Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

After the match

The end of an arena match always involves some cleanup and a chance to calm down and think through what happened. When the fight is done, the pilots need to leave the combat zone. If they can all fly out under their own power, that’s done easily enough. If they can’t, there are smaller ships and tugs to get things out of there and in the worst cases the scrap will become material for the arena itself to reuse in the future.

Many pilots find the flight back a good opportunity to cool down and collect themselves, though plenty also use the time to go over the details, get their AIs working on new tasks, and sometimes simply beat themselves up with their alone time. Sometimes, you have to give your opponent a lift.

One way or another though, what’s left of both combatants needs to get to a hangar so they can rest and depart the planet. The Arena itself, made as an achievement of Zaldarian nanobot manipulation, is ever-shifting but it always leaves room for copious hangar bays in each region. Sometimes they’re hidden via caves and tunnels. Sometimes they’re just below the surface. Sometimes they’ll simply be out in the open in sections of the arena outside of any combat zones. There are always directions to them once a match is over.

However they appear, every hangar is going to smell of metal, grease, and heat from the constant work. Every mecha needs its own dock: a place to refuel its crystal fire drive with dense heavy element fuel that can be converted to energy by way of the strong nuclear force, to repair and recharge its armor and shielding, and to do retrofit work. On top of that, work in the Arena simply cannot be entirely automatic, so every hangar is going to have space for shuttles and courier ships to bring in and rotate crews, attached living space for temporary stays, and storage for all the tools and materials. The result is a constant hum of activity, the merging sound of metal, power, and bustling people creating a general din and liveliness to any Arena hangar.

Once you reach a hangar, there’s the repairs and departure. Services are free, but many pilots are picky and will bring their own mechanics. Besides, modifications are permitted in the time between matches so long as you lock things in and allow your mecha to be inspected the day before the match. Very few pilots stay on the Arena itself for too long. It’s not the best place to sleep and the facilities are minimal. And after a match there is always a night to celebrate or drown your sorrows and then a day to sleep that off.

It should perhaps be noted that day and night are a bit abstract when dealing with the positions of three distinct planets orbiting the same star, but each planet in the Akar system makes an effort to accommodate shared time around the arena matches, so whether it’s light or dark when you come in, there’s time for a party, time to sleep, and time to deal with the physical and mental repairs and preparations needed to enter the next match.

***

The opening night festivities!

Following this season opener, there’s a gala special event on tap for everyone who wants to be seen. La Plataforma is hosting a fashion show on Akar Prime!

La Plataforma, originally founded in the Terenius Secundus system, is one of the largest fashion magazines in the galaxy. They distribute reviews, pictures, patterns, and juicy gossip on the latest trends and trendsetters throughout the known systems and they’ve recently expanded from TC space into both Hybrasilian and Zaldarian space with minimal objection. Couriers run their neural meshes from planet to planet, and you can also get files for both biological species and AI assemblers to make their patterns or just view their catalog of the latest styles in any form you can manage: high or low tech.

They’ve calculated that the combination of huge crowds for the matches, potential buyers from across the civilizations, and the chance to attract the pilots to sponsor designer clothing lines makes hosting a fashion show during the Arena season a winning move here. If they’re lucky, a popular pilot will maybe even appear in one of the fashions in the next match, causing it to really take off and cementing La Plataforma themselves as the trendsetting visionaries of the known galaxy.

So they’ve made a big deal of it. A really big deal. The kind of big deal that involves renting out most of a city block of some of the most populous and desirable real estate in the galaxy. The kind of big deal that means throwing out news of this thing on holovids for the past month, doing a cross-promotion with the Akar Prime travel bureau to put up adds in the arrival hangers for the planet and in all the civilian shuttles, and putting up actual, honest to gosh physical banners about this thing all around the spaceport. People will be singing the jingle for the fashion show ads for decades.

The core of the production is being hosted at the Jungle. They’ve rented out the entire building both bar and rec center, and brought in their own crew to clear out the recreation area to act as a huge dressing room and runway, while the bar serves as a viewing area (and also still a bar, making for a lively crowd!). The stage is set up on the far side of the building from the door in a kind of T-shape with the models able to line up on the long section of the stage while the thinner runway ramp is still wide enough for several people to be coming and going at the same time in a constant rotation. The whole thing is raised up over ten feet with every kind of lighting you could imagine.

Rather than try to fight the aesthetic, they’ve gone all in on the Jungle’s Hybrasilian theming: the stage is decorated along its base and lower walls with curling wide-leafed ferns. The center walkway and main stage are open, but the leaves wind their way up the sides of each wall and curl in towards participants on the ends. Vines dangle from the ceiling and the lighting has been cunningly done to mix in with the vines to create a diffuse glow from above along with the usual spotlighting, giving the whole space an ethereal air to it with only the stage itself clearly lit so everyone can see the clothes.

Partially concealed in the area to the left of the stage is a lower and smaller stage setup for the DJ and sound techs. The Jungle’s regular DJ apparently was good enough to be hired for this and she’s got a Hybrasilian fast beat girl group playing for the guests even before the models are going to get everyone ready for the final setup. In front of them is the VIP area for the photographers to make sure they can get all the appropriate close up shots.

