Hello everyone, its been a week, so here I am again.

I want to apologize for the lack of description that i put into the golems, and I hope no one wishes to kill me for that little flub up. I also hope that those of you who read, but did not review were not mentally scarred by the chapter.

On another note, some people were curious about the nature of the Ascended Channelers. Basically, their elemental alignment would be determined by their ancestory, if they came from a Reaver, they would be dark ones like Jak, and one with an Archon for an ancestory would be light oriented, etc and so forth. I am afraid this is as far as I can go into answering an anonymous review at the moment, at least until the administrators get off whatever they're on and start letting us do that again (glares at admin.) However, if you want a question answered, and you leave me an e-mail address, or something that I can get back to you with, I shall gladly answer whatever you ask.

Lawyers: I own nothing, so leave me in what little peace I have left.

That said, here is the next chapter.

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When an Age comes crashing down, Part Two

Screaming at the tops of their lungs, Tarath Shien and Kerrog Losstarr, adoptive siblings, friends, and now mortal enemies, dashed towards each other, their blades cocked back and readied for the opening blows of a confrontation that would likely determine the outcome of the battle.

Whether Tarath chose to acknowledge the fact or not, the Precursors saw him as their champion, their greatest warrior. Xadec may have been the commander of their armed forces and their civilization in general, but it was the black armored Ancient that so many followed, it was he that they looked to and rallied around when the going got tough, and his defeat would be a tremendous psychological blow to his soldiers. It was the same with Kerrog, for many Fallen had come to see him as a hero, for here was a young warrior, in the prime of his life, that had put aside the comfort of the civilized world to lead them, risking death an more. Furthermore, and even more important as far as the Fallen were concerned, he was unafraid of the consequences of his decisions and determined to face the same fate as his brothers and sisters in arms.

Thus, did the most important individual conflict of the whole battle begin.

Kerrog brought his cryosis sword from behind and thrust it forward in an attempt to run the dark armored warrior through. However, he held his adoptive brother very high on his list of respected warriors and was not at all surprised when Tarath smacked the weapon harmlessly aside and countered with a swift jab from his left hand. The blow connected with the Fallen Archon's chest, and he took it stoically, though he knew that he would be sporting a fist shaped bruise on his chest the next day. In an attempt to retaliate, he brought his feet up, slamming them into his adversary's chest, knocking the Reaver backwards through the air.

The younger warrior prepared to charge forward and keep on the offensive, when Tarath, still reeling backwards, brought up his left hand and fired a blast of Dark Eco lightning at the white armored Ancient. Behind his visor, Kerrog's azure eyes widened in surprise, and he made a quick dash to his left to avoid being fried, firing off an energy ray composed of Light Eco while he was at it. With the same ease as his brother, the Reaver dodged the blast, and it crashed into the ground below.

Neither of them wasted a second, and they were back in each other's faces within the blink of an eye, their melee weapons clashing and clanging against one another in a dazzling and deadly dance as they thrust and slashed, parried and riposted, feinted and kicked, each trying to overcome the other, and finding out that they were facing their polar opposite.

Perhaps it was fate…that they should be the challenge for each other, that both siblings should find within themselves their greatest test…

But they did not have time to dwell upon such philosophies, for right now they had more pressing matters, namely stopping the other sibling from striking them down.

Kerrog thrust his longsword styled weapon forward again, aiming for just below Tarath's sternum, but the strike never hit home, as the Reaver's warp blade came up from below and intercepted it, forcing it to go high above the dark armored Precursor's head. For some moments, they hovered over the battle field like that, each one's concentration fully devoted to trying to win the blade lock.

However, there was a massive explosion to the west of them, so great that even where they were, the two Ancients were sent tumbling through the air, and many soldiers on the ground, completely unprepared for the shockwave following such a colossal blast, were knocked right off of their feet, and struggled to get back up, lest their opponent rise first and finish them off.

The shockwave had separated the two warriors dueling in the sky, so Tarath took a quick glance in the direction from which the blast had come from, and he quickly deduced what had caused it. Xadec was doing his job well, and concentrated fire from several Precursor Juggernauts had obliterated an entire squadron of the enemy's. The Fallen Golems weren't fairing to well either, as unknown to the Fallen Ones, the Precursors had taken the liberty of installing far more weapons upon their own bipedal constructs and had even found a way to amp up the firepower of their Juggernaut's point defense Eco casters.

