Ah-Loth (Three Plains/Planes)

I had heard the echoes of the lost calling to me from the city's most prominent temple. The echoes called out from the Astral Planes, where I was born. The darkest monstrosities come from that world. Even I am considered to be a being of evil.

The temple was dedicated to the omnipotent titan who rules all of astral-kind. Lothos. Here in the Terran Plane, those who escape Lothos's clutches live within a devastated island, known as Ah-Loth.

A gate from our realm, the Astral Plane, was opened in the Terran Plane. A light from the Terran world's heavenly bodies was release late one night. People from the "Earth", as they call it, believed this to be a catastrophe, the end of their world; the largest and most renown city in their world was sunk by this fallen star. It was a blessing to us.

The cathedral of which our god dwells was built in this new world. The fallen star was the product of an attack against Lothos. A hero among astrocities, Uurlok. He led a rebellion against the titan, but was obliterated by He who enslaves us. The titan lost an eye during the attack of Uurlok and his men. Because Lothos lost an eye, a gate to the Terran Plane was opened for a short period of time. The many slaves of the Astral realm had escaped to the Terran world, and spawned in the land, which was nothing more than a wasteland, but the escaped called it home: Ah-Loth.

The cries grew louder as I approached his statue. Anguish and sorrow beset my heart and tears grew within the heights of my cheeks.

A proud monument to his sin; he stood piercing the titan's right eye with a long, heavy sword. The expression of the titan's face could not foster the agony the titan had felt, nor could an artist depict the suffering Uurlok should feel as he was promptly ripped to pieces by the titan's gaping maw.

I presented my offering to his statue so that I might appease his cries for another day.

The titan watches from his void while the Terrans sleep.

Dream, dream, O restless ones, you may never dream. Kneel before the savior of astrocity kind, the giver of salvation and freedom, so that we might steal yours away.

Capitulation

A sharp, yet defined rap echoed through my hall as I was seated upon my throne, gazing into the sands of my hourglass.




The last few grains trickled down the bulb, and the rap grew into a cacophony of hands, beating at the iron spiked door of oak, coated with the greens of moss.




I saw the face of an old man, staring back at me from the reflection of the glass. His face scarred with wrinkles and littered with cuts and bruises.




I saw myself, of course.




The rapping grew into a steady and continuous pounding. Cries of anguish could be heard from outside the powerful door, holding back all the angry and crazed hands. I raised my hand from the armrest and slew the watch glass to the ground; it's contents lay splayed about my court on the marble tiles.




Louder and louder, they had beaten down the first door.




The captain of the guard and his men stood before the souls. Their plate emblazoned with the luminosity of the mob's torch.




"Schießen!" the guard ordered. The royal guard stood with their pikes in hand, forming a strong wall that prevented the advance of the mob, and overhead, archers fired volleys into the mob.




The mob, of course, didn't stop at this. Their shouts could be heard from inside my hall. I rose from my throne to my plate. My armor. My blade. Once used to unite my realm with the bonds iron and flesh. No more.

Again, I saw myself. A broken man. Once a proud and honorable monarch, true to his word, true to his people, but now? I am no more.

I walked about my scarlet carpet, leading to the steel doors that lead out onto the facade of which my men where. I found our sculptures. Busts of our family. 

We were once gods. 

There was no one higher than I or my brother.

We were respected by all men and women alike. Where are we now?

I forced the busts to the ground. The beautiful and meticulously carved marble fell to the ground, and shattered.

I no longer heard the commands of my captain. The mob was afoot once again, this time, at the door of steel, ramming the door. I found myself on the balcony, looking over my kingdom, my dominion, my realm. My home.

All in a wave of red and orange.

The mob was finally rushing through my hall.

But when the came to meet me on the balcony, all they found was my crown and blade.

They were not ready for a reign of love and wisdom. Blood and iron was forever in this land. 

Forever the dream of my brother.

The Arena Part 1 (TAK)

Star Date: ... Systems malfunctioning... No service available...

Octavian's gaze lies drawn to the bloodied sands where he defeated his opponent. A look of sorrow fell upon his face. A strong feeling of remorse is overwhelming his weak heart. He stands at the top, among the seats in the arena; it is completely empty. The seats are dirtied with foul remains of their occupants. Grasping the cage within his flesh and metal hands, his head falls into the rings, sending the harsh scraping of the cage's rings rubbing one another throughout the room. He's sobbing. Crying.

