As the poker game wound down and the assembled children of Baz'Auran prepared to risk their comfort on Jongo's creation, a shadow fell over the table. Before any greedy hand could reach for the sammiches, a thin, razor talon impaled the central sammich, releasing a spurt of rainbow oil that could only have come from the Jongo Pepper. Looking up with a start, the children saw Tezzerin looming over them, her eight wings shimmering like silver in starlight, the twinkle in her eyes struggling between amusement and irritation. A flick of her foot long claws, and the unlucky sammich dissipated into sparkling dust.
"That's quite enough mischief for today, children. It would be unseemly for one of you to be afflicted with one of Jongo's pranks when the banquet begins. Now, prepare yourselves!"
The blazing globe of the sun sank beyond the sight of the Well of Eternity, and as the children of Baz'Auran moved about their lives a single ringing peal echoed through the air. The sound faded, and for a moment the silence hung, as fragile and delicate as the purest glass. Then the glass shattered, as the bells in the Towers of the Most High answered their brother, great slabs of gold and silver and bronze resounding in a mighty chorus that summoned all to the Court of Baz'Auran, to the banquet that had been at the forefront of so many minds.
As the children of Baz'Auran entered the vast chamber, they saw the space had been filled with long tables of gleaming crystal, crowded with Spirits of the Highest Circle. There were thousands of them, tens of thousands, all their eyes staring expectantly towards the approaching godlings. Before the dais rose a great semicircular table, runes of power sparkling along its side, the chairs around it empty in anticipation of the children. At either side of the towering throne of Baz'Auran sat Tezzerin and Eliat, resplendent in their glory undiminished. But not even the greatest of the Spirits could match the blazing power of Baz'Auran. His unbridled might wreathed him in a shifting garment of grey flame, flame that still paled in comparison to the shining glory of his eyes. Seeing the children, the Spirits of the Highest Circle rose in reverence, and Baz'Auran gestured to the table that had been prepared.
"Welcome, my children. Sit, for we have much to discuss."
His voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it sent a tremor through the air. The children had never known their father to raise his voice beyond that whisper, for his power was so great as to make even his voice a tool of creation and destruction. The sound lingered for long moments, but eventually it faded as chalices of ambrosia rose from the assembled tables, accompanied by long platters piled high with the bounty of the White City. Before the Spirits rose only the shining fruits of the City's garden, sprinkled with dew that had been masterfully joined with the essence of Joy. Yet the godling children of Baz'Auran were of a different ken, and before them the platters of fruit were flanked by steaming platters of choice meats, some glistening with barely contained juices, others glazed in wafer thin crusts of Delight and Expectation. Yet upon the dais, the ruler of the White City was sated with a simple cup of Possibility, held by his beloved cup bearer. In silence, he awaited the questions that were sure to come, apparently ready to reveal the full extent of his childrens' mission.