xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxѕρє¢ιαℓ тαℓєηт
ηαмє | Castiel Valente.
мαιη ѕтуℓє | Four Winds.
¢υяяєηт ℓєνєℓ | One.
σяιgιη | The user will unlock it during a trying situation, one forcing them to solidify their resolve.
ωєαкηєѕѕ | The user must give up d-ranked ki for every turn this talent is in effect and can no longer 'feel the wind' about them during its use.
∂єѕ¢яιρтιση | The user inhales a deep breath of air, filling the extremities of their lungs to the very brim. Holding their breath in for a moment, they mold this air it into the energy or ki that courses throughout their body in order to refresh and extract most impurities out of their anatomy (ei. bacteria, poison, etc.). The user then exhales the air mixed with their ki and any impurities by means of their nose and/or mouth. While the contaminants bore along with the energized current are destroyed as they leave the body, the respired wind itself quickly takes to wrap its user in a veil forged of wind and their ki. This veil adopts the appearance of platinum carvings (or smooth streams), visible to any onlooker. This talent acts like first as an internal armor, protecting the body from defilement, then as an external armor the latter of which can be used in two interchangeable ways, as it envelopes the user. At high rotations, the veil of wind will help decrease the strength of attacks opposing the user of this technique, moreover, enhancing their physical capabilities; all previously stated mechanics are based upon the current level that the user is at -if they are faced with any opposition of a much higher rank, the talent will not be able to defend them as effectively. Finally at slower rotations, the armor causes its user to disappear in a thicker veil of wind that distorts any form of light, bending it around their immediate figure.
ѕαмρℓє | He fought hard, but it wasn't hard enough. The young man was faced with much too many enemies even though they were all about the same level as he. An unexpected and powerful kick from behind forced the male to collapse under its pressure and the dirt of the ground below his weary feet. "See? It wasn't too hard to break him fellas!" the leader of the group cackled, digging his meaty fingers onto the scalp of their victim. The suppressed male couldn't do much but try to catch his breath midst all the dirt that threatened to clog his air canals, while other oppressors held him down against what flicker there was left of his fiery will. "I guess this is it for you, boy!" the leader ripped Cass' face from the earth and forced it up to look upon his own. "Look at me! This is the last thing you'll ever see in your miserable, shitty life!" he bellowed, spitting violently afterward right in the face of their prey.
Cass could do nothing but close his eyes to protect himself from the disgusting saliva this b*****d of a man had sprayed all over his already dirtied face. His eyes shut tight, Castiel felt a certain throb within the depths of his heart. It hurt, it pained him more than the persecution he had to currently endure; what was this feeling? It was the depressing emotion of having let down his people back home. . . the thunderous cries of millions, dying out to mere whimpers as they were caught away in the murderous, torturous grasp of Cass' older brother. . Alvaro, the demented king. A chill overcame Castiel. His entire figure shivered underneath it as his breath grew cold, shallow. The men laughed at this, at his reaction to it all, it was as if their victim had already given up and didn't even have the dignity of any final words to defend their pitiful existence with.
Little did the gang know what awaited them. Cass had unlocked the floodgates of his resolve. He was the true king, the rightful heir to the cherished throne his father defended with his entire being, every last fiber of his strength. Suddenly, Cass was overcome by instinct and the atmosphere seemed to tremble as he drew in a gradual, but great breath of air through his nose. This was the small beginning that snowballed within his very lungs as the strength of his will mixed with what remaining energy coursed through his anatomy. A moment later, just before the leader could connect a neck-breaking strike to Cass' face, the prince opened his gaze, his sapphire eyes refreshed and aglow with the energy that fueled his determination, and his lips parted in coherence. An immense amount of wind expelled from within, blocking the leader's punch as it began to wrap around Cass' figure, forcing the grips that held him down to break off of his limbs and torso.
Terribly shocked by what had happened, the group withdrew a few feet from his figure; but it was too late now. . Castiel advanced, using the currents that welcomed his unwavering resolution to enhance his martial prowess. As he fought the fearful bunch, most physical strikes that came his way were blown to the side by his winds, although a few did land here and there, yet these packed less power. Castiel could no longer determine the wind surrounding the premises, however, his physique, beckoned or moved by the quick currents about him allowed him to move at a much faster pace than enemies equal to or less than his own level; this allowed him to devour the lot in a short period of time. . . finishing the leader off last, "As long as I have innocent ones to look after, I will not be broken. Not now. . . nor ever." He said his 'last words', delivering the finishing blow to the head of the gang.
