Thanqol

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

Nothing focuses the mind like a lion attack.

Divine speed plastered over a lot of sins. While her shield seemed to her opponent like an immovable wall of light that blocked and blinded at every angle, each impact ran up through her arm and jolted her shoulder painfully. She wasn't strong enough to absorb the blows without comment, wasn't skilled enough to roll with them and deflect them at angles. "Lucky mediocrity," was the growling assessment of Variance when it came to her combat abilities, and the words rang in her head even now.

Her style is a band-aid over her flaws. She is either a brick wall, taking the impact of the strike head-on, or she's elsewhere - blurring back in glittering lines. It looks effortless, like a swan gracefully and supernaturally sliding around her opponent, leaving them wild and frustrated, but like a swan underneath the surface is furious paddling. Shit. Shit. What do I do? How do I close this out? Each impact hurt, moving this quickly was tiring, and she simply could not see a path to victory from where she was now.

She'd relied on Asterion for far too long. As long as she'd covered her fierce friend's side, blurring in to intervene whenever an attack was leveled against her, then she hadn't needed to think about how to end a fight. She could just defend, Aster could just attack, and they never had to figure out how to balance themselves. She has no idea how to get out of that pattern on the fly, and so with clash after clash, she defends the scared teenager while making no gains and no progress. Shit. This is so much harder than I thought it'd be.

But even though she was flailing, it looked like she was toying with her opponent. The followup wasn't coming because she was humiliating her foe in a move that'd make perfect sense to an Annunaki, surely not because she had no idea how to subdue an angry lioness.

[Defend: 2d6+3 10. Take influence over the kid]

Breathless Dead

Redana!

An indigo hand catches the coin out of the air. Zeus smiles as she passes by, ruffling your hair with a hand that feels like a birthday gift - static and excitement and paternal warmth.

"The reason why I am king and Athena is not," said Zeus, showing you the wreaths side of the coin. "Is that there are paths to victory other than battle."

She's gone in the next step, on her way to visit some distant affair, coin jangling in her pocket.

Vassilia!

"Be reasonable, friend," came the voice in return - young, brash and reckless. You get the sensation of a loyal dog barking - so fixated on chasing the stick that it's blind to anything else. "We just want the princess. That's all! Keep the ship. Take a dozen! Take a royal title! The Admiral has a lot of job openings going right now."

You've never been in a position to negotiate with the Empire before, and oh wow this is different from shaking down rusty old merchant tubs. You could double the strength of the Starsong pirates at a stroke.

The King

King Jas'o
A royal warrior, armed with the might of Zeus
Thunderbolt Strike: King Jas'o has the weapon tags ranged, dangerous, piercing.
Commander: Cannot be harmed or distracted while surrounded by his soldiers

Imperial Phalanx
They're not the best, but they're impossible to shift.
Shieldwall: A Phalanx in good order is immune to damage from anything short of a Dangerous weapon
Immobile: Any attempt to Get Away from the Phalanx automatically succeeds on a 10+

Alexa!

Athena's warnings are not idle. They are immediate and specific and terrible.

You realize much too late that the Phalanx was not heading to the reactor as doctrine demands. Instead they're hunting for individuals like you, not caring if the ship continues to have mobility. Distracted by your brooding thoughts you don't realize until it's too late that you've blundered into the worst possible tactical position.

You're in a narrow corridor with a full Phalanx blocking the way either direction. It's reminiscent of a trash compactor - unbreakable, unyielding walls of steel and spears slowly closing in on you from both directions. You're trapped between two rocks and the void of space.

Bella!

The seating arrangements were weaponized. All the elderly, sensible, restrained figures are at one end of the hall, and all the young hotheads are at the other. Insults and snubs were leveled against the young, while full respect was paid to the old. You can see how the dominoes fall in accordance with the Admiral's scheme - a group of hotheads is gathering to rush the Admiral with drawn swords in a pre-emptive act of suicide. The Admiral, despite her threatening posture, cannot simply order her soldiers to attack at a feast in honour of the gods - but defending herself from a charge of young fools is a different matter. Pallas Athena walks amongst them, whispering words of panic, and the wise are still too far to give their restraining council.

There are only two points of stability around you.

