ACTING ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Welcome to Jhashch.
WHEN? The first three weeks of Spiderland!
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.

EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD;

There's a room where the light won't find you

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

DEPARTING BASE

PLEASE ASSEMBLE FOR TIME-STEP AT 0600. ETA 0900 LOCAL TIME.

The call comes a day in advance, warning that it's time to pack and brush up on your datapack before everyone heads out. Remember to act with strength, as if you're always prepared for a fight. As per etiquette training, recruits are to speak and act on behalf of COST, to declare their side of the war superior to the Regency's. There is no such things as too much boasting in the coming political summit.

You're to appear in dress uniform—for once, skulking and hiding is unnecessary—and form five rows of ten in a facsimile of a proper army, for one last dust over...and one special appearance. Grothia and Young appear openly for the journey as your Commander and Scout, dressed in their officer uniforms. Grothia is her usual put-together and stiff self, but Young makes a different sight, markedly non-feathery and distinctly human in shape; she cuts a slight figure next to Grothia, with a hood that casts her face in shadow.

She holds herself with the necessary poise, but doesn't seem the least bit happy about it. If anything, she seethes, even as she stalks down the aisles of recruits to distribute night vision goggles. The spiders like their lairs dark, after all.

And, once the numbers are cleared: the time-step begins.

» THE TIME-STEP

The transfer begins like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, just a hum of sensation.

But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomenon as "the buzz". The feeling builds, not unlike standing near a great engine or the wind-rattled branches of a massive tree. There is a long moment of motion sickness and you can't be sure if the world is shaking you from the inside out or the outside in. It may be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea, as the world blurs out of focus.

A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Others say they feel a touch of the divine, that the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle and nothing more than the suggestion of sound. Or maybe it's only an illusion, brought on by the powerful technology grafted into your skin.

One thing is for sure: One moment you are here and the next you are not.


THE ARRIVAL

The first day in Jhashch is a fast-paced affair, laid out from start to end with particulars. This is your time to shine, COST; first impressions are the most powerful ones. So stand tall and, if you feel queasy, at least wait until your Aranean greeters turn their backs to vomit. Though expect judgment for such a grotesque show of weakness.

The destination this time isn't a field or a ship or crammed in a corner; no, for once recruits arrive in a bustling terminal, in the same lines they departed BASE. COST is welcomed off a round platform—and there are others like it, used by Araneans and humans and more, to vanish and arrive with nary a second glance—by a female Aranean, with a data screen in one of her four hands. The arm is clearly cybernetic and old enough that she's accustomed to it. She steps forward and her dress drags with seemingly impossible weight, far too heavy for a human. Rich orange silks trail behind her, rustling with movement.

But more notable is her tremendous height and many eyes. She dwarfs everyone present: at three meters, she is lean and powerful. Her multifaceted gaze, however, focuses on Grothia. She bows, first, but only to Grothia and Young; it seems no one else is worth noticing for the moment and, in turn, Grothia and Young bow back.

"I am Lady Tchuul, a daughter of Matron Nkouk's first clutch, of the house Chchai. I welcome you on behalf of the royal family to Jhashch. We will guide you to your quarters." Two male Araneans come forward as she speaks. They're easy to identify; unlike Tchuul, they're in human disguise and only two meters in height. But they match her dress, suited in the same rust-orange as their lady. "You will receive the list of events for this evening from another guide, who will come later this afternoon to collect you for the Royal Family's banquet."

Grothia replies with pleasantries, thanking the Royal Family for the invitation and the House of Chchai for welcoming and honoring COST with their presence; Young, meanwhile, still simmers. The male Araneans don't speak and the Matron's daughter never seems to acknowledge their existence—but she does notice COST's male recruits. There is a moment where she looks past Grothia with her many wet black eyes and something subtle twists unpleasant when she lays eyes on them, like she's seen something particularly distasteful.

But she looks back to Grothia only to say, "If you will, please, follow me."

Grothia's hand lifts, two fingers up in military singling as she points first up and then directly forward. Fall in, they're moving out.


IN RESIDENCE

The terminal is in the outermost layer of the Third Ring, with wide windows that face into the unforgiving Jhashchan landscape. Lady Tchuul leads the recruits through these halls, giving them glimpses of everyday spider life—at least for the upper class and their servants (often uthcki, but sometimes human). It's another half-hour journey on foot into the Second Ring, which is more of the same, but tighter, denser, and with the occasional trip over bridges that gives way to dizzying views of Ymir's bones, mined far below in the unforgiving landscape.

But at last she brings COST to their quarters, a rectangular villa that faces into a courtyard. The courtyard is filled with bright alien flora; at its center is a sculpture of a blindfolded female Aranean, with a large beast at the foot of her robes. A few tame skrit chri roam its confines; they're all young, standing only a meter tall. It paints an almost idyllic image, if not for the relative darkness and high vaulted ceilings overhead.

The building is open and intimate, almost delicate in it's furnishings. Each member of COST has a room that opens into the courtyard, featuring a large four-poster bed, a desk, and a set of drawers. Cleaning and laundry is handled by human servants; notably, any attempts to speak to them fail. By and large, they avoid your eyes completely. Forcing conversation turns into blabbered apologies and an attempt to flee.

