Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

You and your extraction geist snatch the authorization geist with an outstretched hand. The heat of your passing shimmers the air as you draw past Isabelle, Crescent, and Annika. The spirit shrieks “stop” after you, and you feel the floor slope down away from your direction of movement, but you’re too hot and the changing slope melts beneath your feet, giving you a firm foothold as you race through the door and onward.

The next rooms are a blur. You race across flat metal flooring as scattered square containers fly out of their neat stacks half-melted, unable to withstand your speed and momentum, not worth dodging around. Another door slides open, the floor and walls are natural rock in this room, moss growing up near the ceilings, wet and damp from some natural source of water. Little drops of it sizzle to steam as they touch you. It feels good, even though you can’t afford the time to wait. The room is filled with workstations of nanobot gray with tables, chairs, and small computers set into natural alcoves, haphazard around the room in their facing. Some sort of odd device is connected to wires leading up one of the walls, but there’s no time to go that way. You cut right following the cavern’s natural wall, there’s another door right there, a small connecting room of some kind, but your heat won’t let you stop to think about it. The physical lock on the other side’s door melts off as your arm slams into it and the door bursts open to some kind of laboratory or testing room. Both together, perhaps.

It is here that you are forced into a halt. You race across the open walkway of the room, but the door on the far side refuses your access geist and it is too thick to melt, especially as the heat has already begun to dissipate from its most molten. The room is large, nearly twenty meters across and almost as wide. There’s a door where you entered, and another on the far end that has stopped you. An open middle walkway that you’ve just run past. One side wall is set with multiple reinforced metal plates, most of them heavily burned and scoured, along with testing stations and monitoring devices every meter or so. Some kind of weapons testing location most likely. The other wall is covered with storage lockers (perhaps full of weapons) and the space is lined with several two tier workstations: long tables at chest height and then storage shelves at head height. They’re fully stocked with various tools, microscopes, beakers, burners of various sorts, all types of meters and readers for gathering data.

Before you have much of a chance to scour the room, though, the ceiling above the weapons testing area, perhaps less reinforced than the walls, parts open. It was made of all nanobot materials, this is a more developed rather than natural room, but it’s still surprising to see it open that way.

From that ceiling lowers a god. It’s not a particularly large god in Zaldarian standards, perhaps three to four times your height all told. It’s built with subtle bird-like features on the face and body shape, and metallic feathers lining its arms. It has no weapon to speak of, at least not visible, simply its feathered arms, long legs for its height, and a bulky crest atop its head that looks rather suited to headbutts.

Perched on its shoulders in an ethereal form is the spirit from before, its eyes glowing balefully. “You are ruining my facility. Mine! The Trak’tho left it to me! I will bind you here and make you beg me to fix every burn and break you’ve caused. And if she comes back while it is in such disrepair, I will make you prostrate yourself over every inch of burned and twisted metal so that she doesn’t have to trod upon this…this desecration!”

[The spirit is marking Guilty]

***

Isabelle

First there is chaos.

The heat of Solarel as she seizes the geist from Annika is palpable. You can feel it slam into you in the form of gathered air from her run. But then she is past, snaking her way deeper into the facility. The floor slopes, and while Solarel pushes past it melting holes into the metal, you three find yourselves sliding to the center of the room. But then Solarel is through and the odd guardian spirit disappears, leaving you at the bottom of a slope pressed against Annika’s soft black robes while Crescent sits hunched on all fours, tail flicking as she looks around trying to make sense of the predicament.

Then there is calm.

Nobody says anything for a moment while you and Annika untangle and try to sit up. The slope isn’t all that steep to reach the door if you go at an angle, though it’s slick apart from Solarel’s melted spots. You’ll quite literally need to follow in her footsteps getting there.

Finally, Annika grins. “She hasn’t changed a bit, the crazy bitch. No wonder the Empress cut her loose.” She shakes her head but the grin doesn’t leave her face. She looks rather like an owl fluffing its feathers as she glances about. Then she starts climbing up. “Well, come on Crescent, we’re going to miss the show if we’re not quick. We’ll need to get the door open the old-fashioned way, hopefully the Traktharan spirit is too distracted to notice us tinkering with the door controls absent my entry geist. You, Terenian, I don’t suppose you’re any good at hotwiring?”

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

There is a moment of silence as Crane's comments hang in the air. Giri is waiting for Piripiri to answer, she doesn't entirely understand how politic they should be here and is choosing not to direct the situation. But she feels a tug at the leash, prodding her to respond. Perhaps she's the only one with the full context.

Still, what was she supposed to say here? That she had seen Han transform, that the vaunted Vermilion Beast was Crane's younger sister? That hardly seemed Giriel's secret to give out. And as for Zhaojun, if Giri had heard these comments yesterday, she'd have vociferously agreed and started plotting how to catch the damned spirit! But now she wasn't so sure. It seemed like she needed something different than simply being caught and bound, there was so much pain and desperation that Giri had glanced in her heart.

