|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Feb 25, 2012 2:59 pm
❀ Page 4 ❀
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 31. Table of Contents
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 32. Reluctant Hero
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 33. Solo Battle - Price On Your Head
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 34. Dangerous Ideas
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 35. Battle - Mission Report
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 36. Special Forces
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 37. NPC RP - Permission to Kill
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 38. Disreputable
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 39. Solo Battle - A Shred of Doubt
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 40. Incommunicado
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 41. The Dragon and the Tiger
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 42. Solo Battle - Where is Your Faith?
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 43. Sunrise
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 44. Dear Brother
✿✿✿✿✿✿ 45. Solo Battle - Exhibition
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2012 3:52 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿RELUCTANT HEROPromotion had been quick to come, following the highly successful string of missions targeting the Noble prisons. Van no longer reported to the barracks or to any of the specialized divisions, but to the Generals themselves. Sometimes, she’d even glimpse one of the Four. The first time Van and Kasem stepped into the captains’ offices, they’d been met with cheers, calls of welcome and congratulations—everyone had heard of Team Aida and what they’d started among the Legion. The prison upsets had been seen as the first step to dissolving the Noble counterforce.
“Van,” a familiar voice had called behind her, floating above the commotion. The new captain turned, surprised to find herself face to... chest with a grinning Aida Rikimaru, her former captain. “Or shall I say, Captain Au?”
The words had resonated strangely in her ears then, even as she smiled wanly and robotically accepted the embrace of congratulations from the silver-haired man. She was Captain Au. It was a name and title she’d only ever heard others address her brother by, and now that she’d inherited the title, she wasn’t sure she liked it. It wasn’t that it didn’t make her unique; there were plenty of Captains Au on the Legion side, populated by her very own clan. None of them mattered so much to her as one of them used to. Her brother Thanh Long was still Captain Au... except that he now served the other side.
When Van imagined herself in this position in childhood, she’d imagined herself the same as her brother. They were supposed to fight together, to bleed together, to save each other. The gap between them was supposed to have closed; she’d seen herself abreast of him and all the rest of the clan. There was still a gap—only, it was better characterized as a chasmal rift, one that they’d never be able to bridge so long as the war raged on.
This wasn’t the substance of her dreams. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
She’d stopped cringing internally whenever one of her fighters called her Captain Au now, the bitterness of her brother’s defection all but forgotten in her mind in favor of the increased responsibilities she now had with her new rank. By day, the captain briefed her fighters on undercover missions and long-term covert ops. The fighters—usually female—were specialized, just as she had been. Van herself was too well-known now to be successful in those missions any longer, where anonymity was key. Eventually, though, the cipher division found use for her, enlisting her analytical mind in inventing ciphers for the Legion to use, and in cracking intercepted Noble correspondence. By night, she was at the helm of the infiltration missions, the ones that had gotten her promoted. Van no longer worked alone, and this helped her keep her mind off of the things that would otherwise be fighting for her attention.
Van heard the door click open and closed, but did not look up from her desk, instead expecting some kind of formal address: Captain, or a variant thereof. She was only startled to attention when a deep voice rumbled just above her head. “Con.” Child.
“Dad,” she acknowledged stiffly, deigning not to reply in their native tongue. They hadn’t spoken since she’d returned from the mission with news that Thanh Long had violated the family oath with his defection. Vinh Hung had entirely dismissed her promotion—Van was no replacement for the golden child he’d lost to the Nobles. “Is there something you need?”
She watched with surprised eyes as the tenryujin moved a large gilded box from under his arm, placing it in front of her on top of her paperwork. When she looked up questioningly, he only issued a curt nod at the box. Van lifted the lid to find a gleaming pair of butterfly swords nestled in a bed of red velvet. She swallowed nervously, lifting one of the blades out of the box to hold it to the light, staring at it admiringly. The heft and balance of the sword was perfect, she saw as she handled the sword, and the dragon etched in the black steel danced with every cut in the air. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go out and buy a new pair yourself,” Vinh Hung said then, his eyebrows slightly raised, though his expression was as stony as ever. “So I saved you the trouble, Van. May they serve you well.”
Van blinked a few times, trying to hide that she was flustered. There was no family ceremony for promotion, and the mandatory graduation gift aside, he’d never given her anything before, let alone a pair of swords as lovely and expensive as the ones she held now. “Well, I’ve been a bit pressed for time... and the last pair you gave me was still...” she cleared her throat, feeling a slight flush creep up the sides of her face. “Thank you, Dad.”
Was that a smile on his face? Van couldn’t believe her eyes; she was always used to seeing him expressionless, or otherwise he’d always looked at her with a disapproving look in his eyes, so unlike the one he used to regard his son with. As quickly as the grin had appeared, though, it had faded, and Vinh Hung’s face was a mask of seriousness again, leaving Van to wonder whether she’d been seeing things.
“There is a clan meeting tomorrow night,” he stated simply, and Van instantly knew the implications of his words. Every week the military heads of the family convened to discuss their plan of action for the war, for their own interests, and other internal affairs. She’d forgotten of this particular privilege granted to captains of the family, and now that it was extended to her, she was once again at a loss. It was just one more thing that she’d expected to be able to do with her brother.
“I will be there, Father,” she said blankly. The tenryujin seemed pleased at this, nodding as he turned to leave with a ceremonious curl of his large tail. Van watched the door for an entire minute after he’d gone, swords still in hand as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Her brother had fallen out of favor with the clan, and she’d risen to approval. It was an uneasy relationship, one that she wasn’t sure she wanted to accept... and in the end, it only meant that she was still second-best.
Placing the swords back in their case now, Van moved the gift aside, pushing aside with it her feelings of resentment and reluctance. She bent her head over the mess of codes and ciphers once again, picking up where she’d left off. There were more important matters to attend to, no matter how much she wished she wasn’t here under these circumstances. 
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kurama no Koishi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2012 8:15 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - PRICE ON YOUR HEADVan hadn’t been home in days. With the way assignments were going for the Legion right now, this wasn’t uncommon for the Legionnaire. Missions had become full operations which were impossible to complete in the span of one night. Her assignments were no longer so simple; she could no longer just get in, take what she needed, and get out. The captain now had anywhere between 80 and 250 fighters to account for whenever they conducted a large-scale raid or infiltration operation, and her necessary adjustment to the marked decrease in stealth had been... taxing. It wasn’t just that, either; knowing that she held her fighters’ lives in her hands made her every decision an extended internal debate.
For this reason, Van was glad to finally have some time alone. Now, as she continued at a brisk pace through the Noble neighborhood she lived in, she was only accountable for her own life. She had been attacked plenty of times before on her way home in the middle of the night, but it came with the territory. In deciding of her own accord to be the only Legionnaire residing in the area, she’d basically asked for it, after all.