He knew nothing of the acts that he had committed within the sands of the arena. All he could remember was the chanting of the crowd, being face to face with another monster, like he.

Behind him, a man wearing tattered and dirty rags descends towards the sobbing monster. He is missing a leg, his right leg to be precise. Only a metal bar was left in it's place to support the man. With a frail and ginger arm, he reaches out for Octavian's shoulder to comfort him.

Octavian wasn't the least startled by this. He was still drowning within the emotional wave that had overcame him.

The man stood and gazed into the pit as Octavian wept. For long he wept.

"Octavian." The man blurted out. "It's not your fault. It's they're fault. It always has been." Octavian's head pivots to the figure behind him. A further observation reveals a large, bushy beard and his face bears an ugly scar, stretching from the reaches of his forehead, across his eye and, into the depths of his chin.

It's his father.

Wiping the tears from Octavian's face, he continues in a hushed tone. "They made you what you are. I know. They almost did it to me too." Octavian seated himself onto a bench while his father spoke on. "You're what they called... A defender. When the cities were to fall, you were to have been one of the beasts to defend against the rogue and alien forces on earth. It is a horrible fate, but you have powers like no other breathing being. You have your own strengths that no man or beast can counter."

With a smile he said: "You have the heart of a beast and the mind of a man." Octavian grinned at this too. Shouting further up in the stands alarmed Octavian and his father. "I have to go now. I'll tell you all I can later, if I'm able to reach you."

"Thank you..." Octavian paused trying to find the word- "Father."

"Good luck to you in the sands, my son." His father said as he climbed the steps of the arena.

Octavian was alone again, in the arena.

Octavian II

Star Date: Unknown, requesting maintenance... Unable to contact servers... Shutting down...

With a sudden crack, our hero awakens. From a strange chamber of some design, he collapses into blood stained sands. He quickly realizes that he is surrounded by a horde of people, seated high above him. He stood in awe of the crowd's enormity, empowered by their cries, though, he is greatly confused. Little does he know, he is in grave danger. A quick and effortless scan reveals that he is not alone in the arena of sorts.

Another chamber, almost of the exact same design is inside the arena. Octavian feels different. The look of pure blood lust and savagery fills his eyes. Octavian was much different. His body has been heavily augmented and tested upon. Small incisions rivet his skin. Carbon steel spikes line his back in an asymmetric pattern. It appears all too painful. His posture has been affected as well. The weight of a robotic arm causes him to be slightly hunched over. The most disturbing of all his augmentations would be his eye. One of his eyes were completely removed and was replaced by a small ball. He can still use it to see, somehow, but by unknown means. He doesn't notice any of this though. It's almost as if he is in a trance of some sort.

Adopting a new and natural stance, the beast within Octavian releases itself.

The pod across the arena bursts open. The crowd roars, gasps and shakes the cage that is encasing the two monsters. The audience wants blood, it is all too obvious.

A long and vicious howl blasts from the pod. silencing the crowd, they looked on with great interest. Peering into the cage with their greedy eyes. The pod shudders and the beast within erupts. A creature on all fours, two headed and with a nasty looking stinger on the end of it's tail.

The two-headed monstrosity dashes towards Octavian with an unrivaled speed. 

Octavian reacts swiftly, connecting a blow to the beast's left head with a snap. The crowd once again, roars on.

The beast raises itself to its feet and once again strategizes the next move. Octavian blinks and loses sight of the beast. Another blink and the beast's right head is tearing into his back. He tries to toss off the beast but has no luck. The two then reach a bloody stalemate as the beast claws away, ripping into the panel on Octavian's back, revealing wires and veins alike. Sensing a near death event, dubious instincts of Octavian's new self, kick in.

Beast on back, he flexes his powerful leg muscles and lunges into the air to a considerable height, reaches the ceiling and clings onto it with his mighty arms. In complete shock, the two-headed beast knows not what to do. The crowd is again, silent with anxiety and anticipation.

Octavian releases his grip on the cage and falls to the ground below, quashing the beast between the sands and his spined back.

He then peels off the beast, takes it by its two heads and rips it in half. Uncontrollable rage, happiness and excitement fills the air. Octavian emerges victorious in his first fight. He looks around again though and reaches consciousness from his rampage.