However, this was not to say that they were not taking losses of their own, as one of their own heavy weapons platforms was turned into a nova a second later, the blast also taking out a pair of friendly Golems that had been too close.

Nonetheless, it looked as if the battle might have been starting to turn in their favor.

That was all the time he had to spare, as his brother came flying back in at him, sunlight reflecting off of his cryosis sword as he brought it in from the side, trying his best to defeat his elder sibling. However, he made a potentially fatal error as he came in so fast. Tarath once again unleashed his Channeling powers, sending purplish black lightning streaking in towards him once again. Moving as fast as he was, Kerrog had little time to react, and desperately tried to barrel roll out of the way. He succeeded in avoiding the worst part of the blast, and his armor absorbed still more of it, but some of it still managed to nail him as he started his evasive maneuver.

The pain was nearly blinding, but being the warrior that he was, the Fallen leader was able to keep a level enough head that he realized what was coming next. The pain slowed him down however, and Tarath still managed to draw first blood, but the wound was merely a gash along the edge of his rib cage, not the full scale disembowelment that it would have been had he remained paralyzed by his agony. Hissing slightly as his brain realized what was happening, Kerrog brought his cryosis sword down from above, aiming to try and take Tarath's arm off at the elbow. Realizing his brother's intention, the dark armored warrior was quick to yank his limb back out of the attack range, but he made a mental note not to overreach himself to such a degree again.

On some level, even as their personal struggle rage, Tarath felt a degree an emotion he could only call pride over his little adoptive sibling. While it was true that they were mortal enemies at the moment, he was proud that his brother had managed to come so far, become such an ideal warrior.

Oh how he hated the outcome of this fight, and he wondered deep down, if he could bring himself to kill one so close to his heart and soul.

An explosion lit up the ground beneath him, and he heard screams as warriors, male and female alike, perished.

He banished those thoughts, buried them deep down inside of himself for the moment. There was too much at stake to let his heart rule his mind at the moment, the whole world was depending upon the Precursors to triumph here and now in this fight, and he needed only to gaze around at the vast, unending dunes and sand filled waste of this battleground to know what fate would befall Gaia if they were to lose here today.

It was from that that he drew his strength, the knowledge of what failure would bring, and his stubborn desire that that would not be the outcome of the battle here today. Once again, his warp blade locked up against Kerrog's cryosis sword, and even though a visor covered his eyes, the younger of the two warriors knew that his sibling was glaring at him from behind his helmet.

However, he was not going to be unnerved simply because his elder brother chose to narrow his eyes at him, and he suddenly took a note from his brother's book. While their blades scraped against one another, the Fallen Archon brought his left hand up, and a bright flash was all the warning that his opponent got as a ray of Light Eco blasted out of Kerrog's palm.

Tarath just managed to duck the attack, and thus was not fully prepared when his white armored adversary back flipped and twisted, before making an upside down oriented cut at him. He managed to fly backwards and avoid having his leg hacked off, but he got a nice little souvenir as the tip of the cryosis sword drew blood.

For a moment, the two circled each other, letting a slight lull come over the fighting, while off in the distance, yet another Fallen Juggernaut became a ball of light, a shockwave emanating out of it as it was consumed. Keeping one eye upon his brother, Tarath took another quick gaze around the battlefield.

Their own heavy weapons platforms now outnumbered the Fallen's by a margin of nearly three to one, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed that the remainder of their Dragoons had finished mopping up their adversaries meant that the battle below was about to get very, very uncomfortable for any Fallen unfortunate enough to become the target of a duracon stave or an Eco caster.

"It's over, Kerrog." He said, trying to see if he could force a surrender and avoid any more death on this day. "Give it up, this is a battle that you cannot win!"

"And what if we do surrender, Tarath, what then?" the Fallen Leader shot back. "You would have us cut off any and all advancement with the terraforming process. That is the key to our future! The key to us being able to colonize other worlds!"

"At no heed to the cost?" the Reaver growled, pointing around to the waste they battled in. "Have you forgotten what happened with the last experiments?"

"We made a mistake." his brother replied, a tone of regret in his voice. "But isn't science itself a process of trial and error? I will not stand by and let you and the others prevent us from taking this leap forward! My honor demands nothing less!"

With that, the Fallen Archon once again blasted in towards his adoptive sibling, a Precursor war cry upon his tongue. Tarath shot forward as well, and they once more met each other blade upon blade.