Oh, the sacrifices she made for the Legion. Before, it had been in the name of finding her brother, but she could no longer fall back on that excuse. The Au clan had since disowned the captain, and though his shoes had been too big for Van to fill at first, she was slowly learning the ropes. Soon, she would be able to say that she did not have a brother without batting an eyelash. Of this she was absolutely certain.
Rounding the corner, Van trotted up the steps to the ger she shared with Bataar. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but if he was home he was probably asleep—and that was all she wanted to do right now. She took a moment to fumble for her key. When she finally pushed the door open, she was pleased to find that her roommate’s bed was empty, and that she had the place to herself at least for a night. Still, Van noticed as she closed the chestnut door quietly behind her, something about the atmosphere seemed off.
She was alone, wasn’t she? There was a heavy, pregnant feeling in the room, one that Van would normally have attributed to the aftereffects of Sara’s spirits, but she knew for a fact that the priestess had not left the temple. Squinting to make out the familiar shapes in her living room as she felt around to light the nearest lamp, the captain turned just in time to catch a glint of steel under the dim moonlight, and avoid a blade aimed straight for her heart.
Van bounded backwards out of range of her assailant, unsheathing both butterfly swords from behind her back in a fluid motion. Holding one blade in front of her as a guard, she finally flipped on a nearby floor lamp to illuminate the face of the Lunarian who had been sent to end her life.
There was no face to reveal—that is, it was covered by a black fabric, revealing only dark blue eyes and a swatch of tanned skin... and perhaps the most striking thing about the Lunarian in front of her was that she was a woman. She wielded wind and fire wheels, a double weapon like her own, and for a moment Van was reminded of an acquaintance from her Academy days, Mayu. Mayu had been her friend, though, and the fighter standing in front of her was much smaller than her. With her hair cropped close, Van would have said that the woman looked like a pixie, but the situation was not one for idle compliments.
“I hope you didn’t wait long,” Van said dryly, referring to the fact that the ger had been unoccupied for days. The assassin had to have been camping out for hours, if not days... or someone had spotted her leaving the recently finished op and tipped the Nobles off. “Look, if you leave now, I won’t send my men after you.”
She watched the fighter’s blue eyes crinkle, as if she were smiling, but the expression was cold and mirthless. “No, I got here just in time.” And with that, she lunged forward with remarkable speed, the jagged steel circles of her weapons flashing dangerously. It was clear that Van’s offer was going to go unanswered, and the captain had no reason now to hold back.
Van stood her ground, catching both wind and fire wheels in the crossguards of her butterfly swords. For a moment, they strained against each other, their strengths evenly matched.
“Who sent you?!” Van demanded harshly, her tone authoritative, though she did not expect an answer. For all of the times she’d been arbitrarily attacked by Nobles, this was the first time someone had been sent with the sole intention of ending her life. Celebrating her promotion with an assassination attempt was not exactly ideal, but Van would make the most of it by turning the tables and forcing information out of the small woman, if she could. Gritting her teeth, the captain reached into the reserves of her strength, pushing forward once again to feel the masked fighter withdraw from her. The Legionnaire followed.
To her surprise, the assassin’s high voice rang out from underneath the dark fabric of her mask, taunting Van. “You’ll die anyway, so I might as well tell you!” She ran into the kitchen area, throwing chairs and loose objects in the captain’s direction in an effort to impede her forward progress. “Captain Au sent me.” She cackled with glee as Van stopped dead, allowing a glass cup to graze her forehead and leave a shallow cut. Taking advantage of the Legionnaire’s apparent shell-shock, the fighter ran back toward Van, her intent to engage and kill.
The captain fell out of her stupor just before her assassin closed the distance between them, sidestepping the Noble at the last minute with ki-enhanced reflexes. She did not go unscathed, however, noticing belatedly that a deep cut had opened up in her upper left arm. The pain was nonexistent. Van stood tall, seething, trembling in anger at the mention of her brother and at the idea that he had turned on her—on the family—so completely. The blood dripping into her eyes stung them, but the rage she was feeling had given her the utmost clarity. “You b***h,” she snarled, sounding nearly feral in her fury.
For the first time all night, the Noble looked taken aback, wisely retreating deeper into the ger when Van came at her with the ferocity of a leopard and the rage of a tiger. Steel met steel once again as the two women fought, their weapons kissing as they struggled against each other, neither able to make a move on the other.
But a stalemate was not an acceptable result for either of them. Suddenly, Van slid her sword to the hilt along the Noble’s weapon, hooking it from underneath with the long crossguard along her sword as she gave a hard yank. The circular weapon came loose in the woman’s hand, and swinging it backwards, Van allowed a sinister smirk to come across her face as she heard it embed itself uselessly in the wall with a soft thud.
Before she could recover, the Legionnaire suddenly felt her legs swung out from under her and she came crashing down on her wooden floors, landing hard on her back. The assassin allowed her no time to recompose herself, moving in with a singly-wielded wind and fire wheel. Van parried the sharp slashes of the weapon easily, using the wide berth her swords allowed her to jump to her feet. As the other woman retreated again, Van threw one of her swords after her, but was displeased to hear that the assassin deflected the flying weapon with a dissonant clang of metal striking metal.
Channeling her ki to her feet, the captain flew forward, her other sword in hand. Blades crossed at lightning speed in the dim ger as they moved from room to room, a trail of destruction following them. Finally, someone made a mistake. Van watched the other woman’s blade slice through the air between them, a jagged serrated edge aiming to embed itself deeply into her chest. s**t. It wasn’t a hit she could avoid, and she ducked hard to the left, shouting in pain as the one of the wheel's prongs cut into the soft tissue of her deltoid muscle, missing her heart by mere inches. She twisted the blade.
As Van looked up, biting back a scream, she could see the other woman’s dark eyes glittering in triumph.
In one final surge of rage, Van whirled around, her hands curling into her trademark leopard fist as she dropped her sword. Gritting her teeth against the pain of the Noble’s weapon being yanked out of her body, Van made a hard attempt for the smaller woman’s knee and elbow. She couldn’t defend herself against both, after all.
Her elbow took the hit, the joint snapping backwards with a sickening noise as the captain’s fist made contact. Gearing up for another hit, Van spun a high kick into the assassin’s back, watching in grim delight as her small body flew forward onto the floor. Following up, more slowly now, the Legionnaire brought her heeled boot down on the woman’s wrist. The Noble groaned as her bones gave, and Van, unyielding, stood over her expectantly. She didn’t get up—couldn’t get up for both of her ruined arms—so Van dragged the woman up by her shirt, turning her over to face her. She yanked down her mask, impervious to the hunted expression that now begged for mercy.
Suddenly Van smiled, the expression odd and catlike on a face that had just seconds prior been twisted in anger. Leaning in, she lowered her lips to the Noble’s ears. “Tell your captain,” she murmured, her voice deceptively calm even as she began to drag the woman to the door, “I’m coming for him.”
