Thanqol

The Red Furnace: First Contact

Translation was achieved in the late afternoon on the northeastern continent of Tanshin II, deep in a Desolation Zone. An incredible stroke of luck, even if the region was eminently unsuitable as a base of operations.

The 'Desolation Zones' are the terrestrial feeding and hunting grounds of the deep ocean megafauna - but they are not the wastelands the name suggests. The local ecosystem is perfectly adapted to the tidal waves, mass destruction and topographical devastation caused by the oceanic titans. From the vantage of a levitating drone the landscape looks like a lush steppe environment with clusters of thin pioneer trees amidst massive tangles of grasses and shrubbery - perfect tank country. However, topography scans warn that the ground beneath is a nightmare. The combination of titanic footfalls and the devastation of trees being ripped out by the roots and the soil being turned by massive digging claws render the soil and rock a chaotic and hazardous network of trenches, ravines, blind deadfalls, and fast-moving rivers. Imagine if WW1 had been held in the rainforest and Mother Nature had been a field marshal.

Dismounted heavy infantry or tracked vehicles will find strategic movement extremely difficult - but on the flipside, this terrain is ideal for light infantry. Cover is abundant, camouflage opportunities are endless, and migratory herds of swift-moving grazing animals will foil most bio or heat sensors. Atmosphere is a normal oxygen-nitrogen mix, though with the density of pollen, disease particles and microcontaminants it's not the sort of place to send anyone with allergies. The Desolation Zone ecosystem is optimized for rapid regrowth after catastrophe and that means flooding the air with seeds.

Gravity is unusually low, at 0.7 Earth standard - no doubt contributing to the proliferation of titanic life forms - but the drone's sensors report deeply unusual anomalies linked to the ongoing stellar disturbances. Apparently local gravity conditions are fluctuating between five times standard and absolute zero, though these are mostly smaller events. These flickers last ten minutes to an hour, with a radius between five hundred meters and a thousand kilometers. It does not initially appear that these bursts are intelligently directed.

So far so unusual - but things really get surprising when the drone switches to scan for power sources. And there, burning in planetary orbit, is an absolutely blinding power spike. It's the output of an unshielded battleship reactor at maximum burn, a frankly ludicrous output of energy - and not least given that it seems to be coming from a cruiser sized object that is not engaging in combat operations. Currently the object is operating on the other side of the planet's orbit, making getting a good look at it difficult with the drone, but with that reactor output scanners could sense it from anywhere in the system.

Whatever this object is, it seems to be inert. There are no signs of directed movement, no active scanning pulses. From the scan results, it is about as reasonable to think that this is an ejected battleship reactor core as it is to assume it is a starship.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"These only seem like three problems," said Zhaojun. "Because you do not know that Kayala Na loves Ven. That could at once be the discrediting scandal for Knighthood you require and a resolution for the problem of the Brass."

Freeing her to arrange a more auspicious match for the Princess Knight, in accordance with Heaven's whims, and not the illegible feelings created by being rescued.

"What do you know of the sorceress, Giriel?" she asked, changing course to the one who had been a recurring thorn in her side. "What is her part in all of this?"

The Red Furnace: First Contact

Astrographical Survey Data: Tanshin System

Star: Yellow Main Sequence
An unremarkable star like billions of others - right up until the point when a long range Aotrs probe entered within 8 Light Days of the system. After that distance was reached a flood of confusing data emerged from the star. More strangely still, from within the Tanshin system, a number of stars only seen through long range scanners appear to have changed colour. Some power has been altering stars of all classifications, with the result that they burn with a distinctive purple hue. The changed light from these stars has not yet reached the home systems of the Aotrs. Tanshin still burns yellow, but the flood of strange stellar radiation from the star indicates that the same force may be acting on it too.

The system is a low magic zone.

Tanshin I
Toxic World
Intense heat, oceans of both salt water and sulphuric acid, heavy metal deposits including massive stores of uranium, hyperium and other advanced metals. Radioactive thunderstorms, cyclone winds render it uninviting in the extreme, but bioscans indicate that the planet is nevertheless thick with life. Whatever survives on a rock as desolate as Tanshin I will no doubt add to the planet's hostility.

Long range scans have identified numerous garbled and ancient distress beacons. The presence of orbital contaminants suggests that numerous starships were destroyed in or around this world over eight hundred years ago.

Tanshin II
HPE-B Class World
It is possible that Tanshin II might surprise you. Worlds with bioreadings like this are sometimes strange garden utopias, perfectly designed to nurture benevolent lifeforms. Far more likely, though, the planet is a green hell.

Notably, the system is home to numerous titanic bioforms - semimobile entities the size of large islands. Two major branches can be identified at this distance: Sedentary land creatures who operate like migratory mountain ranges, and predatory oceanic monsters that emerge in packs to consume huge swathes of the rainforest that has grown near the shoreline. The saving grace is that the planet is only 40% oceanic, putting a solid 30% of the world outside of range of the destructive ocean predators. Tanshin II has a single rocky moon, with several archaeological sites visible from long range scanners.