One is the priest of Hades, Ivory Smile. He's eye-wateringly blonde, bookish, simply dressed with no honours or embellishment other than a large black book handcuffed to his wrist. Hades, while necessary, is seen as unpleasant by the Empire and he has been seated here with the servitors, aliens, mercenaries and you. He's a priest of Hades, in a landscape that is sacred to the God of the Dead - that's useful. He's a human, which might save you a lot of trouble, and despite his coolness you're sure that you could break him. From what you know about him he has a chip on his shoulder about all the humiliations he's put through, so he might be a kindred spirit.

On the other side is one of the Azura mercenaries, Parchment of Bronze. Deep violet scales, adorned with bones and trophies and scrips of paper bearing her oaths to the gods. When you were cheating your way through the Olympics one of your most important acts of cheating in the wrestling was to make sure you never fought Bronze - after seeing how effortlessly she demolished the competition in the first two rounds, easily manhandling the previous champion, you collapsed the entire hallway outside her room to stop her making it to your match. Pound for pound there's no scarier muscle at this table, but she's not the sort that'll easily accept a subordinate role.

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

No point concealing herself. If Asterion was loose it wouldn't be long before she made herself known.

Her hands linger covetously over the weapons. She touches a sword and it seems to fill the hollow in her hand. Reflexively she swings it once, twice, turn, counter -

BANG

It comes apart in a blaze of sparks and light and molten metal. She shakes the debris off her hand and stares at the floor. There was only one blade she'd ever been able to trust with her life. A blade that had been mistaken when it had judged her worthy. Just like everyone else.

Instead her hand brushes through a jar of black paint. Her fingers slash a dark line horizontally across her face, darkening her eyes, in the same gesture as she pulls her veil loose and steps into the light. Her concealing clothes are left behind her in a trail. Beneath, a half-cape of fluttering black cloth over her empty right hand. Form fitting armour in violet and black, woven across with glittering silver thread in a short skirt with bare legs and arms. The shield that appears in her hand is a mirror that reflects the sun no matter the angle, but even that blinding radiance is nothing compared to Canada herself. That paint was not an affectation or to conceal her identity - it was a deliberate marring of her radiance out of consideration for the crowd. If she stood unmarked before them they would pour into the arena, heedless of the danger. Instead she was merely dazzling, like staring at the sun through a cloud.

She pointed at the ranking Annunaki, whoever was in the royal box, and gave them the thumbs down. For all her failings, she at least had a little showmanship in her.

Breathless Dead

Redana!

"Ah. Just like an Empress to ask so much," murmured Hades. You can hear his footsteps but his face has become multifaceted through the tears that have come unbidden. "It isn't simple even for me to snuff out one of sister Zeus' sparks - but then, that cuts both ways."

The crimson light you are bathed within goes dark. Hades has fastened his two hands around the glittering head of the thunderbolt and you can hear the lightning stutter and choke as those long fingers strangle it.

"Let me give you some advice," he said, the slightest effort audible in that papery voice. "Land within the World Eater. Inside it you will find a child of mine, Epistia, who has cried out to me in the dark so many times. Make her happy, Princess Redana. Bring a smile to the lips of my girl, or at the least, dam her tears. However you can manage this will please me because I..." his fingers tighten around the crackling celestial fire. There's the sound of breaking glass. Breathless, inert sparks of electricity cascade to the floor, "... have been unsuccessful."

Vassila!

The Grand Armada is vast. They darken the heavens, blotting out the stars and replacing it with their own electric lines. Banners of warfleets hang like constellations, the multicoloured hues of their engine aftershocks carving dot-point images in the sky - a form of high art and honour for the idle captains to perfect. You can see through the viewscreen the shapes of serpents, of warriors, of bulls and a thousand other kinds of heraldry, carved in the glowing afterwash of thousands of perfectly drilled starships. Imagine having so many warships you could paint with them.

It is some boast to claim that you could have survived even less than a quarter of this number. A quarter is still tens of thousands. It was a subtle jab, a brag by inference - and the sort of thing the gods appreciate. Just like tea. If we know anything from ancient days it's that no horror of the darkening world will turn down tea.

But horror there is plenty as Poseidon gathers his wrath.

"Hades satisfied me before," said Poseidon, "by promising to make this place a tomb. A graveyard! A sanctuary! A place that would never be disturbed again, where no scavengers would pick over the bones, where the ships broken in this place would drift here by my child forever! Hades! Brother! You have lied to me! You have broken your oath! You disturb my child's rest! Athena! You insolent brat, thick and fat on Imperial favour, I will remind you that all of your precious wars are but the conflict of two ants crawling across my mighty palm!"

