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BZPRPG - Kentoku Archipelago


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@Lady Takanuva @The UltimoScorp @Click @ARROW404@Keeper of Kraata

OOC: Sorry to keep you waiting

IC: Yoka and Ikyazu

She failed to note the expression of the bird, focused more on the rescue for the moment. The tonfas, she assumed, must either belong to her, or to someone she knew, and would be returned when she regained consciousness.

"Whichever requires more help," she answered Ahri's question.

BZPRPG Profiles
If I go AWOL for a while, feel free to contact me via Discord

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IC Yuna Koizumi:

Right.

"Well, I'm gonna need at least one other Mindarm on the surface while I work from under water. There's only a couple holes to worry about, but they're pretty low down so we have to get it up pretty high out of the water."

@ARROW404@Click£

 

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC: Mitsuri - Oki Village Outskirts

"I'm afraid I won't be much use lifting the boat, but Shinku can keep an eye on things from above or in the smaller crevices." The Sakl bird perked up at mention of its name, and Mitsuri raised her arm, clad in a soft leather glove, for Shinku to swoop down and perch on. She staggered for a moment under the weight of the large bird, but remained steady and almost dignified as Shinku chittered meaningfully in her ear.

 

OOC: @Lady Takanuva@The UltimoScorp@Keeper of Kraata@ARROW404

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IC: Ahri - Oki Village Outskirts

The Mashtet paused and turned back to Yuna. "Good point. I suppose Raika can grab some sleep at the village; there are enough abandoned dwellings. I should be able to help after I tuck this one in." He adjusted Raika to a more comfortable position, glancing at Yoka. "I don't think I got your discipline, Yoka. Sure would be easier with three of us."

OOC: @Lady Takanuva @The UltimoScorp @Click @ARROW404

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: Vazaria – Mashtet Fortress

Upon closer inspection, the room Vaza had found looked to have once been someone’s personal quarters. The layout was modest and utilitarian; not the extravagant bedroom of someone of great import, but decent living quarters nonetheless.

The ragged remnants of a bed occupied the centre of the chamber, its frame falling apart and its mattress mouldering, with a rusted storage chest sitting at its foot. Tattered, threadbare tapestries clung like cobwebs to two of the walls, while a cracked closet was slouched against another, the clothing within faded and moth-eaten. Mashtet illusions still sputtered on some of the surfaces, adding colour and texture to the walls and floors, but the projections were ailing and disjointed, from age and lack of maintenance. On the far side of the bed was what looked to be a display cabinet of some kind, though the glass was so dense with dust that Vaza couldn’t discern what was inside from where she stood.

Scuffing away the years of dirt, detritus, and rahi rodent droppings as she walked, she made her way inside, her soulsword casting an ethereal blue-white light over the old wood and stone. She made her way over to the closet and started rifling through the rotted rags still hanging within, hoping to find an intact sheet or blanket tucked away inside. Finding nothing, she settled for clearing a spot on the floor to rest. It was better than nothing, certainly better than her sleeping arrangements had been while hiding out on Odaiba. Merely having a roof over her head was more than she’d had a few days ago.

As she moved past the display case, she paused to brush some of the dust away and peek through the grimy glass. Its contents looked to be souvenirs of some sort, pieces of jewellery and intricate ornaments, all different types and styles. None of it seemed especially interesting, and Vaza almost continued on her way before something caught her eye. She squinted at it for a few moments, puzzled, her subconscious screaming while her tired mind struggled to catch up.

Then recognition set in.

And gave way to rage.

She ripped open the case, slamming the lid against the wall so ferociously that the glass cracked. Her quivering fingers clawed around one of the objects within, raising it tentatively towards the light cast by her soulsword. It was something familiar yet almost forgotten, a mundane piece of her history that she’d thought lost long ago. Something she’d never expected to see again, let alone here of all places.

It was a simple pendant, a diamond-shaped piece of green crystal with gold filigree coiled across it, forming the serpentine figure a Kanohi Dragon. The style and materials were all too familiar to Vazaria; the ancient sword slung across her back had a blade made of the same crystal, a handle adorned with the same gold, and was emblazoned with dragons in the same design. The two objects had come from the same place, been created through the same techniques.

Every craftswoman in Vazaria’s clan had been required to make a pendant like this one as part of her training, to wear with pride as a showcase of her skill. They’d been a common sight during Vazaria’s upbringing, though of course she’d been too young to make her own at the time, and Destiny had denied her a chance to ever learn. Still, she understood enough to know that each pendant was unique. Irreplaceable. Valuable beyond words, but only as a memento to its maker. No self-respecting crafter would have ever sold or bartered her pendant away. To have wound up this far from home it could only have been taken by force… and there was only one night that could have happened.

