As the appointed hour approached, the elders began to arrive in the large conference room with the projection capability. There were about a hundred attending, far more than before. The the Moz Lidule was operating under full power allowing the elders to come out of hibernation.

The Sora crew had been summoned to attend. Taljon and Greyla arrived first. Tajlon was still merged with Nova and occasionally a small glimpse of black fur would betray his presence.

Hal arrived a little later with the garwolvens. The pack and Hal had all been drinking. There was a lot of banter and boisterous behavior among them, and the odor of liquor was strong.

The BakoNaat officers moved to the other side of the room to avoid the inebriated display. Several of the elders moved in response to the BakoNaat presence causing a comical shift to spread through the room.

"Please don't eat my pet rabmuffins he said. So, I said, if we aren't supposed to eat them, why are they made out of meat?" Yoeke dropped to the floor laughing, followed by all the garwolvens. Hal was laughing along with them.

"Hush, all of you. I can't believe you'd come to the conference intoxicated," Tajlon admonished the lot of them.

"Oh dear, we've upset the godling, what evil shall befall us?" barked one of the garwolvens, known as Borgg, between belly laughs.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Tajlon said.

“I’m not worried about you. You should be worried that I’ll rip off that guardchev,” Borgg taunted. "I'd make short work of you."

“Hey, don’t mess with my friend.” Hal warned. "You'll be taking on more than you bargained for."

Too late. Nova broke free and phased completely past Tajlon. He lurched forward and landed squarely in front of Borgg. Nova growled and crouched down, making ready to attack.

“Let it go, Nova, he’s drunk,” Tajlon said to Nova telepathically from within their common signature.

“Come on kitty. Show me what you’ve got,” Borgg taunted.

“By my calculations, one pound of kitty handles ten pounds of cur. I weigh about two hundred,” Nova said with a low snarl.

Tajlon phased past Nova, trying to gain back control and override the big leopard.”

“I could whip you even hiding behind that guardchev, Beldorian,” Borgg challenged.

“Hold this,” Tajlon was losing his temper in spite of himself. He tossed the guardchev to Greyla.

“No, Tajlon. This is a really bad idea,” she protested, but sensed it was too late for either Nova or Tajlon to back down.

"I'm fighting the leopard you fool. As much as I would enjoy it, I'm not allowed to strike a godling," Borgg said.

Nova phased back over Tajlon for the fight. The garwolven struck first, going for the leopard's throat. Nova dodged and swiped a sharp claw across Borgg’s sensitive nose eliciting a yelp.

Borgg was an experienced fighter, however and soon recovered. He snapped at Nova’s hind leg taking out a chunk of flesh with his strong jaws.

Nova yowled and turned on Borgg. He jumped on his back and went for a death grip on the back of the neck.

At this point a second garwolven, Rovan, jumped in to pull the leopard off his friend.

Hal grabbed a nearby chair and slammed it into Rovan. He knocked him off of Nova, but not before Rovan could take a chunk of flesh with him, leaving a gaping wound in Nova's shoulder.

The other garwolvens began circling the fight ready to join in. Yoeke took up a position between the fighters and the others to prevent an all-out attack.

"Keep it fair, one on one," Yoeke said.

"It looks like two against one from here," Rovan complained.

"Surely you're not counting the godling as a threat," Hal shot back, holding on to the chair as both a shield and a weapon.

The guardchev was no longer protecting them exposing the deep files and emotional pathways of both Tajlon and Nova to any who wished to probe.

The elders in the room were captivated by the raw emotion and viciousness of the attacks. Spending the majority of their lives now in leisure centers with safeguards and security measures, the vivid impact of the fight was shocking in its reality. They recoiled at every injury, feeling both the pain and hostility.

The BakoNaat officers had curled up in a far corner to stay out of the fray. No elder made any effort to intervene in the altercation,

“Somebody stop them!” Greyla shouted.

Lord Anakron hearing the racket from the corridor, hurried into the room.

"Yoeke, why haven't you put a stop to this nonsense?"

"I want to see who wins," he said, a drunken slur still in his voice.

Anakron approached the fighters from behind, grabbed each of their tails. Taken by surprise, Nova let go of Borgg's neck. Anakron spun them around him in a circle, slinging the leopard and garwolven apart at arm's length.

Once they were apart, he simply let go and left the rest to physics. Borgg slid across the room and slammed into the wall near the BakoNaat. He was momentarily confused, then slunk away to join the other garwolvens.

Nova was propelled through the air and landed in the middle of the elders. He sprawled across the floor of the conference room trying to gain traction with his claws, cutting a few grooves in the floor and leaving bloody smears as he skidded to a stop.