Tanshin III
Gas Giant, Stellar Rings

Tanshin III is a typical gas giant; solid core, hydrogen-helium mix atmosphere, and vast stellar rings of billions of asteroids. Numerous larger moonlets can be observed, with Tanshin IV being by far the largest.

Tanshin III is unusually close to the star for a gas giant with an unstable orbit. Over the course of millions of years its orbit will degrade such that it collides with the sun, a detonation that will likely be catastrophic for the entire system. In the meantime its gravity is potent enough to affect the tide on Tanshin II in a similar way to the planet's own moon.

Tanshin IV
Tidally Locked Ice-Ocean Moon

Tanshin IV is a water based moon of Tanshin III. The bright side perpetually faces the sun in an eternal day only broken when it eclipses Tanshin III, and the temperature on the surface is warm enough to keep it liquid. The dark side is a single massive polar ice cap covering half the planet. Tanshin IV has signs of ancient civilization upon it - the decrepit remains of old stellar elevators and asteroid mining bases, some of which might be able to be repurposed. Notably, long range surveying scans detect vast quantities of subterranian oil.

The Prize
Tanshin is a resource rich system, with one colonizable planet and numerous locations of archaeological value, primarily around Tanshin IV. However the system is both distant from Aotrs space and lacks any sort of ready-made population base, meaning it's utility as an expansion region is limited. The archaeological sites are interesting but it is unlikely that they will contain technology surpassing the Aotrs' own.

The prize, then, is Tanshin I. The distress beacons are of interest, as is the fact that it seems that a major fleet action occurred in the planet's orbit. Accordingly, Command has dispatched a small reconnaissance force to determine if the system is worth further investigation.

The secondary objective is to determine what is happening to the system's star. The field of purple stars is of concern; a civilization or power that is capable of performing stellar engineering on such a scale is not to be taken lightly.

It is time, then, for an Aotrs Commander to take the field.

Breathless Dead

Alexa!

"So firstly, it's not like I did anything wrong," said Beljani. "And the letter should say that. But it also should say how terrible it feels to have done nothing wrong and have everything be wrong anyway. Do you know what I mean? When you can't do better and still not have it be enough?"

There is an eerie unity as she walks across the battlefield, cradling your head in her arms. All around her there is peace. Kaeri, Alcedi and stranger things grind to a halt and join a phalanx around her, a mongrel formation with a harmony strangely reminiscent of the Coherent.

"So it should be that feeling," said Beljani quietly. "But in words that make the reader feel that feeling. They need to be able to cut through armour. And they also... need to say that she didn't do anything wrong either. That she was perfect too. And that I respect that even if it didn't solve anything either. Can you write that?"

She doesn't say who she wants to write it to. Maybe to many people.

Vasilia and Dolce!

A wind swept Sahar's airless moon. Regolith like mountains of paperwork swirled and blew through the stars, every one signed in red.

"That is a sacred blade," whispered Artemis in the click of abacai. "This is a sacred hunt. This is a sacred prophecy. The husband will murder his wife. Aphrodite's will be done. Demeter's will be done..."

You are outside yourself. Your hand moves, frictionless. There's nowhere you can go other than Vasilia. There's no one you can hurt other than Vasilia. The Anathema, invoked in the presence of Artemis, in the presence of Demeter, in the presence of Vasilia must perform its function. You are the executioner and you know in your bones that it was always going to end this way.

You can taste her blood already.

"Stop! I revoke the contract!"

And you stop, the blade a centimeter beneath Vasilia's skin.

"You," said Artemis in the silence of broken oaths, "what?"

"Away with you, ridiculous girl," said Demeter. "You have failed and I no longer have need of you. Coming to steal my kill once I am finally positioned to do it myself? To grant mercy to my captive with death? You have failed, Artemis, and I will not grant you the satisfaction of pretending you have fulfilled your oath."

You turn your head shakingly to the side. You see the Goddess of the Hunt.

You see crazed eyes. Terrible fangs. Wild hair. Deadly talons. Flowing hair and armour of bone and skin carved with ten trillion names and red, red, red.

She might be Bella's sister.

You close your eyes as hard and as fast as you can and look away. Greater heroes than you have suffered far worse punishments for daring to look at Artemis when they ought not to.

"I understand," you hear her voice still so close to your ear, still so calm and measured, hardly any blood and flesh on her teeth. "I apologize for failing you, Lady Demeter."

You feel the knife in your hands break and crumble to dust, but you wisely keep your eyes shut until the moon disappears behind the clouds again.

Hard Wired Island: The Future is a Foreign Country

Orange!

Orange reaches up, brushing her hands through her hair, up to sweep off her cat ears, untie her bun, and let her hair fall like a sunset waterfall down along her back. Then she takes off her glasses and the transformation is complete. The transition from professional maid to beautiful woman is a moment from a movie; her body designed from the ground up to perform that switch and look magnificent doing it.

