Thanqol

The Red Furnace: First Contact

Diplomatic first contact with a Battlecrab scouting patrol is an eerie affair. The Battlecrab stands as an unspeaking, unblinking monolith, with communication primarily done by the rapidly altering colour patterns on a barnacle on its shell. The barnacle is a barely capable symbiotic being but a few basic facts can be gained from the discussion:
- The Tides are thinking creatures with language and society and even their war beasts are capable of a baseline of political thought.
- Your immunity to poison is terribly upsetting to them for what seems like aesthetic reasons. All around you can see miniature octopi writing detailed observation glyphs directly onto the shells of the battlecrabs. It comes up multiple times in conversation and the crabs clack their claws angrily each time it does.
- This place is a - the word translates into 'museum', 'prison' and 'archaeological site'. Despite their knowledge of the Azura they regard both factions on the planet to be criminal tomb raiders and have reported the matter to their superiors. It would be possible to arrange a meeting with those superiors but the connotation seems to be 'turning yourselves in to the police' - though that might be a lack of the imagination of front line shock troops and not actual diplomatic policy.

[Friction roll: 3]

The first phase of the engagement goes masterfully to plan. The Knights charge the war droids directly into the teeth of an artillery barrage. With the Knights frozen almost into immobility the Hammer of Hatred lands a shot on centre mass, critically wounding one of the Azura champions.

But that is where the Warriors of Ceron prove their worth. As one they break from cover, launching themselves in a mad rush propelled by their grav-belts. Their shock assault tears down the remainder of the war droids and their grenade launchers lay down thick carpets of eclipse smoke - specially formulated full-spectrum stealth clouds. The casualties they take in this maneuver are horrendous but the operation succeeds at withdrawing the Azura Knight from the combat zone. Only after their lord is safe do the Ceronians begin a fighting withdrawal. Despite the losses, it's an expert operation - these troops are drilled for this specifically.

Vivisector has an important decision to make in that moment. Azura regeneration and biomedical technology is known at this point and best estimates suggest that they'll have the Knight back on her feet - er, so to speak - if not fully recovered in time for a second offensive shortly before Killstorm's gate is ready. He can either pursue the Ceronians and try to inflict a coup de grace on the wounded Azura or accept the withdrawal and entrench in place.

*

"I think..." said Boldness about the idea of hiring the Kaeri Biomancers. "That the principle is sound. But the scale is... insufficient. These people wouldn't get out of bed for a single space station but if you were willing to provide them with comprehensive intelligence on a multi-system stellar empire? They would definitely be interested in launching a war of conquest against one of your regional rivals. That is, after all, what they are here to do."

She goes quiet for a while as she contemplates the integration of anti-magic into her schemes, fingers flicking at rapid speed. "The Azura are resistant to courtly intrigue at the operational level because their baseline level of such behaviour is so high," she said. "You'd likely get a non-lethal honour duel out of that at operation at best. It's not that it can't be done but a single blow is rarely enough - we're talking about a sustained infiltration and operations involving dozens of commando strikes, matched with major military assaults. High degree of risk, significant losses even if it works. Possible, if you're prepared to commit the assets."

She shook her head at the final question. "The Oratus is a bioweapon - essentially, she contains a unique virus that can make her the centre of a hivemind of up to a thousand infected which will fall under her absolute control. She can make a legion go rogue, essentially, but you can't cover up a rogue legion."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Oh~

What would it be like to be that slender, that graceful? That quick, that subtle? How would it feel to have feathers? Running back along her arms in bladed shapes, inflexible and sensitive, roots running deep into her skin? Would it be sharp and brittle like the wind? How would it feel to be fragile?

The thought intoxicates her, twists in her head perversely. She knows what it is to be strong, to be direct. She learned what it was to be cunning, to be stubborn. But this? This would force her to remake herself. So much knowledge she'd have to abandon! So many instincts she'd have to give up! Her mind races, her mouth waters, her scales are hot from a feeling other than electricity and electricity yet runs up her spine. She'd have to submerge herself. She'd have to become someone else entirely. She'd have to obliterate herself and all her sins, reborn in orange and fire. It couldn't be emphasized enough how intense she found that thought, how erotic it seemed to her. To take this into her. To put herself into it. Neither of them would survive.