The soulsword dissipated in Vazaria’s grasp, plunging the room into darkness as she cradled the tiny piece of crystal in her shaking hands. Unbidden tears welled in the corners of her eyes as realisation crashed down upon her like a tidal wave.

The warriors who’d wiped out her clan had undoubtedly done so in the name of the empire, but they hadn’t worn their allegiance openly. They’d carried no colours, borne no banners, bringing only cold knives and hot torches.

It had taken decades for Vazaria to recover, train, and accrue the confidence and currency required to investigate her family’s fate. By then the leads had long gone cold. Still, she’d searched, always hoping she would find something, a whisper or a witness that could lead her to answers. Though plenty of clans supported the empire, fewer of them would have been willing to wipe out another clan merely for the crime of speaking out against imperial rule. She’d investigated each clan as best she could in the months before her fateful trip to Odaiba, but never found any evidence to link them to her family’s fall.

Now she understood why she’d never found anything.

Her clan’s killers had met their own fate before she’d even started searching for them.

A howl of wordless rage wrung itself from her throat as she brought her clenched hands crashing down on the case, showering the floor with wooden splinters and glass shards. With bloodied hands she shoved the shattered cabinet aside and slumped against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor as she sobbed.

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BZPRPG Mercenary Organisation - Description - History - Base

BZPRPG Characters - Minnorak, Kain, T'harrak, Savis, Vazaria, Lash

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[Hanaloi, North Cove (Fanai/NPC)]

The exhausted expedition boarded the ship with the same grim silence that now hung over the island.   Even the crew, who knew nothing of what had transpired, could sense the miasma of fear and despair that hung over the place.  Fanai stayed by the side of the fallen Kaazi as the expedition leaders discussed sailing plans in urgent, hushed tones.

In the space of a few minutes, the crew pulled anchor and hoisted sail, absent the usual conversation and colorful curses that normally accompanied an undocking.  The expedition boat caught the night breeze, bringing it up an away from the cove.  Then the helmswoman turned the wheel, the steady splash of oars began, and the vessel swung around to the south, to where the last of the Kaazi lay caught in a terrible choice.

OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

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There's a dozen selves inside you, trying to be the one to run the dials

[BZPRPG Profiles]

Hatchi - Talli - Ranok - Lucira - FerellisMorie - Fanai - Akiyo - Yukie - Shuuan - Ilykaed - Pradhai - Ipsudir

And some aren't even on your side.

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  • 2 weeks later...

IC: Hanaloi

Hambra took the canteen back, taking her own swig. She'd miss the Hanaloi spring water; it was a curious thing to miss, out of all she had lost, and yet more she had yet to bid farewell to. "Please, Koshi Zrupgar; we have let our own paranoia isolate us from our true kin. Say your piece, we will listen.

 

Somei continued with her work coaxing a twisted form of animation back into the castle's carvings. Once, the halls had been tastefully subdued, imitating the Gardens of Sado or views of an idealized ocean. Some of these returned, but were twisted and darkened with Zataka's vision of what an idealized Kentoku looked like. Others were replaced by an oppressive darkness. The castle represented something of the past; she would remake it into something of the future.

OOC: @Goose @Nato G @Mel

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: Caana (Mashtet Fortress)

Caana was no stranger to death; she had watched the light fade from her own mother's eyes when she was only a girl, and she had still to reach adulthood when she slew her aunt.

Those deaths, those killings, were as bloody as they were personal. They inured her to what would follow; war was a relief, compared to what she had already experienced. A battlefield littered with corpses was a kind of death that was indifferent and anonymising, and as such could never compare to the horrors of the Ronin's childhood.

Yet still, she found herself as unnerved as she was moved by the sight that awaited her beneath the well. To the world above, the Mashtet had simply vanished; how many times had their surviving kin walked upon the soil above, oblivious to the mass grave that lay beneath their feet?

It dawned upon her only then that she had been mistaken; Hanaloi was haunted, and it was its loneliness that made it so. These catacombs were an underworld, forever hidden from the land of the living by only a thin barrier of dirt and stone. On Hanaloi, the living and the dead lay inches apart, close enough to touch, and still alone.

She suppressed a shiver and moved on, walking with purpose into the bowels of Jigoku.