Take note: these are the spies you were warned about during training. It's hard to turn a corner without seeing one of them here and they stand out all the more when labor this menial is typically performed by uthcki. Araneans, if asked, will claim it's for the comfort of their guests; most humans find the uthcki uncomfortably uncanny valley.

A set of male Araneans guard the outside of the villa, under the pretense of ensuring COST and the Regency play nice while in Aranean territory. If the groups are to shed blood, it's best done in a manner appropriate to the land they're visiting, right?

After more greetings—and yet more bowing—recruits are left to their own devices until the banquet. You're given relative freedom in traveling the Second and Third Rings, though you'll find the First Ring—where the Royal Family dwells—impossible to access. If you attempt to travel the other way, Araneans will find it odd you want to leave the innermost Rings at all; most spiders spend human lifetimes trying to kill their way into this sanctum.

However, if you aren't interested in leaving your quarters, you aren't left bored. A small troupe of musicians appears around midday, sent as a gift by Matron Nkouk, consisting of a singer and a few instruments. They set up in the courtyard by Grothia's invitation and play until an hour before the evening's activities. They fill the air with traditional Aranean music, which remains soft and sweet. They're most definitely more spies—each day someone new will idle their hours away near COST's recruits—but there is no way to refuse them without being offensively rude. So Grothia keeps them where everyone can see them.

At this point, everything is about managing what is heard by whom.

» THE THIRD RING

Should you take to exploring, whether before the banquet or after, you'll find tall, powerful Aranean women walk the Third Ring, dressed in long, elegant day clothes and with one or two servants behind them. Others travel in carriages with glass windows, pulled by hhcho. The architecture varies; some buildings are huge mansions, bustling with people and extending onto bridges, sometimes even over the top of the street. Others are more modest in size, if not in decoration, and give the appearance of interconnected terrace houses.

The facades of the houses are intricate stone and metalwork, featuring effigies of Araneans and their servants. Some carved murals depict the Great Consumption: Araneans attacking, defeating, and eating their creators. Others have weapons carved into archways or around window frames, with mock lines of spears to make up fences. Some show unity and pride with their family house written in intricate letters.

But one thing, however, is the same to them all: like the courtyard, there is a statue of a female Aranean on every corner and gazing down from doors. Her eyes are always covered by a sash of highly expensive material and her lips are painted in a faded red that sometimes drips from her mouth. Some of the wealthier houses hang their statues with heavy, valuable jewelry; others include the beast seen in the courtyard, seemingly poised at her fingertips. Veteran COST recruits may recognize the pose and motif of the statues, for they are the Watcher and the Hunter, insofar as the Araneans have interpreted them.

For recruits particularly sharp of eye, you may notice that, unless it's a statement of power, servants are kept out of immediate sight. Peer a little closer and you'll discover they travel through small corridors secreted into corners, connecting huge mansions.

» THE MINES OF YMIR

The Second Ring is marked by huge bones growing from the massive ravine beneath Ythaway. They go on for miles and there are no railings; it should go without saying, but don't fall. The false atmosphere humans need to survive ends only a mile down. In some areas, it's possible to make out the remnants of steelwork, once the foundation of the labs, or lower class spiders nimbly leaping through the cruel space to mine the precious resource.

And throughout it all, even the most nonmagical, sixth-sense blind can feel the pulsing of life. When passing through earlier, Lady Tchuul explained this is all but an extension of the palace itself; lesser rooms for those outside of the immediate family and Great Houses, who vie for rank in the inner circle. And there are many of them, moving through both the streets and glimpsed through the windows of the formidable houses.

More than that, news of COST's arrival has spread. And with it comes a far more unwelcome feeling: intense scrutiny.

It might not be more than a whisper, or a look given askance by one of many sets of eyes. But whoever they pass and however they do so: COST operatives are quietly, subtly, addressed. Some of it's favorable, while others regard them similarly to Lady Tchuul; the higher ranking spiders have no issue displaying open disgust, based on gender and magical ability. Others, female and artificial, are given more appraising looks. Even in exchanging glances, hierarchy is everything and the spiders will readily single out potential victims.

THE HIERARCHY

Recruits of artificial and magical origins will find it most difficult to get around without attention; their presence is almost magnetic to the spiders, who zero in with astounding accuracy. Anywhere they go, they'll be hounded. While male spiders will largely refrain from entangling themselves in COST's affairs, aware they're socially outclassed, Araneans are not a shy people and aggression is always the name of the game for female spiders.

They find this trait desirable in their consorts as well. Especially in a show of physical strength; the bigger and beefier, the better the meat, after all.

» ARTIFICIAL

Artificial recruits—even men—will find they gain easiest access to semi-restricted areas with the least questioning. The problem lies in using this as an advantage; artificial individuals are constantly observed and judged for their strengths and weaknesses. It's nigh impossible to slip away and the Araneans are merciless in their questioning.