Well, she was prompted to speak, so she might as well speak. "I know...something of both the Vermilion Beast and the heavenly spirit that you speak of. I think that..." Giri stops and takes a sip of her tea, not sure how to finish the sentence. "I am certain that both were present at Kingeater Castle, where my companion and I also recently traveled. And that both of them, in their way, helped us fight against the demons threatening our realm."

Giri lets that hang there, stating it as a fact. Who knows what Sagacious Crane has or hasn't heard. Whether she considers Giri a reliable source, whether she wants so much to believe that demon attacks are nothing but rumors from superstitious farmers that she'll delude herself. Or perhaps whether she'll simply accept the truth of it from Giriel and move forward.

Regardless, she continues with her momentum. "I think it difficult, even for a skilled priestess such as yourself, to truly judge who is a brute or a thug. I have found myself surprised several times in recent days. And I think with things as they are," here Giri spares the briefest glance for Piripiri that yes she means the incursions of the Dominion as much as the demons, "I think a bit of brutishness is the least of our problems."

Giri sips her tea and waits to see what Sagacious Crane has to say. She didn't share their errand of course. She's the bound one here, that's Piripiri's job if the goal here is simply to interrogate everyone they meet. Giri's more interested in the bigger picture.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"You think duty is determined at birth!" Well there was more to say there, but then there was another jump and they were at an inn.

If Giri had been faster on the uptake, less distracted by the conversation, the mode of travel, and everything else going on, she'd have realized who she was looking at and called out Sagacious Crane as I live and breathe! and offered her warm regards. But Crane is looking a bit worse for wear and in the instant it took Giriel to recognize her properly, she felt Piripiri tightening the hold on her leash, and beginning her own introduction, even setting out tea.

Well, she seemed to have the situation well in hand. Who was Giri to point out that the Golden Banneret had very pointedly not fulfilled the terms of her spell yet, that she had very clearly specified being taken to Han specifically and being taken to Han's inn when Han wasn't visibly present was clearly not the end of the deal. But they had traveled fast and hard, the Banneret was distracted by a fox (a very natural state of affairs even for a heavenly spirit), the inn seemed inviting enough, and the tea even more so.

Besides all that, Giri still had something more to consider. The idea that duty was determined by birth filled her with revulsion. She had trained for her profession. She had chosen her life. Of course birth limited her options. Being from a small mountain village had ruled out the nobility and if she wanted to herd anything other than sheep and goats she would have had to move somewhere else. But even so there were options. Every village needed a smith, a tailor, and a cobbler, and they needed apprentices. And of course the mountain witches like her mother needed apprentices too. But she had never been forced. She wanted to study magic, she knew she could have gone and learned to sew or bake or wield a hammer instead and she hadn't done it. A guard should go into service because they want to be a guard, and if they don't like the local lord, they should travel somewhere else, or hire out as a mercenary instead of a guard. She wanted no part of what the Dominion seemed to be offering.

She truly felt the freedom of the Flower Kingdoms as she thought about all this. And today, this lovely morning, she expressed that freedom by saying nothing while Piripiri served the tea.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

The spirit looks at you with the most incredulous surprise on its face. In this, at least, you have a moment where you feel you’ve done something. It’s a throw to the tempo of the fight, and perhaps also reminded the spirit not to solely focus on Solarel. The ground slopes suddenly and channels cut into it, dropping you away from the lava flow as Solarel finds herself raised up on a small hill where before the cavern floor was flat.

As an engineer, this is quite interesting. It tells you, for example, that the nanobots do NOT have cooling or heating properties capable of stopping lava, and the fact that they did not contain or siphon it to protect you but only carved it alternate channels suggests some of the limits in the spirit’s shaping work here (either about the structural capacity of the nanobots to manage that level of contained heat or the limitations in how much the spirit can shape the room while distracted, hard to say).

Crescent’s at your side once you’ve slipped away from Solarel. She’s not fighting, Annika is further away and Crescent is pulling you to the side. It looked like they might have planned an intervention, but with Solarel charging up her power, they’re focusing on separating you from her instead.

Solarel

The battlefield is conspiring to give you space. You’re suddenly in a raised area, Isabelle is being pulled away from you by both the floor and Crescent after sacrificing her second shoe in your defense (???), and you’re awash with power as the spirit tries to size up the situation.

Once Isabelle had thrown her shoe and you were aglow with heat, it disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, trying to guess what you were doing. It understood enough about Zaldarians to know that it needed to account for this, but not exactly how, it would seem.

Time seems like it’s going in slow motion with all this energy. Isabelle’s tumble is measured in a handful of seconds yet it seems as though she falls away forever, and the spirit’s teleport was extremely quick, but you see it as it crackles and disappears again to come at you closer like it's moving through molasses. It’s trying to bait your attack with new energy and then withdraws as its hands crackle with unused electricity because you don’t rise to the feint. It’s made only three moves, yet you still feel that you understand something more of it now.