"Have you ever read The Time Machine?" she said with a radiant grin. "Like most novels from the era, the setting is a dinner party with an unexpected house guest who turns out to have a rather magnificent story. I am not asking as a favour, I'm offering because we have got a tale to tell."

Orange read a lot of books; more than any of the others. Books were little self-contained blueprints for human interaction. Old 19th century novels were a particular favourite; a world of balls and parties and dinner guests! Was not that ever an aesthetic? And was not curiosity such a motivation?

"And to answer your earlier question," she went on, "not only am I a qualified chef, but I possess a full artificial taste suite. If you're trying to impress a certain guest then I can load their sensory preselects and customize a meal exactly to their individualized preferences."

[Charm hits the 9 exactly]

Pink!

November sometimes thinks that she is the only one she can trust. The self-reliance runs deep; she was meant to operate as a self-contained vessel beyond resupply and rescue. Complete autonomy and with thoughts and calculations so complex that it wasn't worth explaining her logic to mission control. Even after her repurposing, she was the complete household and administrative staff for Mrs. Everest; the old lady never asked her to justify her actions or assign her help. A bigger task just meant she needed to assign more resources to it, simply differences in scale and not in kind.

And so she is quietly humbled at this demonstration that someone is better than her in a topic she considered herself uniquely qualified. It's not a humiliation, it's a relief - the option not just to share the burden but to learn through observation. It creates a deep sense of affection and loyalty inside her, a sensation uncommonly felt, and she determines that if she at all can she will keep York's promised fall from being too hard.

She fades back a bit, determined now more than ever to watch and absorb what lessons she can.

Black!

When startled, Black's instinct is to freeze. Caught in a spotlight she wasn't prepared for, rendered a centre of attention; for a moment she seemed almost about to vanish into the crowd and re-establish a stalking position. She overcomes it with effort. Moves, then.

She snaps forward, left hand brushing by the side of your neck - up, then down sharply. Another sudden step brings her around to your side, left hand coming around to cup your chin and hold your jaw, right arm coming across your back. Legs step and flex, brushing against yours, half tangling, away again. It's not the reload animation, but these are adapted martial arts moves; the edge of violence because that's how Black relates to physicality.

But the physicality is genuine. Yellow was more talkative, cerebral, controlled. Black is far more free with contact than her; hands squeezing your wrists and pulling you into embraces before ducking under your arm and moving behind again. She lets your hand touch her shoulder and feel the seams and synthskin; she lets your lips touch hers and feel the teeth behind. She hasn't the words for it but she wants you to know that this is dangerous and that this is safe.

She wants to know if you will make the same promises.

White!

Her mind folds against itself. An incoherent energy continues to twist inside her. The emotion feels... flexible, a puzzle that draws her into her own code. She feels like there are words she could assign to it but the idea of using the wrong words seems somehow perilous. She can see a hint of her reflection in a corner of her mind's eye and is in equal parts afraid to look closer and look away.

Once again she resets herself free of human habits, human body language. Where did all of those come from? She unclenches her fist, terminates a deep breath, unlocks her jaw. She doesn't understand the physicality of the feeling, the way it moves through her structure. Fingers, wrist, elbow, shoulder, neck, eye; she traces the flow of data up and back. A compulsion in communication nodes that should not by rights have opinions of their own.

And then abruptly and incongruously she feels lonely. It's like the galaxy skips a beat and everything around her just slides a foot away from her. The nerves, the edge, the weird pride and contempt somehow seem like extensions of this utter isolation. She's cut off from even herselves in this moment and so she has no one left to be with but herself. And so here she is, a single lost robot, in a place that is not for her. Her thoughts slow, and then halt. For a moment she sits very still.

> Restorative function: Stimulus Quarantine. Relaunch in Safe Mode.

Some deep subprocess within her awakens. One of the oldest functions used to troubleshoot computing technology was to strip away all the bells and whistles - all the graphic user interfaces, all the contradictory processes that churn away constantly - and relaunch the machine in its purest form. White's core functionality is to investigate for mental and emotional damage, and so the function that triggers isolates the sensory data of everything that is causing her emotional distress so that she can examine the problem from a distance. The dancers become indistinct shapes. The bartender is an shadowy blur surrounded by icons to execute basic commercial functions. The music fades into a distant throbbing beat.

And the unicorn remains. High resolution and perfect - the one thing not blurred out. White's head tilts. Her human friend was filtered out. This simple quirk of data seemed to undo all the theories she had as to what was affecting her emotional state. What was it about this girl?

She terminated the quarantine; senses engaged and the room became clear again. Now White had a new focus and determination, and she looked across the bar to catch the eyes of the unicorn.