"Ah, my goddess," she breathed. "Let me worship you."

The storage locker tore open like a bodice, overflowing with treasures. Thermal pistols scattered into her hands like candles rich with the promise of dripping wax. Her hands cupped grenades, smooth and round, magnetic locks sticking to her hands and shoulders like trails of jagged kisses. A long energy rifle of unknown make and purpose tried to force her to her knees with its weight and she could feel its promise as she set it against her jaw. She breathed deep the musk of gunpowder and felt the vibrations of full energy cells. She tore her eyes away from her arsenal to breathlessly focus again on the slender lines of legs and arms, the unspoken promises and threats that came with going to war unarmed. To stand naked in metallic glory and still have so many secrets...

But she was playing too. Her exhilarated caress of all of these weapons, the bashful staring, her brand new arsenal - jewelry, makeup, teasing looks. Her two swords stayed digital by her side, still and sheathed as though she would ever fight a battle without them. Her shyness was both true and feigned; she blushed like a virgin but she'd done this before and her mind was already rushing ahead to the most intimate parts of the coming dance.

"I will call you Kathresis," she said as the hammering of her pulse threw off her aim. "And though I am nothing before you, I will walk your sacred storm."

[Solarel is Smitten with the Kathresis]

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Fengye has never been as speechless. There's an overflow in her brain; mind focusing on everything from how angry she is with herself that she can't think of anything to say to just a total melting collapse in on herself. It's not - not right that she's being looked at like that. That she's being seen like that. Like this. Here! Amidst mud and ruin and threats. It's not that she's afraid, not even that she's not afraid. The threat is both terrifying and laughable, so why...?

She's no stranger to being around the powerful. To copying down their words. To manipulating them from the shadows. Even to fighting them from behind a mask. Always having places to move, evade, escape to. Always a defense that she could put between whatever was happening and this poor, broken, common girl underneath it all. Always quietly confident that nobody would ever care to dig deeper. That she'd always be as invisible as air, even when she was a whirlwind.

But this? This was the first time anybody had ever seen her. Had ever cared enough to see her, through all her distractions and her masks. Whose attentions she couldn't shift onto someone else. Who had made it personal in a way she couldn't figure out a way to escape from. She had to think of something to turn that gaze away, but she couldn't, and so she was frozen in place beneath the eyes of the Maid with her heart pounding in her ears. At last, no tricks.

She was in trouble now.

[Fengye is smitten; take a string]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Some Zaldarians could wield lightning. Others prismatic laser beams. Some could shatter the world with blinding light or deafening shockwaves of sound. Some could transform power into art, webs of colour and magic, others into precision speartips of glittering force. Legends told of some who could somehow convert energy into space and/or time.

Solarel couldn't do any of those. She didn't even have a cool trick to make up for it. She just had the most basic possible power vent: heat and flame. Not the mark of a destined champion. Everyone assumed she had some sort of ultimate technique she was saving for the ultimate opponent, but she didn't. If she did she'd have used it on Mirror. Both times.

These flames were all she had. Once again they'd need to be enough.

With Isabelle out of the way she could finally release the pressure. Fire poured from her mouth, ignited the paint on her scales, scorched an imprint into the ground around her. Despite the radiant and fearsome nature of the shockwave, despite the cathartic relief of allowing the power to erupt from her, some part of her can't help but compare it to the weapons of her God. These fires were small and meaningless in comparison.

It's not a thought of pure melancholy - it's a focusing ideal that keeps her from losing herself in the rush of discharge. She doesn't rely on the fire to destroy her opponent - too fast, too strong - she lets it be a distraction alone. Her true target is Annika. She erupts from the whirlwind of fire, extraction geist in her hand, and together they grab the squeaking authorization geist while the sprint only accelerates.

