Thanqol

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Princess Adila has historically been a bad loser - but it's only now, here, where she's properly able to perceive why that was the case. She hadn't been frustrated at her opponent - she'd been frustrated at herself and taken it out in dramatic sulks. But since she was specifically not playing to win here she could perceive things entirely differently. She could see the flaws in her play not as humiliating admissions of weakness but as things to work on - things she already had ideas about how to work on.

And it also helped that she was pretty sure that never in her life she'd be able to beat Alina. Knowing that she'd failed when it mattered, that she'd lost things she could have won - that was stress city and the reason why she flunked out of so many hobbies. Knowing that there was no way she was even going to land a tail touch on Princess Alina freed her from all of that. It was similar to hypnotism, similar to the state she fell into when close with Dandy - a compliant freedom in the face of mastery.

So she takes the game at its own rate, on its own terms, free from ego. She learns that despite her speed, her size makes it impossible to move while holding the ball without getting tagged - she has ideas about that too, but they're long term. Instead she's best served attempting to intercept passes and long throws with her wings and then immediately hand them off to team members. The only times she takes it on herself to try to score are when her team is entirely out of position, and in those cases she goes for long range shots. She's losing, but every action is an experiment, and every experiment is one that she is determined to refine and perfect.

[Grace: 6]

Monster Hearts: Sleepshy Rise

SECOND PLACE
WEREWOLF MAGNET
OUT OF STRINGS ON TIMMY

Out. Out out out out. The room is closing in on her, the walls are shrinking, she’s being packed in a box that’s going to be shipped to Margot and Timmy— Timothy is never going to speak to her again and “the vampire made me do it” is such a lame excuse and, and her throat is tight, the room is hot and tight and small and Annalee and Timmy are together and she’s still stupid second place went too fast tried to catch him before he left her behind but now it’s over it’s done she can’t ever have the picket fence because she’s broken and stupid and the room is spinning and where’s a door where’s a door she knows the knock where is the door

Elodie Faucher shrieks. It’s the shriek of the ghost standing behind you in the mirror. It’s the shriek of Death abjured by a doctor. It’s the shriek of rusty hedge trimmers and shed hinges in a field that’s never finished the harvest. It is a dead shriek, and when she turns and flies to the window it is with the jerky motion of a thing that is not alive.

She slams it open, and the darkness of The Forest is on the other side. You know the one. The Black Forest, Sherwood, Mirkwood, the Hercynian. She flings herself through, into the underbrush, and flees. Her wail is almost immediately choked out by the thickness of the wood.

She is going to be in very big trouble when she is found, but she doesn’t care. What else can they do to her? Lock her up with Margot until she’s properly tamed and has an appropriate relationship? Ha, joke’s on them, that’s going to happen whether or not she wants it!

[Looking Glass, 12. She can make her way back whenever she wants, and nothing comes back Through.]

@Tatterdemalion

Nothing disturbs you, Elodie. A forest like this one is a dark and twisted place that is full of life and energy and adventure, but forests are also places of privacy and silence. You are free to run, and scream, and strike the earth and none will interrupt you for some time still. Time enough to lose yourself, and subsequently determine your destination - or decide on who would make a good travelling companion to drag through with you.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Grace is damaged, so rolling with Despair: 2, 4, 6 -1 = my result is a 5.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

“waugh Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Sara says, clutching her chest. “Bode, Jesus, don’t... give a girl some warning before you sneak up on her!” She reflexively switches the vid off as she turns to look at him.

Part of her wants to grin. The Creator. Okay. Victor made Bode— Bound Eagle— which rings a bell, like it’s a story or something.

“Sure. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, though? I’ve known Victor for ages, but you’ve known him all your life, right?”

When she’d imagined Bode before, he was, like, an accountant. Early receding hairline, thin glasses, a bland puce suit. This was a whole lot different, but in its own way, it made a whole lot of sense. And now that she had the chance?

She wanted to know everything. Or at least close enough to be able to nod and say, “yeah, I know Bode, we’re super chill.”

@Tatterdemalion

"The Creator programmed me to ensure the freedom of information, especially targeting the corporation known as Disflix. To this end I carry with me a data crystal with the entire Disflix catalogue that I continuously copy into information technology nodes I come into contact with."

