His lips split in a wicked grin. "Amuse me as you race to use my prize, and there shall be no more complaints from the King of Heroes."

     The King snaps his fingers. The world ripples. Several golems come over holding sacks as literal gold and jewels just start pouring out of the air. When the pouring is done, the bags are just set down for each person competing to take one. Including Riva and Dexter and Kotone, if they're in for it. It's a stupid amount of money.

     It's Top Gear on /drugs/.

     To the Church, Gilgamesh shrugs. "Perhaps I have some wonder within my treasury I do not recall, but I will make special allowance for you to purchase something of comparable worth in order that the starting points be alike in dignity and strength."

     "An uneven race would be very dull for me."
Dexter Arkwright As everyone seems to be fine with the race...Dexter's a little envious of Riva for coming up with it. However, he's not going to argue about it, because he's gonna win that race. Finishing his last cup of alcohol, Dexter raises his fist. "Alright! A race it is. I'll take part myself, to prevent the Treasure's destruction." The pile of gold and jewels is a lot, and supplemented with Dexter's own cash if necessary, he thinks he can make one hell of a machine.

And also hire someone to drive it for him. He needs to shoot, after all! The End of the Line is coming...and Dexter Arkwright is determined to win it.
Kotone Yamakawa Well it's not perfect but the scale of the conflict has race of champions more or less for the prize. This would at least have a lower body count, right? She seems to be on board for this she will have to go digging through the scrap yards back home and her own machine shop either at home or on the Bluenose she should be able to patch something that can wotk. The request to make every person or group in the race be able to level? She has her eyes bug out at the money Gil's set down before her and everyone else, that would do oh she could do a lot with this she just got a budget of a size she's never had before.