She sees the door and is through it a moment later. She leaves scorching footprints and blazing furniture wherever she passes, and when she sees a crossroads she hurtles a blazing chair down the path untaken as a diversion. When Seval Halfmind fought the house she lost because she fought it like a warrior. What a house truly fears is fire.

Her goal, then, is to pierce as deeply as she can into the facility while the Spirit deals with her flames. There she hopes to find - what? A weapon? A tool? Something more than empty palms and a child's candle.

[Fight: 8
- Seize the authorization geist from Annika
- Inflict a condition]

The Red Furnace: First Contact

Aotrs scouts are treated to view of an Azura combat landing during the night. It's a moment of clarity - here, against the strange semiaquatic monsters of Tanshin I, the Azura combat doctrine finally sees its most pure expression against its fated enemy.

It is clear that the Azura and the battlecrab species - identified from ancient bunker records as the Tides - have optimized to kill each other. All their doctrine, training, planning and technology is specialized towards this enemy. So many of their technologies blend into each other to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Theirs is a battle of venom and antivenom, mighty heroes against clouds of distracting chaff, terror and discipline. Theirs are battlefields of zero visibility and brilliant standards, of terrible blows and invincible armour, of brutal slaughter targeted at wounded who might otherwise regenerate and transcendent heroism in their defense. These are enemies locked in a death grip so tight that they have forever become a part of each other.

What is quietly notable is that this assault is not a cakewalk for the Azura. The Tides here are not an old formation, ancient relics long surpassed in their dance of poison and cure. The battlecrabs fight with modern tactics that push the Azura hard. This is not an obsolete force cut off from its point of origin, this is a well maintained garrison force that expected to fight this specific battle. Tanshin I's inhabitants no longer seem like a rogue bioweapon but the sharp end of some strange society.

But the Azura have local supremacy and sweep the Tides from the field. Immediately after they are forming up to assault the Aotrs position before Tidal reinforcements can arrive. The dropzone battle has given Aotrs command an excellent assessment of Azura numbers and armament. This is primarily an armoured spearhead centered around a number of direct-fire plasma battlespheres, the equivalent of medium hover tanks, supported by a force of mechanized infantry Ceronians. The bright red heraldry and banners identify this force as the Bleeding Sky, and their battleplan emphasizes blistering mobility, close assault, and a widespread use of plasma vent weaponry. The Knights attached to the force are unpredictable - extremely skilled personal combatants though tactically oblivious even by Azura standards. They spent the Dropzone conflict doing enormous damage but got so caught up in harrying the retreating Tides that the assault on the Aotrs position had to be delayed.

There's a little extra time to prepare as a result. The Azura force has paper superiority but no more than what is normal for attacking an entrenched position like this.

*

Boldness was entering a new phase of her biological cascade. Her brain was configuring into new and powerful configurations, enhancing her intellect from 'young genius' to 'somewhat spooky'. The transformation contained a psionic component that further sharpened her mental abilities and increased the threat she posed. She wasn't a match for a member of Aotrs high command yet but given her rate of growth she would be soon. The exact rate was hard to predict - she accelerated the harder the task put before her in an oppositional growth mechanism uncomfortably reminiscent of the Lazerblasters.

Eventually, she'd be capable of matching Lord Death Despoil or the Furnace Knight on an even playing field. Soon after that she'd surpass them both. And after that things would go really badly - insanity, agony, mass destruction, death. Cheating your way to the top had consequences. She hopes to be done with her work before then, but understands if she needs that power to accomplish her mission.

But for now she's decoding signal flags, ranks, fleet organization and noble connections. "This is useful," she said. "Thank you."

"The Biomancers are, hmm," she thought for an analogy that would make sense. "They are infrastructure. Like... corporations? Corporations for servitor species. Tools for governments, useful militarily, but not wielders of military power. Wielders of enormous civilian power. This set represents the Kaeri, a warrior species, based on owls. We're related, the Kaeri and I. Same thought. They fight with their intellects. I'm an extreme version."