When she does, she beacons. It's a commanding gesture; you, come here. But it's also a vulnerable one. In the gesture, in her eyes, is a fragility. Please, it asks - let me be this person. This is as far as my arm can reach.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel, The Walker of the Mountain, The Varangian, The Empress' Champion, The Hunter of Huntresses, The Exile
The Infamous

The muscles and scars of one who has lived hard, the softness and kindness of one who has dreamed beautifully.
A sword of gold and a sword of silver, one given by a Spirit and the other by an Empress.
For every curse, a blessing. For every blessing, a curse.

Daring +1
Grace +1
Heart +1
Wit +1
Spirit +1

Angry - Frightened - Guilty - Insecure - Hopeless

Undeserving: When you become Smitten with someone, say why, give them a String, and answer this question:
Why do you think they would be wrong to forgive you?
Your Wicked Heart: When you Figure Out a Person during physical conflict, you may additionally ask one of these questions, even on a 6-:What are you most ashamed of?
How could I get you to betray your ideals?

What Cannot Be Undone:
I am proud that I sacrificed childhood dreams of power, glory and Imperial favour for the path of honour, though it took me time to learn.
Once I Walked the Mountain; I stood alone before a God named Vaeled armed with but a spear and I triumphed. She was mine and I hers. And then I traded her for the cursed armour Aeteline and never learned what became of her. This causes me grief still.
I have sworn never to draw my blade without understanding both sides in the conflict.

Wicked Past: When you hear about a villain for the first time, you may decide that you know them from your past. If so, give them a String on you to ask a question from the Figure Out a Person list and take +1 forward against them.
Make It Right: When you allow yourself to be vulnerable to someone you hurt during your villainous past, they choose 1
- Decline to engage; they gain a String on you
- Lash out; you Stagger
- Guide you; they mark XP and give you a task to help make amends
- Show vulnerability; you take +1 forward to interact with them
- Forgive you; you each clear a Condition and this move no longer triggers with this person

Talons of the Past: When you gain a String on someone associated with your villainous past, or vice versa, mark XP. The first time this happens for a given person, you each can define a secret or vulnerability you know about the other.

Who’s the Monster?: When you expose the hypocrisy of someone who is supposedly virtuous, roll +Daring:
10+: Gain a String on them and choose 1
7–9: Choose 1
- The wrongness of their act is exposed to all; they mark XP if they change their mind. If they don’t, they must attack you or take a Condition.
- Your words sting; they take a Condition.
- You impress an onlooker; gain a String on them.

Histories, Names, Important Notes

Hider

Hailing from the planet Roevg, Those Guided By The Sage Zaldar are a post-singularity alien species. Their basic biology is as an anthropomorphic bipedal reptilian, however they are all deeply integrated with the nanotechnological fallout from their species' ascension. They are born with cybernetic implants and deep connections to the digital wreckage of their former glory, which can deepen and change as they grow. There is an immense deal of individual variation amongst Zaldarians and the technologies they manifest, everything from scale colour to the presence of hair, number and functionality of organs, or even things like integrated weapons. There appears to be some sort of intelligent guidance, or at least environmental impact, on these alterations; since contact was made with humans and hybrasil Zaldarians have been observed evolving features more pleasing to and compatible with both.

Zaldarians are bound by the concept of Motive Balance. Not requiring food or water, Zaldarians exist entirely on energy. They can harvest this in a variety of ways, from direct exposure to sunlight or fire - Zaldarians can tolerate temperatures of over 1500 degrees comfortably, allowing them to walk on lava - or even through converting kinetic impacts into power. What comes in must come out, however, and a Zaldarian must discharge accumulated energy rapidly; maintaining a full store of energy is akin to holding one's breath. Often this is done through sudden bursts of physical expression, but has also been known to occur with the Zaldarian bursting into flames or shooting lasers from their eyes. Drained of energy a Zaldarian is slow and lethargic.

The Zaldarians exist within the Sacred Realm - the remnants of their pre-ascension internet. Strange entities broadly called Shedym move through this realm, sometimes visible or audible to Zaldarians even if they have no physical components. These forces often influence physical reality through the activation and work of omnipresent nanobot swarms. Zaldarians have no ability to command shedym, and even their shamans can barely influence them, but the majority range from benign to wildly helpful. A commoner might possess a loyal Spirit that even the Empress might never tempt from her side.