The nature of your origins, your augmentation; if it pertains to your artificial condition, they're eager to hear about it. It may be best to exercise your storytelling abilities to satisfy them. In return, Araneans readily brag about their genetic history, including that of their ancestors; those lower in rank will readily use the conversation as a leg up in the race for power.

» NATURAL

Almost always overlooked in favor of their company, natural recruits have their work cut out for them if the spotlight is something they want to earn. Aranean eyes practically slide right over them; only their dress separates them from servants in the arachnid worldview.

Natural recruits who attempt to approach an Aranean will often be met with light surprise. Male Araneans are more receptive to conversation, satisfied by holding rank over someone natural, but keeping the attention of a female spider will vary from individual to individual. The staunchest followers of the hierarchy will utterly ignore attempts to communicate, but more liberal members may ease into a conversation.

» MAGICAL

A constant reminder of hunger and treated as such, Araneans instinctively loom over magical recruits. Magic exists for Araneans to mine and consume; it automatically marks the life attached to it as prey. It's a difficult stigma to overcome, but power and viciousness is key. But this victory comes at a price; should a magical recruit gain prestige, it doesn't so much put them on par with natural or artificial recruits as it makes the Araneans ever more enthusiastic about consuming them in the event of defeat.

Araneans are willing to converse with magical recruits, if only to assess their weaknesses. They love the thrill of a good hunt. Male Araneans are again more likely to be civil with those perceived as lower than themselves, but they too associate magic with food. Consequently, recruits of this rank are at highest risk of death, especially if their aggression is subpar.

» HYBRID

To be unique is not a good thing in Aranean society. Hybrids aren't meant to exist, aberrant to both the artificial and magical. They'll find themselves barred from locations just as often as magical recruits; the scrutiny they face is less vicious than that experienced by the artificial and less predatory than that of the magical, but they'll face a constant air of suspicion.

Hybrids will have the hardest time performing their diplomatic duties; Araneans shun anything that doesn't fit their defined hierarchy and find this mix particularly disgusting. But while hybrids are derided and treated like something diseased, they're also the least likely to be eaten. Even if they kill a hybrid, many spiders consider the victim tainted meat.


FROM GAMING DENS TO THE CROOKED ROCK

Whenever recruits are given leave to engage in entertainments—or perhaps sleuthing—they'll find a slew of activities in the Second Ring of Ythaway. But remember there isn't a word that the Araneans won't use as blackmail, especially when COST is causing a bit of a stir.

But to help maintain appearances, each COST recruit receives a small, gold disc, that looks something like a coin; it works akin to a credit card and provides the holder with a small splash of cash, amounting to a grand total of 500 CCs (cross credits, roughly equivalent to $1000 or €800). There aren't any rules as to how you spend it—and do not ask how they got these funds, thanks—but Grothia makes it abundantly clear there won't be more coming, so spend wisely. And not on, say, your weight in jelly babies. She also advises you keep it on your person at all times; she refuses to be responsible if Young steals it out of sulkiness.

The Siopai is a series of shops and entertainment venues; the most popular and easily accessible in the Second Ring. But it's also wealthy, impossibly so, and the problems begin almost as soon as you're there.

While a disturbing amount of purchases and services in the innermost rings are simply out of COST's price range—at least not without intensely pooling your credits together—sometimes it's not even easy to walk into a store. Almost all of the shops have a male Aranean standing guard outside and many will actively block recruits from entering, especially if they're male or magical, or accompanied by someone of that rank. These stores tend to be high-end and have only incredibly powerful and amazingly well-dressed figures in them.

The ones that do let COST members in are:

» BARS & MIDDLING RESTAURANTS

The Araneans were engineered by humans and, alien as some of their traditions may be, others are strikingly familiar. Like any human city, the spiders have no shortage of bars. Moreover, it's tennis season, even if it's a little varied from what COST recruits might know: a match involves two rackets and two balls in a match, and it's almost always in doubles. And, as in most competitive arenas, Araneans are very committed. Their people kill for the right to join sports teams; drafts are less drafts and more battles to the death. Walk by a bar during a game and it's likely packed with female Araneans shouting perverse suggestions (and threats of devouring) at the holoscreens. They're raucous events, with a healthy amount of booze and food, just...be careful you know what you're eating. Otherwise, they're generally places for all sorts to mingle, from the highest to lowest.

But, should you attend, watch your limbs. Araneans are known to accidentally devour whatever's closest to them out of excitement. Most establishments expect to lose more than a few uthcki this way during high stakes games.

» HUNTING SUPPLY STORES

Hunting, go figure, is an immensely popular sport amongst Araneans. There is a range of high- to low-end stores and the ones that open to COST soldiers are moderate, offering a limited but decent supply of traditional hunting weapons. The most common is a spear and dagger and heavy leather armor; Araneans consider firearms tacky and hunting in particular is a display of your strength. Hthi are in season; if you're lucky, you might see a female Aranean bring in her kill, eager to prove her strength.

