The arrival of the Thunderpeople brought conversation inside the Solarium to a momentary halt, as the Highchief's palanquin was deposited outside the gates and he made a grand entrance with his personal guard. Given the bombastic reputation of the easterners, it seemed likely he intended a grand proclamation, but before a word passed his lips another sound followed at his back - screams. Borne by a sudden chill wind, the cries at first of several, then of dozens of the people of Sha slipped past the bright walls of the Sun's holy temple, most ending in pained rattles that could mean just one thing. Half a dozen guards rushed out from shaded alcoves to take positions at the gate, only for their voices to join the growing chorus of the dead and the dying. One managed to stagger back into the courtyard hosting the regal emissaries of Sikar, clutching his belly as he retched blood onto the polished tiles. With the sound of snapping bones, his spine exploded outwards from his back, revealing at last the cause of the commotion. Emerging from its bloody nest, it resembled nothing so much as a ball of writhing scorpion tails, each one three feet long and tipped with five stingers in a deadly mockery of a humanoid hand. Their chitin was the telltale silver of the blightspawn menace approaching from the north, and within moments the blood coating every part of it had flaked away into silver dust. More than a dozen of those tails found purchase in the twitching meat of the dead guard, and finally the core of the creature was hoisted into view. The dozens of tails emerged from a spherical core, which shifted towards the assembled delegations despite lacking any apparent eyes. With the clack of jangling metal, the center of the sphere unfurled into a questing, lamprey maw studded with needle-like teeth. A keening noise went up from the tangle, to be answered in kind by a growing swarm of the nightmarish creatures climbing the walls of the Solarium. The sucking mouth of the leader contorted, as if in a mockery of a human smile, and without warning it hurtled towards the Triad with lightning speed.

Spoiler: OOC
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An unknown assailant has smuggled a number of the argent swarm into the event!
Attendees have the choice of fleeing the blightspawn or standing to fight. Those who elect to fight must choose a primary representative to roll 2d6 plus their Mil, Hero, or half Mil score as appropriate against the blightspawn's 2d6+8. Those who stay to aid the primary defender must roll as above against TN 12, with success adding +2 to the primary roll. A loss to the blightspawn by 6 or more will represent ultimate disaster to all event attendees. A loss by 5 or less will represent grievous injury or death to the majority of attendees. A tie will result in no deaths, but several severe injuries. A victory by 5 or less will represent a hard-fought defense with only cosmetic injuries. A victory by 6 or more will represent a truly heroic annihilation of the menace.