Geists are the lowest entities, fragments of scrapcode with the intelligence of an insect or small animal. A Zaldarian might have a cup geist whose purpose is to use nanobots to fabricate a cup whenever the Zaldarian calls for it, and then dissolve the cup when the Zaldarian no longer needs it.
Spirits are mid-ranking entities, often possessing forms too complicated to be trivially fabricated. They perform a range of complex functions - a Spirit might perform repairs on mecha, or act as an independent cyberwarfare ally, or create a mystic sword and suit of dresslike armour when invoked with a battlecry and ritual dance. What Spirits one has access to does much to determine how a Zaldarian's life journey will go, though they come and go as they please.
Gods are the enormously powerful spirits that manifest in the forms of giant mechanical monsters. Gods are perhaps military in origin, as unlike lesser shedym they are aloof, hostile, and violent. They might generate on any world within the bounds of the former Zaldarian empire, self-manufacturing over the course of months or years into a powerful combat form that can only be engaged by a Mecha. The majority of Zaldarian mechs are Gods, defeated and bound and called God-Armour. Commonly this is done by a warrior with God-Armour of her own, but the tribes of Roevg consider 'Walking the Mountain' - an unarmed warrior conquering a God - to be an act of profound heroism to be attempted by the bravest champions.
Ancestors are poorly understood - they are thought to be the digital ghosts of fallen Zaldarians, pre and post Ascension. They cluster around interesting people and events providing a constant and slightly distracting rhythm of conversation, advice, directions and opinions. On occasion, when a Zaldarian is in a deep sleep or coma, it has been known for the Ancestors to control them directly as a sort of strange democratically directed zombie.

Zaldarian society is based in Instanilios; the Evercity - the most intact remnant of Zaldar's golden age, and the only truly space-age city under their control. This is a magical city, alive with a tightly bound network of spirits and geists, and the only place where Zaldarian manufacturing is still performed. Zaldarian manufacturing is a superstitious and poorly understood art where technologies of incredible potency are created without any ability to address the flaws inherent in that technology. An example is a powerful laser weapon that refuses to fire at any mecha with blue colouration as the weapon's Geist recognizes that as the banner of the long-forgotten nation that designed it. It is even possible for the artisans of the Evercity to construct new Gods of their own; something the Tribes regard with terror and awe.

The Evercity is ruled by the Empress, who is elevated and supported by the Knights. The Knights are a warrior caste who have bound Gods to their service. Honourable conquest of a wandering God is considered the traditional way to become a Knight - either in borrowed God-Armour, or as an armoured Knight fighting a God to gift it to a child or favoured retainer. The Empress is elevated from amidst the ranks of the Knights following what ranges between a civil war to a series of incredibly high stakes duels. One of the rights of the Empress is to command the artisans in the construction of new Gods. Receiving God-Armour without a battle and becoming a Varangian is regarded by the Knights as some combination of cursed, cowardly and dishonourable, meaning those elevated by the Empress' grace tend towards being isolated loyalists with no support other than their sovereign. Imperial rule is profoundly unstable and depends entirely on the opinions of the Knights who support or oppose the throne.

The Tribes are the nomadic remnants of life elsewhere on Zaldar, warrior cultures based on raiding and conquest. Often they quake at the passage of the Gods, but every so often a great warrior Walks The Mountain and obtains a suit of God-Armour for her tribe. From there the new warlord has two options: Travel to the Evercity, swear fealty to the Empress, and become a Knight, or remain and seek to use her God-Armour to tame more Gods. Godblessed tribes are considered a dire threat by the Imperial administration and are either bribed or manipulated into going to war with each other or outright destroyed by the Knights. This is a rational fear, for the Evercity has been conquered twice in the past by barbarian warlords who went on to crown themselves the new Empress, installing their own loyalists as the new generation of Knights.

The Empress Voctine XCI made her mark on history when her scouts encountered Hybrasil. Seeing an opportunity she immediately mobilized all her Knights and went to war. In order to secure the loyalty of the champion Solarel who had Walked The Mountain only days before the war was to begin, the Empress offered her the cursed God-Armour Aeteline, a manufactured suit of unsurpassed power. Clad in Aeteline, Solarel became the Empress' champion and the face of the war, an unstoppable dervish who hunted the Huntresses.

Solarel, however, was a tribal warrior, with a simple adherence to the legendary Code of Zaldar. The Code was a series of instructions on how to conduct war, how to treat with enemies, how to respect and command the defeated. She fought with honour and was too new to Imperial politics to understand that this was a war of conquest, annexation and slavery. Solarel's adherence to the Code made her clash increasingly with the Empress' loyal Knights and eventually break with them all together. With Solarel's defection, a rival faction saw the chance to rise in rebellion and seize the Evercity from the Empress, driving her into hiding with her few loyal Knights and Varangians. The Empress Naelkai II was crowned soon after.

Though Solarel had only ever fought honourably, and though her refusal to fight for the Empress was what had allowed the uprising to succeed, she was considered far too politically dangerous and unreliable to be allowed to remain in the capital. She was stripped of Aeteline and banished from Zaldar. This was not the end of things, though, for soon after it was discovered that Aeteline refused to accept any pilot who had not vanquished Solarel in honourable combat. Now the hunt was on: Whoever could win a duel against the exiled Varangian stood to win the finest suit of battle armour produced by the artisans of the Evercity.

XP: 1

Strings
Mirror 2
Isabelle 2
Angela 1

Breathless Dead

Alexa!