With that, Van threw the woman outside. Her violet eyes followed the Noble into the darkness until her limping figure could no longer be seen. As she shut the door and returned to the interior of her home, it took her a moment to realize she was shaking so hard she could barely walk, and the blood streamed from her shoulder wound freely still, dripping down her arms from her fingers onto the floor. What had just happened?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 3:37 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿DANGEROUS IDEASIt wasn’t enough just to say that she was exhausted. The only thing animating Van’s worn body now was her own will. The captain had not slept adequately, work and missions keeping her away from home for days on end. When she was home, there was always something keeping her from falling into fitful sleep—her roommate, assassins, stray thoughts—and more often now, injury. The cold air of the mountains bit sharply at the healing stab wound on Van’s shoulder, dealt to her by a female assassin barely a week prior, though it was just another pain compounded upon the many physical and mental trials she dealt with these days.
No one had asked about the bandage at the council meeting tonight. Such injuries came with the territory, and Van understood that her uncles, aunts, and cousins had better things to worry about than her own mere flesh wound. They were captains, colonels, generals—between directing their separate circles of command and reporting to the family heads, there was little left over for Van. No one paid much attention to the individual at these things, as tightly knit as the clan claimed to be, not until someone strayed from the path.
Watching her proud father hang his head in shame and embarrassment whenever his son’s name came up in discussion always made her insides twist in discomfort. They’d all had such high expectations for Thanh Long, which the young captain had lived up to... until he’d shocked them all by defecting to the Noble Retainers. None of the captains had seen it coming, though things weren’t so simple as to place the blame on the fact that they hadn’t paid enough attention to him... for they had, much more than they acknowledged Van, anyway.
It was for this reason that Van held her tongue about the assassin, about the fighter’s origins in Thanh Long’s platoon. What good came of informing them that he’d tried to kill her when they’d already disowned and alienated him, and she was practically well and good? There was no use even in telling her mother and father. Hearing it would just reopen the wounds Long had inflicted upon them all those three years ago. It was moot, and as far as the captain was concerned, her brother had only made it personal between them by targeting her.
Something else was evolving in Van’s mind right now as she descended the mountain, a dangerous idea, independent of and uninfluenced by the ideals of her family. No doubt these very ideas had led her own brother astray, but Van’s thoughts weren’t quite of that nature. No, they would only affirm her allegiance and showcase her worth. It was then that the captain made the decision to report to Roa Shingo the very next morning.
A faint mewling sound caught her attention now, just up ahead in the brush. Van was inclined to simply pass it by, but as she came closer the cry only became more persistent, desperate, and the captain found herself compelled to find the source of the noise. Parting the shrubbery in front of her with both hands, Van saw two leopard cats hiding in the underbrush, the smaller one the source of the crying, and the other lying very still. It took only a moment for her to realize that the kitten was mourning its mother.
Later, she wouldn’t be able to explain what moved her to do this. Reaching forward gently, ignoring the jabbing protests that erupted from her shoulder, Van carefully picked the crying kitten up, cradling it in the dark fabric of her cloak as she pulled it against her body. Never mind that the leopard cat wasn’t a domestic cat, and that it was unlikely to cooperate with the fat one Bataar currently had at home right now—that was the last thing on her mind.
“Your name will be Kiri,” she murmured, her voice soft against the night sounds of the wilderness. Cambodian for mountain, the name only meant that it’d take one to move Van from what she’d just resolved to do.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 3:43 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿BATTLE - MISSION REPORTOperation: Nighthawk
Mission Type: Raid/Safehouse/039
Serial Number: NH-SR20954801
References: Lieutenant Reports SR039-A, SR039-B
Mission Commander: Captain Âu Tuyết Vân
Result: Success – Safehouse captured. Emperor not found.
Narrative: Reference Lieutenant Reports for daytime reconnaissance.
2nd Special Forces Group entered the building through the south and southeast gates at 0214 hours, where squadrons of Noble guards were stationed and subsequently incapacitated. Due to effective enemy smoke screens which obscured the main gates, the formation proceeded to the north entrance. Fighter support was excellent despite moderate opposition. Casualties slight, equipment damage minimal.
Following entry, the route was taken as briefed. Special Operations were very good, no enemies observed after initial breakthrough. Cells searched on the first floor were found occupied, the rest evacuated. Principal target was not found, but recovered 8 missing persons. Two captains captured; interrogation results pending under Psychological Operations unit. Full list of persons and items recovered at Appendix II.
The site was evacuated entirely by 0549 hours. Two squadrons remain stationed at the site in case of attempt to recapture.
Debriefer: Aida, Rikimaru. 4th Division Major.
Van’s pen hovered over the paper after she finished writing the cover and summary, as if there was still something else to be written. A few minutes passed as the captain considered the completeness of the report, until finally, after some deliberation, she lay her pen to rest and filed the stack of papers away.
There was no reason to include the run-in with Kiran on the report, after all. The encounter had barely slowed their progress, and the scout who had gone ‘missing’ was found and safely recovered onsite. Especially considering that they had engaged larger groups and higher ranking officers, including the two captains they’d captured, one-on-one fights with grunts were hardly important enough to send upstairs to Rikimaru, let alone General Goro.
She couldn’t put her finger on why the fight stayed with her, out of so many she regularly survived over so many nights. Perhaps it was the fact that she knew Kiran. Usually, since the Nobles were so numerous, she never ran into a familiar face, and certainly not more than once. Van didn’t consider many Nobles to be her friend, not even her roommate, so having to fight Kiran on the battlefield shouldn’t have been different from any other mission. It shouldn’t even have been different from any of the other times they’d fought.
But it was. The first, and last time Van had been assigned to befriend a Noble and later betray him, she almost couldn’t, and she’d had to live with the consequences of her hesitation for years. Her allegiance to the Emperor wasn’t so black and white, but she already knew this. It flagged her as dangerous, as a potential wildcard—something that for the sake of the staunchly Legionnaire Au clan, Van fought to overturn. Her family trusted her, and for the most part, Van trusted herself.
She just knew that fighting someone for no reason other than the fact that he happened to be on the wrong side of the war felt... strange. It always took something greater to force her hand. Well, she supposed that she could justify the fight by saying that she was protecting the side she believed in. Some days, that excuse was all she needed. Others, it felt like a crutch. For now... Van would settle for leaving the debate in between the sheets of her report.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 2:58 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SPECIAL FORCES“So, these are the new recruits?” Van asked, nudging her longtime mentor and former handler, Rikimaru, who was watching said recruits’ training drills with a critical eye.
The man merely grunted affirmation, before sighing and running a hand through his cropped silver hair. Though he was only in his mid-thirties, war had not been kind to Major Aida, and he had the scars and a crown of fading hair to show for it. On any other Lunarian, it might have been unbecoming, but Van thought it was absolutely charming on him.
“Well, only 10 per cent of them will make it. You know how it is.”
