Hey there guys, this is Tazal Terminals. This is a prologue so don't except there to be much explaining on whats going on here. These will be explained later along the line. Critique are welcomed unless they don't have a good reason behind them. Flamers can go to The Dark Pond for all I care about them. Anyway, lets begin.

I don't own Bastion or Percy Jackson series. I am not rich people.

There once was a time when no godly beings existed. When mankind were the masters of their own fates and had power and wisdom that rivalled all others that followed after them. Three nations stood proudly in those days. The Ura who were known for their mastery in the art of metal crafting and building underground fort and cities. The Windbags were a race of floating legless humanoid renowned for their making and shaping with wood and stone, not to mention their size and strength. Last was Caelondia, a nation of great scholar, philosopher and men whose courage never falthers, even in the face of certain death.

For a long time, peace reigned between them until something unexpected happened. This lead to a war that engulfed the world. A surviving manuscript of the history of that time said:

Everyday, more then a thousand strong went to the frontier, their faces full of determination as they raised their banners high in the sky. None ever returned to greet their parents, families and friends. They now rest in the battlefield among both comrades and enemies.

This was the grim truth of the war. It was estimated that in total more then twenty million died from all sides during the war. Another paragraph spoke of battlefield said:

The sky rained fire and metal as the combatants on the ground fought with everything they had. Here and there mortar shots exploded, sending dirt and chunks of flesh into the sky. Hammer met sword and pickaxes while gun fired here and there. As the fighting became more and more intense, it seemed the very world began to shake and quake.

During the war, neither side gained the upper hand for the three of them were evenly matched. The Windbags fought directly using brute force and powerful strikes while the Ura attacked from the shadows and fought with hit and run tactics. The Caels army was balanced in all points but they had master strategists who could turn the tide of battle.

A secret weapon was what ended the war. To this day, none knows who made and used it but the weapon had been successful, maybe too much. For it marked the end of the three nations by completely wiping them out. No trace of them was left behind.

That was the case until now.

. . .

It sensed that it was safe to leave. Safe to go back to the world where it was built. On board it was a precious cargo that must be protected at all cost. Slowly ancient machinery began to awake as its gears and parts slowly turned. Near it frozen in time, was a battle in which everyone of the combatants were making a last desperate rush to finish the fight.

Soon, it would be ready to return. Soon, the Bastion will return home.