» HANDICRAFTS & ARTS

Araneans are magnificent craftsmen, as their many arms and fine motor control might suggest; it's difficult to match the speed and skill that they create their art. But it is possible to learn or refine existing skill, should you so desire. And Araneans have everything, from clay modeling to jewelry-making to an art all Araneans perfect at a young age: lace-making.

They spin huge shawls and wall decorations of crocheted lace. It is one of the very rare times noble spiders deign to spin their own silk, and only if they undertake a specific diet to produce the highest quality web (and there are books in these stores that delve into its specifics). Alternatively and far more practically—especially for those that do not produce silk—there are walls and walls of fine ply wools and cottons mixed with silk.

» THE RACETRACK

The largest racetrack in the Second Ring is located just above the shopping and entertainment areas, and it is always packed. Racing skrit chri is a fond pastime for many an upper-class Aranean, with the bonus of one day consuming your prize steed, after they're past prime and have sufficiently passed on their genes. The tracks the skrit chri run aren't like those of Earth's horses, however; they're almost wild terrain, requiring acrobatics along with speed.

And betting pools are just as dangerous as the rest of Jhashch. To gain a buck, you might find yourself gambling limbs or even your life; neither are worth much here, to a people who risk both every day by merely coexisting.

[If you'd like to pursue something unlisted and aren't sure if it's allowed, don't hesitate to ask here!]


BACK TO BUSINESS

Two hours before the banquet, a message appears on the BCE:

TWO HOURS UNTIL FORMAL DEPARTURE. PLEASE SEE TO ALL PREPARATIONS.

It's time to get ready. Get your court clothes out—whether they're red or blue or purple—have a shower, and brush your teeth. Make sure your hair is in place and every last buckle is tightly cinched, shoes polished and tightly laced. If you don't...well, the servants are here to help. While they typically only assist with cleaning, they'll do your hair, paint your nails, and assist with fiddly materials that need an extra set of hands for a banquet as important as this.

Or maybe you don't trust the servants and would prefer to call another COST recruit over to help. It's not a bad idea; it's a good time to double-check your aliases and go over your Aranean social skills. Make sure you know the who's who of the Aranean upper-crust and that your pronunciation of their names isn't miserable; keep in mind who you're meant to bow to first. Failure here has as high stakes as any battle, so make sure those steps are right.

As always, only the rapier and dueling pistol are allowed in polite company, as far as weapons go. Other weapons and armor are forbidden wholesale; they're better saved for the stadium.

At the appointed time, carriages appear to escort recruits to the dinner. They're similar as to those seen earlier, but longer and entirely windowless.

Don't lose your glass slipper, now.


THE WALTZ OF THE FLOWERS

The carriages deliver COST to a great set of stairs that lead up to a huge door, marking the entrance of the inner palace. They arrive in a grand ballroom with a vaulted ceiling and translucent pillars—tubes—wrapped in gold vines. It's possible to see the same steelwork from the mines beneath the finery, the remains of a lab made into lavish decoration, holding up a ceiling meticulously painted to depict the Great Consumption. And, in particular, a female Aranean. She wears no human skin and carries a sword and spear, crushing and consuming humans amongst eggs of the first clutch. She stares down over the guests with her terrifying, domineering appearance.

The room below her is only furnished with lounges that line the room. Many Araneans sit on them, but each corner seems to be reserved by a member of the Great Houses. They're easy to identify—the surrounding Araneans defer to their every action and word—but they don't seem to be the Great Matrons. Rather, it seems they're the heir apparent; Lady Tchuul is seated at the center of her house. Each family is distinct as well; as varied and lavish as their clothing may be, members shares a particular color between them.

A small orchestra plays in one corner, in front of an area set out for dancing. Already couples and groups move on and off the floor as songs start and finish. In fact, it's popular and universal enough that Araneans and foreign diplomats alike approach and are allowed to approach without regard for ranking. There is almost a merriment to this space, perhaps because of the event itself or the wine passed around on trays. Whatever the case, the Araneans are keen that there be no wallflowers here; for those of you with clumsier footwork, you would do well to ask a fellow recruit to rescue you.

And there's no mistaking that the scrutiny is much worse than on the streets. From the second you step into the room, the whispering begins behind glittering fans or in another language. Their many black eyes follow you avidly and, even if their mouths smile, it's possible to see fanged mandibles pressing from inside the skin. Because they are skins, long-dead humans who are now nothing more than a thin veneer to what lies beneath.

But they are beautiful. Each Aranean, male and female, is a moving piece of art. The women average three to four meters in height and their trains are meters upon meters of layered fabric, masking the click of arachnid limbs. They are studded with jewels, hair intricately arranged, and weight is no object, evidenced by every effortless step, regardless of the impossibility of their clothes and headwear. The men favor sleek, clean lines that show off lean whipcord bodies; their extra legs protrude like fans from their backs. And between all of them is a sense of purpose behind every move and glance. There isn't a member of the court who doesn't move with a dancer's grace.

Araneans were created to be without equal, needed by countless star systems for what they have been perfected to mine, and they intend to let no one forget it.

