Thanqol

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

It was not like fighting a princess. It was not like fighting a dragon, either. A dragon may be a monster, but it is one that comes with a promise: defeat me, and you shall gain my treasure. There is a treasure to be had in this victory too, but a much humbler one: The story is over. This terror from the ancient past and distant space is gone, torn apart into shreds of mana. You no longer need to care about what it thinks. You no longer need to entertain its confused cruelty. It breaks hard and its essence flees and the world is safe. Like taking out the trash, it was a chore, and chores are beneath the delicate hands and beautiful hearts of foxgirls - but every so often one has to be done anyway.

And just because the victory is humble does not mean it is not satisfying. To look at the world and think: clean. Safe. Nothing left to do. Just a huge stretch of luxurious nothingness lying ahead, weeks and months where nobody - not even your own mind - will ask you for anything.

But, while you're up here, of course the thought occurs: you could keep the tails. Nothing says you have to give them back! Well, obviously it'd be the right thing to do, but... it wouldn't be the wrong thing to do either. Actia and Cyanis would be mad and they'd swear vengeance and come after you, but they wouldn't be coming after you like you were a monster. They'd be coming after you like you were a dragon. They'd find a princess knight and convince her to fight you, and she'd be hesitant at first but you would use your new powers to take over a castle and kidnap a maiden and then she'd have no choice...

You should seriously consider it. After all, you worked really hard to bring a new power into the world. You should be free to appreciate it for a while, before it passes onto someone else. Because that's the difference, isn't it? In a dance, someone leads and someone retreats and power passes back and forth; the weak become strong and the strong become weak. That's just my suggestion, but I think you would have an amazing reign of terror <3

Beyari: a Tale of Colossi

The Angel of War ate dirt. Fair enough! Its horse, for all its beauty, did not have a Warrior's Soul. It was, in fact, a semi-feral beast who threw the Angel at every opportunity. Taking a bullet to the armour was well beyond its nonsense tolerance and off it went to start grazing. The Angel of War could not begrudge any of this, and managed a salute to its companion before performing the sequence of actions that put it back on its feet.

"A fair shot from a fair lady," declared the Angel of War, raising a finger. "I see that you are no common soldier. Accept my challenge! Let us settle our quarrel upon the duelist's field and part without bitterness!"

Breathless Dead

Nemesis cracks.

Reality cracks with it. The perfect, endless blue sky above fractures like glass, huge channels running along it, separating the stars and refracting light along its bleeding edge. This planet should not be here and, as the orbital ring detonates and falls apart, the chains binding it here begin to snap one after another. Through holes in the sky, blackest night becomes visible.

And it is a huge letdown.

One of the galaxy's greatest explosions is happening and, despite your front row seats, you do not get to watch it. Its explosion is literally transforming the most fascinating skybox in history into a boring standard night sky viewable from anywhere in the galaxy. If there is any consolation to be had it is that you must be cool girls of the highest magnitude not to look at this explosion.

Speaking of explosions not happening, you cannot help but notice you are not being turned into mincemeat by the Avatar of War and her god-cutting blade. Given the sheer, hellish weight that the Shogun had drawn around herself the idea that it would not happen quickly already seemed like an impossibly long shot - it takes genuine mental effort to even float the idea that it might not happen at all.

But sure enough, there she is. Standing in one of the last cracks in the sky, silver blade in hand, mark of Mars upon her brow - looking at you with a predatory grin before she touches her index finger to the brim of her hat and turns her back. She abandons the chase and leaps into the sky to rejoin her war fleet, turning her back on a screaming Aphrodite. Her people are about to embark on the greatest military campaign in galactic history and there is literally nothing the Gods can offer her she would prefer to that. And if Artemis had happened to whisper in her ear and remind her that she had signed no oaths to finish this Hunt, who could blame her? Those were just the facts.

And so the sky slams shut. The Plousios hovers above a ruined battlefield and shattered palace. And all about, a dull roar starts to raise. A sound like the ocean, but arrhythmic, scattered. Cheers. Applause. The ragged, mud-streaked and bloodstained defenders of the first world to ever survive Nemesis are emerging from their bunkers and bastions, looking up at skies emptied of wolves. In disbelief and shock and relief they embrace each other and give praise to the Gods. You do not know these people or their stories, how every one of them had been destined to die on this battlefield and give their bodies to the Cycle of Demeter. The colours of their banners, their noble traditions and codes of honour that set them against a storm that had burned across the galaxy for two centuries - it would take a lifetime to immerse in this culture and learn just how much this impossible miracle meant to them.

But it is not to be. The stars call, one final time.

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

Katherine was right about one thing: the goddess was confused. Her thoughts from the beginning had been scattershot, wandering down multiple independent and contradictory pathways, seeing threat and opportunity, something to nurture and something to exterminate. She had been thinking of the how as much as the why and the what, and none of it had fit together. Somehow, none of her fit together. Had the Burrowers done something to her, before they had sent her here? It was almost as if there were two or more of her inside the same body...