The key is really that it wasted a move on Isabelle. That immediately says to you that you’re facing non-lethal action focused on retribution and control of the situation. This is a very intelligent spirit. A quick glance at Annika does indeed show that she’s carrying with her a geist that matches the spirit’s colorations and general energy signature, but she didn’t get authorization because she had the right geist, she got the geist because she had authorization.

From what you know of Annika’s style, she probably responded to the unknown by very politely asking to be a student and the spirit liked that and let her look around, albeit with a limited offer that did not give her permission to bring guests.

So, this leaves you with two routes. You can de-escalate, express remorse for your impetuousness and allow it to punish you proportionately and then it will probably give you the same limited authorization as Annika. Or you can escalate until you reach a level of force that either intimidates or impresses it into giving you authorization.

To emphasize, what you can see in three moves as you hold your strike on a razor’s edge is that this is an intelligent spirit that’s acting like an angry person who thinks themself righteous. It is thus the simplest and most complex thing all at once to push it, impress it, or break it. Drive it to emotion. Bring it to rage, or to thrill, or even to joy. Surprise it, offer it something it did not realize it craved and it will find that its ideals are fleeting, ephemeral things that it needs to re-evaluate.

Now, strike before your heart boils over!

***

Jade, Dolly, and Mirror

Well this is something. The feast hall is set with all sorts of food. It’s low roof has a space opened for smoke and there’s a great firepit in the center where something delicious is being roasted by a pair of Zaldarians who don’t much seem to mind standing near the smoke. A Hybrasilian is mixing some cauldron full of soup next to it, and some TC chefs are chopping and crushing some kind of peppers. Already prepared food is available in front of them, the last round of roasted meats and vegetables, and guests are moving, milling, and serving.

Mirror has to raise her voice to be heard over the general din, and while Angela’s procession turns some heads, the space is too vast and too busy to all turn and gape, leading to your movement through the space being something like a ripple through a crowd until you eventually found a table to set up.

Mirror’s appearance now feels as though Huitla the trickster has returned to grace Akar II. Huitla was not a goddess, in fact rumors said she wasn’t even a particularly notable huntress originally, just a young forest prowler from ancient times. But she became the bride of a goddess of mist and shadow, and it was said that she could appear somewhere and vanish without a trace. She was known to appear to Hybrasilians who were getting ahead of themselves in fact. There was even a script. A Hybrasilian, usually some local community leader, would get the idea into their heads that they ought to be the most important person there was, and then they’d meet a seductive Hybrasilian, always barely dressed, her clothes disheveled and barely remaining on her body, at once vulnerable and confident. She’d lure them from their community, promise them pleasure within the deep jungles, often even deliver if the stories were to be believed, but then she and her prey would vanish into the mist and they would be taken by her goddess and turned into the harem slaves they were always destined to be.

And so now, here is Huitla appearing on the table, her clothes alluring, her confidence doubly so, her mannerisms, those swishing hips, speaking of much and more to come.

Ksharta is awed into silence. Angela squeaks indignantly at being handled by a new stranger. Dolly, you may be the closest, but Jade, you’re the one calling the shots, right?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

The spirit rumbles with anger as you’re speaking, and then gestures with a feathered arm. Nanobots shift above it, and from the ceiling, a cannon turret with an elongated barrel that’s nearly as long as you are tall lowers into view and turns on you as the spirit smirks. It fires an electric round straight into your center of mass.

The feeling of being hit is one part agonizing gut punch and one part temporary blackout and amnesia. Your grip tightens automatically on Isabelle as you fall, shielding her, and when you have sensory data again, you’re a few feet backwards from your previous position and on your butt, Isabelle splayed on top of you. The spirit is suddenly on top of you. It hovers a foot off the stony ground, its Terenian-esque face twisted in its sudden fury, its feathered arms held up. Electricity arcs from its hand and presses that hand palm first hard against your chest and up into your neck, the energy pressing you downwards as it convulses through you.

“You are not authorized to make that decision!” The spirit shouts as a decisive command, crowing as though it has already won. Its voice lowers then to a soft, gravelly hum so that only you and Isabelle can hear it. It speaks slowly and deliberately as it presses. “You dare you call me ‘honored guardian’ with threats in your heart! I will bind your hands until you cannot sign and shove those threats into your mouth so that you cannot speak. I will make you regret the day you challenged my domain! I will not brook this disrespect!”

Isabelle

You’re treated to a bit of unceremonious throwing as the turret lowers and Solarel suddenly gets shot, but her automatic reactions mostly protect you, so you do not black out, you just fall, get jarred a bit, and find yourself more or less on top of her limbs all tangled together. It’s a good thing she adjusted you for butt pats or that shot would have hit you clean on (though perhaps the spirit tried to avoid hitting you and focus its ire on Solarel). Since you didn’t black out, you got a front row view of its energy flaring and electricity crackling from its hands as it rushed upon you both.

Perhaps you can salvage this? Annika is aware of the spirit now (who wouldn’t be, a defense turret just lowered in from the ceiling and fired and it’s crackling with power). She puts an arm out to stop Crescent and looks like she’s considering what to do. She’ll jump in to act if you and Solarel don’t. Or possibly if you do anyway.