The bar itself hasn’t moved, but the tables and chairs have been cleared out and put into storage so that the entrance is a huge open room where people can mix and congregate. Wait staff offer champagne and wine, while the bar has bottles with liquor in every imaginable shape and color, some even gleaming and sparkling in the ethereal light. The only furniture items are a few covertly placed drink drop-offs around the sides of the room and a small section of chairs set up to the front right side of the stage reserved to account for elderly or infirm guests who wanted to attend.

But wait, there’s still more! The upstairs section above the stage has been opened up and turned into a two tier balcony viewing area with yet another set of photographers, VIP guests, and its own bar specially set up for the space. Stepping away from the balcony railings offers a space with standing tables lit by deep purple uplights to allow for people to relax, chat, and step away from the glamor for a moment into the shadows.

Not content with this full out building setup, there are also two overflow rooms in the building next door and cameras are set up to locally broadcast the whole event. The overflow rooms are getting a perfect 3d recreation in real time, while everybody else is getting whatever their home setup allows for. When this is done, neural meshes of the event and impressions from the top critics will be shipped out of the system and across the galaxy.

Outside the buildings, guests are lined up on the street and the area is full of life, light and noise from all the traffic. A route has been set up for small shuttles to ferry people directly to the venue as well via a second-story entrance. The smell of sizzling street food fills the air as local vendors have set up at the entrances to the block just away from the lines and they’re making a variety of barbecue buns (meat and veggies of all types and all constitutions) known to be an Akar prime specialty.

As for the show itself, well, it will be a party through the evening. The first hour is specially reserved for up and coming designers who entered a La Plataforma contest to have their work shown. Models are being provided for the young up and comers for free from the more established houses, and this offers an opportunity for several rising new artists to show off their clothing lines. Styles were selected on the theme of “shatter the norm!” so the expectations are for the outlandish and wild to start things out.

For the second hour, multiple major designers are premiering new lines tonight. Three major TC fashion houses are present to offer contrasting perspectives from the most populous region of the galaxy. One from TC Prime that specializes in ball gowns, one from Shiki that emphasizes more elegant and old-fashioned dresses for both afternoons and evenings, and one from Styx showing off a modern witch style that emphasizes long sleeves with form-fitted bodies. One of the Zaldarian hold artisans from nearby Marinus will be showing a new line of sleek body-fitted designs with nanobot shifting technology that allows for constant pattern adjustment in response to light and movement. These are meant to contrast with the more old-fashioned Zaldarian hold style, which emphasized longer robes with lots of fabric as a sign of wealth and nanobot control. Finally, it’s rumored that the final line premiering will be something new from the elusive designer Mayze Szerpaws.

When the whole thing is all done, the designers and the models will join the party still wearing various outfits from the show to allow for discussion, questions, closer inspection, and general festivities, and finally sometime late at night after everyone is satisfyingly drunk, they will all go home and pass out while the techs work feverishly until morning to get the whole experience imprinted onto neural mesh templates for distribution.

***

Mirror

Valentina De Alcard has dressed to kill for the night. Despite her tiny mecha, she’s not a tiny woman by any means. While not a giant either, she is a sturdy five foot five (seven in her heels), made longer by a long neck accented by sparkling diamonds and absolutely nothing else. Her black hair is up in a thick styled bun, and her dress is shoulderless, revealing the two-tier rows of diamonds upon her olive neck and bare skin down to her half-revealed breasts. The dress itself is a purple lavender that’s lighter at the top and darkening going down to its pleated base. The upper rim is bordered in black, outlining her breasts and the curve of her back, and the bottom darkens almost to midnight to match her high-heeled black leather boots.

You’d think she’d be throwing her weight around with a look like this, but she’s aimed for a look of reserved and dignified poise to start the evening and is giving you deference despite you being the tiny catgirl in this situation.

How are you appearing for the evening?

***

Dolly

“Ai! There you are!” shouts an irate Angela Victoria Miera Antonius. She’s found you in the shadows of the upper balcony, among several other Hybrasilians who love the plants and the perch. You got a VIP pass of course, given your premier match and you actually need to be hiding a bit from the solicitations to accept free clothing. But Angela came and found you through it all.

She’s wearing a fancier dress than her mecha might have offered. Long and black with a train down past her legs and a low cut neck that accentuates her height. It’s sewn with thread that sparkles and glitters in the dim light as she moves, and her hair too has been worked with glitter and is down and loose around her glasses, so that each step she takes it’s like a rainbow playing across her.

But now she steps quickly and with purpose, pulling a thin neurofiber from her gold-trimmed handbag and thrusting it in your face, close enough that you can start to see the words imprinted within it. Goddess Gags Haughty Heiress and oof, you know that one’s gotta sting even without her thrusting it in your face with knuckles that look like they’d be just as at home at a boxing ring as they would with that delicate handbag.

“What’s the meaning of this, huh? You put on an act to embarrass me? You hold back and you flaunt and you rip up my mecha, and and AND you make fun of the name, huh? You think you can get away with this? Tell me your game, Dolly Hunters!” She drags your name out too, like she’s not even sure if that’s part of the trick or not.

You’re in trouble.

***

Isabelle

You’re at the show with an entourage. Everybody wants to be seen with you, all the designers want to hire you, the photographers want to shoot you. But you’ve also got the VIP treatment. People are here to fetch you drinks and make sure they never run dry. You’ve got your pick of tables, food, and conversation before the show. You can talk to nearly anyone in the room (save the mysterious Serpaws, who makes her own mind subject to no one’s fame.).