OOC: @Mel @Keeper of Kraata

Edited by Goose
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[BZPRPG PROFILES]

Nikarra - Kaelynn - Ronan - Muir - Donal Aerus - Montague - Kira - KouraLearu - Alteora - Fuacht - Caana Nessen - Merrill

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[Hanaloi, Mashtet Fortress (Falki)]
When Caana found her way into the chamber of imprisoned kraata, Falki had already started work.   The koshi zrupgar was systematically wrapping the stones in cloth bandages and stuffing them into her pack and clothing, seemingly heedless of the heat.

OOC: @a goose

[Hanaloi, Kaazi Camp (Semeraed)]
Semeraed looked at the assembled Kaazi, her one remaining eye fixed ahead as if she was seeing something else.

“Listen to me cousins, when I say I know what you are loosing.   I watched my home burn in the distance as we fled, the only home I had ever known.  The Kuychar lost much that day, but we survived.  Houses can be built wherever there is land to stand on, but we can not have homes without people.  If you leave, you will leave your houses, but you will carry home inside of you.   If you stay, they will take everything from you, all the people you love.”

Her voice quavered as Falki’s face, horribly transformed, flashed in her mind, but she pushed on, forcing it to grow louder.

“We are not Imperials.   We need not follow their order, submit to their power, or die for their honor.  We have only one virtue.  We survive, survive and continue our stories.  When your ancestors came here, it was out of that hope.   It was not so you could die for their choices, but to live on to continue their legacy.  We have already lost so much.   Let us not loose more.”

OOC: @Keeper of Kraata

Edited by Mel
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There's a dozen selves inside you, trying to be the one to run the dials

[BZPRPG Profiles]

Hatchi - Talli - Ranok - Lucira - FerellisMorie - Fanai - Akiyo - Yukie - Shuuan - Ilykaed - Pradhai - Ipsudir

And some aren't even on your side.

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IC: A̴͕̺͐͝ġ̸̡̖̝͔ë̷̠͎̫̠̈́ṙ̴̖̚u̴̻̅̾̀ ̴͇̻̹̏͊̍̿͜Ś̸̭͛́h̷̘͎̝͆̕i̵͇͓̦̱̓͆̑̀ǩ̸͇́̾̃̓ͅi̷͓̺̖̖̝̕ (F̴̧͇̩͚̦̓̄̿́̂ơ̶͉̎͊̊̕ŗ̴̯͛t̴̘̗̦̜͊̅̈ ̴̤̞̾̄̾͝K̸̨̲̔̿͂i̶͔̞̫͜͝ż̵̡̢͎͙̰̾̎̈́u̴̥͕͇̝̟͗̾͂̓͋n̵̥̗͌o̶̫͈̳̽̿̎『S̵̲̣͒̐̎̍̀̌̈́͝͝h̸̨̥̖͖͈̼̻̰̯̹͎́̒͋̈́̒͂̌̀̒̐͌͝͝į̷̨̻̹͔̠̤͖͍̈̈̆̈́̈́̈́͂́͘ͅk̸̼̮̋͆̊͛͘̕i̵̧̖͍͓͕͇̝̱͖̼̳̤̣̾̌̈͐,̸͓͉̭̗̾̔͒̍̔̍̇̕ ̷̫͈͖̦̹͉̞̲̔͗̌̾̑̋͆́͆ͅḐ̷̤͔̪̞͖̭̜̮͖̩̦̫̪́a̵̡̧̭͕̙̺͖̖̻̖͕͛̂̃͛̑̔͘͝u̵͈͓̖͕͇̱̦̣͚̹̓g̸̳̻͚̙̗͇͑͛̆̌͒̈́̓͋̍̿̓̚h̷̜̞̩̬̣̥̅̋̿͛̈́̉̍̓͝͝t̴̖͉͖͋͂̋̊̈́̇͘e̶̛͇̝͗͛͐͆̎̔̈́̋̈́̂̐̂͠r̸̙͙̗̻̉̅̔̉͒̏̽̿̑̐̿̎̚ ̴̡̣̝̝̦͔̆̊̈́͂̕͝ͅͅͅo̷̧̱̬̩̤̬̞̦̹̟͔͈̱̭͙͇͑͂̿̈́̆̿̕̚f̸͕̥̠̱̺̀͛̾̀̆̽̚ͅ ̷̛̪̮̥̥̳͍̼̤͉̺͚̿̐̆̋͂͆̀̐̐̋̕̕͝S̷͙͓͚̫̘̗̣̯͔͋ä̷̡̝̰̮̤̪̩̺̀̋̽̊̈́͌s̵̤̩̳̗̹̪͓̝͍͑̈́͂̊͘̚͠a̴̧̨̼̱̲͚͍̭̝͖̬͈̲̟͈̞͆̅̃͛̊̇̏͛̚k̷͔͇͉̫̣̝̈́̋́̍̌͝ï̵̼̤̦̤͎̱̤͔̦̌̏̔͒͘̕͜』)

 

————————————————————————————

————————————————————————————————————

————————————————————————————————————KKKKHHHH!