***

Jade

This is your show. Everyone is clay in your hands. Angela plays the perfect villain, angry but powerless, ripe for humiliation, her pleasure escaping from her in deep moans despite her attempts to resist you. Ksharta is hesitant but learning, you’re sacred after all, and you’re treating her so carefully and so even as she’s overawed by your power and your versatility, she’s also starting to feel a little bit more comfortable, a little bit safer, offering you at least her tentative trust, even if she might still go run and hide if you shouted at her too loudly.

And Dolly, well, you know your Dolly, your first and your last, always in the place of greatest honor. This show is for her most of all, isn’t it? And you’re the consummate actor. Perhaps this is what it is to be a goddess in truth? To have power and desire and to pretend to be something greater and more sacred with those tools. Perhaps that’s why they warred so often in all the mythology if behind their grand portfolios and devout worship there were a myriad of scared people with power each wondering how they might fulfill their role and gain what they wanted without bringing everything crashing down around them. Not that you’re scared of course, you’re in absolute control here. But you still might feel reassured that the whole performance went off without a hitch and the three are rightly in your control.

Now there’s the matter of rest and recovery, proper care, and nourishment. It is this last that finds you marching the whole set of them, Angela still bound (as she will be until you leave this planet and finish your hunt) to the great feast hall on Akar II for food and water.

You are on top of the world and nothing can possibly touch you.

***

Mirror

Trosta nods. “A bold choice, and a wild one. I do not know the Hybrasilians, but my own Empress would very much wish to direct the method as well as the goals of her people. This is of no matter though. Very well. I will do the work and offer you an accounting and we will determine then how you might pay for my time and my skill. Our deal is struck. Put me in touch with your engineer at your earliest convenience and we’ll make arrangements for the Hangar work.”

And that’s that. Trosta gets up and dismisses her own chair, though she leaves yours in place so that you and Matty are not unsettled. The young engineer heard everything, but she’s well behind in processing and has nothing to say for as long as you’re petting her. Well, nothing in words, she’s got plenty of sounds to make, mostly purrs and very light moans when you’re getting to a good spot so you know where to linger.

When you’re done, whenever that is, you’ll find an interesting sight upon leaving the hall. Across the main road where the mess hall is, there is a Hybrasilian hunting process with two Huntresses (you might recognize them as Dolly and Ksharta if you’ve found time to review previous match videos) carrying a bound and gagged Terenian as their prisoner and heading to get some food it seems. Quite an oddity that there would be a hunt here, much less for a member of another nation, one would think it would be a diplomatic incident of some kind, but nobody about seems particularly perturbed beyond the interest in the spectacle.

Perhaps you’d like to take a look?

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"Piripiri looks baffled. "What does deserve have to do with anything?"

She smiles and hums along on the chorus of the song as Giriel responds, but she's focused on the witch. There's a disconnect here, and it's important."

Giri ponders that, herself humming along with the Banneret of Miles, whose song feels infectious. Does it make them travel a little faster? She lets her mind drift briefly to wonder whether humming this song would speed other travel even without the heavenly spirit's direction.

But then she returns to the question at hand. This is an important moment, how often would she ever have such an opportunity for conversation? "I think" she says slowly, "that I don't understand how you view loyalty at all." She pauses, pats her thighs as she's thinking. "It is a...strange thing, loyalty. We tell most people that it's the highest good, even here in the Flower Kingdoms where we so highly value our freedom. If a person commits to their oaths and serves well, they will be rewarded in this life and the next. But...when there is a corrupt and evil lord, we ask why their soldiers served them, why their servants did not leave. Shouldn't loyalty be a choice, of sorts? A choice to trust someone else's choices because they deserve that trust. My oaths as a witch were a choice to trust my mother's teachings, and the teachings of her masters before her because...because I thought it would help me accomplish good in the world."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel and Isabelle

The rest of the shuttle goes about their business. Lilika remains onboard along with the two lionesses (the second apparently caring for her sister who is still pretty out of it). Annika and Crescent come out together. The ancestor is with you as well.

The Ancestor appears to be enjoying what you two have going, Solarel and Isabelle. Solarel, it’s telling you to give Isabelle a back massage with the hand holding that side of her.

Crescent, for her part, snorts at Solarel carrying Isabelle, but says nothing. Annika chooses to blow past it, though she can see what’s going on well enough. “Have you realized yet that the spirits here are not like the Zaldarians?” She asks impatiently. “I think this place is reflective of a longer-past, of beings that predate the Zaldarians!” She’s excited, bordering on agitated. You can see now that a lot of the geists she has with her are for navigation in this space. You’re not linked with them, but they’re part of this facility and they’re offering her maps, directions, and possibly some amount of control over the space. A square, metallic door inset into the wall like a blast shield that leads into the next cave opens as a little hawk geist flies out from her to it and then back.

