Granted a small degree of safety by distance and a conjured protective layer of bark, Fahl was shielded somewhat from whatever unease mounted within the observing crowd. Magic was where his confidence lay, much as he often despaired in its slow improvement, and so he stood untrembling and vigilant against any dangers this second spire might bring. When the audience held their breath, he unconsciously did as well, an imagined muscle in his mind tensed and ready to flex if any defensive power required summoning. Sketching out a plan, the idea of evacuating his fellow Gembounds through the personal crack in reality he possessed seemed the ideal method to minimize casualties; it all depended on whether his reaction time was swift and if his voice and presence were strong enough to usher many strangers to a destination known to him alone. He reasoned he'd learn these answers soon, wary eyes tracking the ominous cracks spiderwebbing over pulsating blue crystal.

The gradually building buzz surrounding the foreboding phenomena reached its crescendo. A crack of finality split the air, and multitudinous shards developed out of the spire's surface fell apart in a sudden cascade. The event was quieter than expected, and Fahl found himself taken aback by the anticlimax. That dull surprise morphed into something else entirely upon the realization a small, colorful figure had been ejected from it.

His mouth ran dry. A very horrifically familiar figure.

Just as she'd subjected him to the humiliation of being showered by vomit, the urge to respond in kind to her presence welled up in his esophagus. Scales flushed orange, red, and white in reflection of the heat swelling beneath them. The last ounce of restraint he struggled to hold on to formed a barrier against the growing rage battering the walls of his throat. Weak in the face of tremendous pressure, a truly volcanic eruption of molten vitriol blasted through it.

"Nice?" Fahl bellowed. "You call this nice, you dung-eating ego... centric! I swallowed a dozen bugs... at least! Flying over here! All so your pus-slathered self could rain ed—edi—oh, fuck this! Tasty rocks on us?"

Repeatedly gusting superheated air out of his mouth over the cycles had permanently roughened his voice. Combine this with the eternal irritation of his gemstone-embedded tongue, and already he needed to take long, fuming pauses between his verbal assault. He glared up at Nemean, not an iota of amusement spared for her supposedly harmless prank, and silently formed the words, "You fucker," before finally regaining the breath to give the rest of his insults sound.

"Here's an idea for something nice. How about you take the sharpest of those can-dee rocks and shove them... straight up your ass! It should fit a bunch of them... what with how loose your hole must be... constantly taking a heaping shit on us from high!"