He isn't in space anymore. He's very much far from human now, too.

He is what he saw in the lab. An animal. A beast. 

But why?

Holo-Tome #1 Titled: "Pouli"

Pouli

Not only was it Orion that was besieged and annihilated, many other worlds were aflame. The Pouli were the first to feel the vigor and strife of the fires. They hadn't a home planet for centuries; the species lived upon a naval marvel that sheltered the entire Pouli race. Some felt sorrow for the race, living the depths and vastness of the stars and cosmos, but the Pouli were proud of their ever growing masterpiece. It was a mechanical wonder. Spanning several lengths of Earth, the ship was a mobile trade hub, a bustling capital and a war factory. The ship was constantly worked on daily by the master architects of the Pouli, the shuttle never slept, never ending wisps and flares of blue could be seen from all over the hunk of metal. It was a work of art to them.

All Pouli are hatched aboard the Nest Ship (which was one of the many names for the capital ship) with the innate ability and desire to create a machination that they bond with through their lives and work on throughout their entire lives. The machine is entirely robotic and possesses no organic qualities. They do however, share properties that sentient organic beings have, such as emotions. It is thought that the heart of these machines are the only biological piece with inside their chests. They can feel the pain that their partner has. If one of a pair has a physical pain too, they share that pain and the partner has an uncontrollable urge to stop the pain by any means necessary. The duos are never found apart from one another. The Pouli often create nooks along the plating of their metal companions or perch atop their shoulders so that they can travel comfortably with their partner.

If one of the two in a duo should pass though, it is observed that the Pouli go into a state of pure loathing and fury. Their size and frail stature does not stop them though. They continue to fight until the cause of their robot's death is dealt with appropriately. They shortly expire after this outrage. The state destroys the victim's heart completely by working far beyond the abnormal heart rate of the Pouli.

On the other hand, the steel and wire golems will often fall onto the ground, no matter where they were at the time of their creator's expiration. It is said that they do not die but, their heart breaks. Without the vibration's of their creator's beating heart, the robot's heart freezes in an overwhelming wave of pain and remorse for the loss. They remain until their bodies are recycled. The heart, though, mysteriously disappears...

Dark Tides (TAK)

Star Date: 2116, February 17th.


The days grow nearer and nearer to the advent of Operation "Skyfall" as the higher-ups of the Kingdom's authorities have been calling the return to Earth. It is truly a chaotic time. Small rebellions against the idea of the great fall, but their efforts lie in vain. They, the brave, are now incarcerated in the Cell's prison. Their fate undetermined.

"So what is it we plan to do with the rebels? Are we going to execute them for treason?" an officer mumbles to his counterpart.

"I haven't the slightest clue what the lord will have of them. I haven't even seen the containment facilities yet. I don't even think we have the clearance to that sector-" he said as he raises his mug and  casually quaffs of. "-It's almost as if they're hiding something from all of us." The two men's attention was stolen by the large blast-door that loomed at the far end of the hall from them, which had just slammed shut. Above the door in red lights declared the room was "Derelict", although in all truth, it was aways from derelict.

On the other side of the door was Mr. Terach, with two large guards flanking him. Androids. Flesh over metal; they possess enormous power within themselves and have taken Octavian to the "containment facilities". He struggles within the grip of the mimics to no avail. His struggle grinds to a halt as he is in total awe of what surrounded him.

Each wall hosts several alcoves holding beings that were very much far from human. Or appeared to be. Some scales, a few with organic scythes for arms, some covered with steel plates. The most horrific had yet to come. As the party of three progress through the hall, moving from path to path, they came upon the human experimental test facilities. The hall had a dark and ominous blue glow to it. Within each cell was a horribly disfigured construct of flesh or metal. So grotesque and twisted, that the scientists congregating about the hall obviously view these men and women simply as animals, not even humans. Their anguish goes unheard though as they attempt to free themselves.

They would never be the same.

"What's this one here for?" a scientist inquired as he prodded about Terach. "He's said to have been conspiring against Skyfall. The guide believes that you can make a great use of him. We've noticed that he's a quite lively specimen." the android proclaimed in a monotonous voice. Binding him, Octavian was then thrown to the feet of the scientist before him. "We're definitely going to have fun with you." the scientist mumbled, picking up Octavian. They then walked off, Octavian was exhausted, afraid and hopeless as he was taken through another blast door to parts entirely unknown.