There's an urban legend about programmers called in to debug refrigerators and locate billions of dollars of Disflix films crammed in alongside their operating systems. What do you know?

"I spend the majority of my time invisible in order to deflect pursuit from the Mousecatcher teams who continuously attempt to hunt me down. Fortunately I am not alone in my mission. I am assisted by Prometheus, who currently maintains the bulk of my processing power for various administrative and logistical tasks. He ensures that I am adequately armed and supplied for my mission and provides me with access to new Disflix productions. Additionally I perform superhero functions when the opportunity arises. However, sometimes Prometheus falls short of his moral standards, at which point it is my duty to bring him back into alignment. The system is working perfectly. The creator is very wise."

And she cries. It's the quiet, sniffly sort of sobbing that begs not to be caught, even though she hasn't bothered to find a safe space for herself. Feelings bubble over on top of feelings that wash over still more feelings and it's just and it's just a-a-a-a-a-nd i-i-it'ssss j-ju-just...

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Hic. Thump. Thump. Thump. Snnrrrf.

She's so tired. She's so hungry. But she doesn't move, except to occasionally wipe her eyes or her nose on her criminal-red sleeve.

...Some soldier. Can't even order a pizza.

@Phoe

There are two cakes next to you.

One is a beautiful, elaborate, layered caramel and chocolate masterpiece that came from the classiest patisserie in the area that does delivery. The other... well, it's similar, but the heart-skill balance has slid allllll the way over in favour of 'heart'. The top layer of cream is uneven in a way that tells the story of 'attempted to write something in cream, fouled it up, and subsequently tried to even everything out'.

"Mm. Thank you cakes." said Sabrem from five meters away. Her distance is careful, deliberate, easy to vanish from if she gets the wrong kind of look. "You've saved me twice now."

She's not handing you the cakes. She's not asking you to make a decision about accepting them. They're just... there. Near you. If you want them.

"I! What! You!" Victor sputters like a fuse about to reach a powderkeg. Then he's upright, bites the edge of the can, and drains it in one fell swoop. "Look here, you jumped-up wannabe, Prometheus is my creation, he's my problem, and if you think you're going to leave me here while you rush off and save the--holy fuck, you drink that?"

Coughing up a fit, he drops the can and sags against Locker. "Fuck me, it tastes like tonguing a battery's ass."

And now he's coughing for an entirely different reason. Like, you wouldn't think it to look at the guy--after all, he spends most of his days dressed in what amounts to sweatpants and a pajama top--but underneath all the fluff is what he's realizing are incredibly firm abs.

"Um. Er. Ahem. To answer your question, fuck you. Yes, I'm coming with, and if you think you're running off without me, you'd best be prepared for me to stage a daring escape, hack the navigation console, and send the Gears foundation screaming into AEGIS headquarters."

He pauses, and leans further into Locker. (Holy crap, you could bounce a casino's wortha quarters off them.) "Which, of course, would be an objectively terrible plan, and cause hundreds of thousands of dollars in insurance premiums alone. I'd really hate to do that to my new company. Which is why I'm coming with now."

@Balmas

"No, you're staying here," said Locker, taking another sip of his battery acid. "We need to reprogram Prometheus so that he's not an amoral capitalist monster. You clearly can't think your way out of that problem so you're not our guy. Must be something in your brain structure, Prometheus' heel turn was exactly the same as yours right now. Anyway, we're going to let the Professor take a shot at it."

"Do my best" she mutters absently, mind on other things. She's staring right at Turbo Knight 2, makes eye contact, and then when she blinks (Ferra is a robot. She does not blink first.) looks away, up at the sky, and smile slightly. The stars and satellites above are gorgeous, and she can see them quite well, but that's not what she's after. She focuses, and they drop away, duplicating and forking away from her like staring into an infinity mirror, warping ever so slightly in every kaleidoscope shift of possibility until she's looking at the souls of the worthy, and the points of pyros in the aether, and the majesty of frozen tears lighting the earth with the goddess's love. And in there, she looks for what the rocket's waiting on.