She's moving her hand rapidly as she thought, kinesthetically coding her thoughts in finger-glyphs against her leg. She's already developing more efficient languages for internal use.

"The dominant warrior species is the Ceronians. Warriors of Ceron. The wolves. They are the most successful, the most loyal, the most tenacious. Drives the Kaeri nuts, being number two - drives the species nuts, not the Biomancers, they're professionally disappointed in their children."

She glances aside. "Give them your technology. It's not a big deal. They won't appreciate it, won't understand it, won't bother trying to replicate it. The Azura have spent a very long time making their technology idiot proof, there's no maintenance culture. The only place where meaningful technological growth happens is in Biomancy. If you want a long term relationship - which you might, these are important people - send Aotrs technicians with the devices otherwise they'll break them and blame you for selling them faulty crap."

She focused again. "The Furnace Knight is running a... criminal syndicate? He is out here on his own with his personal allies and resources. The Biomancers are his connection to the legitimate world but they won't die for him. Do not under any circumstances harm them, no matter how he baits you to go after them. They don't know that you don't know that they're untouchable. Speaking of untouchable, I have the following assets in play: an Oratus, who can influence the movements and loyalty of a Ceronian Legion, a Toxicrene, a perfect shapeshifter, and a Diodekoi, who is on this ship," she taps a certain Warsphere, "and is a warrior capable of burning to match the Furnace Knight in hand to hand combat, and has a heart so pure she can be his prophesied end. Problem is that she's currently deeply loyal to him and far away from him, it was the best infiltration I could manage in the circumstances."

"My operation originally planned to use the Toxicrene and Oratus to engineer a grudge between the Diodekoi and the Furnace Knight, and then just kind of hoped they killed each other on the field of battle. Long odds. But... I think there might be a way to do this that not only works, but keeps my sister assassins alive - and if I can do that, I will."

"Most important part, though, is breaking the Furnace Knight from his allies. Some are fanatical loyalists - they have to die. More are dupes, goons, or paid operatives. They need to have their morale shattered. Bribe them, terrify them, exhaust them, their courage will break before their armies crumble. Priority for now is figuring out which forces are which."

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

You know, in that moment she doesn't even think to take the Mask. She'll kick herself about it later. How could she have forgotten to want the thing that she wanted? How could she have possibly become so distracted?

But instead, all she wants is to push this silly demon harder.

"Cuteness is more than that," said Fengye. "It is not just weakness, it is the ability to wear weakness well. The difference between someone pathetic and someone cute is..." her hand reaches right past the mask to touch the Maid's heart, right between her breasts, and then flicks up to touch her nose. "A lack of desire to become strong. The pathetic, like me, grasp at what they cannot truly have. A cutie, like you, knows in her secret heart that she's happier without it."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Ah. She can think clearly at last.

The beings of the Spirit Realm wear every shape. Their preferences and trends crackle through the invisible world like lightning; beings with aspects of animals, of geometry, of aliens past and future. It is a world of art and lies, a realm where geists claim to be foreign princes so they might pick a pocket that they only imagine you possess. Challenge is necessary. Challenge is life. Only through the crackling, daring spark of conflict can truth be forced. Who has the ability to back up their words? Who is but a shadow on an infinite canvas?

Truth, then. This creature is violent. It is cruel. It is proud. It is an imposter. This is not a warlike aspect, not a grim military mind, not bound by protocol, not infused with the artistry of battle. It did not follow an escalation process. It did not ignite an alarm. It did not shoot to kill. It did not shoot to incapacitate a Zaldarian. This entity is a child wearing parent's clothes, a creature that demands respect because its original function was not worthy of respect.

Capabilities. The facility lives, reconfiguration is too quick. There can be no cover here, no point of safety if every wall might hold a blade. If it can move the walls then it can seal windows and doors. It can turn an advance into a labyrinth by which it might indulge its cruelty with traps and puzzles until its superiority is demonstrated. She has seen warriors fight buildings and lose before, and those weren't even alive. But Seval Halfmind always did have poor form.