“I want both of you to see if you can understand this place. Solarel, is it different to you, than to me? What about you, uh, human, can you sense anything here?”

Following this direction, the cavern becomes more natural, but there are spirits here, strong ones. As soon as you’re through the blast door, Solarel, one of the spirits flits down to you. It’s clearly not a Zaldarian, but manifests before you in a humanoid form somewhat like Isabelle if she had soft feathers all along her arms, neck, and sides of her face.

Isabelle, you can see this spirit, it’s appearing to you as well as Solarel, but it’s clear that Annika and Crescent cannot at the moment, it’s questioning the two of you. Perhaps because you’re new?

“Visitors, public access to test wing N57E28 is restricted. Please explain why you’re here. Your companions' authorizations do not include guests and I am loathe to allow any further trespass here without instructions.”

***

Dolly and Jade

“You sham goddess, you’ll not get away with this! You’re nothing but a divine whore who seeks sacrifices for your amusement! Oh oh oh, I will make you pay, I will bend your servants over my knee when I have them, and then I will take your vessel and bend it to my will in turn. I see now this is beyond the arena, do not think to sleep safely if I find you! Do not – grrrph, mmph, mrrrwwph!”

It is here that the gag cuts her off as you pull it tight.

She wants this, she said it without so many words in response to your offer. Not necessarily this capture, this will be chalked down as another loss on her part (although she could be a really good actor who’s a secret bottom and simply wants to rant to the greatest amount possible as you rob her of all her freedoms!). But she definitely wants the game. The game is incredibly hot, and she’s loving that. She doesn’t want to be let out because she’s not having fun because oh no, she is having fun plotting her vengeance for every humiliation. Her eyes glance back and forth between the two of you, Ksharta shying away a bit at the force of her rhetoric and you wielding the gag. It’s a lot for her, though she’s not bolting just looking a little unsure about how it’s all going and whether this is how it was supposed to go. She looked scandalized when Angela called her a sham goddess and a whore.

Now you’ve got to prep your prisoner and do your little parade though! All the way back to the spaceport if you want. Possibly with some gloating and appropriate comebacks now that she can’t retort any further.

[You take a string on Angela and she tries, in her way, to give you what you want, a green light to play with your prisoner as you see fit.]

***

Mirror

“Eeep, ah, of c-course” Matty manages. She nibbles nervously on a claw, but her tail goes swish swish swish in excitement and she does what she’s told like a good girl, settling herself into your lap, legs draped over the right side of your makeshift nanobot chair, curled up with head leaning into your chest so you can easily stroke her hair. Her left claw tries to hold onto your leg, making little biscuits as she settles. She purrs even before you do it, the position itself and the warmth of being on you like this offering her that feel of contentment. You can feel it rise too as you touch her, and the gentle rumble of a warm, safe Hybrasilian in your lap is its own special slice of heaven.

Trosta seems content with all this. “I see that Hybrasilian engineering was not the only thing I should have been asking about!” She chuckles, slapping her chair with those strong bronze arms. “Yes, this is all acceptable. This is good, I understand a little more the scale of what you want. Chains yes. Something that demands your attention to work around, functioning at the scale of your armor. I will take a standard day to think and then I will come back to you with my thoughts and my questions and we will start work. The bill will go to Hybrasilian high command, yes? You fight for their faction, I thought, not independent?”

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giri listens. She didn't bring an umbrella and if Piripiri isn't offering hers, Giri's not going to press. She does, however, tap Azazuka/Golden Banneret and gesture for her to take out the umbrella, even going so far as to help her slide it out and place it in her hands with an unfolding gesture. She ought to be well-kept, at any rate.

"You know, I have absolutely no idea what to say to all that" Giri says after a moment. She's silent again, waiting on the Golden Banneret, trying to think through her thoughts. "Or I guess I should say I have too many things I want to say to that and I can't pick. No, I haven't seen the play, it sounds tragic. I don't know whether to applaud you for caring or scorn you for understanding enough to care but not make things better. I can't decide whether to challenge whether your oaths actually bind you or to offer sympathy that what I've done has been my own effort to live up to my oaths and duties and I know how much that can hurt. How much it hurt you, specifically, Piripiri. I owed you better!"

She raises her voice as she's going, realizes it, abruptly stops talking again. Her face is troubled and her thoughts are visibly swirling. Finally, she asks this. "Why does a place that denies you happiness deserve your loyalty?"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Matty lets out a meep as you propose her adoption, but doesn’t further interrupt you during the story you tell to Trosta. She’s a good girl that way, and well-trained in minding the shop to boot. It’s obvious she’s flustered though, intensely so. She notices your glance for her reaction and it’s a blush, and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands anymore. She lifts one, lowers it, runs the other through her short light brown hair, fingers deftly smoothing it against the side of her head and down to her speckled neck fur, which seems to calm her a little. She does it again, but then realizes she’s been doing it, starts, tries to pull those hands behind her back and clasps them tightly. You can almost hear how conscious she is of every part of her body and how intentionally she’s trying not to fidget.