This life is an odd sort of freedom and jail all together. You have nearly complete freedom of choice, but every choice you make is subject to attention, to judgment, to fandom. What’s it like? What’s your choice for the show? Do you hold yourself aloof, or show favor to the designers? Do you pick a favorite? Do you take gifts or spurn them? Tell us all about yourself.

***

Solarel

A hot meal and a long rest might have sounded good at the end of your match, but you're in a land of wonders and mysteries everywhere and tonight there's a bigger one at the Jungle than anywhere else to be found. You've pulled yourself to the bar and the wait staff are being careful (Zaldarians may be recent on the galactic stage, but they've had a few years to practice their agility and get used to the requirements).

You've barely had a chance to take in the sights and sip your first drink when a thick, heavyset tiger of a cat walks up to you and punches you square in the chest. "That's how your people do greetings, right?" She grins her cat grin, secure in the knowledge that she cannot possibly be punished for her crimes.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"It's my duty to banish you, on behalf of both the Flower Kingdoms and the Dominion" is what Giri meant to say. She saw the blade being drawn, intended to put out her strong hand overtop of the Rakshasa's and hold it steady, the blade still half in its sheath. This is what she saw in her mind, her other arm wrapping about the Rakshasa and holding her fast so that she couldn't flee, couldn't escape to somewhere unobserved.

But instead, she found herself nodding. Her collar jingled merrily, her finger throbbed, and she felt light-headed. The bite of the Rakshasa coursed through her like fire. Stupid a little part of her mind was shouting at her. Stupid mistake, calling to fairy without any preparations, without someone else to watch you, to watch what you caught. If the Red Wolf were standing here with you, this would be a complete triumph, she would jump in and seize the creature and you would be garlanded with flowers and have your way with your new lady as ar reward. But instead you've left yourself vulnerable and nobody on deck is looking at you.

No words of power escaped Giriel's mouth, nor did her hands draw her blade. She nodded, and she jingled like a good girl, an obedient girl. The ship groaned over the land drowning out smaller things, so only the Rakshasa could hear the sound of her happy nods that yes she was going to be a good girl.

[Giri rolled to overcome, being willing to sacrifice her self-control in the moment. Rolled snake eyes.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

As you finish the fight, Valentina respects you by turning on her comms. You can hear the sudden gasp of surprise as you take her, and the grunts as your strikes connect, never hard enough to cut her off. And then most satisfyingly, the murmur of pleasure as your work continues that lets you know that she’s enjoying being dismantled just as much as you’re enjoying doing it.

When you have her pinned down at last, there is a pause as she simply breathes. Then the comms crackle one last time with her deep voice. “Well fought, Hybrasilian warrior.” You can tell by how she says it that she’s not as studied in your culture as she wishes she were, there’s that tiny hitch that lets you know she paused on “warrior” not quite knowing how to properly address you, but she’s shouldering on.

“I surrender, and I’d like my reward in the post match evening. You’ll be attending the fashion show on Akar Prime, I hope? Would you allow me to…accompany you to the show?” Again, it sounds like she almost asked you to be her date, but then switched it at the last moment in light of your win here.

There’s a juicy XP in it if you take her, despite the complications of your other identity also showing her dresses in the show.

***

Solarel

You’ve short-circuited poor Nierka for certain. The boop is the moment where she just can’t maintain the righteous fury any further, and instead she’s suddenly a cadet pilot being trained by the imperial ace from all those years ago. You can see it in the features, in the way her face changes, in the stance of both Nierka and the Sea Spike itself even as it finally recovers its balance. She wants to hate you because she’s supposed to, but she also had years of admiring you first, of wanting to be just like you. And now here you are showing her up, showing her a way of fighting that’s equal parts genius and sacrilege to everything she knows and you got her with it.

This is, perhaps, a lesson you already know all too well. Combat is a psychological battle first and foremost. If she truly had the will to fight, all her wits about her, and just a hint of creativity, what she could be doing here is commanding her own god to put resources into rapid sealing the cockpit as though you were experiencing a hull breach in space, cutting off your tether and then turning all weapons full force via AI autopilot on the Bezorel. If she did that, even if you overpowered her within the cockpit, your own ability to fight would be lost and you’d be stuck alone against Nierka and all the resources her god can direct within its own AI core, a losing fight even if you briefly got the upper hand.

But that’s not happening because her mind isn’t in the fight anymore. She’s embarrassed, shy, and more than a little dazzled. And so rather than risk this immediate defeat, she taps her fist twice and discharges her remaining power through the floor and away from you. A sign of surrender. And thus does the match end, all cameras on you and your blade as the Bezorel circles her. You probably didn’t expect to be standing on the top again, but for a brief moment here you are.

How does it feel?

***

Jade

Angela Victoria Miera Antonius is defeated utterly, completely, and without a doubt. But she has one last little trick in defeat and you might find it interesting as you work. For such an old mech chassis, she moves so well, so naturally to your touch. She protests as you expected, but so too she squirms and she shudders. The groaning metal contrasts with the imagined softness of the pilot within, even though you know through the indignant crackling of the speakers that she still fights you. It is a special delight and pleasure to work your magic upon such a subject as Angela Victoria Miera Antonius.