But unfortunately, Katherine had gone and put her in a position where all the parts of her aligned. She glanced down. Did the math -

She stepped forward onto the wooden sword. It did not cut her neck, on account of it being wood, and just slid over her shoulder. Then she headbutted Fluffybiscuts hard enough to send her to the moon - if the Goddess hadn't gotten there first. She has the hammer in her hand as she almost seems to teleport behind her flying opponent in time to strike a massive downwards blow. She launches herself in rapid pursuit, hammer blows falling in a steady cadence, knocking Katherine left and right - less a fight and more a juggler's display. There was no more thought of defense in the Goddess' mind; she had committed entirely to the attack. She did this in the comfortable knowledge that a wooden blade could not harm her, and even if it could, her opponent would not.

So she attacked, and attacked, and attacked. She attacked like she was planning on hammering every one of those tails right off Katherine's butt. She did this with the grim confidence that even if she was scared of what Katherine represented, she was not scared of her as an enemy combatant.

Return to Thellamie

Sayanastia the Dark Dragon did not have any thoughts as she hurtled backwards through the air towards the floor. She was a pure manifestation of her concept, above comparison, beyond reflection in media. Had she gazed into the deep lore of Yukisworld, she would not have found any sort of affinity with Worf son of Mogh. The idea that a reputationally invincible blademaster, defeated time and again by an increasing variety of opponents, and born aloft only by a lack of self awareness as the defeats rack up, used only as setup for more serious threats...

Couldn't be her.

After all, she still had 985 Explosive Flasks in inventory - and she hated having an inventory. In fact, having an inventory bothered her more than anything else that had happened. Not just tonight, either, it was possibly the most irritating thing that had ever happened to her. It was one thing to lose as a perfect avatar of herself, one thing to stand as the pure ideal of entropic annihilation and universal sleep, one thing to stand as the avatar of all that was not against all that was - even if that dream had faded, even if the rage had dimmed, she had only ever been a pure form of herself. But what did it even mean for her to throw alchemical fire in a glass bottle? Unable to fight her own battles. Unable to liquidate matter that was under her direct authority. Unable to fight like a fucking dragon -

"Enough of dragons!?" said Sayanastia, picking herself up from the floor where . "I'll make you wish you were fighting dragons."

ITEM - DETONATION FLASK - TARGET: ALL

It was a stupid, stupid rhythm. Put hand into bag. Produce flask. Throw flask. Repeat. Her inexperience with a sword did not matter. The fracturing of her cosmic hate did not matter. Her past defeats did not matter. That this world was built over the top of her bones did not matter. This world may have long ago solved for Sayanastia the Dark Dragon, but it had not solved for 999 detonation flasks.

[Fight: 7!
- Create an opportunity for an ally
- Seize a superior position]

Oh, there was a thought after all. It clarified as the inventory ticked steadily down towards zero. It was: This was effective. More than effective, it was entertaining. Why had Heron never used these? Was she stupid?

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

Actia's Tail #2 twitches. You know without words that it's a very special tail - it was empowered by a very special Fox Wish, one that hasn't been activated for a very long time. It can sense a vulnerability here, and it starts to swish and swish with a rhythm that naturally puts you in tune with every one of the goddess' flailing counterattacks. That hammer spins away -

"Ecosystems don't work like that!" said the goddess of death. "The world - the universe - is a certain way. The Burrowers settled a thousand stars and built a golden road across the heavens, united under the ideals of capitalism, patriotism and worship. These ideals have survived ten thousand years. This little thing you have built here - it is a bubble. When it pops, [you will die/the universe will die] -"

She says both things at the same time. Goddesses can do stuff like that apparently! But Tail A2 twitches again - that one just slipped out of her. She's talking too fast. She's not declaring like before. She's scared, and she's getting more scared. She is looking at a cute little bunny rabbit and seeing mass extinction.

"And this isn't enough to sustainably replace it. It is fragile. It is naive. It is - it is cringe! It is an extremely silly way to organize a society, blind to the realities of power. It does not scale. It is a dream, and it puts at risk the much older, much stronger dreams that animate society. There are threats in the dark that cannot be dealt with using picnics. I am trying to help you prepare for them."

Beyari: a Tale of Colossi

It was only ever a matter of time before the cavalry charge came back into style.

The Angel of War sat atop a silver charger. Its head was angular and strange, a helmet like an eerie face. Its armour gleamed in brightly painted lavender. A pennant danced from the top of its long lance, and a dozen revolvers hang ready from its bandoleers. At a thousand years old it glowed with the youth that came from standing astride the line of Death. It was beautiful; it had to be. Anything less would meant it wouldn't be living up to the standard set by its horse.

