Rising over seven hundred squith the spire twisted and spiraled its way into the sky, writhing as it burst forth from the rocky ground. Its trunk contorted into figures of eight, doubling back upon itself, tying great stone knots before terminating in an accusatory, prodding finger. The great mass hung in a long, ponderous arch poised as though at any moment it would topple and shatter onto the bare ground below.

"What in the Vuks is that!" The taller of the two figures placed a hand upon the shoulder of the shorter.

"That, my Son, is The Impossible Spire"

The two figures lingered for a few moments, contemplating the structure before trudging on into the foothills beyond.

Vulthar plucked a string thoughtfully and his zither sang sweetly in response. He watched his bride Alnwein eloquently marking the Star of Kelembad in great swishing strokes through the heavy air, her sword catching the last of the remaining light and making it dance in odd patterns on the ground. Even as ashen clouds rolled across a sky belched forth from one of the many surrounding volcanoes, the metaphorical equivalent of the stifling, choking dust rolled across the hearts of many Kelembadians. The Clashathon, normally a time of great ritual and celebration in these parts had taken upon itself the ill air of an impending war.

"Our time will soon be here. Are you ready my husband?"

Vulthar blinked and stood. "Yes my love. Are we mad to ascend the throne in times such as these?"

"Mad? Perhaps yes, but is it not better to stand as the highest pillars of the realm and infect those below with our madness, rather than be thought of as mad without honour or power?"

Vulthar nodded slowly. "Dear Alnwein, every day I am reminded why I wished to call you my wife, and my Queen."

The great horn sounded and the gates of their waiting pen swung slowly open, creaking hinges drowned beneath the roar of the crowd. They stepped forward together, out into the amphitheatre. As the noises of the crowd settled down into attentive silence the battle bards of their opposing teams began to play, the parties stalking each other assessing strengths and weaknesses.

Vulthar threw his head back and called in a clear voice "For Kingship and Victory!"

He struck a deep, resonant chord that echoed and vibrated through the surrounding wood and metalwork. Alnwein's sword hummed softly in response.

"For Queenship and Victory!"