You claimed that you wanted to teach her to move like one of your worshippers, but as you carve the new name you’ve decided befits her mecha, even as she protests and you cut off the sound, you wonder if she could move that way already. You wonder if there was more here than you got. You wonder if she held back in this match or if her training was deficient somehow and if only she could let the natural instincts of her body take over, as they are so clearly doing now, whether she has much greater potential within her.

This is a tiny little wonder, a distraction in your triumph, barely even something worth registering to Dolly who you are busy entertaining as she properly deserves for her performance. But you have this wonder all the same and it won’t quite leave you alone.

How does that leave a goddess for her departure?

[Angela takes a string on Jade.]

***

Isabelle

She growls. She yowls. She curses through the comms and tells you all the myriad ways that you were sired from whores, and gosh she’s really going to do a lot of things to you if you ever manages to have you alone and tied up without diplomatic immunity. Things with whips and chains and, well, she’s just going to keep going on about this but her heart isn’t in it, especially as you press your hold and she can feel the pressure arch through her body, to hold and lock her arms in place, make them start to tingle and burn.

And so, at last, Jacinta six burns out with you on the top and taps out with a final “fuck you, your mother, and your family!” even as she signals her defeat. So there you are the victor, cool calm and collected against an opponent who lost her temper and lost the match with it. The headlines will be all about the TC heiress who kept it together under fire. Sure, some of the more keen analysts will note your moment of naivete, but they’ll praise your flexibility and creativity and offer their assured confidence that you grew from this match and have the potential to go far.

It’s very nice being on top, isn’t it? Being the heir ascendant. It probably never even crossed your mind how enjoyable Jacinta six’s tender ministrations might be in the right circumstances.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

The question of what to do with Lotus was a difficult one. Giri was still on the hook to deal with the problems of the two lovestruck demons in some form or other. She found herself up ahead of Three Gleaming Petals, but with no particular desire to move the goddess off of her. She'd gained information and comfort, and she needed to think, which she could do just as well without waking her partner. Poor thing had really had a run of it anyway, she deserved the sleep.

So, help the demons through their problems without setting the world on a course of destruction brought on by the demon general. That...well actually it didn't sound that terribly hard, it was really just helping counsel a confused maid into coming to terms with her own self. And the other one, probably needed to just talk to her and get more information. The magic part of things didn't even come into it. As for Lotus, again that was harder. It depended quite a lot on what Han and Lotus wanted, as well as what Red Wolf wanted and the circumstances. If they were caught red-handed trying to escape like fools and Giri was ordered to summon a local spirit to get in their way she probably had to do that under her the terms of her punishment, especially since she had no reason to believe that either Han or Lotus would be mistreated in the Red Wolf's care. But, if she had good information about how Han would behave, how Lotus might behave and thought it better to offer them the Dominion's mercy, she felt she had the right to make that decision. Or to happen to have made herself busy with something else serving her new lady while they were busy. Unless she has orders to the contrary, her practice is still her own. Still, she didn't like thinking about intentionally undercutting Agata, not when she knew better which was always the lot of witches in these things. And she rather thought that it might be worth some captivity to keep Han and Lotus together, Han would regret it forever if she let the girl get away without saying how she felt.

That whole train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when the ship struck sand. There was a thud and a jarring sound, but oddly they didn't go falling over. Three Gleaming Petals didn't even wake up right away. If the ship ran aground, they should have stopped but if they didn't get moved that meant something was wrong. Weird and really wrong.

Giri gently settled Three Gleaming Petals onto the mattress as she began to stir and rushed out to the deck in just her dressing gown, the sound of earth being carved away drowning out her pretty jingling collar.

There she was, helming the ship. Ms. innocent "I'm just a clerk" heavenly spirit. It would have been the easiest thing to run up to her in anger and clash. The easiest thing in the world. But Giri had just had quite a night, of time to think, of time to feel satisfied, of comfort and friendship and really quite a bit to consider about how that collar had ended up on her neck. And this, this magic didn't add up not even for an inscrutable heavenly spirit of Venus.

No, this didn't add up and a Rakshasa was on the loose. Maybe not even here, but on the loose and that was a power that made things not add up. She needed to stop and think about this before running up to the girl and trying to shake her out of her reverie. She needed to know its nature. And she might need the help of the dragon-blooded eventually, but for now, she could do her own thing, with her own blood this time.

Giri doesn't have a dagger or her sword, so biting her own finger will have to do. Blood drips from the wound, and with it she chants her offering. To the Fair Folk. To the people from outside the world, the stage hands of creation. Show her who's really pulling the strings here, she needs to know.

[Call upon a Toxic Power: 4+3+2=9. It will answer Giri's question, but it can take something, cause a Condition, or get a string on Giri.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

This is going to be one for the highlight reels. Jacinta 6's feral growl fills up the comms, but you smoothly sidestep like you were dodging a bit of dust or falling rock, and then you've got her. She struggles and twists, but your grip is strong, and you can feel that strength coursing through you in the form of your own empowered gauntlet. It feels like nothing could stop you, like you can mold the world however you want. EMP pulses collide in a crack of white light, smoke, and the smell of ozone, and with that the claws on Jacinta 6's mecha are crushed and worthless for the remainder of the fight. You smile with your victory and you offer her honorable surrender. In this moment, you are the height of nobility, grace, and poise.