The Sullen Meeting. (TAK)

Star Date: 2116, January 31st.


In a large and sparsely decorated auditorium, a gathering was being held. From the walls and many orifices of the room hang many banners of a regal design. A purple crest, trimmed with gold that has two swords crossing one another were portrayed on these mantles. In the auditorium's seated are the numerous citizens of Sky Cell 19. One young man in peculiar, stood out. He, Mr. Terach, stands near the entrance of the auditorium, leaning against the hall's wall. The occupants of the seats are silent, waiting for someone or something to happen. Many of them are on the edge of their seats, dying from the quiet.


Just then though, a large man wearing a rather dapper suit waltzed his way onto the stage, in front of the crowd.He clears his throat, it echoes throughout the hall. The listeners are anxiously awaiting his word."Greetings, citizens of Sky Cell 19. It is your guide, Godfrey Wilheim. I have extremely important news with me." From his jacket, he produces a envelope. Again, he clears his throat.


"As a collective and whole society; the wise and valorous leaders of the Sky Kingdom have debated for decades now on when it would be safe to return to our true home. Earth. Scientists of the Kingdom have done all the research they could regarding the radioactivity of the wasteland. The data to them appears that the world may finally be safe enough to start a new on. Humanity shall not falter."


The audience was shocked, outraged at the least. Some stood up in protest, yelling at the man and questioning the idea presented before them. Some cried with their hands covering their faces. The silence of the hall soon became an uproar of unhappy men and women. All went quiet as soon as the intimidating cocking of air-rifles was heard. The protesters returned to their seats. Mr. Terach however, moved forward.


"I know that the idea of leaving this sanctuary in the heavens is ever so worrisome and foreign to all of you, I will tell you as your overseer that only good can come of the return to Earth. Civilization must sprout anew from the ground of which it was originally birthed. We cannot thrive among the stars."


He paused for a short moment, looking down and the back to the audience, "It is not our place here.""We should be leaving Earth's orbit sometime in the next month. I promise you all that it will not be the last thing we all do."


Tension only strengthened in the room as the meeting dragged on. Godfrey continued his theory and tried to convince the people of Sky Cell 19 that the return to Earth would be the greatest thing that could ever happen to mankind. Quote: "It's like we can all start all over again. Do all the wrong things... Right." Unquote.


He wasn't very convincing. Within the next few days, Godfrey from himself in the infirmary because of a crazed cultist believing that he was getting in the way of harmony. The cultist was later jettisoned from the Cell. His attempt at remaining in heaven, ironically, failed him.


Octavian was amazed when presented with all of this information. If the sky was the limit, what used to be within humanity's reaches?

A Tale of an Astral Kingdom

Bland Prologue

"It was truly a sight to be seen- the Before World." a man spoke softly to his child.
They both stand close to the glass view port, peering out of it. The man turns around and moves in a gaunt stride towards a cherry wood bureau, of which he pulls countless drawers out of in search of something.
"Aha!" he exclaims- "This my son was what earth looked like ten years ago."
The photograph the man found was a picture of a lush and green paradise that was earth. The boy with his tender and small hands, presses the picture against the glass to compare it to the desolate wasteland that the two are viewing.
"Daddy, why isn't it green like it is in the picture?" the child inquired quietly. The father looked down at him and then towards his own leg:

"Bad people, son. Very, very bad people."  he spat bitterly. "The same people who took daddy's leg away from him. You'll understand, one day. Whenever you're, older."

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Star Date: 2116, January 27th

"...So they all sought to the stars, and every man, woman and child that didn't make it were left to the left. Left to the destruction below. Here, we are almost untouchable. The only thing that can hurt us up here is ourselves. The Seraphs ensure that there is no conflict. They are the overseers of the Sky Cells..." a monotone voice projects through the small room, filled with students clothed with purple jumpsuits. They tediously record the lecture of the teacher, garbed in gold, on bits and scraps of paper. In the back of the class, a young man with brown and somewhat unkempt hair passes a note to a friend seated adjacent of him. The crisp and distinct sound of the boy's friend unwrapping the paper fills the room, and the teacher stops babbling to turn to the friend.