@eldest

There's a music here. It's twisted and off rhythm and far, far too rapid - but everything is a part of it. Turbo Knight's influence seeps into everything here. It all beats in time with her finger drumming against the safety rail - the Shogun's heartbeat, the satellites above, the ticking of celestial mechanics, the Gears Foundation and all inside that closes in on her. Data flows in monumental channels through these walls, tying her to the world around, pouring through the crown sculpted into her helmet like the words of the gods into the head of an ancient king. She is the avatar of this whole world. All flows to her, and she flows to it - as above, so below. Everything here is her design and every decision plays into her hands.

But there is something that you can see in the distance that is not a matter of numbers. A red shadow looms above everything. When it falls, so too will the music.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

She didn't even like biscuits.

Princess Adila sat completely straight, completely still, eyes half crossed as they were continually drawn back to the biscuit balanced perfectly on top of her nose. Leave. It was all she could think about. There was a biscuit and she was not eating it. She'd been sitting like this throughout the entire game and it was all she could do to stop involuntary whines.

Eupheria was watching her like a hawk, keen for an excuse to punish her. She needn't have bothered - Adila was a good girl no matter what she said. She'd been told so. But even so she took a distinct pleasure in calling 'Uh-uh!' when she'd tried to sneak her tongue up to at least get a taste. Bells and chimes, this shouldn't be this stressful!

Sit. Stay. Leave.

She was good.

Finally, Eupheria smiled. She looked down at her. Then she took the biscuit off her nose and ate it herself.

Adila was unable to suppress a heartbroken yelp.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

There were two things that Princess Adila was completely, unambiguously good at in a way that even the worst humiliations or self-doubt could never take away from her.

One, she was good at reading rulebooks.
Two, she was good at stopping crimes.

Heist! was in a lot of ways a broken game and nowhere was that more apparent than in the role of the Knight - not only were Knights prohibited from scoring but they had to actively return treasures back to their home kingdom as a matter of honour. Having one on your team was essentially going down a team member for no clear gain, instead sacrificing to a shared sisterhood that stood in the way of the game being actually played. Too many Knights would actively ruin the game for everyone.

And it is exactly this role that Princess Adila took.

She and Rita were everywhere. They lurked above every treasure box. They ambushed from every dark shadow and blind corner. It was so by the book that Adila I might have called her a nerd. Princess rivalries were exploited - Azora Howl and Princess Eska spent the game in a grudge match that cancelled each other out, and no matter how skilled Alina was, this was a plan where Rita was incentivised to bind her in whatever ways she saw fit to. Traps were laid. Asymmetrical ambushes were followed by skilful tying up of prisoners. Nobody scored - nobody even got close to scoring. The entire game ground down into a terrible stalemate where princesses would leave their kingdoms and immediately be returned in a variety of creative new knots. Before too long the game petered off into an absolute standstill, frozen beneath the vigilant eyes of the dragon perched atop the battlefield. It was much an assault on Eupheria's entertainment as it was on the game itself.

And then, just before Eupheria cancelled the game in a fit of pique, Princess Adila swooped down to Princess Alina - and made the offer of ransoming Princess Eska from Alina's dungeons early in exchange for a single piece of treasure. +There's only one battle here that really matters,+ she thought, +and you are best placed to fight it.+

[Roll with courage: 6, 6, +1 = 13, and throwing the game to Alina]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

“And here we see... the Great North American... Super-genius,” says Dame Sara Jimenez, Esq., in the most BBC voice imaginable. “Bereft of his limbs,” she explains to her camera, “during the all-important mating season, he meekly attempts... to elicit pity... in defiance of the Law of the Jungle.”

The documentary is a good way not to think about that hug. Like... that wasn’t a goodbye, I’m vanishing to protect you hug, right? And on the flipside, that wasn’t a come feed me chocolate and ask me out again hug. That was... Euna is just... aaagh, it’s too confusing. Physical touch was simpler when she initiated it.

“Once common throughout the Americas,” she drawls, grinning, “the Super-genius... faces new threats, such as chair legs to the face... which have restricted their habitat to the detention room in the Gears Foundation. It remains to be seen... whether they will overcome adversity, or end up being hit with a chair leg again...”

It is a crime that this is not being streamed, because Sara’s Documentary Voice is a gift to humanity.