And its horse was truly beautiful. Stupid too - one could tell just by looking at it that it was dumber than the rocks it was failing to chew. But sheer muscular perfection had a joyous beauty more sublime than any quirk of intellect. From head to hoof it was garbed in kevlar weaves that rendered it closer in aspect to an armoured motorcycle than a beast of flesh and blood.

"What is glorious in life?" called the Angel of War aloud, lifting its pennant. None of its battle-brothers responded; they were all busy rushing about and taking cover. No matter. Its duty was to inspire them!

"That's right!" said the Angel of War. "Glory is OBEY_COMMANDS_VALUE_999 and SET_LEADER: WOMAN_WITH_RED_HAT! And for these things, all things are permitted! Once more, to battle!"

And it spurred its horse, lowered its lance, and rushed directly towards the enemy line.

Breathless Dead

The blade cuts through.

Aphrodite stares blankly. He reaches up and touches the silvery gash where his arm had been. He stares in disbelief.

And then he starts to cry.

Not graceful, dignified tears as befitting the God of Love. This is an angry, screaming tantrum. A howl of outrage and pain at the utter indignity of not getting a thing that he wanted. He falls to his knees, clutching the wound, howling at a world that should have sworn never to harm him. The howl starts to find breaks, stuttering in the splinters of wood from the forest dissolving into toothpicks from the vibration, intention forcing its way into that raw emotion:

KILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEM

It is language that Mars understands. He puts his thumb to the Shogun's brow and gives her his mark. The demon flame already empowering that silver sword doubles and redoubles; all the bloodshed and sacrifice that soaks this half-burned planet concentrating into a single point. Wreckage begins to lift from the battlefield, shattered metal giants and broken suits of Ceronian armour flowing with ladybugs and songbirds. It collects above the body of the Shogun, War's own halo, metal wings for sin's dragon. She howls in exaltation.

It's a hell of a sight to wake up to.

The sky is chaos. Great ruptures are spreading through the Nemesis ring, enormous crimson fissures in the sky. Ceronian warships swarm the collapsing megastructure, docking to fill their holds with as many evacuees as possible. The heavens light up with new fires as desperate Ceronians launch drop pods or simply just planet jump to escape their collapsing space station. They are met with renewed fire from the inheritors of the Knights, furiously erupting from concealment in a thousand places to avoid letting this impossible victory slip through their fingers.

And amongst the rain of metal from the sky comes the Plousios. Its sleek Azura wings cut through atmosphere without friction and as it descends it targets the demonic Shogun with a full broadside of solid projectile shells. The area for ten kilometers around is blasted with a shattering eruption of toxic gas and smoke. An army would not have survived.

A crimson fire continues to burn deep in the heart of that pitch-black hell.

It is not clear if she has slowed down at all.

Love Bites - Sporko/Thanqol

"Do not concern yourself. They were limited to man-portable designs," said Euphoria.

It was... hard to tell if she was injured. Her black robes had tears and fissures in them which may have spoken of bullets, blades and shrapnel, but there were no bloodstains or any change to her perfect posture to indicate that damage had been done. If it had, it might have healed already - or simply not be an inconvenience to her undead body.

"Things have, on the whole, been far easier since the victory over the Holy Roman Empire by Tsar Stalin," said Euphoria. "I contented myself that evil in the world was losing influence, though it seems to be making a resurgence of late. Is the cause commonly known, I wonder? I have not looked into it as much as I should have."

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"I appreciate you disagree. I hear what you are saying. I feel your passion," said the Goddess, throwing a fistful of Compsognathus dinosaurs with her off hand.

Getting attacked by a dozen chicken-sized attack dinosaurs was a lot! And this alien terror divinity knew a thing or two about throwing them, too. It wasn't exactly like a Secret Sword (dinosaurs), but she had been practicing, and the move had come as kind of a surprise so maybe it qualified as a Hidden Blade (dinosaurs). But it was definitely a distraction - she's got her hand up to catch the hammer as it soars back across to her hand. That's the real weapon here; everything else is essentially decoration.

"But sometimes in the design process mistakes are made," she said. "Sometimes we get surprised by the implications of things, unintended consequences add up. Before you know it you've turned an ordinary little planet into an incubator for some genuinely dangerous sword techniques, and the risk of them getting out cannot be countenanced. If you knew anything about Australia you would understand the relevance of my concerns."

She's distracted. She seems very easy to distract, actually - the moment she starts talking about a problem she drifts off, mind trying to solve it and all related problems. Her next Hidden Blade takes the form of emus, then a sweeping crocodile parry, and then just so many snakes. She's almost more invested in making new snakes than recovering her hammer.

"It is unsustainable. And, believe it or not, my civilization knows what that means. Once I've disassembled it, I will put it back together in a way that fits with everything else. Harmony. Does your culture not appreciate harmony?"