» RETURN OF THE REGENCY

The Regency arrives in white, sleek and almost clinical in their luxury. Decked in lace, they glitter with diamonds and perfect poise, like sharks in the water. They've come with three factions, identifiable by the insignias stitched into each of their sleeves and the servants who follow them. Silent, still, and always at attention to their assigned lords and ladies, the servants look more like soldiers.

Most obviously, however, is that the majority of the servants share the same face. Or three different faces, each representing a distinct family in attendance.

The Araneans ignore them, as they do all servants, but some spiders murmur out of Regency earshot. It's a mix of low anger and belligerent respect, for these are the Regency's shabti. Clones, in short, engineered to serve. It's a political move on behalf of the Regency, to establish the superiority of their own diplomats: even the lowest amongst them holds rank above the genetically engineered, regardless of their own augmentation.

And, for those watching the Commander during dinner, it's easy to see how her jaw tenses when seeing them. One of the Regency diplomats, ever calculating and with impeccable manners, leans to an Aranean nearby. "We thought to bring reminders of home and her old comrades for Parsy-Luo—oh, forgive us. We mean Commander Grothia."

You may also recognize Mary Smythe, now under the name Mhic Nathair. She walks with distinction and has a shabti servant of her very own; this one isn't a soldier, but bows and scrapes along behind her as a perfectly polite, demure secretary.

And, while Araneans do their part to keep COST and the Regency in line, they won't prevent agents from mingling with each other. You do you, fam. While many will watch out of the corner of the eye and any words exchanged are far from private, encounters with the Regency won't be bloody events. At least not yet; they treat COST with a disdain that is by no means manufactured and is not far off from what recruits experienced when they met Kebechet.

» LONG LIVE THE QUEEN

After an hour and a half of free mingling, the two guards by the door send up a sharp cry that is almost a song. Immediately, everyone scatters to the sides of the room. The music stops and the Araneans sink into deep bows, faces turned up. You'd do well to follow their lead.

The Queen has arrived. The entrance doors swing open to reveal her in all her glory. Standing at five meters tall, she is a statement of pure power. She does not hide her lower body or her extra arms and legs. There is little about her that could be called wholly human and it's hard to breathe if you stand too near to her; literally so. Her clothes aren't fabric; her gown is of chainmail and, moreover, Ymirite bone. Linked meticulously together, even dead the Ymir seems to breathe, sucking vital elements and moisture from the air. Those magically sensitive will feel it sing in the air and even the most oblivious will sense the change in air pressure.

Beneath the dress, Queen Thsh's skin is inhumanly white and mottled with purple where it meets her exoskeleton. All eight of her eyes are pitch, liquid black and stark in her face. She strides the length of the hall and, after she enters, the rest of the entourage follows her.

The family resemblance is striking with her children, though the purple is lighter or darker, depending. Five steps behind the Queen is Crown Princess Chch, equal in height to her mother and in a black dress that thankfully isn't as oppressive to the atmosphere around her. The Twin Generals Shai and Aythy keep pace behind her, in gorgeous dress uniforms rather than gowns. After them is their brother, Prince Shch, dressed as richly as any of his siblings if smaller and less prominent in almost all other ways. The hierarchy is clear.

After them come other noted members of the court, including the Matrons of the Great Houses. The Regency's three most prominent emissaries accompany them; should you take care to listen, you'll learn their titles are Khnum, Ptah, and Tatenen. And, for better or worse, your own Commander and Scout are in attendance. Though it's a different look for them, Grothia and Young have risen to (or been forced into) the occasion. Young's face is, as ever, masked and Grothia balances against the weight of the train behind her. Neither of them look comfortable, but they commit to the Araneans' etiquette and don't falter in their steps.

It's only after the procession is seated that entry into the banquet hall is allowed.


BON APPETIT

It begins with the first chime of the evening bell.

When you enter the banquet hall for the first time, you are required to bow first to the great table that seats the Royal Family, Matrons of the Great Houses, and honored guests. This is done one at a time for all guests and that goes for COST, too. You might have a wait ahead of you, but try not to fidget too much. Araneans are drawn by movement, after all.

From there, you may either proceed to your seat or approach the high table at the end of the room, where the Queen presides over her guests. Here, you may bow and receive a cursory inspection. Queen Thsh is known for her long memory and you can be sure that, brief as the interaction will be, she will remember it.

It takes a good half hour to seat everyone and, when it is done, there are roughly three hundred or so guests present. COST is seated in small groups, interspersed between the many courtiers, but the Araneans notably avoid seating anyone from COST next to anyone from the Regency. While the Araneans enjoy bloodshed, they've no intention of running afoul of their guests, especially before they know what each side has to offer.

But at last the first glass of wine is brought out, as is custom, and the Queen lifts her glass and cries, "SKOLGA!" As one, the Araneans—and hopefully you—raise their glasses with her and scull their wine. Long and tedious a trial as it may have been, the banquet has begun.

» EAVESDROPPING AND YOU

It's possible to overhear some interesting gossip whilst you're mingled with the guests. Much of it's idle, if pointed chatter, and the Araneans will needle as much information out of you as possible, so watch your tongue; they're eager to keep you the fly in their web.