@Tatterdemalion

"Your speech patterns indicates that you are attempting to construct a documentary. Can I help?" said a voice from directly behind you.

You've only seen Bode in glimpses until now, but here he is. It's always intimidating to have someone appear out of invisibility so close to you, but underneath that cape Bode is physically extremely imposing. He's got an enormous sniper rifle and the bulk to wield it effectively and his inhuman three-lensed face communicates nothing of his intentions.

"I have," he goes on, "an enormous stockpile of footage regarding the Creator that may assist you in your endeavour. As he always says: Information Wants To Be Free."

If you're feeling charitable, you can agree that Euna's got a lot on her mind when she manages to find the break room and stumbles blindly to the coffee machine. The Gears Foundation, for whatever reason, used one of those old-timey vending machine designs that made you push a physical button before it shot a cup out at you and squirted the black death liquid into it, plus whatever cream and sugar you requested (your options were: too much, or not even close to enough. Euna always went with too much). She punches in the buttons and stands there like an idiot, waiting.

Ok so if she remembers right they've got a sandwich machine in here too somewhere. Right over by, uh. Oh! That's... Angel-IKA, right? And that one is definitely Dominus. They're awfully close to each other, aren't they? And they're... oh. Oh! Um. Ok yeah. No. Sandwiches later. She'll just... just, you know, go now and...

BZZZZT! Coffee's ready!

"OH JEEZ I AM SO SORRY JUST IGNORE ME! SORRY! SORRY!"

@Phoe

You dash from the break room pursued by a violently thrown cup of scaldingly hot coffee. You dodge and curse yourself for doing it - if you had thought a little faster you might have been able to catch it out of the air.

You are now sans coffee, sans sandwich, and in dire need of both. Protocol is clear: avoid fighting on an empty stomach if at all possible. So it falls to you, apex hunter of the modern world, to find something to eat before the mission. Tell me of your trials and tribulations as it comes to getting delivery to a flying battleship.

Thus begins the mini-episode: Errant Orders A Pizza.

His eyes are not on the can. He would love to have eyes on the can. Unfortunately, Locker has squatted right in front of his face, and he's pretty sure right now that his face could serve double purpose as a space heater.

Oh. Right. Human interaction requires occasionally doing more than ogling.

Damn.

He looks up--and keeps looking up, holy crap--and winces when he meets Locker's eyes. "Fuck, man. You look like you headbutted a belt sander. You alright?"

@Balmas

"Mm. Low priority. Apparently you're the one with brain problems," said Locker. He took a sip of the drink and then offered it to you again. "We're about to go fight Turbo Knight and Prometheus for the fate of the world. Do you want to come with, or are we going to have to leave you in a utility closet for the duration?"

"I think we're pretty close to it at the apotheosis of the orbit? Just need to get up about 22km in orbit and rotate the orbit by 3 degrees or so?" She mutters to herself, going through math as the countdown starts, air container sliding up to rest next to the Shogun.

@eldest

While you're thinking of countdowns...

The rocket fuelling finished a few minutes ago. You were expecting blast-off at any moment but it hasn't happened just yet. Rather than running for cover, Turbo Knight 2 is up there on the balcony, looking expectantly at the sky. She's waiting for something. For a moment she looks down at you, and it seems like she's waiting for something there as well.

"Interesting," mused the Shogun. "You... think you could drop me off there when we go up? After we've solved this problem I think I'm due for a vacation."

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Why had she chosen dare!?

Truth and Dare was a solved game. You asked for truth first and then, if the question was too harsh, you chickened out and went to dare instead. She should have asked for truth! It's - urgh. Nobody starts with dare! Even if the the sphinx denied chicken-outs even a punishment outcome would have been preferable to this! Sure, her day had been ruined already by honesty, but that just meant that there wasn't anything nearly as bad to still confess.

She had her eyes clenched all the way shut. It was the only way she was going to get through this. She took a deep breath, cleared her aching throat for the fifteenth time.

Okay. It was time. No more stalling. Just rip the band-aid off. Get it over with. You can do this, Adila.

She opened her mouth. Breath hesitated on her lips. And then she started to sing with her so long-hidden natural voice.

"Puff the magic drag~on lived by the sea~
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee..."