Indeed, while there were easily 200 men training their asses off in front of her, trying to impress their potential captain, only half of them would remain by the following morning. By the end of the week? They’d be lucky to have filled the quota of twenty fighters. Van’s attention drifted over to the chain of Lunarians lying in the surf, their arms linked together. Pulling her own arms around herself reflexively, she reflected back upon her own time spent lying in that freezing water trying desperately to prove something to herself and to the captains watching her.
“Feeling sorry for them?” Rikimaru’s voice tickled her ear; he’d noticed her reaction to the cold water torture. Van didn’t immediately respond.
It hadn’t been of her own volition that she’d taken up Special Operations training back then—most fighters were smart enough to avoid the most unforgiving conditioning sequence the Legion military had to offer. Yet, for those who attempted it anyway, the high drop rate was not due to the extreme physicality of the training, even as many would fail citing injury or incapacity. Special Operations training tested not the body, but the mind’s ability to transcend the body’s cries of pain and exhaustion. Most of the fighters who ended up completing the training did so by sheer force of will, and Van was no different.
She’d wanted that mission at Minsheng Prison, the one that was supposed to bring her brother back, badly enough. Each and every one of the Lunarians throttling their bodies in this veritable hell in Lunaria had his own figurative carrot on a stick, his own source of motivation—or so he thought. It didn’t matter what it was so long as it carried him through the exercises, even if, as in Van’s case, such motivation turned out to be immaterial.
“No. Not in the least,” she answered with a brief quirk of the lips, though there was a hard edge in her smile. “I won’t stand for any weakness on my new team.” She’d qualified for Special Operations, lost everything she’d fought for, and had rebuilt her foundation of motivation. These fighters, now running along the beach with sandbags, wouldn’t have half the iron will she had when they completed their training.
The captain felt Rikimaru’s hand fall upon her shoulder, but she didn’t look up. She could hear the firm weight of his words in the tone of his voice. “Don’t be too hard on them. They only need to be strong enough to carry you, Van.”
Later, as she was returning to the office, she’d wonder what exactly he meant.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 1:52 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿NPC RP - PERMISSION TO KILLVan stared at the row of knives embedded in the brittle bark of the tree just ahead of her, a frown knitting her brow. Anyone watching her might have guessed that she was displeased with her marksmanship, oblivious to the fact that the problem was much deeper than it appeared to be. After a moment, the captain strode forward suddenly in a sort of self contained violence, yanking all four throwing knives out of the tree by the handle. She walked back toward her starting position, tossing one of the blades in the air and catching it by the handle repeatedly as she went. Her eyes followed not the knife as she threw it, however, but were focused on some indistinguishable point in the distance. Her mind wasn’t in the present.
There was something about handling weapons that helped Van think. Certainly now she needed it—the meeting with General Roa Shingo earlier had gone far south of what she had expected. He’d forbidden her from going after her brother despite evidence that he was a significant threat, and had left her with no explanation other than that “she could handle it.”
The thought of it made her angry, and Van turned on her heel, flinging one arm out. The knives flew from her fingers to land in the tree in precisely the same positions as before.
He informed her that he had personally been overseeing operations to assassinate Captain Au Thanh Long for years now, but that knowledge didn’t resonate with her the way she would have liked. If this were true, Van was positive that she would have heard of it by this point—she wasn’t a head of the Intelligence Division for nothing. Even if by some miracle all of the information had slipped through her fingers, it was unlikely that Thanh Long could evade the Legion for so long. The Legion numbered less than the Nobles, true, but due to imperial backing they were highly trained, organized, and specialized. Nobles were citizens, and though Thanh Long had been a Legion-trained captain, there was only one of him.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that it didn’t add up, and that it was more for lack of information—or misinformation—than anything else. Scrubbing the back of her head in frustration, Van lowered herself to the ground, taking a crosslegged seat. What was she to do now? The thoughts ran around her head in circles, always leading her to the same place she’d started.
A simple “no” wasn’t enough to prevent Van from going through with whatever she had planned. Logistics were what stopped her now; she needed backup, and there was no one she could recruit to help her who would not compromise their secrecy. There was a reason she’d bypassed the next ten or so ranks to speak to the general—these personal missions were unfunded and seldom approved without sound reason.
She was very much alone. Even her family remained in the dark about her sudden decision, but even they had the wool pulled over their eyes as far as the unrecorded manhunts Roa Shingo had allegedly been leading. She wasn’t the only one acting of her own accord in fear of disapproval from the greater Au clan.
Van inhaled deeply, holding the breath for as long as she could, before finally breathing out with a sigh. Perhaps now wasn’t the time. Perhaps, like the leopard she so tried to emulate in her Shaolin fist, she had to wait for the opportunity to arise, rather than force one to come up. It wasn’t as if there was anything else she could do now, but be patient.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 1:54 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿DISREPUTABLE“Van?” a voice called, and the captain raised tired eyes to see Kasem entering the small space she called her office, closing the door behind him. She managed a weary smile, rising to greet her long-time comrade, and now fellow captain. He’d been promoted with her, after the first string of prison raids. Since then, though, their positions of heightened responsibility kept them apart, in different divisions under different generals. It had been a while since she’d last seen her Thai friend, let alone had a conversation with him.
“Kasem,” the woman acknowledged, stepping forward from her work to embrace the man shortly, raising her hands to touch his deeply tanned face in a way that might have been deemed affectionate. The nature of their relationship allowed for such exchanges, and Van made nothing of it. Such behavior was normal in her book, but at least she genuinely liked this particular captain. “What brings you here?”
He smiled a little, pulling her hands from his face to raise them to his lips, kissing them. His deep brown eyes were warm as they stared into hers earnestly. “Van, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I know,” she murmured distractedly, looking over her shoulder briefly to peer at the papers on her desk. “They only pulled me off the operation to direct this one mission.”
There was a brief silence now. When Kasem spoke again, his voice was very close to her face. “I miss you,” he said, and before she could stop him, he kissed her. She said nothing when he finally pulled away, instead watching him warily, a dull shock hidden behind her purple eyes.
“I thought this wasn’t personal.” Her voice was quiet, but it was obvious that she was accusing him of going beyond the boundaries they had set in their arranged ‘friendship.’ She wasn’t at fault, at least not in the way she saw it. Kasem knew full well her capricious nature, the one that she’d come to use on all men, and he should have known that he was not an exception. To expect anything more, anything consistent from the woman was a fallacy. They were too busy; there were too many variables and too many unsavory missions putting time and distance between them. It was why they hadn’t seen each other in months as it was. Growing attached simply would have complicated things.
Over time, though, Kasem seemed to have forgotten this. The captain released her now, laughing as he reached his hand behind his head to stroke the short ponytail his jet black hair was pulled into. He thought she was playing. “Van,” he began, his voice a practiced charisma, “give me a chance to make you happy. Let me take you out tonight.”