 

 

My breath...

I can't—

It's the thunder.

Each rumble is like a hammer on the brain in my skull, each flash of lightning within a spike through my nerves. The pressure is enormous. I can't think straight, and each time I try and right the ship, the inky darkness that's choking the sun, choking me, topples me over. It pours from the earth, from the lake, from the sky, from the shade of our willow, enveloping all that has become of who I am— 

"Kahkh—!"

Somewhere to my right, in a ring around me around our willow and lake, I feel an unseasonable heat. The corner of my vision is tinged with red. The pain? Blood from the pressure? It's hard to tell. But...

A crackle, audible. It's familiar, too familiar. I know what that sound is. But I know no rain is to come and save us. 

Fire... That was the source.

However.

:Kila...n...ya...:

No matter where I look, the inky shadows are snuffing the light.

All light.

As it comes from the blaze, as it comes from our eyes, as it comes from the heart... it's all being choked, same as me. A thick, coiling darkness— like smoke, it's blanketing our surroundings until only a dim glow can pierce the haze. A dull crimson line in the distance, errant and sporadic enough to make the smoke dance. Shadows beneath a cracking flame...

I can't see her. I can, through my swimming, disoriented mind, make out the patch of blue within the dark, and try to crawl towards it. But I can't see her form, her face, her reaction. The blanket of black continues to expand, and with it, the pressure. I'd already doubled over from seiza in that instant it hit us, but...

:...-ren...shi...:

It's no use. The weight of the void pounds me flat, threatening to crush my skull to a pulp if I try and force more motion out of my body. I can almost feel it sinking into the firmament, the Earth that Is Me, as my mental self is pressed into the soil. Thoughts erupt, unbidden, with each smidge of dirt uncovered...