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Princess Adila is a good dragon, and not a bad dragon. It has been confirmed with pats. And over the course of the critically important pre-game pats she has time to do some critically important pre-game strategy with Princess Rita.

She suggests, and Rita agrees, that the Princesses Mittens and Adila I are the best placed to capitalize on victory. Adila I has a master plan for situations like this going back centuries and Princess Alina can capitalize on her family connection to Eupheria. The best play to get out of this situation is to throw the game to them, even if it means sacrificing themselves. The correct play is to go after Princess Kazelia immediately and leave Alina's team uncontested.

She overlooked two things in her plan.

One was that Princess Kazelia had Princess Dandy on her team, and she knew how to use her. On the third move in the game Princess Dandy had her on the ground, hoof only half-apologetically on the back of her neck, telling her through a wall of country aphorisms that the throat chakra was really important to dragons and she should do more breathing exercises to strengthen that muscle group. She then had to sit out the rest of the game giving embarrassing choking coughs and rubbing the tender part of her neck where Dandy had expertly hit it. With her gone so quickly, Kazelia's expert play began to completely disassemble their team and poor Rita couldn't hold the line by herself.

The second problem she'd overlooked was Princess Eska. She'd heard Princess Adila's proposed plan. She'd considered it in a reasonable kind of way. And then she'd decided that humiliating Azora Howl took priority over any sort of escape. She capitalized ruthlessly on the disorganization in Alina's team, ripping through their lines and taking an enormous personal pleasure in personally capturing all three princesses. She was smiling so widely that Princess Adila found that she couldn't even hold it against her - it looked like she was experiencing the best day of her life, right up until Kazelia took her down.

...

At least she got to see the happy Kazelia bounce.

[Sense: 2, 2, 2,+2: 6]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

"...Morning," he says. Cool. Play it cool. He's not lying on the floor, licking a lockbox. He's dignified. Draw him like one of your french playthings, Locker. "Can't say I. Expected you. That is. I knew, of course, that. That you were on the ship."

He stares at the jar, and wills his tongue to extend. Come on. Two inches. You can do this. 9887. Come on.

"...Look, I'm betting they've already filled you with promises, but I have a better one. Which I will tell you. Definitely. After I get my hands back."

@Balmas

Locker moves in slouches. He always looks exhausted but it's even worse with the black eye and bruises. He looks like he's never slept in his entire life. He doesn't respond at all to anything you're saying, not like he's not listening, but like he's waiting for you to get around to being honest with him.

Pssht! He opens a can of an energy drink - the kind so rich in caffeine that any functional government would have banned as a matter of principle. He folds up like a deckchair, coming down to your level and holding the can out for you to take a sip from if you want.

"Oh. Drat, I was looking forward to going to space. What if you could survive going to space? Also, I'd do "literal or not" for the final line." She's nattering on, but she's doing math, and a lot of it. Average oxygen consumed by somebody of the Shogun's... status, pressure requirements, rocket drag increased from a hardlight shield, projected trajectory with and without adjustments, all of it. And in the shadows of the rocket, there's an odd, pulsing hardlight construct, quietly using one bulbous sphere of force to compress and filter air into another, building up the Shogun's lifeline. "I think we're gonna be just fine, myself." And wink, as the technicians retreat out of the launch bay.

[13 on protect, with the aim of getting off the rocket post-launch, Shogun's reaction determines if it's going to be before or after space.]

@eldest

"That is a complicated question," the Shogun mused. "Back when I was growing up the stars were mythical spirits that revolved around the earth at the will of the gods. Flight was something reserved for birds and arrows. But then I extended that privilege to musket balls and now I'm here, about to be consumed by the unthinkable conclusion of the forces I set in motion on that day. I... am having trouble getting all of that into a haiku. Maybe it's short sighted of me to hold onto haiku at all. Maybe the same process of technology has ruined poetry for me as well..." she drifts off, voice meandering and melancholy.

Then her eyes shift. "Actually," she says, looking you in a kind of sideways way where she's avoiding exact eye contact. "How far are we going into space? Just hypothetically. Does our orbital trajectory take us past Elysium Spire? You know, the incredibly exclusive luxury resort orbital?"