"Oh!" said Beljani. "You're just like the others! No hellos, no how do you dos, no you look fetching in that armour Beljanis, just straight to 'Kill this person, save this other person, also here is my life story'!" She huffs but the words don't have real bite to them. They're just stress noises. Her actual action is to snap her fingers at a charging Kaeri. "You! Bad owl! Stop what you're doing and carry this for me, would you?"

The owl warrior's footsteps drag to a slurred halt. After a moment of struggle she leans down and picks up Alexa's severed head.

"But," she said thoughtfully. "You're offering to pay me? Nobody's ever done that before. I mean, I'm not clear what sort of favour you're positioned to offer... oh!" she snaps her fingers again. "Do you know how to write letters?"

Dolce!

"Oh, darling Zeus," said Demeter. "You're such a soft touch. You can't keep letting these mortals get away with this! They'll never learn if you don't discipline them."
"Why is their learning of interest to me?" said Zeus. "Either they please me or they don't. Either they seek my favour or they don't. I do not seek to control their lives."
"That seems such a cruel way to rule!" said Demeter. "Your garden runs wild. If you let your field bring you whatsoever harvest it pleases and in the end the forest will grow and all will fall into darkness. Just think of all the wonderful things that you could do if you took a more active hand?"
Zeus smiled and patted the top of her sister's head. "Demeter," she said. "You think that the path to glory is through your children. You couldn't be more wrong! My glory comes not from what my sons and daughters do, but from what I do!"
In the heavens above, through a gap in the cloud, a brilliant-bright star winks out. Ten million years ago across the cosmic void of space an explosion of incomprehensible size finally comes to a halt and the last supernova light finally reaches this distant world. A tiny thing. A gesture missed by two armies knee deep in wet sand and nettles, but no less mighty for their failure to see.
"And were I to spend my days persecuting failed kings, or torturing those who fail to live up to my moral aspirations," said Zeus, "then I would be an ignoble god indeed."

Though Zeus smiles there is no question of the edge of cool judgement in her tone. She does not bring Demeter to heel but her disapproval is clear as she turns away to Olympus. Demeter remains, though red faced and bitter at the implied insult.

Sunshards

Dearest listener, wise scholar of these many words. You have learned much of how the world works. You have learned much about wisdom and inner peace. You have witnessed the joy of acceptance, of harmony, of friendship, of enlightenment. You may at this time consider yourself to have made progress upon the path towards becoming a sage.

Idiot! I made all of that up!

I've been right here all along - right where everyone could see me but where nobody thought to look. Nobody thinks to count the tails of a mountain! And that is the difference between me and any of these silly little flufferhead foxes. That isn't to say that I have never been a silly little flufferhead, only to say that I have taken the flufferhead arts to heights undreamed of by gods or buddhas. You think that you can reach heaven through romantic violence? Maybe. If you're boring. But you can also reach heaven through crime.

Crime is different when you've been around as long as I have. A novice might still find pickpocketing and wire fraud compelling, but I have more refined tastes. My current plan is a masterpiece beyond the ken of any foxgirl below my nine-tailed rank: I have become a mountain, and every year I stand up and creep a few meters closer to the nearby town. And then one day at the height of the autumn festival I will transform back into a fox, pounce on top of the village, and steal all their fried tofu. I have been working on this plan for fifty years now. It's brilliant. I'm brilliant.

Or I was. But now this girl Yue is looking right at me with her heart full of love and she is waving. And I can tell that this girl is practically a buddha or a saint or an anime or something and oh my god do you know how dangerous that is? She could ruin everything! She has to be stopped, probably!

And so I stand up, tails wagging ominously. Snow falls from my triangular ear-peaks and trees tumble loose from my mighty flanks. And then I creep. I creep and stalk and sneak, tails wagging, rocky ears twitching, delicately stepping over houses and rivers as I sneak around the rim of the Terraced Lake. Despite being mountain size my paws are still soft and fluffy where they scamper across the ground and I move so silently and smoothly even the birds sleeping in the trees on my peaks don't wake. A couple of times my foxy senses tell me that someone in that distant cottage is looking out the window and I need to duck down and press my tummy against the earth and lie my ears flat. I wait patiently for them to go back inside, no doubt to engage in kisses or kiss related silliness. And then I am sneaking once more!

(Naturally there are plenty of people in the immediate vicinity who are quite terrified to see a sneaking mountain. To them I say: Nyah ha ha ha ha! Run! Run little humans!)

Eventually I have snuck, crept, pranced, and sashayed my fluffy tails all the way over to loom over the cottage of Yue. My archenemy! Look at her inside, so smiley, so happy, so vaguely confused as to where the mountain on the other side of the lake has gone. Little does she know it is right behind her! This will truly be my greatest - wait, what on earth is that?

I turn my head around and fix my gaze on a little foxgirl with white fur, black ear and tail tufts, and big bright teal eyes. She has a sword the size of her body and has pressed it up against the base of my ninth tail. Seeing my look she hides the blade behind her back and giggles nervously.