She’s got to be wondering if you’re serious or if you were teasing her, but either way it’s obvious you hit the target dead center.

[Take a string on Matty and she’s flustered as all get out.]

For her part, Trosta is amused, and then she is listening. She nods sometimes, in that odd avian way that Zaldarians have sometimes, her bronze skin glinting in the light of her forge when she does. She’s not confirming what you’re saying, just letting you know that she’s listening, that she thinks she’s understood when you’ve said something. She isn’t using the sign language herself as you go, she sits and considers. Rests her head on one hand.

When you’re done, she waits to make sure there are no more words to be added, and then she nods one more time, more sharply. “You are owed an apology because you are right. I know the story of Solarel and the Aeteline, and that is what the story is called among Zaldarians. You are a notable pilot in that tale, do not underestimate any stand against the Aeteline, for it is a cursed god indeed. But I did not know you, your looks or your name or your stature were all new to me, until you told me what role you had played, noble pilot.”

She offers a slight bow then, and makes a hand gesture of apology.

“As to your other things, you offered me several thoughts all together, related but not, is that not so? First, you asked to know the possibilities of the Hangar that my people made for our competition, so we will tackle that. Yes, it is possible that someone skilled with nanobots came into your private space and did your armor harm. It would be a very shameful thing for the current Empress if this is so, the culprit would be banished as Solarel is banished. Perhaps the culprit already is banished, but I do not know any artisans who reside in this system that have the talent necessary and are banished from the Empress’s sight. A new arrival then? That might narrow who you should ask after, there cannot be very many Zaldarian artisans recently arrived here, fewer still who would risk the Empress’s ire for Solarel.”

She cocks her head, thinks, and offers an apologetic sort of shrug that tells you that you’ve reached the limit of what Trosta knows about the sabotage. It wasn’t nothing, but it was speculation.

“Second, you ask to adopt my assistant. I do not understand what you mean by not poaching but maybe poaching her. If you mean to take her from my shop for your crew, I suppose I cannot stop her, but if she wants my permission, the answer is no. It took me some time to find a Hybrasilian engineer to work with me and I wish to learn from her and impart my skills to her in turn, I would be loathe to have her leave. If this is something of Hybrasilian family that would not take her from her work altogether much, then I do not know of it but it has my blessing if she wishes it.”

She looks at Matty, who is nodding vociferously, having forgotten about keeping her hands clasped and instead having one back on the side of her hair bobbing along with the nod and the other worrying little claws against her pants leg.

Trosta gives a satisfied nod to herself that you will work out the details and turns back towards you with a smile. She makes a sign of amusement with her hands. It’s noticeable that she does hand speak like Solarel does, but rather seems to use her hand gestures to more clearly articulate her emotional state to supplement her speech.

“Finally, you ask me for chains for your armor. This is a novel request for me, and an honor, if I understand it properly. Chains are a thing that Zaldarians sometimes forge for the armor of gods when the god that inhabits the armor is very strong and very unstable. The Aeteline was one such, its curse in large part due to the weakness of its chains as compared to its god. I have never heard of such a request for armor from Hybrasil or the Consortium, as I understood that your gods were somewhat more tame than ours. Further, you asked me for chains for your hands, for your mind, not for the god of your armor. And you have showed me glimpses of its function now that I might understand this properly. I think, therefore, that you are your own goddess, a divinity of both mortal and divine will warring within one body. You ask for chains to bind that side of you that is wild and fierce and cannot be constrained without help, that the other side of you may learn and grow.”

She stops, looks at you. “Please tell me if this is the right understanding. If so, I am honored that you, having just met me, would trust me to craft something so precious. It will not come cheap, and I will need Matty’s assistance and quite a bit of your time, I think. But I will do it.”

***

Dolly and Jade

“Aaaaaaayeeee” shouts Angela Victoria Miera Antonius as you fire your Bola caster and she is sent sprawling, trapped and suddenly tied.

It’s thrilling, having her, even as your brain is fracturing itself through a series of parallel universes where this goes differently and wishing there were some way to simultaneously experience each separate reality at once.

“You! Dolly! And Jade! I knew it! I knew you had a game! You taunt me, embarrass me, recruit the other Hybrasilians, and then lure me out here to be your sacrifice! Oh, oh oh! When I get free, you will pay for this! When you least expect it, oh you’ll see, you’ll see!”

She’s really working herself up here. You’ll need to gag her before taking her through the more populous streets if she keeps this up. You’ve made a double-edged threat there, in that she might well not want this embarrassment caught on camera, but you might not want her shouting and begging for help where there are lots of people around, you’re only two Hybrasilians and a bowcaster is not exactly heavy armament if someone decides to help.

Ksharta’s done a good job on the ropes. She’s grinning, her heart’s beating fast and she’s full of thrill, as well as sweating and with her fur ruffled at all the exertion. It looks like she’s made Angela fairly comfortable as well, and given her perhaps a bit more room to wiggle than is entirely safe for a bound offering, but Ksharta also seems like she’s enjoying watching it. That’s something to tuck away for later.