If Van found this amusing, she certainly didn’t show it. Instead, the woman stepped back, dismayed to find that she couldn’t put more than a few inches between them. Perhaps they could still function as friends, but certainly not in this situation, and certainly not when seeing Kasem meant going back on her word in many other arenas, one of which had come to be very important to her. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Why not? Is there someone else? You’re not still hung up over Rai—”
“No,” Van answered, perhaps too quickly to be entirely convincing. She kept her composure as the other captain eyed her curiously. Before she could remind him of their ‘terms,’ he’d continued.
“The one you’re living with, then, Bataar?”
“Absolutely not.” Van folded her arms, leaning on her desk now in a conscious attempt to separate herself from the other captain. Her irritation was palpable, now. “You really think I’d mess around with the likes of them?”
The look he fixed her was skeptical, even disgusted, and he waited a moment for her to amend herself. When she didn’t, he continued, his tone icy, “We all know what your missions were like before you got that lucky break on the infiltration op—”
“Captain Makdam,” a new voice interrupted. Kasem froze, realizing that he’d been caught mid-insult. Van looked just over the man’s shoulder to see her father step into the room, a lunch tray in either hand. Neither of them could be sure how long he’d been standing there, though Van had little cause for concern. The three-star general was, of course, going to take his daughter’s side. The Au clan valued each other above everything else.
Kasem acted first, turning quickly away from Van, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. Passing Vinh Hung on the way out, he issued the tenryujin a curt bow and greeting, “General Au.” His tone was stiffly formal, almost diplomatic, but the situation didn’t prevent him from throwing Van one last derisive look as he left the room with an angry flourish of cape.
Vinh Hung had missed nothing, following the captain’s movements with one cocked eyebrow. Finally, he turned to his daughter, who by this point seemed to have recovered her composure. “He bothering you?”
“No, Dad... it’s fine.” And it was, mostly. Kasem would get over himself, just as Van hadn’t been bothered in the first place. As she motioned for her father to seat himself, though, she had to wonder what else was being said about her behind her back, and whether it was worth caring about. Her questionable reputation preceded her, just as it always had. “Thanks for lunch.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kurama no Koishi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 1:56 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - A SHRED OF DOUBTThe mission was simple enough. Van and her squad had been tasked with escorting a Legion diplomat through a dangerous part of the Northern jungles. The current state of war no longer afforded such officials immunity from the other side—they had barely managed to get Yi Zhu out of the conquered embassy without drawing notice. This wasn’t Van’s usual type of assignment, of course; escort missions were usually given to the regular army, not special forces. The captain’s extensive knowledge of the rainforest routes had granted her team priority in getting the assignment and in the early stages of the mission. Already it had proven invaluable on the trek inland, and even more so in escaping.
The sun was high in the sky now, and Van and her team had ventured far down the paved roads that carved the jungle. They appeared harmless enough as they made their way south in broad daylight, their civilian clothes an easy disguise for their military origins. Their pace had slowed, too, as the increasing distance made them more and more certain of the fact that no one had followed them out. There wasn’t much reason to, after all—their charge himself was hardly important to the Nobles, only the Legion documents that he had smuggled out, which the Lieutenant was carrying now. No one would realize that the paperwork was missing until much later, when they realized that Yi Zhu was not in the office. At that point, though, they would be long gone.
At least, that had been the plan. Nobody had counted on the fact that their particularly large group of nine, including the diplomat, would draw the attention of a few concerned citizens early in the morning, and that the Nobles in the area had been tipped off to their presence.
Van was the first to notice the small dark object rolling their way, shouting in alarm, but there was little anyone could do about it when it exploded, rocking the ground and sending up a plume of thick, dark smoke. The captain’s feet were knocked out from under her in the confusion, and she landed hard on her backside, the air forced clear out of her lungs. Scrambling to right herself, she opened her mouth to bark an order at the lieutenant to clear the air.
He delivered before the words left her mouth—a strong gust of magic-enhanced wind blew the surrounding smoke away just in time for Van to catch movement in the trees to their left. Pursuit was tempting, but useless if nothing had been lost. Surveying the area quickly for damages done, she was surprised to find Yi Zhu still among them, coughing but otherwise unharmed.
“Captain, it’s gone!”
The words cut through her consciousness, and Van snapped her head toward her lieutenant in alarm. The bag around her waist had been slashed. The shredded leather hung uselessly by a single strap, and its highly classified contents were long gone, now in the hands of a Noble who was rapidly putting distance between them.
But Van was fast enough to catch up—she had to be. “Lieutenant, take Yi Zhu and your squad ahead. The rest of us will intercept them and catch up with you later.” Turning, without waiting for acknowledgment of the order, the captain fled into the forest in pursuit of their ambushers. She didn’t need to look to be able to tell that the three Lunarians under her squad command were struggling to keep pace with her. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, ladies,” she said, barely turning her head to issue the light criticism as she focused more ki to her feet, gaining even more speed.
“Focus!” Never mind that two of her fighters were actually men—she needed them to push harder, dig deeper, as they had in training. It was more than their dignity at stake, now. The special forces designation meant nothing if they couldn’t successfully complete something as simple as an escort mission. It was their credibility at stake, and Van couldn’t let them fail. When slowly, her fighters began to catch up, she hid a grim smile. Now they were getting somewhere.
They were within earshot now, and up ahead they heard the Noble squad leader shout something in a foreign tongue, likely code. The increase in footsteps indicated that they’d picked up speed, but just in case, Van raised a hand to her waist, loosening her twin butterfly swords from their scabbard. The time for confrontation was upon them.
Suddenly the rustling in the bushes ahead got louder, and one of her fighters cried out in warning. The Nobles were coming back. Three came out of the trees in front of them, bearing swords. One blade slashed downward, hard in front of Van, and she was barely fast enough to bring up her crossed blades, blocking the blow with a grunt. A flick of the wrist caught the sharp steel under her sword’s crossguard, and she swung to the side, disarming the fighter. She followed up with a knee to the stomach, and as he doubled over, she clubbed him in the head with the back of her sword. Too easy.
But the pack that fell from his shoulders was empty, and Van realized that their mission wasn’t over yet. Leaving her fighters to take care of the remaining Nobles, the captain wasted no time in picking herself up and breaking into another ki-enhanced sprint deeper into the forest. She wasn’t worried about her squad; two thugs would be easy work for them, and they’d be behind her soon enough to chase after the Noble who had clearly been trying to buy time. Van sharpened her focus, all extraneous thought clearing out of her mind as the ki in her feet propelled her still faster.
Soon enough, the sound of rustling brush ahead indicated that she was closing in. She gripped the handles of her sword, holding them away from her body in a cautious position—prepared to bring them up to defend herself or attack, but not so close that she’d fall on them with a single misstep. She kept her sprint, feeling the humid forest air reluctantly moving around her as she cut through it.
She was mere paces away now, almost within arms’ reach of the lithe young woman running from her. Van had to give her credit for being fleet-footed, she thought, reaching her arms out toward the other Lunarian’s waist, but few fighters were faster than Van. The captain gave an extra push forward when she had the tackle, letting gravity take over as the both of them tumbled to the dirt floor in a heap of limbs and flying steel. It should have been simple from this point, but before the Legionnaire could recover, she was knocked aside with a vicious kick to the ribs.