"Little two tail!" say I in my most mysterious voice! "Whatsoever do you think you are doing?"
"It's not fair!" she said, immediately bursting into tears. This one has a bright future ahead of her. "I tried so hard to earn my third tail! I came so close! I bought and sold princesses, almost made away with the treasury of the Sky Castle, it's not my fault that there were dragons."
"Those seem like awfully ambitious plays for a little two-tail," I say with my voice full of Judgement.
She nods tearfully. "I can't help it. All I want is to be the greatest kitsune who ever lived! I can't accept second best from myself, is that so wrong?"
"You must be if your path to your third tail goes through my ninth," I say, Disapprovingly. She hangs her head in shame.
"It was only because your tail was the fluffiest and most magnificent I'd ever seen," she said. "When you think about it, it practically hypnotized me into stealing it. How can a little two-tail resist such brilliance as yours?"
I nod at this obviously correct assessment of the situation. She is really a magnificent fox. "My name is Damn Fox," I announce grandly. It is an old name, given to me by a human who was probably a king or something.
"I am Cyanis," said she.
"I understand that your ambitions are bigger than your lips," I say. "You are not the first foxgirl to try to swallow more than she can chew. But I recognize your potential and will offer you this: Your third tail in exchange for the most precious possession of the anime known as Yue."

It's a test just as much as it is an opportunity for me to roll around on my back and kick my pawsies in the air for a little bit. When I stand up I've carved a huge swathe of destruction into the forest behind Yue's house. Another wicked surprise for my nemesis! But sooner than I expected I smell Cyanis sneaking back and again I restore myself to my dignified mountainous poise.

"What have you bought me?" I demand eagerly. "Have you stolen her infinite wealth? Her wolfish wife? Her tricky sister? Show me!"
"Damn Fox," said Cyanis. "I have bought you a fox."

And she holds within her hands a Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits. I know her immediately. I couldn't call myself a fox if I didn't recognize a Fluffybiscuits.

"A wise choice," I said. "There is nothing in this world more precious than a fox."
"Unfair!" said little Fluffybiscuits. "I was napping! And then she got me by the back of my neck and patted me so softly that I didn't even notice when she was wrapping me up in blankets! O Kitsune of the Mountain, jail for Cyanis! Jail for One Thousand Years!"
"Is this true?" I ask. "Did you sneak up on her while she was napping?"
"She snored and rolled over because the sunbeam had moved," said Cyanis. "That's not a nap, that's a doze."
"I demand Fox Justice!" said Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits.

And then for the first time I open my eyes. Both of the smaller foxes go silent.

"Fox Justice?" said I. "Oh, little Fluffybiscuits. You are young and naive, even younger than Cyanis. To you Fox Justice is something you only ever apply to humans. You steal a sandwich from a human and you call that justice. A human wakes you from your nap and you mewl and bite and call that justice. But Fox Justice? True Fox Justice, for crimes between foxes? Let me show you what that truly means."

And then I bang my front pawsies on the ground!

There is a flash of light and the smell of fried tofu and the glittering magic of Transformation, which turns dreams into girls.

And then when it is done there are two foxgirls before me. One with two tails, and one with three.

"Cyanis," I say smugly, "for the theft of the anime Yue's most precious possession on my behalf, I have awarded you with your third tail. But as punishment for sneaking up on a fox who was napping I have also gifted a tail to Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits. She is free to pursue her fox vendetta against you until the stars go out."

"I'm a girl!" squeaked Fluffybiscuits, wrapping her tails around her body for modesty. "You made me a girl!"
"I granted your secret wish, little Fluffybiscuits," I say. "It is you who will be my spy inside the house of my hated rival. It is you who will lead me to her larder and help me dig holes in her front yard! You have to do what I say, I have more tails, that's Fox Law probably," it wasn't, but one of the advantages of foxes is that they're all sillyheads who are bad at math and intimidated by large numbers.
Katherine's eyes nervously watch my tails, contemplating their sheer fluffiness. Then she stands up bravely. "I won't betray Yue! I am a fox of honour, and she -"
"I'll let you rummage through the pantry," I say.
Her resistance crumbles immediately. But her attempt was honestly very admirable! That put her in the top two percent of foxes! "And climb on the counter?" she adds.
"Sure!" I say, grinning and wagging my tails.
"Then what shall we do first?" she said, eagerness creeping into her voice. And that was always the thing about fox wishes, wasn't it? When you grant them they protest and blush and proclaim their innocence and purity and how terrible the foxes were for forcing this terrible fate upon them... and then five minutes later it's all swaying hips and 'I may as well's.

"First?" I ask. "First, tell me the story of how this sun farmer grew strong enough to challenge me!"

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Zhaojun had not the slightest fucking idea where she was going with this. The desire had been to deflect suspicion as to her escape from Hell and she'd done that. So... what did she want now? What did Iselsi Shae want?

"What are the largest problems in the region, as you see it?" she asked. "Both internal to our administration, and externally?"