The bulk of Araneans in attendance are from the four Great Houses. On the surface, they all offer their respect and support to Queen Thsh; beneath that, it grows...complicated. Ever the backstabbing species, every Aranean present has their own vendetta and those vendettas revolve around the acquisition and maintenance of power. It's also no secret that political games are ever one of numbers, so it's important to know where these families stand.

It takes some digging, but characters can discover the general political sway of each house.

JANKEH: Matron Awai and her eldest daughter, Jcck, can barely stand each other's company. It's not a secret and hardly unusual to see them hissing and clattering at each other. What is a secret, the rumors say, is what they fight over. While lacking evidence, the most prominent rumor is that Jcck selected a member of the Chchai family as her first consort and her mother vetoed it. No one is sure why she might have done that, but the other rumor is it involves a trade deal the family was meant to get for the High Queen.

SHAIY: Matron Thchnk was a staunch supporter of the Crown Princess for years, as the Matron and and Princess grew up together. However, there has been a rift since the Crown Princess rejected a male put forward by Matron Thchnk, as a potential consort for the Crown Princess. No one is sure if it's because the Crown Princess hasn't dared to take a consort since the famous incident with her mother or because of a personal disdain for her potential suitor. But, because of the refusal, the male Aranean has remained out of the public eye and kept company with Prince Shch. It's also been speculated that Matron Thchnk and the Crown Princess haven't been as close since.

KHAH: This house firmly detests the royal children, due to how they previously destroyed the family. But they don't seem to favor Queen Thsh either, instead seeking to secure their own power. Consequently, gossip brands them disloyal and oft mentions Matron Jhhnk vowed never to forgive those who slighted her—though it's unknown whether she means the Twin Generals or who her house killed to reclaim their position. Her children are young; several at the banquet are almost ready to choose their first consort, allowing more insight into the habits of this private family. Word is, worse than saucy, they're militaristic to the point of dullness—whatever that means for an Aranean.

CHCHAI: Out and out in favor of the Queen, and thus of COST. They're said to have dirt on every family worth knowing; one rumor claims they have secret books of blackmail. They are incredibly assumptive in all their conversations and openly seek COST members to speak with them. They have no qualms about making conversation with newcomers, even if it might be of questionable worth to polite Aranean company. But it's also a well known fact the eldest daughter, Lady Tchuul, is starting to feel suffocated by her mother.

» ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND GORE

The dinner is peaceful, for the most part. Conversation is all doublespeak, but no more than that. Until there's a clatter of razor-sharp cutlery and glasses.

It happens in a flash. Uthcki decked in colors befitting the Royal Family bring out servings of skrit chri when there's an inhuman, furious hissing sound. The Great Matron of House Chchai, Lady Nkouk, looms over the Matron of House Shaiy.

There's a moment of stillness as Lady Thchnk touches the fresh gash through one eye. It weeps blue blood, dripping onto her chest and elegant silk dress. Then the dinner erupts into a flurry of violence as the two houses set upon each other in earnest, like two great waves crashing into each other. Screams of pain and victory come as they tear at each other's limbs and fine clothes. Blood splatters, some even reaching towards the ceilings.

The other spiders scatter, brazenly cheering on one side or another, and a few even pull COST and Regency agents out of the way; they are promised diplomatic immunity, after all, and the spiders aren't ready to eat either side yet. Moreover, this is an affair that the Chchai and Shaiy houses need to sort out themselves and you're blocking the view.

There's a strange, organized quality to the chaos. The houses don't mistake bystanders for enemies, hyperfocused on each other, but it isn't a perfect science; it's best to steer clear, to avoid getting devoured by any stray mandibles. This isn't a duel where the goal is to avoid bloodshed; this is an open challenge over an accident with cutlery, a match where it's winner take all, including her victim's life.

When the movement stops, Lady Nkouk lies dead on the floor amid a heavy silence. Bodies twitch before going still. The numbers of the Shaiy family are diminished, but victorious.

In the aftermath of violence, Queen Thsh congratulates Lady Thchnk as she devours what remains of Lady Nkouk. The rest of House Chchai, including the Lady Tchuul, lie slaughtered. Other members of House Shaiy stand over them, proud and splattered with strange spider blood that runs red and blue. In areas where it's puddled, it's become a vibrant purple. A cry goes up, cheering the fall of one house and the rise of another. But for those more astute, it becomes obvious that the politics of Jhashch just changed dramatically.

Once everyone regains composure, utchki clean up the blood and, rather than take it away, collect it into an ornate vessel. The surviving members of House Shaiy dip their fingers into the blood and slide it up their jaws.


POSTMORTEM

After the chaos of the dinner, your next few meals might seem a little dull. Or perhaps your appetite is gone completely; it's understandable, but you should do your best to get it back. The upcoming weeks promise to be strenuous ones and the local restaurants are not nearly as considerate about clearly labeling what's in your food (although maybe you'll try the local flavor, should you like food that shrieks).