Gasping for air in wake of the sudden pain, Van rolled away to avoid another hit, clutching her side. A frantic glance backward told her that the woman was gearing up to flee again. Motivated by panic, the captain pushed herself up and threw one of her decorated swords in the fighter’s direction. It flew well enough, grazing the back of the fighter’s knee. Not the best throw, but she’d take it. A small grin on her face, Van got to her feet. Her own ribs were probably bruised at best, but this Noble was going to have hell of a time trying to run now.
“Give them to me, and I’ll let you go,” Van said, opening her arms in a reconciliatory motion as she walked toward the girl on the ground. It never hurt to pretend to be diplomatic.
“Like hell I will!” was the angry snarl in response. Had Van been of weaker character, she might have hesitated at the Noble’s fiery temperament. Years as a captain in the corps, though, had taught her how to break and mold such wayward spirits to her will.
Shrugging then, Van recalled the ki from her feet and channeled it down her right arm, into her butterfly sword. “As you wish,” she answered calmly, as the black steel began to whistle. The noise increased in pitch, snapping and cracking, and a blue lightning crackled around the form of her sword. There was no reason to wait any longer.
Thrusting forward, she sank the blade into the fighter’s chest. Van watched impassively, her pale eyes expressing no emotion as the lightning from the sword enveloped the other Lunarian’s body. The fighter fought back admirably, with every sinew in her being, but few could go will to will with the Legionnaire captain.
Yet, in a show of defiance, a shaking hand closed around Van’s wrist, and she lost focus for a split second from surprise. It was enough.
The lightning, having lost a will to guide it, traveled back in its natural direction—upward. The charge moved back up the blade and up its wielder’s arm, wreaking havoc on the soft flesh it touched. Van shrieked in sudden agony, dropping the sword to favor her arm. Her vision bobbed in and out of focus, the splitting pain in her arm impairing her senses. Looking down at her right arm, she could only see that her skin was an angry, splotchy red, patterned by the very lightning that struck it.
Her work was done, though. The last Noble was incapacitated, possibly even dead. Nudging the woman’s pack open with her uninjured arm, she was relieved to see that all of the stolen scrolls were accounted for. Her thoughts slowed as she slumped to her knees. Voices cried out behind her, one of them calling her name. Her fighters finally deigned to show up, hm? That meant everything was okay now, and the assignment was done.
She’d just close her eyes and rest, now. Her consciousness faded to black, as her team burst out of the trees behind her just in time to catch her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2012 3:25 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿INCOMMUNICADOVan stares at the blank page for a few minutes, torn between starting something and simply closing the book. It seems childish, writing to an insentient object, especially after so long. Eventually, she picks up her pen and begins to write.
✿✿✿✿✿It seems silly, doesn’t it, writing my feelings away at this age. It has... literally been years since the last time I’ve penned an entry, and the one on the first page is from my teenage years. I like to flip through every once in a while, though, just to see how far I’ve come and what used to be important to me. It’s a bit embarrassing, and in a way it’s supposed to make me feel better about myself. The reason I’m writing again now, I suppose, is because it hasn’t.
✿✿✿✿✿You start to feel old when you haven’t accomplished what you thought you would have, by a certain age. I’m not talking about the rank, of course—making captain at 23 is nothing to sniff at. The Special Forces designation is nice too, as is presiding over the Intelligence Division. I’ve since been given an elite team to govern and order about; they are distinctly better than the hundreds of grunts the front lines captains have to work with. In a month’s time, I am to begin the last leg of my Shaolin pilgrimage, and after passing the final gauntlet of 108 monks, I already have plans to seek the tutelage of other grandmasters of the art. I try, as I always do, to continually improve myself.
✿✿✿✿✿I have titles, medals, awards and responsibilities, but somehow I can hardly bring myself to call it success. Between missions, work, and training, I am fortunate enough to have little time to actually dwell on this. When I’m alone at night with nothing but my thoughts for company, though, that’s when those thoughts become poisonous.
✿✿✿✿✿It’s funny, because I’ve never considered myself to be much of a people person. I’ve always been content to train and throw myself into my work under the Legion. Yet, sometimes the ger feels much emptier than it should, even (or especially?) as Bataar is sleeping in the bed across the room.
✿✿✿✿✿On evenings like these, I sometimes wonder whether the lack of richness in my life now is due to the fact that I acknowledge few and trust even fewer. Am I jaded, after what happened with my estranged brother? Or is it that I am simply hard to please, expecting more of the world than I could ever hope to gain? How can I have come so far yet accomplished so little?
✿✿✿✿✿Satisfaction. Happiness. Both I should know how to obtain now, but haven’t. Both are things that I thought would come with being proud of the things I’d achieved. Perhaps some of it is because I have yet to find closure over Thanh Long’s defection, but I can only blame him for so long. After so many years, I am beginning to think it’s more than just him. Past my family, I must remind myself of my political allegiance, of why I’ve chosen this path. I am a Legionnaire a thousand times over, yet some of the things I do these nights would suggest allegiance to nothing but myself. It’s shameful, disgusting even, but it is far too late to back out. And I’d rather not answer to anyone, but I’ve already given my word.
✿✿✿✿✿My heart is conflicted, guilty. I hope things become more lucid soon, if only for the sake of my sanity. ✿ Âu Tuyết Vân✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 31, 2012 1:07 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿THE DRAGON AND THE TIGERA violet-scaled hand passed through a mane of dark wavy hair, twisting the thick locks together to form a high bun. Van secured her hair with a piece of purple elastic, the only fashionable thing she was permitted to have on her person now. Bright orange robes covered the rest of her body in its entirety, as was standard practice for those who trained under the Shaolin monks. Clean-faced and serene, any of Van’s non-practicing acquaintances would not have recognized her if they saw her now.
Yet, however simple her appearance, it was the captain’s full head of hair that separated her from the rest of the students. Any practitioner of Shaolin kung fu had to have a propensity toward the spiritual, but Van was no convert. She was the unshaven disciple, the one who stayed at the temple to study the martial arts, without taking the vows to become a monk... or a nun. At first, the distinction was something of a blessing, allowing her to practice Shaolin kung fu and carry out her Legion duties simultaneously and easily. The cost, however, had been enlightenment—she couldn’t excel without sacrifice, so she took a leave of absence to focus on her training.
She’d spent the last year away from the Lunarian war and the sins it afforded, shrouded in anonymity, but she was still too grounded, too connected to the world. It didn’t matter that Van had risen through the chambers of the temple—there was yet one obstacle left for the disciple who wished to return to the outside world and still retain ties to the Shaolin community. To prove her mastery, she had to traverse the gauntlet.