The stone beneath her melts to lava. Electricity runs through her body and turns into heat. Pain, discomfort, muscle spasms, lack of co-ordination. Discharge flare possible - but no. Humans don't regenerate. She feels the energy in her body overflow out of her. Just because a Zaldarian can channel this power does not mean that it does not hurt. Power cores running this hot for this long risk cracking, becoming incapacitating internal injuries that need surgery to repair. She sets timers and numbers, counting hyperaccelerated heartbeats, feeling molten golden saliva drip from her mouth.

Authorization. It thinks in those terms still. No matter what pride it might papered over its broken soul with it is not a power unto itself. It knows it can be enslaved. Judged. Held to account. All its words fear this. It could have granted access but was afraid of the consequences of acting without instructions. It is already out on a limb. Already labours under guilt from previous failures and concessions. It squats on this throne. Does Annika hold its leash? Is one of the geists in her orbit the critical node, or is it a physical possession? Where is the leash? How firm is its grip? Where is it weak? Scrapergeists whisper secrets in her ears, automated hacking protocols in progress as they collect secrets. A tyrant on a borrowed throne will have no end of enemies and she opens herself to their collected spite.

She cannot sign through the electricity. Will not speak. She will make her answer known through motion and when she does she will return every joule of energy she was given.

[Figure out a person: 13
- How could I get you to grant me authorization?
- What are your feelings towards Annika?
Infamous: How could I get you to betray your ideals?]

The Red Furnace: First Contact

The assault begins with an artillery barrage.

The Aotrs have not had a sustained contact with Azura ground forces, but the brief exchange they did have heavily featured the use of acidic and poison gases. The evolutionary branch of that technology traces back here. Artillery fire alternates between two modes: metal eaters, that corrode and destroy armour and melt plastic alloys into liquid sludge, and toxin clouds to shock and kill exposed organic life. Whatever conflict this technology was designed for it is ineffective against the Aotrs; the loss of armour does not render units combat incapable and the toxin does not impact them at all.

A secondary effect of the barrage is the reduction of visibility. Gas clouds are thick and lingering, and the shells tend to have cascading sequences of secondary explosions deliberately designed to overwhelm auditory input and distract secondary visual senses. Battlecrab forces are also actively concealed from secondary sensor technology - chilled against thermal scanners, inert beneath magical senses, preceded by vast randomly moving schools of winged fish charged with electrical currents that serve as point defense, anti-drone and confusion to movement sensors.

The battleplan that follows is based on infiltration tactics. Battlecrabs advance into the combat zone under heavy concealment. When a crab encounters an enemy position it opens up to deploy a clutch of light infantry creatures that resemble sting rays, while the crab provides support fire. The light infantry are barely armoured - exposure to the toxin kills them instantly should their skin be pierced - but they have rapid fire suppression weapons and direct fire anti-tank missiles, and their low, flat silhouette and skill at taking cover lets them entrench quickly. Their role is to fix and engage the force encountered by the battlecrab, enabling still-active maneuver elements to bypass the enemy strongpoint and find ways to engage from the sides or rear. This, too, is a tactic not optimized against the Aotrs - a lot of this doctrine rests on the concept of morale shock. The final piece of the puzzle are the war orca - ominous shadows that prowl on the fringes of the battlefield, descending rapidly on isolated squads or units that have strayed from their formation, ready to follow in close pursuit if the enemy breaks or attempts to withdraw.

There are no communications or attempts at jamming during this battle, not even from the Azura's omnipresent Electromagnetic Flux. There is clearly an intelligent battle plan at work here but everything beyond that is based around the individual instincts of the units in question, followed like doctrine.

[Friction roll: 2]

While the Aotrs will carry the overall battle due to being on the defensive and the enemy being optimized against the wrong targets, bad luck strikes when a number of Battlecrabs slip past the defensive network into the backfield during the confusion. During this process a number of them are able to locate and engage Killstorm and her protection detail. It is an unfortunate accident - even if she survives, she will need to burn so much mana in the engagement that she will not be able to withdraw the expeditionary force via Gate.