Most notably, a week after the dinner, after they've laid first claim, House Shaiy auctions off House Chchai's remaining possessions. The items range from cheap trinkets to outlandish furniture and vehicles; there are even a few hhcho and skrit chri, who survived the initial rush to devour the family. COST is permitted—and even encouraged—to participate, though most items are likely outside your price range. A victory is almost sure to hurt your pocketbook.

[If you want to participate in the auction, reply here!]

» THE BALANCE OF POWER

Still, in the wake of their arrival, COST recruits remain curiosities to the point of mild celebrity status. Whether this is for good or ill... Well, that remains to be seen. The Araneans are keen to interrogate recruits' on their preferred arenas, however. Already, there's no shortage of rumors whispered about the upcoming event's grandeur; the Royal Family ordered the construction of an entirely new stadium, stretching precariously over the pit of Ymir. It also seems the Araneans have heard of COST helping in the Parisian Riots and it's something they admire. Over the coming weeks, it becomes clear that those who rebel are prized by this former servant group, who overcame their oppressors by eating them.

Hence, you may find yourself receiving letters of challenge or, Watcher forbid, fan mail. By and large, the challenges are one-on-one endeavors with reluctant promises that neither Aranean or recruit will die. Probably, anyway. The tone varies from vicious to deadly polite; you can turn them down, but know it's either a sign of weakness or a slight...or both. And, should you choose to accept a challenge, you should never go alone. These are invitations to private noble homes, after all. It'd be a shame if something happened to you.

Oh, also. Enjoy the media attention. While it's quiet the first week, the closer the arenas come, the more likely you are to encounter an Aranean reporter and their paparazzi.

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

i.

[thunders]

[ Trying not to get eaten or start any fights is more of a full-time job than he expects. Thor doesn't exactly excel at the latter, and it seems to be a constant threat when going literally anywhere unaccompanied by another COST recruit. Luckily for him, he's been bailed out of trouble more than once, and he's starting to get the hang of how it works.

He recognizes Genji's voice, as well as his face, but the rest of it... What does he mean, injuries? Where did his armor come from?

As he approaches, he inclines his head toward Genji, as if in deference. He doesn't make eye contact with any of the Araneans, lest he give them one more reason to be offended. ]

There you are. Valkyrie is looking for you. [ It's the first name that comes to mind. Angela outranks them both, and the Araneans will understand that.

They barely spare him a glance, though their mandibles shift beneath the skin. ] You know what happens if we keep her waiting.

[ Play along, buddy. ]

[doublejumps]

[ While Genji had seen Thor around BASE, they haven't actually spoken since Gallipoli, so he appreciates the man's willingness to come bail him out like this. Using Angela as a reason for them to leave is clever; she's more highly ranked, and the Araneans should at least be able to respect them following their hierarchy, even if it is a farce. They don't need to know that. ]

Ah! Thank you for letting me know. I'm well aware, yes. [ Valkyrie certainly sounds like a fearsome name, doesn't it? Hopefully it will impress the spiders enough to let him off the hook.

He bows his head deeply to them. ] I'm sorry for any offense I might have caused. I do need to be going, so maybe we can continue this conversation later.

[ In reality, he just plans to avoid them as best he can going forward. Which is probably easier said than done, but Genji knows how to stay out of sight. ]

[thunders]

[ Thor doesn't address the spider at all, he simply follows Genji's lead - first in bowing, and then in moving through the crowd toward Angela. He nods at her through the sea of spiders and guests, though he doesn't know for sure if she sees them.

They both draw far too many eyes, but the conversation is still subdued, and Thor manages to lead them into one of the servant corridors - too small for most spiders, and most deliberately overlooked. It's not a place they can speak too much without being overheard, but it's a moment's pause from the constant scrutiny. ]

You're almost as good at making friends as I am. [ Thor grins. ] Terrible storytelling skills, though. At least throw in a you should see the other guy.

[doublejumps]

[ Ultimately, moving all the way over to Angela through the crowd is only going to draw more attention to them, and so Genji doesn't protest when Thor reroutes them into a narrow corridor. This allows them a moment to get their bearings, if nothing else. He can always send her a message later to thank her for bailing him out.

Thor is also due some of that, though he hasn't hesitated to make some jokes at Genji's expense. Genji's a good sport about it, laughing and shaking his head to himself. ] I'll have to keep that in mind for next time. [ Implying that there's going to be one, but he knows they're stuck here for a while. ]

Have you been getting in trouble as well, Mr. Thor?

[thunders]

Well, I'm a god on a world where they eat my kind and farm us for mystical energy so - yes. [ He grins. If he's put off by the whole affair, he doesn't show it. ] But it's nothing I can't handle.

[ He's gotten his ass saved so many times today alone. So many.

He looks Genji over, up close and away from prying eyes for the first time since they returned from Gallipoli. ]

Was it true what you said to those spiders?

[doublejumps]

[ Right, that whole 'god' thing. Genji still doesn't know what to make of it. Other than Thor's way of speaking, the way he behaves doesn't seem particularly godlike, not that Genji could even properly define such a thing.