Now, if you were cutting the clip for the highlight reel, this is where you would stop. Because the thing that you have forgotten in this fight is that the opponent you're holding is an angry cat and she has claws everywhere. With a wordless snarl, she wrenches her own arm in your grip (that had to hurt, good chance it's completely useless now and her own arm inside the mecha probably just went completely numb within her neural mesh). She uses that momentum to kick off the last remaining bits of the tree branch and send a foot to connect with your stomach. There is one more EMP claw in those foot talons, and it cuts right past your shields and makes you feel rather like you just got kicked in the solarplexes. The branch snaps the rest of the way and both of you fall.

You shouldn't let this take away from your victory though. This is an act of angry, snarling defiance with no regard to true victory. Even as you crash to the ground, your grip never breaks and you've still got a firm hold on her, nor is the kick really threatening you with decisive damage. It's just that what went from a cool, suave, noble victory is now going to be nothing but kicking, snarling, and fighting until she can't move anymore and that's pretty frustrating for how you wanted the match to end.

How do you finish her off?

[Jacinta 6 inflicts the Angry condition on you in response]

***

Solarel

"Listen here, Traitor. First, you disrespect this contest. Then you disrespect my god, and now you disrespect Zaldarian culture!"

She's trying to figure out how to get around to you, but she's also still recovering from how hard she was being thrown and you're moving in a way that her god hasn't ever dealt with in combat. She probably could have just started attacking the Bezorel in earnest, flames be damned, and ignored you in order to cut off your strategy, but she's not thinking straight. You've thrown her.

"I will not let this injustice stand!" A hand tries to grab for you and misses as you use the flame-empowered momentum and your pick to hurl yourself upwards. The Sea Spike flails again and tries to stand up straight and regain its balance as the Bezorel circles it.

"Your depravity knows no bounds, traitor! I will defeat you for the Empress!" She's trying something different now, bringing her own longspear around in a circular cut that's designed to hit you by cutting all the way up her own leg, the shallow surface damage be damned.

Every camera drone from the twilit jungle has flown out and they're doing their absolute best to zoom in on you without getting in the way of the match (which is programmed into them as an absolute imperative, nobody wants to invalidate a result or lose expensive camera equipment to a stray explosion). Every Zaldarian watching the live match right now is focused on you, Solarel, as you ascend an impossible mountain. So is Nierka.

You get this one free moment before her own mecha AI points out how dumb she's being and that she could just blow up the Bezorel at close range. Make it count.

***

Mirror

You can't hear it, but the audience gasps. A planet away in Keoni's Tower, a fisher cat is proudly being handed money by a collection of huntresses gathered by a screen at the highest table in the tower. "She should have gone for the finish immediately" grunts a tiger with an annoyed pout. "She's gathering data idiot. You should try it sometime" the elated fishing cat responds as she counts her new stack of coins.

You're really going to let her take this shot though, huh? You're lucky. She doesn't trust it any more than the audience does, and some part of this seems to offend her honor. She comes over the comms for the first time this match. It crackles once, and you hear her deep baritone voice whisper out "you can't be serious" before it clicks back off. She's been all business, but she wanted you to know how she felt, and perhaps understand a little bit of why she took a fast shot in response and not a fully charged, fully prepared shot.

The shot itself hits hard. You're lucky you don't control with a neural mesh, this is the kind of hit that can shock someone and throw off their reactions even if it cuts off before they'd experience pain. Instead, you get a frontrow seat to an arc of purple light that snaps out and turns all the colors negative for a moment as it impacts the arm of the God Smiting Whip. An arm that now has a hole in it. The shot cuts clean through it and for just a moment, you consider what could have been if she'd gone for her strongest, slowest hit, imagine it hitting the cockpit and knocking you out completely, blowing through your mecha all the way to the crystal core. It's terrifying.

And then it's done. The heat dissipates, you're still there, and it was all over in a flash. You've got the cooldown of her weapon and an opportunity, but you cut this much closer than you might have realized and you might be playing this bit of data back over for a while.

[Take the Afraid condition]

***

Jade and Dolly

You dance through a storm of fireflies. It would be harrowing if it weren't so beautiful. Both of you together feel the swaying, the heat, the gentle caress as the bullets fly so close. In the light of the flames, each one shines like a little molten spark of gold, and you sway with the wind and the flames as you avoid the assault. The motion is natural, a perfect dancer as a goddess of steel. Crowds would pack a stadium just to watch a dance like this without even the combat contest.

"No. You. Do. Not!" Angela speeds up her tracking, the first autocannon continuing to make you dance as the second picks up its pace to lead you. But it is here that you begin to spin the spear, bullets flying and deflecting until the throw, when latches itself to her shoulder and cuts off the fire from the second autocannon.

That's what speeds things up for you because with just one cannon to dance around, you can control the pacing, you're only fighting one AI at once, not two, and that makes beating out its prediction algorithm child's play. You know you can get close. Close enough to hug. Close enough to cut. You just need to dodge one more thing, that last moment when Angela will give up the fire and switch to her last-ditch wristblades. Navigate that last hurdle, and the match will be yours.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Dolly

"Ai, Ai! You insult me! You offer me mercy?!" Angela's voice comes over the comms as the hum of the gatling guns mounted on her suit's shoulders fills the night. Air flying off from their rapid spinning makes the torches dance in mad gyrations. "I won't let you make that mistake twice!"

A hail of bullets fills the air. Angela understands that Jade could in fact dodge, and her pattern is not to fire both guns directly at her target. Instead one gun is aimed straight for the chest and the other is leading her target matching Jade's leading shoulder.