The bruises on the fabric of space break and rupture. Mountainous eruptions of emerald energy, tinged with electric blue, begin to pour into space. Celestial dust rolls and crashes, lit darkly from within by polychromatic lightning.

The storm builds.

The Veterosk, though, is not yet shaken loose.

Alexa!

There are a great many poets and storytellers who favour Athena. When they speak of cunning plans and twists of stratagem, of war heroes and great generals and the violence of empire that is offered up on vast scale as offering to Lord Zeus, Athena is the principle they swear to. She is terrible in her element. No less mad than brother Ares. She does not fight in poet's wars, she is violence itself, and her belief is that violence is a good thing. A craft that can be mastered as readily as weaving.

"You know the forms," she said, "but your heart is wavering. I say this because I favour you, Alexa: master it. You cannot afford weakness in the face of war and there will come a time where your spear weighs heavier in your hand than the one who fights against you. On that day not all the skill in the world will keep you from the House of Hades. Instead, glory in it!"

She walked over to the wall, rapped it, and the metallic composite of the Plousios went transparent, providing a view of the Grand Armada as its celestial banners stretched from horizon to horizon.

"Glory, glory, glory," she said. "Fight with pride. Fight with passion. Fight with skill, and discipline, and unity. Those who don't will die. Those who do will ascend. Such is war. Such is war."

Then she was gone, and the breach alarms and emergency lighting came back into focus.

Bella!

You're not tuned into the politics. The posturing. When King Anthi stands and announces he's taking his leave, defiant of Odoacer, every eye in the room is drawn magnetically to the conflict between the Admiral and the King. You know better than to watch the magician's flourish - your eyes are on her hands, and you are the only one not surprised when a Codexia steps out from behind a pillar, raises his spear with Athena's aid, and casts it clean across the room. You don't even need to turn your head to know that it will take King Anthi through the heart and pin him grotesquely to the wall of the great hall. You are a little surprised that the Codexia takes the time to fist-pump and give a thumbs up to his buddies, who have appeared from behind every corner and door of this now suddenly extremely tense and armed hall.

The Codexia

The hand-picked hundred strong elite masters of the Warsage's Masteries of Battle.
- Adept of the Codex: The Codexia are masters of every form of battle and cannot be defeated. Damage this stat when things descend into chaos.
- Warshrine of Athena: Athena will actively intervene on behalf of the Codexia so long as the Warshrine is intact and undespoiled.

"Friends, friends, of course I cannot let you leave," said Odoacer, cloyingly conciliatory, smug smile creasing her face. "We have not yet begun the rituals. We have not taken the auguries. We have not made offerings before the gods. Without these things we may as well go into battle unarmed and unarmoured. Anyone who would disrespect the gods," she says this like it's a shocking concept, like this was a lamentable and self-inflicted suicide, and not a series of precision insults designed to goad King Anthi so she could publicly assassinate one of her major political rivals, "would bring doom upon the entire fleet!"

From the outside, cosmic lightning crashes. As clear a sign as any what Zeus thinks of this murder-by-technicality, but with the Codexia standing ready nobody is willing to challenge Odoacer's interpretation of the auguries. The revelry is gone now and the hall falls into discontented and furious whisperings.

You don't need to whisper to figure this out. This is the beginnings of a coup. Once Odoacer has Redana in hand then she's going to abuse sacred hospitality as far as she is able to remove as many of the Empress' loyalists as possible to consolidate control of the fleet. You're not high on the list, but you're definitely on it somewhere. This feast is now a death trap.

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

...did well and impressed an important ally. Who was it?

Robbie Raver, Superstar Journalist - who moonlights as the hero Omega Man. He was the one who popularized the Crusaders of Light previously, and he was filled with vindication to see that Canada hadn't given up after everything that had happened. Seeing her still doing heroics restored his faith and he has been the pen behind the furious popularization of the Phantom Thieves.

He does understand popular mood, though. Keeping Canada's name out of the headlines is necessary for now. He's looking to invent her a new alias and get the public used to that before asking for their forgiveness. But he, personally, is a believer.