y̴̫̝͚̟̦̤̫̎̈́̉̈́̈́ǫ̷̡̺̘̠̗̹̝͈̦̟̤͒́̊͜͜u̶̧̧̢͕̱̤͉̖͇̖͚͚̣̜̪̻͑̑̋̄̈́͝a̵̳̩͔̙̜͇͙͔̘̲̎̉̀͋͑̆͆̂̅̂͌̔̀͑̒̚͘ŕ̸̢̛̬͎̙̮͇̺̝͚͍̰̔̾̍̑̾̾͝e̸̤͒͑̒͌b̸͖̺̣͕̭̗̣̾̐̅͌͝ú̷̧̧̡̝̻̬̳͍̥̣̥̮̥̖̻̑̋̐͐̈́̑̅̾̏͛̌͠ͅţ̵̢͎͓͙̼̣̼̯͍̠̭̥̬̞̰͖́̇̂͛̄́̑̐̉̍̈́̚͝a̸̘̿͊͂̈̀͊̓̓͒̒͘̚͝͝ś̵͈̆͗̄̽ḭ̵̹͎̺̞̟̋̌̔̀͂m̵̨̧̠̼̗̬̺̼̰̹̙͙͎͈̬̟̾̾̌̽̾̍̓ͅp̶̢̱̭̰̮͈̦̳̮̖͍̟̳͚͚͗̾̍̋̉l̸̯͌͒̂͌̊̂̆̎̕e̶̡͕̞͓̟̜̍̅̍̈̉̊t̸͇̝͖̱̻͗̐͗̊͑̓̓̔͒͘͠o̴̧͕͓̫̝̭̥̫̮̤̎̅̚o̶̝̙͈̫̿̈̏͐́̈̎͂͑͂̈́͌͝͠ľ̷̜̗̗͖̪̰̯̼̯̤̪̰̋̇̽̅̈̆͝y̸͚̙̌͂̈́̽́͝͠͝o̶̡̧̖̖͚̤̥̮͂̀͐̂̎͗̋͐̈́̍̄̄̑͋̈͝͝ų̴͕̞̻̮̝̭̀̀͛̀̅͆̎̌n̴̙̹̬͖̞̭̹̓̉̍̈́͗͐͒̀̓̄͒͘͠g̶̣̞̯̈͜ṁ̵̡̛̘̪̬̜̠̠͌̓̍̃͊̅͆̊̂͠ì̵̘͇́̔̑̏̏̔͜͝͝s̷͙͋̒̏̎̈́͛͊̀̽̾̍͂̈́̽̏͛t̶͕̔̀̓̂̃̒͋̈̃̑̍̕ͅą̶̨͖̘͇̥̠̳̯̲̬̳̘͎̥̂̅̒͝k̶̡̫̜̹͚̺̠̣̲̦̙̭̉͛̚ȩ̶̡̜̖͓̟̬̯̣̠̪̖̘͇̈̒̆͗̉̓̒̑́̆̈́͛̍̄́ͅn̸̠͔̘̰͉̣̩͇̝̊ͅa̴̡̠̥̱͇̭͙̠͔̪̗̼̠̜̍͒̓̽̽͗̏̆͑̊̿̈͘̚͝u̸͙̜̓̔͐t̵̡̡͍̺̤̥̆̾͑͌͆̃̾̏̑̇͂͂́͐̚ô̸̪̙̘̞͚͔͝m̶̛̛̤̟̯̩̖̩̯̩̰͖͉̗̳͒̎͂́̑̿̍͒̉̑̂̇̚ͅa̸̛̼̝̯̺̮̪̾̔̑́̚͘̚̚͘͠t̴̢͖̳͓̫̼̜͙͉͓̳̺̻̬̹̻̅̈́̈́̽͛̄̐͌̒̿͒͜͠͝o̴̼͇͐͑̽̀͆̍̋̾̎͐͗̊͝n̴̙͍̗͚̰̪̘͇̙̻̥̄̀͜t̸̙̻̳̬͕̣̲̗̯̪̯̫̥̻̬̗͖̃͒͆̄͗́̇̓̾̓h̸̖̫̮͓̜͚̝̼̤͑͝e̵̡̗̽͛̆̅̈́͒̎̄̈̂̋͋͘ṟ̶̇̓̇́̌̓̈̕e̴̡̪͙̺̗͖͙̘̙̙̖̜̩͗̐͋̓̽̽͜͜i̴̳̬̰͇̤̝̱͕̍̾̀̂͊̈͜ͅs̴̢̱̞̪̰͉͇͙̮̀͝ͅṋ̷̢̛̦͎̩̟̪̫̼̬́̊̍̆͒͘͝͠ǫ̴̙̘̟͕̝̝͋̈́͊̇͜ͅs̸̜̫̼̲̰̄e̷̡̢̧̲̖̗̤̯͍͖̞̜̳͎̿̈͆l̵̡͚̲̫̜͓͑ͅf̸̡̨̢̛̛̪̱̠͙̳̼̼̩̭̄̈́̍̌͒̀͑̈̇̑̆̀̕͝b̷͕̣̜̖̘̽̓̄̈͒̔͒͌̿̔͝ͅę̴̱̪̩̮̅̏͑n̶̢̬̹̝̯͖͇͔̘̱̫̺͕͕̱̰̞̈͒̈́̂́̓̐͑̀̿͘͠ȅ̶̘͜͠͝ą̴̠̟̫̼̟̠̲͍̲̙̱̰͚̠̅̉͊͜ṯ̶̢̢̛̪̳͎̮͕͇̰̰̭̒̽́͌͗̎̎̋͒͆̎̾͗̽͘̕ḩ̶̨͉̱̘̳͖̳͖̲̆̊̉̄ÿ̷̨̞̺̗̣̮̬̲̙̞́͒͑ǫ̴̝̟͕͕̤͈̦̼̬͒̓̇ư̷͈̜̫̻̈͂́͂͊̔͒̈́̈́̓̕̕͠͠ṟ̸̡̯̼͔̇̋͋͆̆̐̌̆̆͛̀̌͐̓̚͠m̴̛͕͙̟̠͓̞̟͓͍̦͎̒̓͒̐̉̒̐̿͑̕̕͝͝͝ͅị̶̢̛̗̣͌̐̈̇̒̿͂͜͝ͅn̸̢̼̠͕̥̠͓̮̬̳̳̺̝̱̦̦͉͑͛̓d̷̘̠̳̰͕̞̗̞̹́̀́̈́̆̓͌͌̽̚͝

But I can't decipher them. I don't think I really want to. That's beside the point anyway— I don't really think. I can't manage that.