ηαмє | Castiel Valente.
мαιη ѕтуℓє | Four Winds.
¢υяяєηт ℓєνєℓ | One.
σяιgιη | The user will unlock it during a trying situation, one forcing them to solidify their resolve.
ωєαкηєѕѕ | The user must give up d-ranked ki for every turn this talent is in effect and can no longer 'feel the wind' about them during its use.
∂єѕ¢яιρтιση | The user inhales a deep breath of air, filling the extremities of their lungs to the very brim. Holding their breath in for a moment, they mold this air it into the energy or ki that courses throughout their body in order to refresh and extract most impurities out of their anatomy (ei. bacteria, poison, etc.). The user then exhales the air mixed with their ki and any impurities by means of their nose and/or mouth. While the contaminants bore along with the energized current are destroyed as they leave the body, the respired wind itself quickly takes to wrap its user in a veil forged of wind and their ki. This veil adopts the appearance of platinum carvings (or smooth streams), visible to any onlooker. This talent acts like first as an internal armor, protecting the body from defilement, then as an external armor the latter of which can be used in two interchangeable ways, as it envelopes the user. At high rotations, the veil of wind will help decrease the strength of attacks opposing the user of this technique, moreover, enhancing their physical capabilities; all previously stated mechanics are based upon the current level that the user is at -if they are faced with any opposition of a much higher rank, the talent will not be able to defend them as effectively. Finally at slower rotations, the armor causes its user to disappear in a thicker veil of wind that distorts any form of light, bending it around their immediate figure.
ѕαмρℓє | He fought hard, but it wasn't hard enough. The young man was faced with much too many enemies even though they were all about the same level as he. An unexpected and powerful kick from behind forced the male to collapse under its pressure and the dirt of the ground below his weary feet. "See? It wasn't too hard to break him fellas!" the leader of the group cackled, digging his meaty fingers onto the scalp of their victim. The suppressed male couldn't do much but try to catch his breath midst all the dirt that threatened to clog his air canals, while other oppressors held him down against what flicker there was left of his fiery will. "I guess this is it for you, boy!" the leader ripped Cass' face from the earth and forced it up to look upon his own. "Look at me! This is the last thing you'll ever see in your miserable, shitty life!" he bellowed, spitting violently afterward right in the face of their prey.
Cass could do nothing but close his eyes to protect himself from the disgusting saliva this b*****d of a man had sprayed all over his already dirtied face. His eyes shut tight, Castiel felt a certain throb within the depths of his heart. It hurt, it pained him more than the persecution he had to currently endure; what was this feeling? It was the depressing emotion of having let down his people back home. . . the thunderous cries of millions, dying out to mere whimpers as they were caught away in the murderous, torturous grasp of Cass' older brother. . Alvaro, the demented king. A chill overcame Castiel. His entire figure shivered underneath it as his breath grew cold, shallow. The men laughed at this, at his reaction to it all, it was as if their victim had already given up and didn't even have the dignity of any final words to defend their pitiful existence with.
Little did the gang know what awaited them. Cass had unlocked the floodgates of his resolve. He was the true king, the rightful heir to the cherished throne his father defended with his entire being, every last fiber of his strength. Suddenly, Cass was overcome by instinct and the atmosphere seemed to tremble as he drew in a gradual, but great breath of air through his nose. This was the small beginning that snowballed within his very lungs as the strength of his will mixed with what remaining energy coursed through his anatomy. A moment later, just before the leader could connect a neck-breaking strike to Cass' face, the prince opened his gaze, his sapphire eyes refreshed and aglow with the energy that fueled his determination, and his lips parted in coherence. An immense amount of wind expelled from within, blocking the leader's punch as it began to wrap around Cass' figure, forcing the grips that held him down to break off of his limbs and torso.
Terribly shocked by what had happened, the group withdrew a few feet from his figure; but it was too late now. . Castiel advanced, using the currents that welcomed his unwavering resolution to enhance his martial prowess. As he fought the fearful bunch, most physical strikes that came his way were blown to the side by his winds, although a few did land here and there, yet these packed less power. Castiel could no longer determine the wind surrounding the premises, however, his physique, beckoned or moved by the quick currents about him allowed him to move at a much faster pace than enemies equal to or less than his own level; this allowed him to devour the lot in a short period of time. . . finishing the leader off last, "As long as I have innocent ones to look after, I will not be broken. Not now. . . nor ever." He said his 'last words', delivering the finishing blow to the head of the gang.