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

CANADA TALIV, The Light of Ra, The Betrayer
The Legacy

A fallen knight, dark and brooding and handsome. Raven hair and colours and heart; veils for mourning. A hollow in her hand where a sword should be. A fist around the grip of her shield so tight it will never let go. A fire in her eyes with nothing to burn but herself

ABILITIES
Godlike Beauty
Legendary Speed
Divine Armour

Moment of Truth unlocked

LABELS

DANGER +1
FREAK 0
SAVIOR +1
SUPERIOR -1
MUNDANE +1

POTENTIAL
[X][X][ ][ ][ ]

CONDITIONS
[X] Afraid 
[ ] Angry 
[X] Guilty 
[ ] Hopeless 
[X] Insecure 

INFLUENCE
You’re a part of this team, for better or worse, and you care what they think. Give Influence to all of your teammates. 


I have Influence over:
- Étolie
- Asterion

People who don't have influence over me:

MOVES
Never give up, never surrender: When you take a powerful blow from someone with far greater power than you, use this move instead of the basic move.

Roll + Savior. On a hit, you stand strong and choose one. On a 7-9, mark a condition.
- You get an opportunity or opening against your attacker
- You rally from the hit and it inspires the team; add 1-team to the pool
- You keep your attacker's attention

On a miss, you go down hard but leave your opponent off balance and vulnerable.

The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

THE SANCTUARY

The Heart's Void

A strange, eerie realm in the hollow heart of TIAMAT, perceivable in any darkened mirror. Canada released a cosmic lion from its depths; the space it left is hers.

Features: A meditation space, a power enhancement system, a containment system
Downsides: Difficult to access, draws dangerous attention

THE LEGACY

We never set out for fame. I was just riding east. I picked up friends and fought evil along the way. Then Robbie Raver, superstar journalist (and secretly Omega Man), went off his vacation to start following in our footsteps, discovering our deeds and publishing them in the western media. Over months hype started to build for the Crusaders of Light, as he dubbed us. We didn't have any idea, we were living our lives, young and wild and free, just following the road and seeing how far we could get.

By the time Omega Man caught up to us we were already stars. When we came back home we were lauded as the future champions of the world - and indeed, we'd already saved it twice in the course of our adventures. We were going to have everything - training, fans, equipment - and inherit the duty of saving the world. We were blinded by the lights. We weren't ready.

Asterion is still active and prominent in the city.
Had temper issues even before the combat AI was hooked up to her brain. Doesn't hold a grudge even though she should.
Variance is retired and quite judgmental.
An aging blind assassin who hunts based on vibrations in the earth. Hasn't quite figured out yet if it's my fault or her fault that I fucked up. Tending towards mine.
Celestine is the next possible member of your legacy.
She has the same wanderlust I did... I do. She's not going to be stopped, nor should she be.
Tirzah is the greatest opponent your legacy ever faced...and is still at large.
I will never give up on a friend.

Whenever time passes, roll + Savior to see how the members of your legacy feel or react to your most recent exploits. Before rolling, ask the other players to answer these questions about your performance. Take -1 to the roll for each “no” answer:
-  have you been upholding the traditions of your legacy? 

-  have you maintained the image of your legacy? 

-  have you made the other members of your legacy proud? 

On a hit, one of them offers you meaningful encouragement, an opportunity, or an advantage. On a 7-9, another is upset with your most recent actions, and will make their displeasure known. On a miss, something you did stirred up the hornet’s nest—expect several members of your legacy to meddle with your life. 


The traditions: Travel wild, travel free. Look out for each other. Don't turn your back or look away. Go to sleep proud of what you did today.
The image: Destined to save the world. Didn't.


When did you officially become a part of your legacy? 


When I left home on my bicycle. I rode east, towards the rising sun.

It was never meant to be anything grand. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to see how far I could go. The friends and superpowers and fame all came later. At the beginning there was just the call to adventure. And so I went.

What’s the greatest accomplishment of your legacy?

The Onyx Hound was an ancient terror of the desert, buried beneath the sands of Aden. The company thought that they'd just tapped a slightly unusual vein of oil, and so they sucked it from the ground and burned it and gave it a body of smoke and nightmare so that it could at long last eat the sun. The world went dark for a week.

I caught it. It's in a bottle on my laundry shelf now. In retrospect I'm extremely glad I didn't turn it over to the League.


How does the public perceive your legacy? 


Traitors. Failures. The kind of razor sharp disappointment of someone who personally disappointed you. It's our fault that all of this happened, and nobody forgets that for a second.