Angela herself seems hard to read. She’s outraged, and you don’t necessarily know TC folks all that well, but you think if she were really, truly angry and upset about this, she would be reacting somewhat differently, perhaps with less rising to the scene she finds herself in? She hasn’t said anything about your offer from Jade either, unless you count her saying that she’s a sacrifice as agreeing to be your offering, which is a stretch right?

Maybe Jade could calm her down though? She’s good with gags. But is it okay to do that if Angela’s still on her rant and hasn’t really given you a proper answer? Jade, what do you want here?

***

Solarel and Isabelle

The shuttle completes its route through this odd underground structure and comes to rest at what is functionally a landing platform. It doesn’t really appear designed for the shuttle per se, but it is flat and wide, more than adequate for purpose. The ancestor geist is still with you, and still wishes Isabelle’s shoes removed. This is a very old geist and probably is not functioning terribly well, but it is what it is.

Annika has begun talking to several of her geists. The ones she’s talking to now are small, ride-alongs like little spirit birds that are useful for communications. Though they don’t look like they’re Zaldarian in origin. If you have studied bird-life on some TC planets, the manifestation of Annika’s geists is probably closest to some kind of sea-flying hawk.

Don’t feel rushed to untangle yourselves, you have time while the shuttle settles to appease the geist, get your bearings. At this point, the crew doesn’t seem particularly rushed either, and even as quasi-kidnapees, everyone here has that easy air of people who know that there simply isn’t anywhere else to go, so there’s no reason to stress or rush about. Only Annika herself seems nervous, and that mostly because her resting state appears to be seething with impatience for a universe that does not instantly manifest her thoughts into reality.

When you do go out, you’re going to find yourselves in a connected underground cavern system, partially natural, partially bored by nanobot construction. This cavern system has some lighting, via the nanobot construction standards, so you will be able to see at least where you come out and realize that it is large. Large enough, and populous enough with geists, that there may be god spirits here.

Isabelle, this will probably be rather overwhelming. You might have heard as an educated and up to speed Consortium family member, about the countryside of Zaldaria and their strange technologies (not to mention the already copious fiction on the matter). But nobody in all the fighting over the Cerulean Belt has ever mentioned something like this as the prize. Nobody in your family knows about any place like this. Also, like, stepping away from the family politics, this is just absolutely wild. You’ve never been anywhere like this before and while it may not be a rainbow of colors or anything, this combination of natural and machine construction is wondrous and you should seriously be asking yourself if this qualifies as magic.

Solarel, here is the thing you should know when it comes to this. This space, this population, it’s big enough for gods. If you have ever asked yourself how you might find a new Zaldarian mecha without the favor of the Empress, the heretic before you has handed you one such answer, at least assuming you have the strength and skill to seize it.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle and Solarel

The shuttle stays relatively low, traveling around the curvature of the planet, rather than out of atmosphere. Dipping into the clouds is an interesting experience. They’re very dense, so thick you can’t see much outside the windows, but they reflect with a wild neon of colors from the light above, and when you crest briefly above them before going back in, you see a blue sky from the odd light of the Cerulean Belt. Faintly in the sky hang Cerul and Azure, the two other planetary systems within the belt, though countless other stars, as yet unjumpable, twinkle in the odd azure sky.

Annika straightens herself, Crescent was already piloting, and Lilika busies herself with chores while the lioness works on treating her companion. This shuttle is too small for a proper medical, but it’s got cots in the back and first aid, and the other lioness was more shocked than anything because of her armor.

It’s a tight-knit crew, and you can see they know how to function efficiently together, with Annika herself the most stand-out as having nothing to do. She seems perfectly aware that the two of you are having a moment though, and busies herself reviewing a small datapad with a mesh link interface for rapid review.

Once the shuttle starts its dip back down, it keeps going down. And down. And down. You can tell because even though the shuttle’s systems dampen the inertia and the view out the windows is still pointed at sky, there’s a feeling of slanted gravity that indicates the nose of the ship is tipped downward and the “floor” is pushing on you at an angle.

You can’t be going this far down, the shuttle wasn’t that high and it would make no sense for them to slow down this much and make themselves visible below cloud level after all that effort to hide. Yet there’s the ground, this area more mountainous and rocky, coming into view and then coming right at you and YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH!

Only, you don’t, and you don’t stop either. The ground makes space for you here, and you find yourself flying down through a manufactured tunnel in the Zaldarian style. Down into the crust of the planet. Annika is looking pleased with herself.

Solarel, you can see that there are geists here, directing the nanobots. Simple but old geists, their form like flashes of electricity and color in the walls. This area is teaming, alive, active on its own in a way you haven’t seen since you were in the Zaldarian core systems. Isabelle, you cannot see such a thing, but you can feel a current of energy in these walls that makes your heart beat fast and your hair stand up a little.

Take one more moment for each other, or longer than a moment perhaps, you have a little interplanetary shuttle ride to take it all in and get your bearings, or your fluster as the case may be.