"Balvendro might excuse your drinking, but I suggest you at least act sober in his presence," Anakron said, purposefully understating the situation.

"We're just celebrating the hunt, Lord Anakron," Hal said in support. "No harm in that."

"There's a time and place for everything, Hal," Anakron scolded him. "I'll not allow my subjects to misbehave in front of an ancient."

"Understood. Let's knock it off guys."

The garwolvens attended to their own and Yoeke rounded them up away from everyone. Nova was nursing his tail which now bent unnaturally in the middle.

Anakron without warning entered Hal's head and wiped out every remaining effect of the spirits, leaving him cold sober.

"Tha...thank you, I guess?" Hal stammered as he recovered his composure after being exposed to Anakron's mental power for the first time.

“Apology accepted,” Anakron said.

“Sorry, Lord Anakron,” Hal replied obediently.

"I'm fine," Greyla said handing the guardchev to Anakron. "I didn't go drinking with the boys."

Anakron looked at Nova and crooked an index finger.

Nova limped over to Anakron who replaced the guardchev around his neck. He made a cursory assessment of Nova’s wounds and performed a quick heal of both wounds plus the tail. The guardchev began spinning wildly to block out the crowd of Elders.

“Phase out, Nova,” Anakron ordered.

Tajlon reappeared looking sheepish. “I’m sorry… “

“We’ll discuss it later,” Anakron cut him off. “I have other business to attend. Try to keep it together.”

Anakron left to rejoin the elders he had been speaking with earlier. As he passed Yoeke he said, "Nova would have won."

The onlookers drifted back into their social groups and talked among themselves in hushed tones, glancing occasionally at Anakron or toward his subjects.

"Where's Widhbo?" Tajlon asked. "He should be here by now.

"I do believe that's him over there," Greyla said and pointed across the room. "He just walked in with Lieutenant Cratus,"

"Seriously?”

Widhbo was still wearing his sporty silver driving jacket but had removed his helmet revealing a shock of unruly blond hair that fell into his face. He looked a lot like Cratus , so much so they could have been brothers. Cratus had changed into his dress uniform for the occasion. Greyla hailed Widhbo telepathically and he made his way to their side of the conference room.

"Widhbo, what are you doing in human form?" Tajlon asked.

"I could ask you the same thing. From the gossip over there, it seems we've both been having a lot of out of character fun," Widhbo said. He sported a dark tan, looking trim and athletic in his new simulated body, Widhbo was a good bit shorter than his seven-foot-tall bird form, now standing only about five feet ten inches in height. His clothing was damaged from wiping out on the racetrack, full of rips and streaked with grease, grass stains, and dirt. In sharp contrast, the silver jacket was shiny and spotless. He constantly fussed with it much as he would if preening his feathers.

"You're even stranger as a human than when you are that giant white bird," Greyla said.

"Yeah, you look exactly like Cratus, just a little less put together," Tajlon said. "It's distracting."

"I know! What's more, I beat him several times at his own racing game. And I just love this jacket," Widhbo said caressing a silver sleeve. "Running late. No time to change now. Suppose I’ll have to wear it, huh?”

"Actually Tajlon, I don't think anyone will notice Widhbo," Hal said elbowing Tajlon in the ribs. "Look who’s here.” Etaine had entered the room with a full escort.

“Tha... that can’t be who I th... think it is....” Tajlon said stumbling over his words.

“Yes, who else could it be, but Etaine?” Hal replied.

Lotee was in front looking quite handsome in a new Tor Sector uniform of solid black. Etaine was next, carried in on her throne by her band of creatures. The BakoNaat officers flanked her on either side, also in uniforms of royal blue and green.

Etaine had continued to embellish her body with shimmering silver pieces accented with precious jewels. Earrings dangled to her shoulders. Bracelets adorned arms and ankles. Her gown was even more revealing than before baring both her legs almost to the waist and a long silver necklace played about her cleavage.

She remained human but her tattooed skin had turned a pale shade of green with tiny wisps of vapor circling about her. A slender crown sat above her brow line, and she held the silver scepter topped with an emerald. Her exotic perfume filled the air with its allure.

"That should send Bethon into a feral frenzy," Greyla whispered, noticing Bethon tracking Etaine's entrance.

"It's having quite an effect," Widhbo said. "Good show, Etaine!"

Greyla suppressed a laugh. “My ghost gets away with things I would never dare to do. And what's more, Bethon can't lay a finger on her without starting a war with the BakoNaat. They wouldn't take kindly to a voldarkan defiling their queen."

"I'm not complaining," Tajlon said admiring the spectacle. His guardchev had stopped spinning. "It's good to be out of the spotlight."