Unknown to the Reaver, was the sorrow that was welling up inside of the heart of his foe, as Kerrog cursed whatever cruel deity had propelled his people to this moment in time. He took no pleasure, no gratification, and no rush of adrenaline when he cut down one of his own kind, knowing full well that he had just killed another Precursor. Why? The Fallen Leader thought to himself as he once more tried to strike Tarath down, swinging down with a blow that was meant to decapitate his sibling if it connected, only to have it knocked aside by the Reaver's warp blade. Why couldn't the others see that the terraforming project was the only way for them to guarantee a successful future for their kind?

Tarath's line of thinking was still much the same, agony tearing through his soul as he found himself here, trying to kill someone who was a family member, a person he should have gladly been willing to die for…

An opportunity presented itself to the Reaver, and he took full advantage of it. He deftly spun out of the way of the next attack that Kerrog threw at him, and in a blur of motion, grabbed him by his left arm, before spinning once again, this time to place himself behind his adoptive sibling. His foe, caught off guard by this sudden maneuver, had to bit his lip so hard that he drew blood to avoid crying out as he felt his arm pop out of its socket. That sensation was quickly followed by Tarath planting his foot into his back, sending him flying down towards the ground.

However, he was able to keep up enough concentration to avoid eating dirt, and leveled off before streaking back up, his left arm dangling uselessly from the rest of his body, every motion sending bolts of pain streaking up it.

"Let this end!" Tarath cried again, pleading with his younger sibling.

Tarath got not verbal response from his sibling. Instead, Kerrog's reply came in the form of using his right hand to reach down and grasp his left arm. Even from where he was, the dark armored warrior could hear the crack as his brother popped the limb back into place, and then rotated his arm a few times to make certain that he had full use of it once again. He then offered the Praetor another salute, before streaking in towards him, his cryosis sword cocked back for another powerful strike.

Tarath was beginning to realize that no words would persuade his brother to lay down his arms, and no amount of diplomacy would allow for this battle to come to an end. That left only one option to end this war once and for all…he had to take the Fallen Archon down.

And so he no longer pulled his punches, and his sibling was about to witness first hand how he had come to be known as the champion of the Precursors.

He caught the longsword styled weapon with his warp blade, knocking it to the side before unleashed a trio of dark bolt attacks. Kerrog managed to dodge the first one, spinning down and to the left of his adversary. However, his foe had paid close attention to him throughout the fight, and had noticed that the white armored warrior seemed to favor that direction, as a result, when Kerrog tried the maneuver, he successfully dodged the first of the attacks, only to find that he had placed himself squarely in the path of the second and third.

His armor absorbed most of the damage, but it still left him with a rather uncomfortable burning sensation upon his chest. From this position, he noticed that Tarath was creating another attack, and hastily erected a shield around himself, hoping to ward the coming attack. However, that was not going to be enough, as he realized, to late, that the erecting of the barrier had given his black armored sibling just enough time to charge up a burst styled attack, and a massive dark bomb was streaking in towards him.

The attack slammed into his shield with earth shattering force, and the barrier held for a few secant milliseconds, before it collapsed under the fury of the Dark Eco attack. The remainder of the assault crashed through, enveloping him.

Being on the other end of the alignment spectrum, Kerrog had a special vulnerability to this particular element, and that manifested itself a moment later when he screamed in agony, a noise that tore at the heart of his brother. However, when the attack cleared, it showed that while battered, burned, and certainly not in a good mood, Kerrog was still alive and kicking.

His armor blackened, charred, and in some places, utterly eaten away by the substance that had covered it, the Fallen Archon still hovered in the air, battered, but still determined to fight to the end, no matter the bitter outcome.

Slowly, as if any movement pained him, the Fallen Leader raised his blade to an attack position, and prepared to charge once more into the battle. However, in his heart, the white armored Precursor knew that he was beaten, that there was no hope of him triumphing in this fight, short of Tarath just letting him kill him. His body burned and ached from the last Channeled attack that his adoptive sibling had unleashed, and while his foe had no idea, Kerrog knew just how badly he had been wounded. The substance had gotten into him, and it ravaged his body internally, and he was rapidly exhausting his own supplies of stored up Light Eco trying to heal himself. Not to mention that the attack had slammed into him at nearly two hundred miles per hour, and had the result of shattering several of his ribs, once of which had pierced a lung.

Still, if this was to be his end, he would die a warrior, not begging for his life.