I'm never going to reach my Toroshu. Not like this.

It's only through my link with her that I know.

I know what this is.

I know... ẃ̷̧̩͖͈̺̞̙͍̟͎̭̥͊̌̓̃̐̈́̿̿́̏̿͘̕͠h̸̡̢̟̭͍̮̹̫̦͎̻̠̞̒̀̊͑͗̈́͠͝͠͝ȍ̶̹̠̣̮̲̫̼̥̻̭͎͉̻͉̐̂̂̊́͋̎̐̓̀̅̕͘͝ this is.

It wasn't Her problem whether or not I did, but this is my Mind. All that happens here is something I feel.

I felt this arrival. I feel its pressure. I feel its weight— and I feel its power.

I feel Kilanya through this link, so carefully forged between her. I can feel her fear, her anger, her worry, but most of all... I can feel her knowledge, terrifying in its surety, flowing through me in a way she would never allow if it hadn't become this.

The wind is not hers any longer. It buffets like a storm, carrying the smoke into my face into my nose, into the tight throat and lungs I'm clutching at, trying to get the vicegrip off.

It doesn't take. Even this effort is clouding my vision further with red.

I can feel my heart hammering, a thousand taiko in procession. The curtain of blood slides over my sight, growing thicker and then receding back into formless black with each pulse. It's like a dye spilled into the ocean, melting within the murky depths.

My body knows this feeling.

Something terrible is watching me. Something I can't escape, no matter how purely my body comprehends the danger. It's meaningless. The threat is within me. What can I do, against a foe that has breached into my Soul?

A languid Kanohi Dragon? No.

I am a field mouse, caught in the gaze of a lurking viper.

I am prey.

I don't want to admit it, but I can't do anything.  I'm spellbound. Paralyzed.

The pain has eclipsed pain, and melted into numbness. Dye in the ocean. Over and over.

I am not a sapling. Kilanya is not a willow.

We are leaves in the tempest.

 

:::Ageru.:::

 

At once, my blood turns to ice.

The Quenching Dark... She speaks with a voice like a landslide above my head.

The flickering of the blaze ends.

 

:::Kilanya.:::

 

The flames have not ceased. Their dull, blood-colored glow is constant now. The mind's eye of my Mind's Eye... I imagine them to be as carvings etched into wood. A capsule of a single moment.

The heat they brought has frozen too. All they serve to do now is... lengthen the shadows.

A hope I know she can rip away, the moment it stops amusing her.

Why here?

Why like this?

 

:::It's time we spoke, O Rakumetsu Toroshu.:::

 

My muscles are numb. My mind itself is numb. I can feel a dullness that my inner light, however esoteric and faint, has never had to fight through.

And still.

"——————"

My numb lips name her, and I feel every character.

She is the  Shadow that brings Final Night when we Die.

:::Time you became useful.:::

Zataka.

And I go alight, realizing against my wishes, against my most desperate prayers, what I'm up against.

The pressure, the terror, the immense sense of imminent dread that cakes my every thought and action hasn't receded at all. If anything, it's even stronger now. I had previously believed the worst case scenario was in utterly failing my Toroshu as a student— but now, it very well could be that I get her killed instead of disappointed in me. 

That I can't allow.

That I can't abide.

That I can't even acknowledge as possible. 

Her voice may speak the nom de guerre Kilanya has earned for herself as a taunt, yes, like a schoolyard bully sneering a nickname back in your face— but I know all too well what it really means.

Every night, those walls I repair have stood firm against this primordial Dark's sons, and every morning, I see to it that they stand firm the next. I know that my fight can't compare to theirs. To the walls. To Kilanya, a hero in the catacylsm our noble empire has suffered, who takes the fight to those enemy demons. She may mock what they do, what they have done—

But it's because of them that the threats are held at bay, long enough for people like me, like Yumiri, like the forewoman, like the diaspora of Chand, Long, and countless other people of Odaiba... Long enough for us to see a tomorrow. Even through the dark and cold nights. Those who stayed and fought to protect, guide, and save those of us who could do nothing but stay and fight...

:Ngh.:

Pushing out of the numbness and back into pain, I grit my teeth as my fingers close around this concept, written on the grass beneath me. I'm still being choked by the thick smoke, still carrying the weight of an entire dominating presence upon my own.

But I know the feeling now. It's not a surprise anymore, so I can fight it.

—She didn't earn such an unannounced visit out of unimportance.