108 orange-robed monks and nuns faced her now, standing uniform in twelve rows of nine. Placing one closed hand in an open palm, the woman bowed deeply to her comrades in an expression of acknowledgment and respect. When she straightened up, she flew forward to meet them with the ferocity of all five animal fists.
“Long, look! My kite’s gone way higher than yours!” Van couldn’t help the excited interjection when she noticed how her cat-shaped kite had risen above all the others in the clear blue skies, including her brother’s own dragon kite. He’d only laughed then, leaning over to ruffle his younger sister’s hair affectionately. She didn’t have to know that he’d let her win. She was only six, after all.
Van lost track of the numbers and the hours as they passed her by, the fighting becoming like clockwork, automatic. The monks tested the unshaven disciple with their masteries in tiger, crane, leopard, snake, and dragon techniques, and she responded in kind, dodging, deflecting, driving them back in a blur of high-flying moves... but her goal was not to defeat them, only to pass.
Thanh Long stopped on the trail to their mountain home, to scoop something up from the forest floor. Van had simply continued ahead, oblivious to the injured bird in his hands until he called out to her to wait up. “Just leave it there. It’ll die anyway,” she’d told him then, shaking her head at her big softie of a brother. Van wasn’t the natural pacifist that her brother was; it was a trait that didn’t seem very useful to her at the time. But Long took the animal home anyway, and a few weeks later, the little bird was able to fly again.
The last monk before her held a long spade, whirling it in a figure-eight pattern as he charged in her direction. Weary from hours of hand to hand combat, it was all Van could do to dodge his reach, and sidestep him again when he rebounded. He was armed, but she had nothing but her bare hands, her knuckles raw and bleeding through her bandages from the endless onslaught. The third time he lunged at her, she leaned to the right, gripping the monk’s weapon arm and pulling him behind her, his forward momentum becoming his downfall. When he fell to the ground in a clatter of limbs and spade, Van broke into a sprint toward the end of the gauntlet, toward the narrow gate that was her only exit from the temple.
An iron cauldron was the only thing in her way now, heating over a mound of burning coals in the gate. Van didn’t hesitate, pushing up her flowing sleeves to expose the tender, unmarked flesh of her inner forearms. Positioning her arms under the handles of the urn, she braced her back and legs and lifted the heavy cauldron out of the way. The white pain of the burn, the brand that marked her as a master of the Shaolin arts, was momentarily overcome by the final rush of adrenaline that surged through her blood, one that hadn’t come to her since the beginning of the gauntlet.
Van lay the burning cauldron back on the ground, darting through the narrow passage that had been revealed. She had done it. She’d completed the gauntlet.
“Defend as the dragon, attack as the tiger.” The first time Thanh Long had ever told her this, she hadn’t understood what it meant. He’d explained it to her, of course, illustrating how the two animals represented the duality of the opposing, but equal forces. They were yin and yang; one could not be stronger than the other. Van had never truly comprehended what it meant until she learned to tame her tiger, until training with the monks taught her patience and restraint. The soft skin of her arms had been burned away so thoroughly they did not bleed, leaving behind white imprints of the animals where hot metal had melted skin. The two animals rested level with each other on her arms, the dragon on the left arm, and the tiger on the right, a permanent reminder of the perfect balance she’d fought so hard to achieve.
When Van looked up, she saw the 108 men and women of the Shaolin temple gathered at the gate, watching her in silence. Clasping her fist in her hand, she fell into a final bow, grateful, touched when they all responded in kind. Though no words were exchanged, she knew she had earned their acknowledgment, and her title as Master.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 31, 2012 1:08 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - WHERE IS YOUR FAITH?✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿Predetermined Loss (Approved)The snow fell softly as Van ventured up the mountain, slowly filling in her footsteps as she left them behind. Winter was fast approaching, and while most Lunarians used this as an excuse to bundle up and turn in for the season, the Legionnaire captain had other things in mind. Indeed, the brands on her arms had barely scabbed over before she’d continued northward up the famed Mount Emei in search of a new temple, and a new teacher.
Of course, it wasn’t as if she’d exhausted the knowledge that the grandmasters at the old temple had; on the contrary, Van could have chosen to stay and learn the finer elements of Hung Gar, Lee Gar, and even Wing Chun under their tutelage. As comprehensive as her mentors were, none specialized in the art that interested her the most, the originator of her chosen art having separated from the temple. Choy Li Fut was the synthesis of the high-flying, kick-oriented Northern Shaolin style and Van’s own Southern Shaolin preference—it was a perfect balance, and a logical step forward for the captain.
First, though, the grandmaster had to accept her as a pupil. She stood still for a moment, trying to figure out how best to approach the old man who appeared to be deep in meditation, but he solved that problem for her.
“She told me you were coming. You walk like a baby elephant, even in the snow.”
The captain paused midstep, slightly taken aback. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an insult, especially not one given before she could even say anything. Van was valued in her division for her stealth, and being both fleetfooted and quiet was possibly her greatest fighting asset. Yet the old man in front of her had plainly heard her from across the clearing, and he looked increasingly annoyed the longer she thought about finding the right words.
“You’ve already disturbed me, so tell me why you have come.”
“I wish to learn the art of Choy Li Fut from you, grandmaster,” Van finally blurted out, barely managing to avoid stammering. It was bad enough that the grandmaster had unsettled her, and to appear nervous on top of that would have dire consequences for her future in martial arts. But she was stunned again as the man simply threw his head back and laughed, as if the words she’d said were the funniest thing in the world.
“I don’t take disciples. She should have told you that before you climbed up this mountain to see me.”
“I am aware, but—” Van hadn’t even blinked when she found herself on her knees, her arm twisted back up and behind her painfully in an arm lock that she did not know how to get out of. The same laugh echoed up behind her, and her vision became spotty as the pain bloomed in her shoulder joint, though she did not dare cry out.
He placed a boot on her back, pushing her forward and putting more strain on the joint. The woman finally whimpered, unable to fight back. “I get people like you all the time,” he began, letting go of her arm suddenly and kicking the swords from her waist into the snow. “Defend yourself!”
She scrambled onto her hands and knees, grabbing the butterfly swords from the ground. No sooner had she stood did he appear in front of her, his hands folded neatly behind his back, to kick her in the stomach. Sliding backwards, the captain tried to make sense of the situation. She hadn’t even had the time to raise her swords in defense, for she hadn’t seen it coming. His speed was incredible, making her appear sluggish by comparison, and the fact that she couldn’t touch him when he had nothing but his arms and legs as weapons meant that the fight was impossible. Somewhere from within the pain she realized that he was testing her. And she was failing.
“You all walk in here thinking you’re great, that you can lift one cauldron and be the master of the art. I say this to you once: the title of master is wasted on you.”
Something stirred in her gut at those words, a rolling fire rising and seeping into her veins. Angered, she lunged at the man, only to find herself engulfing his afterimage. Van whirled around in time to feel him slapping the barely healed scars on her forearms, laughing again as he did so. When she finally saw him, he was standing on a tree branch above her head, stroking his long white beard amusedly. “You lack control. You lack the will. Look at that ugly lightning scar on your arm. That will stay with you forever.”