It's a little embarrassing that someone who's literally viewed as spider food had to come to his rescue, but Genji shakes it off. Thor has earned some genuine answers to his questions, at least, and Genji's quiet for a few seconds as he leans up against the wall. ]

It was. I thought some honesty might earn me their favor, but apparently not.

[ He shakes his head to himself and shrugs. What can you do? ]

[thunders]

I think that it was less the honesty and more of the way you told the tale. [ Thor folds his arms, as at ease as he can be in a place like this. ] What was it that caused you such grievous injury?

[doublejumps]

[ It's not a story that Genji is that used to telling, given that most of the people he interacts with back home already know it. Hopefully he won't have to repeat this too often during his time here, or if he does, hopefully he'll get better at telling it.

Of course Thor is also curious, and Genji feels somewhat indebted to him for his help. His near-death at his brother's hands is something that he's had to come to terms with and make peace with, so he should be able to tell others. ]

It was... [ Genji sighs and looks away. ] A familial dispute.

[ #nailedit ]

[thunders]

[ Thor is silent for a long moment. When he speaks, there's a casual air about it that doesn't quite hide the pain behind the words. ]

My brother has tried to kill me a few times, so believe me when I say I understand. Familial disputes are the ones in which we lose the most.

[ He nods. ] I won't press you any further, if it isn't something you wish to speak of.

[doublejumps]

[ The moment that Thor says the word "brother," Genji's shoulders tense and his head snaps up. He stares at the larger man for a good few seconds, then exhales and shakes his head, dismayed. ]

It seems we have more in common than I would have hoped.

[ What are the chances that he'd run into someone else who's suffered the same pain as him? ]

[thunders]

[ The expression on his face says it all. Thor's brow furrows briefly. ] Was it your brother as well?

[doublejumps]

Yes, it was.

[ Genji's hands have balled into tight fists without him even realizing, and he forces himself to loosen up. While he's gone to great effort to work through the pain of what his own brother did to him, it's still difficult to talk about. But it seems that Thor understands, and so eventually Genji elaborates. ]

He was ordered by my family to bring me in line. I never expected he would go as far as he did. I've forgiven him now, but it took many years before I was ready to do so.

[thunders]

[ Ordered by his family? Even after his father casting him out, Thor can't imagine how painful it must have been for Genji to lose so much in one fel swoop.

He wonders what Genji could have done or where he came from that his family saw it fit to 'bring him into line', but it's a question for another time. He trades honesty for honesty: ]

For a long time, I wanted nothing more than to forgive Loki. I'm truly grateful that your brother isn't beyond that. [ He reaches over and places his hand on the other man's shoulder. ] Even if he is a giant asshole.

Have you spoken to him since..?

[doublejumps]

[ There's something about Thor's words that seem to imply that despite what he wanted, he'd been unable to actually forgive his brother. This 'Loki' must have simply gone too far, for such a thing to be possible. Or maybe Thor and Loki still have some work to do, before they can come to an understanding. That's the case for Genji and Hanzo as well, though Genji has put in plenty of work on his side of things.

He glances down at the hand on his shoulder for a few seconds, then looks up suddenly when Thor calls Hanzo an asshole. He can't help the surprised laugh that comes out of him. ]

We had an altercation, yes. He'd gone back to our home to grieve me, and I confronted him there. I don't think he can yet accept that I'm truly his brother, but I hope that with time, we can repair what was broken between us.

[thunders]

[ It isn't that he can't forgive Loki - it's that he's done it too often, too easily, when Loki has done things that should not be forgiven. Giving up isn't in his nature, and that's as true of battle as it is of his faith in others. He knows now that his brother would only ever have his back again long enough to run a dagger through it; a hard lesson to learn. Even his death doesn't change that, though it eases some of the bitterness Thor felt toward him. Maybe when enough time passes, he will be able to lay that ghost to rest.

An altercation at first sight sounds like exactly the sort of thing Thor can relate to when it comes to brothers. He gives Genji a wry smile. ] That is my hope for you as well.

[doublejumps]

I suppose it will have to wait until after COST is done with us.

[ Genji realizes that he could return to his home at any time, if that's what he desired, but he doesn't feel the urge for it, at least not yet. Time will stand still while he's "gone," so it isn't as if he's missing anything. No one will be missing him, either. As much as Earth is still in need of aid, the fate of the universe seems slightly more pressing.

He tilts his head up to study Thor's face for a few moments. ] Can I have this same hope for you? Or is the rift between you and your brother irreparable?

[thunders]

[ Thor nods. It's difficult not to think of so much unfinished business, even knowing that they'll be able to return to the moment they left off.

As for repairing his relationship with Loki... His expression softens, but the grief is old and well-worn now. Quietly, he says: ] My brother is dead.

[doublejumps]

[ That's not the response that Genji had been expecting, and it silences him for a few seconds as he lets it sink in. He lets out a breath and bows his head low. ]

My apologies, and my condolences. I did not mean to pick at a wound.

[ Losing a family member, especially one that you have a difficult relationship with, is not an easy thing. Sojiro's death had been hard on Genji, as much as Hanzo had assumed that he was glad to be free of their father's strict rule. ]