I know that much. 

My other arm, without nearly the strength to do so, reaches out and grabs the next patch anyway, dragging me along. Like an inchworm I continue, forcing down an urge to vomit from the terror I'm... Am I even ignoring it?

No. I can't.

That's why I'm moving.

I'm terrified of what will happen if I do, but also terrified of what will happen if I don't.

She said she would make use of her. 

If she waited until now... something here was making Kilanya vulnerable. Malleable. A card had fallen from her hand, to be used against her in this moment as opposed to all others. Something that'd have her dance to the darkness's tune. I'm pretty dumb, I know that— But I don't need to be brilliant to figure out why now is different from any other time since Odaiba erupted.

I reach my hand forward— and feel it. Gnarled bark, long swept smooth by wind, rain, and water, extending high into the gloom.

My undignified dragging on the stomach has finally taken me to the source.

I know, deep down, that it's me. I'm the reason this move was made now, after so many weeks of detachment. I'm a bargaining chip... and a bridge into a mind so carefully guarded. It has to be that, right? If that weren't the case, then this kind of attack would have happened far before I entered the picture. But with such a link between us established, that creeping umbra could step through the partition.

And while she was stuck projecting here... Kilanya would be unable to properly defend herself.

She had too good a heart. I can feel it.

The devil would use me... so she could make use of her.

Something hot rises up within me again. The red returns to the corners of my vision. An explosion, pushing out on all sides against the heavy blanket of instinctive terror.

I can't help myself, even though I know it's foolhardy.

:Do not... make me... a hostage... in my own... head!:

If it makes me mad, I have to fight it somehow.

Stretching myself to the absolute limit, I press my hands against the bark of the willow and push.

I know I'm not the important one in this scenario. That's the whole point. It's my Toroshu the twisted darkness wants, I don't matter.

So if she can't get her, I've done more for the fight than any training could ever allow me.

Edited by Razgriz
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helo frens

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IC: Caana (Beneath the Mashtet Fortress)

The Ronin took a breath and steeled herself against the heat before she entered the main chamber. Oppressive though the temperature was, showing weakness would be unwise.

"Falki. You left before we had a chance to speak."

OOC: @Mel

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[BZPRPG PROFILES]

Nikarra - Kaelynn - Ronan - Muir - Donal Aerus - Montague - Kira - KouraLearu - Alteora - Fuacht - Caana Nessen - Merrill

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IC Yuna - Oki Village

"Okay, I'll get it up from the mud, then you guys pull it ashore. Then we can get it emptied out and patched up. Just uh... Will hammer me when you're ready, I guess?"

I shrugged, then turned and stepped into the water before anyone could question me about it.

I was about to do the hardest thing I'd ever done with my abilities and I hoped to Zuto Nui that it wouldn't seem too out of place.

A surge of bubbles erupted from my mask as I drove under, a few easy kicks propelling me down to where the ship was entrenched in the sandy mud of the dock.

I floated serenely for a moment, letting the subtle underwater currents wash across me and soothe my mind and body.

And then I got ready.

 

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                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC: Ahri - Oki Village

The sole male in the group of misfits occupied himself while everyone else got ready by finding a suitable place for Raika to rest; someplace shaded, but also visible enough from the beach. After he had gently laid down Raika, Ahri wandered closer to the shore near the capsized vessel they were salvaging, stretching; even using Mindarm in concert with the others, lifting an entire waterlogged boat was still quite a feat. Waiting on the dock, Ahri began deep breathing to center himself; he didn't want to tire himself out.

OOC: @The UltimoScorp @ARROW404 @Click @Lady Takanuva

Edited by Keeper of Kraata

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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[Hanaloi, Mashtet Fortress (Falki)]

It seemed Falki’s pack was full.   She shouldered it, examining Caana with her hard, ruby eyes.

“Did we need to?”

OOC: @a goose

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There's a dozen selves inside you, trying to be the one to run the dials

[BZPRPG Profiles]

Hatchi - Talli - Ranok - Lucira - FerellisMorie - Fanai - Akiyo - Yukie - Shuuan - Ilykaed - Pradhai - Ipsudir

And some aren't even on your side.

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IC: Caana (Beneath the Mashtet Fortress)

She stepped aside, so that Falki might lead the way. So shortly after their last confrontation, and without a firm grasp on how the tarnish upon the masks of her allies worked, she had no intention of leaving her back open to the Dashi.

"Yes, we do. I wish to discuss your… potential."