How does your legacy tie into your reasons for being a hero? 


None of the others deserve the blame they get. It was my fault. It was my mistake. I didn't notice that Tirzah was in trouble, that she was being controlled or threatened or... whatever it was. People blame the others. People blame Tirzah. It wasn't her fault - I don't know much, but I trust my friends. I don't care what happens to me but I will clear their names.

Why do you care about the team? 


Just because they're newer friends doesn't mean I care about them any less. People always come and go from my life, but as long as they are here I will fight for them until the end.

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

Aster exhales, and you can tell she's following in your mental footsteps. It usually takes her a bit, but she always ends up in the same ballpark.

This is the essence of their relationship - Canada always with a three second lead, intimately aware that a single stumble or missed step will result in being left in the dust. They're almost twins. They have the same heart, the same pride, the same terrible taste in women. They even had a thing for a week back in the day - unadvised and disastrous that had ended in the same way that this was about to.

Canada gets to the cell door first and slams it locked behind her. Asterion gets there a second later with a snarl.

"Check your records, Caphtor," said Canada, adjusting her veil. "I, Asterion, am the only gladiator here. She is just my armouring slave. And speaking of..."

She picked up a huge and heavy warhammer from the armoury rack, just the sort of thing that'd be perfect for smashing down prison doors given a bit of time, and slides it in between the bars. "Sharpen this," she said.

Chuubo's GMD: Love and Shattered Alchemy

Jasper didn't understand much of this world, but she did understand that the smiles were wrong. A smile should be... full! And vivid! And overflowing, the kind of thing that happened because you couldn't do anything else! But smiles here were complicated, and she'd never seen a smile as complicated as Dulcinea's. She wanted to study it - wanted to take her face in her hands and feel how it moved and shifted, how it was possible to smile without it touching your eyes. It wasn't even as simple as a deception, pretending to be happy when you were sad - there were libraries of unvoiced secrets in those amethyst eyes. The constant flow of words and thoughts and knowledge from those fascinating lips seemed a mere like a reflection of the complexity below the surface.

Everything up until this moment had made her feel like she was lost. This was the first moment when she'd felt like she wanted to explore. In those two brief almost-smile attempts she'd seen glimpses of a world that was bigger than she'd imagined existing and she wanted to find out more.

The miserable, pelting rain started to ease. In its place came a lighter, powdery dusting of wetness; the aftershock of rain, tangled through a few beginning beams of curious sunlight.

She sped her pace, still unaware of her limits. She tried to keep pace with Dulcinea so she could observe her face rather than being dragged behind her, eyes wide and glittering as though lit by something other than the sunlight. "I apologize for spoiling your plans for the afternoon," Jasper said sincerely. "And though I accept your charity and your pure intentions, I will nevertheless repay your sacrifice. Name your desire, I will fulfill it as soon as I am able."

Masks: BABYLON MUST FALL

"Yeah, I get it Asterion," said Canada flatly. "You destroy chicks in bed. It wasn't funny the first time."

Her mane of hair tosses as she looks around - a cover to conceal the sharp exhale of breath as her bones decompress after Asterion's hug. Despite being objectively the biggest fuckup in the history of the human race, the Great Betrayer who had doomed the entire planet, Canada put the effort in to avoid looking weak in front of Aster. Some things you just couldn't live down.

"And yeah, I'm getting the gang back together," said Canada. "I'm not giving up on anyone, Aster. Not Tirzah, not Variance, not even you. None of you deserve to suffer for my mistakes."

There was threat in that voice and posture, danger that wasn't there before. She'd not even flinched from a blow to the face but now she's saying that she'll lay Asterion out if she tries to be a martyr. There's only room for one of those in this town.

[Provoke: 5]

Fellowship: The Heart

Emerald fire blazes around Ailee as she dives from the edge of the train, cosmic eyes opening around her dripping greens in yellow and blue - wings of nightmare. There's absolutely zero hesitation in her actions and intentions: she's going back for Lucien. She drags him unceremoniously and with enormous effort out of the sludge into the air - she's fit but she's not strong, and supporting the burly human is almost more than she can manage. She doesn't know if she'll be able to catch up with the train like this.

"You do not die!" she yelled at Lucien. "You do not die until I tell you to die! You especially don't die to backwater slime monsters! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be for me if you died here!?"