The Red Furnace: First Contact

As Aotrs reinforcements arrive, the Azura fleet continue to hollow out. A steady trickle of ships leave the system and others are stripped apart for components to build fortified structures on the Tanshin II surface. A small, dedicated core of specialist warships remains in orbit around Tanshin II as a rapid response unit but the overall stance has shifted to static fortification.

The key to this work is the creation of vast numbers of acceleration rings. The Azura can evidently manufacture these cheaply and quickly with materials harvested on location and when a ship passes through a ring it accelerates like a railgun slug. The Azura are also observed test firing munitions through these rings, something that further pushes back the work of Aotrs skirmishers. Within the acceleration network the Azura strategic mobility increases enormously, and reports from ground infiltrators indicates that establishing acceleration highways on the ground is one of the first priorities of Azura engineers.

While Azura leadership has generally come across as inept and backbiting by Aotrs standards, their engineering corps at least is worthy of respect. The lupine servitors who direct these operations - identified by scouts as the Ceronian Legions - are a professional, dedicated warrior species with a focus on battlefield engineering. They turn the advanced Azura technology to the practical business of tearing up mud and dirt, rerouting waterways and establishing anti-air emplacements. The Azura Knights are glory hounds, turning up for the battle and retiring to luxurious encampments or leaving the system entirely afterwards, but this is the hard backbone to the army and they'll be the ones holding the line until their masters see fit to return. If there is anything in this alien culture that genuinely resembles the Aotrs values of professionalism and practicality, it is here amidst the Ceronians.

*

A plasma warhead launched through an acceleration ring smashed into the base shield a few hours after it was activated. It heralds the beginning of an interplanetary bombardment - projectiles launched from Tanshin II towards the Aotrs base on Tanshin I. The bombardment is cursory and negated by the shields, though it's reasonably accurate. Soon the planet rotates the base out of being threatened, for the night at least. It puts the base on notice - the planetary orbits are closely enough aligned that this represents a significant threat.

A third of the specimens are dead; study of their biology indicates that they are not particularly dangerous physically, nor do they have the channels traditionally associated with psionic powers. What they do have is an intensely complex reproductive system and extreme social awareness. Thousands of specialized genetic sequences are identified inside these eggs - an arsenal. Has the Aotrs encountered a biotechnological hivemind species before? This seems like an attempt to engineer one. A good one, too. This is advanced work - beyond the bleeding edge of Aotrs biology. It would require powerful tools to engineer these beings, and the assessment is that while the squid are valuable the tools - if they are still on the planet - represent the true prize of the Tanshin system.

A breakthrough is made by the archeodata team; while many of the computers are too contaminated by damp and atmosphere to be recovered, some of them had biological components that left strange, fragmentary ghosts that could be invoked by necromancers. Much of the data is corrupt but there are tantalizing pieces. The most immediately apparent is that this is a terraforming project - the idea being to create a species capable of massive planetary modification and environmental engineering. Explains why the labs were placed on such an inhospitable planet.

On that note, an armoured company of the tanklike battlecrabs is gathering beyond the perimeter of the Aotrs encampment, with clear hostile intent. They'll need to be dealt with in order to buy enough time for everything to be safely removed.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Fengye leaned forwards on her sled, eyes wide. "That's right!" she coos, obviously mocking but putting so much effort into her performance that it was hard to reject it outright. "You are so tenacious! Your blush is so regal! When you fall over and show me your underwear it is because you mean to show it off!"

Fengye should not speak this way. Fengye is a humble scribe who must part herself from words like this with a mask, and must make that mask out of stone. Only the thinnest of justifications - that this is an enemy of creation and any disrespect is permitted - covers her face now.

"You know," she said. "You are being so cute that I'm forgetting that you're a demon. Is that your insidious master plan? Because it's working~"

[Entice: 8]