OOC: @Mel

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[BZPRPG PROFILES]

Nikarra - Kaelynn - Ronan - Muir - Donal Aerus - Montague - Kira - KouraLearu - Alteora - Fuacht - Caana Nessen - Merrill

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IC: Yoka and Ikyazu

She laid the tonfas, as well as her excess baggage and glaive down a ways up the beach, before wandering closer to the wreck they aimed to salvage. She wasn't optimistic about its future use, but- as seemed to be becoming a habit now- she went along, seeing no better alternative. Ikyazu's invisible form drifted under the water, curiously observing Yuna, as well as the boat they were about to lift.

Yoka steadied herself with a breath, widening her stance, and closing her eyes. She let her mind calm, then reached out, stirring the air in front of her with her Mindarm in an elemental equivalent of a warm-up stretch.

BZPRPG Profiles
If I go AWOL for a while, feel free to contact me via Discord

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  • 2 weeks later...

IC: Chand Kura - Odaiba - Western Wilderness

With a long sustained breath, I blew the sparks into flames, watching them jump from the dry grasses to the kindling as Hyan-Fei approached, bearing three fish in hand. I looked up to see a curious expression on her face, one that I knew mirrored my own. For a moment, I thought it was best to ignore this, and I said with a smile, and little wink, "If all the clans were as skilled as you with that fishing rod, Odaiba would elude the need of farmers and hunters. They could retire easily." But I felt my smile evaporate, and after poking at the flames and watching the light catch her expression again, I changed my tune. If there was doubt in her mind, and in mine, maybe it was best that I stop pretending, and instead make an effort to understand one another. And to tell the truth.

"Hyan-Fei, I made a mistake..." I began again, "I've kept my true purpose and feelings from you. I've been afraid that if you knew, you might choose to leave, and the fear of being alone out here led me to lie. But if you hear the truth now, and we part ways, I won't stop you, and think nothing less of you." I put my hands together and bowed my head in respect, "I only ask you give me the chance the be honest now, and make up for my mistake from our first meeting."

OOC: @Zasshu ok i'm actually back for real this time LET'S GOOOOO

Edited by Palm
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| BZPRPG Profiles |

 

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IC (Ageru Kilanya) [Fort Kizuno, Odaiba]

By rights, a mighty tree anchored by deep-sunk roots should have been immovable to the strength of a girl. But even intruded upon by two far more powerful presences, one benign and one decidedly otherwise, this mindspace was still Shiki's, and it was her will that defined its rules.

The gnarled bark shuddered momentarily against her touch, then shifted. The earth split and crumbled as the willow's roots were tugged upward, their pale brown limbs beginning to peek through the loam. The tree creaked and swayed in protest; the eyes of Kilanya's avatar widened as she felt a challenge to the grip of her Will — not from the Shadow, but from the girl. Then confusion gave way to clarity.

Of course. The link. It's using the link.

The willow's hold on the earth loosened. Shiki's push stayed firm. The tree moved further upwards, shaking soil from its roots as they were torn one by one from the hillside, until—

Tree and lake and hill and Shadow were gone. Kilanya's eyes snapped open, and were greeted with the same sun-drenched clearing her mind had departed mere moments (minutes? seconds? the passage of time was hard to gauge in such spaces) ago. The air was calm, bearing only the sounds of her training soldiers and the faint rustle of wind in the trees. All, it seemed, was as they'd left it.

She looked across at Shiki: eyes still closed, face still taut with the desperate concentration it had taken to break the link between their minds, and with it, the backdoor that had let the dark presence in. Getting back to her feet, the Toroshu reached out with one hand to squeeze the girl's shoulder.

"Well done," she whispered.

Well indeed. Kilanya marvelled for a moment at how quickly the girl had realised the nature of the intrusion — more quickly than she herself — and how bravely she had mustered her will to stop it. Her instinct had been right: there was more potential to this seemingly laggard student than met the eye.

But this wasn't over yet. The psychic link was no more, but an intrusion of such power could not help but leave a ripple on the mental plane, a broken thread she could trace back to its source. Her gaze was drawn across the grass to the trees at the clearing's edge, to the darkness of their branches...where she found shapes. Lithe, sharp-edged, spiked and spined. A hint of purple amid the dappled shadows. A glow of serpentine eyes, fixed on her.

The attention of every Dasaka in the training ground, no matter how deep in meditation or locked in sparring, was seized by their commander's bellow.

"RAHKSHI!"

Edited by Ghosthands
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