***

Mirror

You watch Matty’s face go through a ride of emotions as you speak. There’s that spike of disappointment that hit you so hard when she heard you weren’t interested in the shop, and her face lighting up. She’s got a reaction too when you mention the consult and the tampering, a more thoughtful pose, her ears twitch and a claw starts scratching absentmindedly at a spot on her cheek that she obviously worries when she’s thinking.

It’s interesting seeing an engineer like this. There’s no reason for Matty to hold in her emotions, but she’s just less guarded than most of the huntresses, not so much mystique to her, and being a hybrid and so far out of her element, you get the sense that she just kind of goes in for wearing her heart on her sleeve. Probably nobody else can even read her at all if she doesn’t outright say what she’s feeling, but she’s a volunteer for this job (she’s paid, but she had to put herself out there and wanted to do this).

“Okay, we do consults all the time, actually. Let me just…Trosta! Hey, hey Trosta! Okay, come here, this way.” She guides you to the back, shouting Trosta’s name a couple times. The Zaldarian offers a brief wave of her hand, then goes back to her smithing. She’s taken what she’s working on out of the old forge now and she’s working it carefully with the hammer. Tink tink tink in small rapid hits.

It doesn’t seem particularly complex, her current work. She’s hammering down some kind of tapering metal rod, her fine work ensuring that it tapers evenly to a point. Spearhead maybe? Seems too long for that, maybe something like a tent stake though why in all the moons would she be doing that? Well, no need to wait on that one. She finishes her last work and quenches the rod, then holds it up for inspection and finally looks at you. Unlike Solarel, she speaks directly, not bothering with hand gestures. Her voice is low and husky, matching her bronze-muscles to a tee.

“Well, what’ve you got Matty shouting across the room about?” Matty scurries up and stage whispers to her what you were discussing. She looks at you again, Mirror, and cocks her head which is something like raising an eyebrow for a being without eyebrows. “You come to me with your problem. Good, good. We’ll do fine work for you, first of all Hybrasilian pilots to grace my new shop. Matty will do work for you, materials synthesis at the least, and I will help you with your problem. You bring me this problem, it must be my type of problem. Let me show you.”

She steps away from the forge and holds the pointed rod out in front of her and begins to hum. It’s a low hum that thrums through her large, bronze body with resonance, and as you watch, a nearby table disassembles itself and shifts into a cloudy form. She lifts the tone just a hair and gestures with her…her wand maybe, her sharp wand and the nanobots form into a cloudy sculpture of you, almost a mirror reflection. They hold this pose, and then she makes a sort of stirring motion with her wand and they fade into a circular cloud. She adjusts the tone again, and the material is transformed into a pair of sitting chairs, wide with armrests for the two of you, rather than the table. She sits, folding her long bird-like legs one atop the other and gestures for you to do the same.

“It’s not the rod” she says without any prompting. “The rod is for me, so that I think the right thoughts. The sound and the thoughts, these are the things that spirits hear. On Zaldaria and Marathia, everything is like this, and because it is in everything, there can be greater things. Thus are gods born, and their empresses in turn. But their hearts, big or small, are sound and thought merged together. If this thing you think was done was by one of my people, this would have been a thing that was heard. If it was not remarked, then it was because the hearer found it unremarkable. Ask your guards what they heard when this could have happened and you will find something out of place if this thing truly did happen.”

She leans back, reaches an arm out to place her wand atop her anvil, not so far from the chair. “I’ll send your masters my bill for the consultation. But I would also know about you. Tell me your story, it will make for finer components for your armor if I know its heart.”

***

Dolly

Just Dolly. Your paw is on the bola caster, and nobody else’s. Not Ksharta, who is running her cargo around the turn in that loping run that plains Hybrasilians have for covering distance. Not Jade, who has given you this task. Not your sister or your family or anyone else deciding this for you. Just you. Just Dolly.

You can win this easily.

It’s not that Angela isn’t suspicious, how could she not be when greeted by a cat rickshaw driver wearing a loud pink-flowered shirt and mirrorshades who pulled her out of the settled area? Say rather that she is bemused, and just uncertain enough about what this all means that she’s a viable target.

She’s such a viable target! She’s dressed more casually tonight, wearing a TC pilot’s trousers, but she’s got her jacket off and all she’s wearing on top is a tight short-sleeved black shirt that accentuates the shape of her arms, her chest, and her back. There’s so much there. So much to want. So much to fall into, to squeak and reveal yourself and give her a chance to dodge the shot.

Ksharta won’t know what to do if the plan goes awry, she’s never done this before! She’ll probably freeze and Angela will take the missed shot, cover the gap and pin you down before you get a second. Imagine feeling the heat of her breath as she pants from the sudden sprint, her strength all pressed upon you.

You can lose this easily.

It’s your choice, what do you want, Dolly?

Or, here’s one more option. If you really, really can’t decide, then line up the shot, close your eyes extra tight, say a prayer to Jade, and see what fate offers you when you pull the trigger.