Without a doubt, Jade's offer of mercy has made your opponent angry and she's letting loose with everything she has using her advantageous range. Jade (and Dolly!) you're going to have to do more than duck to get past this hail of bullets! After Angela's closeup and a sweeping shot of her guns warming up, the cameras have all turned to you and how you'll handle the situation! Show off some dancing!

***

Solarel

"Aaaaaaah!" screamed Nierka as your hand suddenly grabbed her by the throat within her cockpit! "AAAAAAAAAA" screamed the Sea Spike's internal AI, expressing its opinion on the sudden hull breach using a series of klaxons. "aaiaiaiaiaiaiai" screamed one of Nierka's smaller spirits animating some aspect of her coat on her person and trying to wrap itself around your arm to no avail.

The camera drones, structured to capture the full sweep of mecha combat, are all rushing to get a closeup of this personal combat happening in the middle of the duel. Lasers are still flying thick through the air, some from the Sea Spike, some from the Bezorel. This trick was so unexpected that you might have had the whole match right here. Nierka is flailing and screaming, but you've got her. Except for the poor, unfortunate challenge of Culture. The Bezorel really does have a limited tracking system and it's still following you. And now you're in the cockpit. An errant laser strike, still active, blows past your current angle and hits directly onto Nierka. Her flailing becomes more animated and spreads through the Sea Spike itself, which begins gyrating, the screams of its AIs and its pilot spreading louder. The sudden and intense centrifugal force finally breaks your grip and sends you flying out of the now backwards tilting mecha. You land on an upraised knee and you find yourself clinging on for all you're worth as the Sea Spike topples and pulls the attached Bezorel with it.

Don't suppose you've got a backup plan?

***

Mirror

There!

At the head of the river, where it begins to slope upward towards a small hill, you can see the Lonely Star! It's well-positioned: it's been painted a deep purple-gray that blends with the stone and the water. If you weren't above it, seeing it stand out in contrast to the glare of the sun upon the river's surface, it might have been extremely difficult to find before getting shot. But you see it!

With your sudden burst of speed out of the canopy, you've turned this into a game of reflexes. The Lonely Star's long-barreled laser rifle (longer than the mech is tall) was pointed down the river line, but she saw your flare as you burst from the canopy and she's already brought it around and is lining up her shot. You hang poised like a diamond of fire, the sun's rays the only protection left to you as she finishes her calculations and your own tail gun pivots.

The fight may not end on a single shot, but whoever makes the quicker draw here will have complete control of the tempo and an overwhelming advantage.

***

Isabelle

Look at all these collapsing quantum realities. Jacinta 6 snarls an angry snarl over the comms and rushes you. But just that has dropped the myriad of options down to only two: fake Jacinta or holding back Jacinta. There's no gatling rush, no insane pinwheel top of lasers and fury coming at you. This Jacinta is all in on the more classical close combat. Claws pulsing with an arcing electromagnetic field extend from both hands of the mecha and her engines roar to life as she tries to hit you hard in a straight line without any thought to her own safety.

Also, you may be wondering how you know all this. It's because those claws and that engine are chewing up the trees and vines beneath you, which you realized the second you heard the thrusters roar to life. You're going to want to readjust your position ASAP!

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giri takes the rum bottle and pours out two more shots, one for Three Gleaming Petals, and one for herself, which she sips lightly rather than down all at once. "I'll happily tell you that I'm serving a punishment for harming one of the dragonblooded against her will to get a group of us out of hell. I think it's fair all things considered. I'll tell you that any rules of such a punishment by their very nature must take a secondary role to the rules of my calling and the oaths of friendship I have made in the past. I obey the Red Wolf only insofar as she pushes me to betray those I cannot betray and if she's not a fool she'll never use me past that line."

She offers the glass invitingly to Three Gleaming Petals. "But that's the driest way for us to converse and you look like you've had an even longer day than I did. Come, sit, drink. Lean on me and pass the night. I have no need of this bottle of rum come morning, and the Dominion hardly seems to have a shortage." She grins then because, well, isn't this a time to grin? To share some pleasure?

There's something special about a spirit like Three Gleaming Petals, and something special about a witch like Giriel Bruinstead and they both know it. They've both been around the block, and they both know the limits of a relationship like this. So Giri's offer, it's not just pleasure, it's relaxing. The kind of relaxing that comes with two people who've both traveled, who've both seen things, done things, even shared a bed before. It's knowing that this is a chance to unwind for both of them. No expectations of passionate romance, of strings attached or long-lasting obligations to carry around as yet another burden. No expectations even of what has to happen. Just a chance for two ladies who know each other to sit and chat, to drink and feel the fiery warmth of the alcohol swell up inside them, and to share that warmth in each others arms. That's a nice offer, and to Giri's credit, more seductive by far than trickery and false flattery. It's sincere seduction, the kind that gets everybody a little bit of what they want, eyes wide open about what they're doing. Well, wide open until they sink into someone else's soft chest and strong arms of course.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

You bring the God-Smiting Whip out from a small cave where you were deployed and take in your surroundings, nine tails searching for any threats. Heavy rainforest. You’re in the wettest part of the biome. Huge leaves and vines hang from the trees over multiple layers. Perfect cover, but the ground is a wet slog to move through and a careless flight will snag your tails and give away your position. There’s a river system nearby with an open canopy and bright sunlight reflecting off it, but you’ll be exposed if you venture into it. No sign of your opponent. She could be right next to you or miles away and you wouldn’t know it.