With a cry that let those around him know that this was a last, doomed attack, he rushed the Reaver that had bested him. Much to his dismay, not only was his attack blocked, but Tarath didn't even bother to come through with a counter from his warp blade. Instead, the Praetor pushed against the Archon's weapon, using it to stage his move, and then he flipped about, slamming both of his feet into Kerrog's back, sending the Fallen Archon plummeting towards the desert below.

He hit so hard that he bounced back up into the air, then he hit once more, and lay still, his world growing dark.

The battle had raged on even after that, the Fallen Ones simply refusing to surrender, some going so far as to take their own lives with what little strength they had left, rather than surrender to their foes. However, they eventually managed to convince one last group of Fallen warriors to give up, which when combined with various survivors from around the battlefield (Kerrog actually being among these), brought the total number of prisoners up to about seven thousand, give or take a couple hundred.

But the fight had not been without its causalities on their side as well. More than half of the soldiers who had gone into battle that day had not returned, and much time was spent in the desert, cremating the remains of those who had not lived.

Once that was done, there was the small matter of dealing with surviving Fallen. A mass trial was held, and different people argued for different things. Some of the warriors, Tarath and Phoenix among them, had pleaded for mercy on behalf of those they had captured, saying that while the war had been fierce, that they should now 'bury the hatchet' and try to patch up what was left of their civilization, and perhaps, they might still accomplish what they had hoped to.

However, their voices had been in the minority. Others, maddened by the loss of friends and family, had demanded the highest and harshest punishment available, saying that the Fallen Ones had surrendered their right to any mercy long ago. These were the ones that won out in the end, despite pleas from others that such hatred would only beget more hatred, and the sentence had been passed down.

Kerrog and the other Fallen Ones were to be exiled from Gaia, cursed to never again set foot upon the planet of their birth. Furthermore, their names were to be forever struck out of the history of their race, and it would be as if they never existed.

To a warrior, whose greatest goal in life was to do something worthy of remembrance, there could be no higher insult, no greater humiliation, and Tarath knew in his heart, that this would spawn some very bitter memories among the defeated.

As with all of his other memories, he could recall with infinite clarity, what happened on that particular day in his life…

They marched, their heads held high and their stance saying everything about their defiance of their sentence. They walked towards the Day Star, a massive transport ship that had been constructed for this purpose. Armed guards lined every step of the journey, and some even jeered at them, reminding them of their defeat. However, for as many as poked fun at the Fallen, there were an equal number who silently wept from behind their helmets.

Here a brother watched his sister board the ship, knowing in his heart that he would never be able to see her again, wishing with all his soul that he could embrace her one final time before the endless vacuum of space separated them forever.

There a father and mother watched their son be herded onto the massive ship, standing stock still at attention as their child gazed up at them, knowing this would be the last time that they looked him in the eyes.

From up on a hill, the Praetors and Executor Xadec Thas watched the proceeding, all of their reactions to it different.

"This is madness…" Tarath whispered to himself. "How did it come to this?"

"They chose this path." Ariac growled, crossing his arms over his chest, his hands clinched into fists. "Have you forgotten what they would have done? This sentence is no less than they deserve."

"And what of our great ancestors that united us together in the first place?" the Reaver retorted in a bitter tone. "Did they hold grudges against the tribes that they conquered?"

"It's irrelevant." Came a weary voice, and all turned their heads to see Xadec, his head bowed, appearing to be very tired. "They have lost, and this is what the people have demanded, and as such, it shall be their fate. They have been provided with stasis chrysalises and other such necessities for a long space journey…perhaps…with some luck, they can find a world of their own, and start over there."

After that, he fell silent, as did they all, until the last member of the exiled ones came walking down the road. Clad in his armor, his bearing that of one who had been defeated, but whose fighting spirit remained unconquered, was Kerrog.

He gazed up at the seven soldiers on the hill, and Tarath noticed that Phoenix had started to break down and weep like a child. He could hardly blame him, as tears coursed their way down his face, hidden to the world by his helmet. In the gentlest manner that he could manage, the dark Praetor reached out and placed a hand upon his brother's shoulder, while keep his eyes upon their younger sibling.

The Fallen Leader stuck his hand into the air and made a fist, before crying out in a voice so loud that it was heard by all.