"I do hope that you are sharing notes regarding the history of the Sky Cells, Mr. Terach." the teacher snapped. "I assure you that they are in fact such, Mr. Alexander." he said in a rather sarcastic and condescendingly. Alexander continued with his lecturing and Terach's friend read his note. The note revealed that the girl in the top of their class had "messed around with" one of the nerdier students of the class for their homework. Of course, the boys had no idea as to whether or not this statement be true, it was all fun and games. Terach's friend looked at him with the utmost amusement at this and quickly returned him the note. Their fun was quickly interrupted though:

"Octavian-" Alexander called out, "who launched the first Sky Cell into orbit?"
Octavian recovered his composure and answered: "Orbital Industries, obviously. Why did you need me to tell you? Did you forget? Aren't you the Cell's historian?" the response got a short chuckle out of the class, defeated, Alexander returned to his tablet and continued to sprout forth nonsense from the texts, and still, the class listened on.

"...Bio-terrorist organizations conspired throughout the years 2095-2099 until they were "officially" claimed dissolved. The United Nations of Earth's statement was completely incorrect, as in 2098, Earth became what it is now, as you have seen from the vacuum outside of the Sky Cell, due to a un-estimated amount of what was assumed to be dirty bombs were deployed in the Earth's greatest cities..." etcetera, etcetera. Alexander rambled on and the students transcribed his lecturing, unshaken by the recalled events, but he himself was somber as he recollected the Great Leap. It looked as though he was on the verge of crying right then and there, too.

The Steppes Part 1

"So this is what it comes down to then? War?" a man clad in bronze whispers to his comrade. They both are perched upon the palisade enclosing an unimposing encampment in the outlying region of northern Macedonia.

"It seems so. Ever since the philosopher arrived at the camp, strange things have been happening. The air has grown cold and the grass near his tent has died." the comrade grumbles. Their attention is suddenly drawn to a tent with several foreign patterns stitched onto it. The entrance folds open and a man with a cyan garb appears from the tent. He is carrying two cubes with what appear to be runes.

"That's him. That's the one. The philosopher, Aristotle. He and his cubes. The commander said he crafted these walls with those." the bronze emblazoned man mutters. "Preposterous!" his comrade replies "You do not believe that to be true, do you Val?" "I've heard rumor from recruits from the southern provinces that he constructed the new fortifications there. Rumors or not, we shall see for ourselves, watch."

Suddenly, the ground near Aristotle begins to shake. His hands are moving faster than the eyes of the soldiers are able to see; they are a blur, a flurry of flesh and stone. They stop and the tremors around grow louder and louder. A stairway of earth rises in front of the philosopher, which he promptly climbs. He silently made his way to the two men.

"Any strange phenomenon occurring near or far from the walls my friends?" Aristotle inquires. "Nothing that we could notice. It is rather dark out." Val responds somewhat sarcastically. "Aside from those fissures you caused just now..." "Well, if you do happen to see anything that is not of my doing, be sure you raise the alarm immediately. There is trouble afoot. The oracle preaches of a great danger near. Even my instincts are warning me." Aristotle then turns and treads down his stairs, which crumble back into the earth with behind each step he takes.

Val and the archer remain vigilant throughout the night, finding nothing out the ordinary from their post. A fog rolls in as it nears dawn and their vision is obscured. Chanting is heard in the distance through the fog. The chanting excels to an uproar. It is a barbarian raid. Sparks and flames are now seen in the thick fog. The soldiers scramble towards the earthen gate to raise the alarm...

Concordia

Concordia

It was another day that the sun hadn’t shined upon Sicily. The sounds of battle and war was upon the near and far horizons. Sicily, the home to three of city states, these three being unique in the way that they fought. They fought with one of the most savage tools that they had mastered over many generations of constant war with one another. Instrumenta musica. The only way these barbaric states knew how to use these was for war. War was all they knew. They used them for only the fiercest battles an each state had developed their own variation of instrumenta. One forging theirs under the hammer of Vulcan, the Orichalcum. One carving theirs with the god Pan, the Ventiligna. And the city state only binding theirs with the thickest of hides killed by the god Mars himself, the Percussiones.