Here’s what you do know. Pilot matchups are announced a day in advance to offer some time for mental preparation and planning. Your opponent Valentina De Alcard pilots the Lonely Star. She’s a new pilot, not known in the scene, but you know she’s an independent originally from a consortium planet called Alcard (you don’t know all that much about TC naming, but being the same name as a planet you’re from probably means that you were one of the first people there, so maybe she’s from an important family or something?).

You might have been to Alcard before if you’ve been doing fashion work in the Consortium for a while, since it’s a stopover to reach both the Outlast and Nadir systems, but you may have just flown past it. It’s not a very big planet and it has a dim sun, but it’s rich in rare earths and manufactures good munitions.

All you know about the Lonely Star from the new pilot info you received is that it’s relatively small even for a gen 3 mecha and that it favors ranged weaponry. You can guess that being so small probably means that it gave up hull space that could have been used for a variety of weaponry and defenses in exchange for being able to put the maximum possible energy from its crystal fire drive into one gun (and possibly into speed now that you think of it).

So, how are you starting off your match?

***

Solarel
Today has been a rough day.

First off, you woke up late and immediately saw that your opponent is another Zaldarian. You’re going against Nierka Stalok, who pilots the Sea Spike. You met her once before leaving while she was a pilot in training. She seemed enthusiastic and high energy back then. Now, she’s a hardcore loyalist for the new Zaldarian Empress Naelkai II, and all she’s really got on you is that you’re the villain and she’s the righteous hero.

So that sounded like waking up to a fight where you’re going to get yelled at a lot for being a traitor without much listening. Then to make matters worse, one of the mechanics bumped into you in the prep hanger and you ended up blowing a hole in the wall next to him that didn’t repair itself so that probably left you a bit spooked and feeling drained before you even got in the cockpit.

Also, your current mecha is also a hunk of junk (does it even have a name?) and syncing yourself with its body makes you feel slow. Not exactly slower than normal, but you’ve experienced the top of the galaxy in Aeteline, cursed though it was, and it’s really hard for “normal” to compare to that sort of high.

When you come out, you’re on the sunset side of the planet, casting everything in deep reds and oranges. The rust tone actually reminds you a little of home too, as many a Zaldarian is naturally this color. Nierka isn’t trying to hide herself at all either. She’s come out of her spot near a small lakebed and is moving herself about ten meters in the air to stand clear and lit by the sunset, her own rust-red god seeming to meld with the light as she shouts a challenge over the comms.

What in the Empress’s name are you going to do?

***

Isabelle

Well, this is awkward. Your matchup is with the famed pirate queen Jacinta Niares, leader of the Red Band Pirates. Except, only kind of maybe. You see, Jacinta is very very wanted. So wanted that even with the protection and diplomatic immunity extended to participants in the arena, she would need to worry about idiots taking a shot at her anywhere she went if her location were publicly known.

It seems, however, that she really wanted to enter this tournament and so she got a lot of people to enter the rookie round under her name. So you’re up against Jacinta Niares number six. Which could be the real pirate queen. You don’t know! It’s also possible that Jacinta herself hasn’t entered at all and plans to take the spot of any of her proxies who advance. Or that statistics just aren’t with you and she’s off elsewhere being Jacinta Niares number eleven or something. But you have to consider that you may be facing off against the famed pirate queen and her berserker gatling style, so you need to be on the edge of your toes here.

Just think about the jokes that the girls back home would make if you get wiped out in your first match. It wouldn’t even disqualify you, but it sure will set the tone. Even if you advance later, it will be “oh Isabelle, I heard your nerves got the best of you,” “Oh Isabelle, try not to trip coming in,” “Isabelle, everybody says you’re slow out the gate, but don’t worry big sister’s got your back!” Before you got in the cockpit though, Luca, Tadeo and Carmella Lozano all gave you a big hug and hopefully that support is carrying you forward as you go in here.

Speaking of going in, you’ve got a dual puzzle to figure out for your match, both identity and terrain. If you really are against Jacinta and her mecha Roar, you need to figure out how to engage without getting blitzed, but you also have to consider that this might not be her and it might have a different loadout (Roar is extremely custom, you’ll know once you engage seriously if you got the real one or not unless she intentionally holds back and throws the match). The second part of the puzzle is how to work this complexity through the terrain. You’ve come into the arena already up high through an elevator that dropped you into the middle of the second canopy layer seven meters in the air. The upper trees are light enough here that you can see the daylight sky partially obscured, but no sign of Jacinta number six yet, and no way to know if she’s above or below you.

She does, however, come over the comms with a voice that sounds like it comes from someone very muscular: “come and get me little mink!”

What do you do?

***

Dolly

Jade absolutely set you up for this arena. There is no way, absolutely no way that this is a coincidence. You cannot come up with any other explanation for why your combat zone would be a stone village cleared out of the forest, in the middle of the night zone, lined with ritual torches along an open if mossy causeway almost ten meters wide that leads to a stone dais set above a reservoir. Almost exactly like a scene in a Hybrasilian pulp novel, in fact. You may or may not even have written a story that used a setting like this for religious rituals…or sacrifices.