"Do not think that this is finished, Executor." he said, his voice full of determination. "You may have defeated us, but the war is not over yet. You will find yourselves in another conflict soon enough, and this time you will not be so lucky." He paused, and even from this distance, they could tell that his crystal blue eyes had narrowed to a glare. "And when that battle is done, we will return, and we will lead our people on to the glorious future that we deserve. Know this…"

With that, he lowered his hand, and started back towards the Day Star. It did not take him long to reach it, and when he did, he got up to the top of the loading ramp before he took one last look over his shoulder, his distance gaze settling upon his two brothers. For a brief second, he shook his head and his shoulders, slumped, before he turned and disappeared into the depths of the ship.

The Day Star had lifted off some six hours ago, and back at the capital city, Tarath found himself staring at the holo maps of several cities. Once they had been glorious monuments to the achievements of his people, and now they were nothing more than smoldering ruins, reduced to rubble by the cataclysmic war that had ravaged the planet for so many years.

The dark Praetor sighed and bowed his head. He felt as if the walls were closing in around him, and he suddenly knew that he had to leave the city, to get away from it all, if only for a little while.

So, letting Phoenix know that he was heading off to be alone, he headed out of the residential building in which they resided, and headed for the armory and barracks. From there, it was relatively simple to acquire a Stinger, stock himself up with food, water, and enough Dark Eco filled containers for about a week, and speed out of the city. He knew not where he was heading, only that he had to get away from all the memories that kept assaulting him… memories of his two brothers and himself hanging out and playing back when they were younger, before all of this had happened.

Despite his best efforts to will away the pain of his spiritual and emotional wounds, he couldn't stop a few tears from manifesting themselves, blurring his vision as he pushed the Stinger to full throttle and tore off.

The Praetor stared up into the blackness of the lab, the images churning within his mind, forcing him to remember one of the darkest times of his life.

Even the brief period that had followed that, which had helped him to forget the agony and nightmares of the Kinslayer War, were laced with pain and sorrow. An image appeared in his mind once more, this one of an elf, a female. Her hair was blond, and her eyes a haunting green, while there was a hesitant smile upon her face.

Half a solar system away, a white armored warrior sat in his personal quarters, his legs crossed and his eyes staring forward into nothing.

Kerrog Losstarr's mind was amongst the clouds, as his thoughts drifted in and out of the present and the past. As always, though, the young Executor dwelled mostly upon that final climatic confrontation of the great civil war. He thought of what he had done wrong, the things that, in hindsight, he would have done differently, as such knowledge would serve him and his soldiers well as the next battle drew nigh.

His thoughts also drifted to his two brothers, and for a fleeting moment, the ice cracked. Kor had maintained very frequent communications with them initially, to let them know how his little war was going. Over time, as the Precursors and the Channelers that they tried to create were destroyed, the updates had become more sporadic. But he knew that Phoenix was dead… and Tarath worse than that. The noble warrior that had been his adoptive sibling had been turned into some sort of freakish abomination that nature had never meant to exist.

Artificial limbs and other such extremities were nothing new to the Ancients, and even Ragais, his own third in command, had a cybernetic right arm, a souvenir from when a Dark Eco attack had disintegrated his original. But to reconstruct a warrior to such a degree, to where the machines were literally all that was keeping him alive, all that still enabled him to use his powers…

His brother had been robbed of the dignity that came with death, robbed of his eternal rest that any true warrior deserved after giving his or her life for their cause.

His azure eyes narrowed dangerously, a glare coming into them that could have blasted a hole straight through battle plate, and a burning rage came over him. He knew that Executor Xadec had been responsible for what had been done to his sibling, knew that the leader of the Precursors was the person who had trapped Tarath in a hellish form of death in life, and he vowed then and there that he would see the Ancient dead for that crime…and that he would find a way to destroy his brother as well.

Tarath had been a worthy foe and someone who, despite everything, that he still loved with all his heart. Killing him, no, releasing him from his twisted and perverse existence upon this mortal plane would be the kindest thing that he could do for his sibling.

The Reaver had earned his right to rest and peace… and the gods as his witnesses, Kerrog would see to it that he got that.

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Okay, going to stop it right there.

Hope you have found this chapter to your liking, and that I have not screwed it up in some horrible manner. Next week, Jak and company will be back in the picture, and have a tango with the Marauders, will be heading back to Haven.

I have to cut this short, so if you have any ideas, comments, constructive criticisms, or even want to flame me, feel free to do so.

Thank you all very much for your time, and I hope you have a great week.