These cities however, hated each other with a passion. A passion that had burned for so long that they had forgotten why they quarreled with one another. The dynasties that led these three cities had continued the violent clashes against one another, simply to prove who the best of the three was. But as of now, they hadn’t seen what they had been doing. They didn’t know what they could do with their instruments. Often pillaging and destroying towns on the outskirts of the opposing cities, many innocents lost their lives from the war. Never would they understand what true music sounds like, for in their last moments, they only heard the screams of war. But there was a hope for those who still sought out true music. A glistening light in the darkness of war that encircled the island. It was Mercury, the Wayfinder.

As the personal oracles of dynastic rulers of the three states had spoken, one day the Wayfinder would come to their home to find their horrible wars, battles, and their uncivilized way of using music. Not for joy, nor pleasure, but only for themselves. Never to share happiness, only to make them frown and flee once they had heard the sounds of Ares’ pounding war drums, the wail of Pan’s flutes, and the screams of Vulcan’s trumpets.

Mercury was sent by Apollo to investigate the strange sounds that had come of the isle of Sicily. Mercury, looking to get his daily run in, gladly accepted this request and sprinted off in his winged sandals to Sicily, straight into a maelstrom of harsh notes and loud booms. He scuttled away from the fight onto a nearby hill, covering his ears, and watched the battle unfold. Specks of crimson flew into the air, which was thick with smoke. The dead grass scattered with bits and pieces of drums, armor, and other equipment. Mercury, silently watching the men play their instruments across the field from each other in the form of columns. Men were blown apart by the notes as they pierced their cuirasses and knocked several others off their feet. The trumpeters began to scatter and rout as they saw their brothers fall before them. The earth stained scarlet, Mercury turned and returned to Apollo at Olympus.

Having heard what these barbaric people had turned music into, Apollo was enraged. He lashed out, “These peoples have not a single drop of understanding of what music is! They must prove that they are capable of creating something wondrous with what they have! Not war! Imbeciles!” Breathing heavily, he slowly regained his composure as he looked up at the statue of Jupiter that was in the main courtyard of Olympus. “As white as the clouds,” he thought. It was then as he was staring at the marble columns all around him, that he knew what he had to do. “Mercury, request an audience with father at once. I must speak of their evils to him, to see what a proper punishment for them would be. Abusing the power of what we know as music,” Apollo said. In turn, Mercury wandered off to the grand hall of Jupiter. Massive marble columns and busts of the gods and goddesses of Olympus surrounded Mercury. He gazed at the tapestries of velvet bearing Jupiter’s bull and thunderbolt, as he slowly approached the massive god sitting on the throne in front of him. With a full, white beard, kind eyes and a strong and deep voice, Jupiter called out to Mercury, “Ah, Mercury my child. Come, sit and feast with me!” Mercury quietly took a seat at the table to the left of Jupiter. “Now, what information have you brought for me today, Wayfinder?” Jupiter’s voice boomed as that of thunder, which also shook Mercury and made him drop his silverware. He stood up before Jupiter, cleared his throat and then spoke “I have information regarding a request from Apollo. He sends to you that he wishes for Typhon to be quelled by the fighting states of Sicily.”

“Music soothes the savage beast, eh?” Jupiter responded. “So be it.” 

Mercury, sprinting from Olympus, returned to the island and told them of their task that would end their quarrels. He told them that they were to calm the raging Typhon or their island would be destroyed. Fearing for their lives, they mustered their forces into a massive army and marched towards Mount Etna, where Typhon was beginning to awaken. Black from the molten rock that coated him, he peered at the army moving towards him. Collaboratively, the army played the nastiest tune that they had known. This did nothing but irritate Typhon. He let out a raging roar as he lowered his head and charged across the Tyrrhenian Sea into Vesuvius and set the mountain aflame. Fiery rock emerged from Typhon as he turned his head, blinded from the ash, he struggled. He then turned and saw the source of the terrible sound. Again, he lowered his heads and charged back towards Etna. “No! This is not what you are to do!” Apollo screamed as he rode on his golden chariot towards them. He took his lyre from his back, and gave the war drums a beat. The flutes understood now what they had to do, as did the trumpets. Apollo led them to victory as they played the softest, most beautiful song that the world had ever heard. Typhon collapsed, infatuated by the astonishingly the perfect pitches of the song, returning the underside of Etna, destined to slumber for another eternity.

The people of Sicily finally realized that this was what music really was all about. Coming together and working as one; as an ensemble. The City-States then moved on and formed one country that loved music together and they called it Concordia. From then on, the best bands in the world were led by the grace of Apollo and his lyre.