At least the stars are beautiful here. You can see both Akar Prime and Akar Secundus high in the sky above you, Akar Prime looking like a gray shadow sprinkled with lights, and Akar Secundus with a slightly red tint to it as it reflects the light of Akar’s older sun. Beside them is a vast sea of stars sprinkling the sky. You’re near the Cerulean Belt here, nearer than you’ve ever been before, and you can see how it got the name as it offers a blue tint like water filled with diamonds to the night sky in a long wide slash of the horizon. It makes you think of old stories about hidden treasures on planets deep in nebulae and signs of the distant gods from ages long past.

But there’s no time for thinking, you’re exposed out in the open like this and you can see your opponent! The Barn Owl, piloted by Angela Victoria Miera Antonius deployed on the opposite side of the causeway. This is actually a really advantageous range for her, not too far away for her guns, but not so close that you can instantly close. The torches paint a clear target too.

You know, if you had time to think, this might make you even more suspicious of Jade. She had expressed disappointment yesterday when you drew an opponent who was piloting a modified gen 2.5 TC mecha instead of the newer gen 3s. The Barn Owl is blockier and less pretty than many others, and someone craving the greatest challenge the Arena has to offer probably wouldn’t look here to start. Though if you underestimate Angela, she’ll surprise you!

So, how do you start your match?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Welcome to the universe of Hybrasil! Named after its civilization of what turned out to be cat people because the idea of huntresses in space-faring suits of armor was the first thing that inspired me to the setting.

Main setting doc

Hybrasil is a sci-fi setting in which various alien civilizations explore the universe, vie with each other, and find love through the medium of small high tech mecha suits outfitted with outrageously high energy generation, hyperdrives, and top class weapons and armor. There are three major factions: the Hybrasilians, a group of cat-like humanoids who hail from a tradition of sacred hunts and advanced biological sciences; the Terenius Consortium, a large faction of loosely allied human-like aliens who focus on interstellar mining and increasingly on technological innovation and entertainment media; and the Zaldarians, rapidly expanding tribes of techno-organic beings who live in the shadow of more sophisticated precursor technology.

This particular game (run using the Thirsty Sword Lesbians system) is focusing on a group of ace pilots competing in an intergalactic arena setting representing their factions against a myriad of others. The winning faction and the winning pilot gain fame, fortune, and have their desires granted (in the faction's cases usually in lieu of having a war over things).

The setting imagines that people in mechas and other spaceships can travel freely from star system to star system, but not necessarily all that quickly, so that exploration from one side of the galaxy to the other is time consuming and risky, but traveling to one or two neighboring systems is a normal trip of a few days each way, most of it spent safely in hyperspace.

Here's a crudely drawn map of the galaxy

This game focuses primarily on the Akar system, which has become the site of the Arena and, being the closest and most real time viewing opportunity, also an interstellar melting pot of the civilizations.

Why mechas?
Well first off, they're cool. But second off, people pilot humanoid-shaped armor suits in this setting because of two things. One, the super cool sci-fi energy generation doesn't scale up without doing weird and exotic things to nearby matter that nobody really wants to tangle with so small ships have the best combat potential because of all the spare energy not used for moving a bunch of heavy stuff around. Two, the piloting tech for the vast majority of pilots is a direct neural interface and so they get better results out of piloting something shaped like them than by trying to pilot a big floating regular geometric shape.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giri smiles when she reads the prayer strips as she slips into her bunk. Ah, what do these petitioners imagine? Do they think that she'll simply say a few words, perhaps burn a prayer strip and magically everything will be better? Without even being present with the witch whose help they need? The dominion must have some quite odd ideas about magic working for this to be the norm.

But still she smiles because these are sweet petitions from people who are unhappy and after all isn't that what Giriel Bruinstead had dedicated her life to addressing? Now, granted, neither petition seemed obviously remedied by magic (where were all the people who just needed a potion to ease sore feet when you actually wanted the work, hm?). No love potion ever advertised actually worked after all, and Giri suspected that the discontent writer needed something more than her body changed by magic to address her problems.

Besides which, she had some suspicions as to the identity of her petitioners, especially the second one (on a barge like this, with the Red Wolf on the prowl, finding someone hopelessly love wasn't so much a needle in a haystack as it was hay in a haystack, which did complicate that matter).

But it was also late and the petitions were in her nightrobe after all, so discretion was being requested. More discretion than, say, walking across the prow of the deck wearing a jingly jangly collar and asking after who might, perhaps be frustrated with unrequited love and need a witch's aid. No, the thing to do here was to ask the local gods about the matter and go from there. Perhaps, if she were lucky, she might even get some insight from Venus herself. Well, some kind of lucky, when it came to the goddess of love, it was often hard to say if her attention was good luck or bad.

Well, Giri supposed she was opening by burning a prayer strip, but that didn't mean things worked how people thought they did. It just meant it was a good first step and that the gods liked incense. It smelled nice, and consisted of a clear offering, so that was hardly surprising.

Giri's bells jingle as she bobs her head and her nightrobe flutters loosely in the humid air of the river. But she focuses, and perhaps it is her calm amid these things that brings the gods to her door, calm themselves. She will smile when they arrive and offer the prayer strips and ask what news she ought to know about of these matters.

[Giri communes with the unseen, offering a string to the local gods however they may use it. She rolls a 6+2+2=10. She would like to learn the recent history of the prayer strips she found in her nightrobe and also learn something important from the gods, which can surely be merged together into a general explanation as to what's going on.]