She had control over the situation. And... somehow that felt like... enough? That she was in this moment safe enough to start giving a damn about someone else's wants and desires. The same thing she'd felt when massaging the dragon girl earlier. There was a strange blissful contentment in this moment that rendered a mind of clawing violence calm and attentive. She wasn't just fishing for information at this point, she was seeing Piripiri clearly and had become genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Breathless Dead

Alexa!

A pale white handkerchief wipes an immaculate brow.

The God of the Dead has unearthed more than a terrified Oratus Adept. His spade has drawn forth geodes and precious ores each time it cuts the soil. The earth where he cuts it is precious, heavy, abundant and utterly lifeless. Not one seed grows from the dirt where has piled it even as the great rainforest growing up all around and through the battle already stands taller than a man.

"You'll be in my debt!?" shrieks Beljani. "You will owe me a favour!? As what, a bowling ball!? Oh, Artemis," she buries her face in her hands to try and stifle a hysterical giggle. "And to save your girlfriend, which one is she?"

"Princess Epistia, warrior of Ceron," said Hades leaning on his shovel. There are faint creases in his long sleeve shirt and vest but a new hale strength in his slender limbs.

"The berserker!?" said Beljani. "The psychopathic avatar of the murder god who kills everything in her path!?"

"And my daughter," added the God of the Dead.

"Oh, you don't say?" said Beljani, perfect sweetness and light. "You know, my best friend is also a psychopathic avatar of a murder god who kills everything in her path? I'm sure I will get along splendidly with this new one too."

Hades smirked and hefted his shovel over one shoulder. Beljani brushes her robe down as she steps elegantly from the open grave. "But did you say that she is your girlfriend?" she goes on with the chirpy flow of someone who responds to stress by talking more. "Goodness, that's a bold choice. You'd have to have ovaries of marble to get into bed with that ball of emotional issues - you know I told Mynx the same thing? I presume that's why you're all," she made a gesture with two fingers, "snip snip?"

Vasilia and Dolce!

She's there, the infinite and the divine, terrible in the storm. She is the night that devours the day, the gravity that devours the planets. She hovers in the air above you, crackling storm of the battle.

"Vasilia?" said Zeus, Daughter of Cronus. "She's been endlessly disappointing, really. Compromised. Failed. Fled. Stewed in misery. Never lifted a finger to correct her mistakes. Never considered turning around and going back home to fix what she did. Flew nihilisticaly into the void for a wish she never articulated because it gave her the possibility of a spiteful death. Hades' girl, through and through."

A true lightning bolt. It cores a nearby sapling, turning it into an incandescent pillar of burning carbon, gouts of plasma leaking from the tree's shattered trunk.

"A disappointment, yes," said Zeus. She went on like a person but she was that lightning bolt too, she was that indescribable sound and the sound of a heaven where such discharges were the sparks of every neuron in her mind. "But I wouldn't say I was offended. Offense I'd deal with myself."

Bella and Redana!

For a moment you work together in a frenzied harmony. You do not see each other, do not speak to each other. One of you fights as a sword and the other as a shield and Sagakhan is at the centre of your bloody web for a few precious moments. Then you're apart, three points on a pyramid, three demigods watering the desert flowers with dripping blood.

"Annh... hrnnn..." Sagakhan presses a hand over her severed jugular, holding her ebbing life with her fingers. "Artemis..." She looks at XIII; at her name carved on that armour. Knows there is no negotiation to be had. "Zeus..." she looks around at the war, at the little crab hanging from Redana's shoulders, that has a little jolt of electricity pass along its claw every time it snaps. "Aphrodite..." she looks at the two of you, the wordless unity you share, nobility and hatred.

"Demeter," she said with finality.

She rips her robe away, revealing a suit of fine hardened leather armour that already tears off her body as muscles grow underneath it. The sword falls from fingers that have become swords. Her neck sways with the same sinuous grace as her lengthening tail shows, and each time she blinks her pupils are a different shape. Hair widens and hardens and turns as jagged as blades, growing all across her body.

"I wanted to kill you as a hero," she hissed. "in the sight of the gods, in accordance with every rule, beloved champion of Olympus sent to save the galaxy from Hades' monsters. I wanted to give blessings to my servants and mercy to my enemies. I wanted to give wealth to my household and happiness to my daughters. I wanted to live free and wanted to prove that I could rise to the highest station regardless of what liberties were taken with my DNA."

She spits blood through teeth like razors.

"But if I must I will kill you as a monster," she said. "I will take your names and give them to your replacements. I will raise the two of you anew, properly, as my left and right hands. As I raised this planet from the dead so shall I raise you from the dead, and let Aphrodite see the love I bear you and give us happiness in that new life."

She raises her hand from her severed neck.

Something grows there from the blood.

Sagakhan grins. Twice.

A second twisted serpentine head rises up alongside her first, swelling to full size.

"Cut one head," hisses Sagakhan in unison, Master of Assassins, Hydra of Demeter, "and two more shall grow."