Before she could react, he’d hit her twice, first in the ribs, and then square in the chin, sending her flying backwards into the snow. The woman couldn’t break her fall for the fact that she was holding her swords, and she heard—and felt—something crack when she landed hard on her back. Biting back a few obscenities, she rolled upward, her abdomen screaming as her ribs tightened. Those were surely bruised, and while a part of her wanted to lay back down and concede defeat, she couldn’t. Van had too much riding on this to back down so easily. Her body would break before her spirit did.
The grandmaster allowed her to stand, strangely quiet for a few moments as he regarded her, leveling his sharp gaze into her defiant one. A moment passed before he spoke again, this time his voice tighter than before. “You would do well to stay down next time,” he said coldly, stalking toward her with an ominous purpose. “What Goddess do you serve, that she might send you to certain death by compelling you to rise?”
Van stood her ground as the grandmaster approached her, though an unfamiliar feeling settled upon her now—that of fear. There was never a reason to be afraid, truly afraid, the way she went about her life. The captain did not fear death, having seen its hand so many times over the course of her life. She feared the destruction of her world over the destruction of her own flesh. Yet for some reason, she feared this man, this grandmaster who had managed to upend all of her convictions about her own worth in the span of a few minutes, this lunatic who was about to murder her in cold blood now.
“Grandmaster!” she interjected, raising her swords as if she expected he would stop short of them, “I serve the same Goddess as you do—and I have faith that She has not led me astray.”
He did stop, surprisingly, but only for a moment. “You lie!” he spat, venom in his tone, “You blasphemous child, claiming faith when you have none!”
Whatever anger the woman still had was totally eclipsed by abject terror now, and her foot skated back in the snow slightly as she tried to put distance between herself and the man she had managed to send into a seething rage. In that exact moment, two fists closed on the center of her chest, and Van felt her legs shoot out from beneath her. Her flight was cut short by the trunk of a tree, her head and shoulders impacting first in a lucky hit that spared her neck. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, she found herself thinking as she wheezed and tried to pull air back into her lungs. The man in front of her seemed bent on her death in the cruelest way possible—by crushing her sense of self before he crushed her.
And though she wished for death, she tried to get up again anyway, bracing her nearly useless arms on the ground to drag her body up. Daring to look up even as her head spun and her vision faded in and out of focus, she tried to meet his eyes again. “I’m not. Lying...” Her words came in gasps as pain crippled her body, but she pressed on. “Please. I wish... to know... Her...”
He silenced her with a kick to the side of the head, knocking her on her back once more. Offering nothing more than another bitter laugh, he shook his head.
“H-how...” she croaked, peering skyward at the grandmaster as he stood over her, his face a mask of scorn. As much as she was desperate, as much as she wanted to cut the look of derision off his face with the swords that had long since been separated from her, she couldn’t move to even pick herself up off the ground now.
“The Goddess does not reward a divided heart. In this temple, Legion and Noble do not exist. There are only Lunarians.”
Van watched him turn on his heel and begin to walk away, despair building in her heart with every step he took away from her, leaving her alone in the snow. She could barely hear his last words as he said them, fading away nearly out of earshot.
“Training begins at dawn, my disciple.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2012 4:29 pm
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SUNRISEHours passed before Van could move her body enough to sit up and drag herself out of the snow. By the time she’d made it to the temple gates, it was dark, and the snow she’d melted in her paralyzed state had refrozen on her clothes and hair, rendering her extremely cold and her sore joints even stiffer. The monks had been surprised at her arrival, but hadn’t questioned it, instead ushering her into a dormitory-type suite near the back of the temple. One of the nuns then showed her to the baths and then to her room, where a simple, but warm meal had been left for her.
It was all rather luxurious compared to what she was used to at her old temple, though Van suspected that the kind treatment was due to the fact that she was injured and exhausted, and as a result she probably looked a little crazy when they first beheld her. Sipping the tea with a shaking hand as she sat bundled in a thick mink blanket, the woman decided it was probably wiser not to come to expect it. Her instruction did begin at the crack of dawn, and if it was anything like the rigorous training she’d gone through to master the Five Animals style, she’d be in this kind of shape every day until her body was able to suddenly transcend all the abuse.
Besides, all temple residents lived on extremely modest means. It wasn’t always by necessity, because the more famous temples could easily afford to feed their charge if their state-of-the-art training facilities were anything to judge by. No, it was a reminder to practice humility. One was born into the world with nothing, and that was how one would return to the dirt, no matter how much or little one accumulated over one’s lifespan.
That much Van knew. For the first time since she entered the room, the woman looked around, her violet hues taking in her surroundings. There were no mirrors. This was to discourage vanity. She knew that too. Van knew a lot of things—she’d picked them up from being around Sara, and mild indoctrination was inevitable after such intimate association with the priestess and with the Shaolin monks. But that was all she did. She only knew—she did not practice.
Did it really make that much of a difference? Van wondered, tugging the blanket around her aching body tighter and placing her teacup down in front of her so she could peer at her muddled reflection in the pale green water. The grandmaster certainly seemed to believe so. He’d almost killed her over it, after all. At this thought, she shuddered, closing her tired eyes. A small part of her was still afraid of what was to come, the fact that she’d been accepted as a disciple comforting her little. Acceptance was only the beginning. Failure could mean death.
It was here that Van decided one thing. It was no longer possible for her to keep fighting the temple’s influence, so she wouldn’t. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose by standing in its way, so it was time for her to step aside and let whatever was to happen, happen. It had worked for the monks, for her sifus. Perhaps when it finally worked for her, she would be a better person for it—starting with the sunrise tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 2:32 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿DEAR BROTHER,✿✿✿✿✿This is a letter I’ll never send, and one that you’ll never read. It’s better that way for both of our sakes.
✿✿✿✿✿A year and a half ago, you sent a fighter to my home, after my life. I dispatched her easily enough, though not without injury to myself. You were supposed to receive notice that my retaliation was imminent, but I wonder if she ever made it back to you. Did she die at your hands when you learned of her failure? If instead you are wondering why I never made good on that promise, I’m sorry—but only slightly sorry—to disappoint you.
✿✿✿✿✿It wasn’t as if I didn’t try. You know I always do what I resolve to do. My shoulder had barely healed when I approached General Shingo for permission to terminate you, with every intention of carrying out the hit regardless of his response. If he hadn’t blatantly denied my request then, I’m certain that you wouldn’t be alive to hypothetically read this. It was perhaps lucky for you, but in retrospect I believe it was the correct decision on his part, and not because it means you’re still around to haunt my thoughts. You don’t anymore, you see.
✿✿✿✿✿I no longer practice Quán Khí Đạo, at least not the way we used to. I abandoned it when you abandoned us, because I couldn’t stand to be associated with you after you so coldly told me you’d gone to the other side. When Mother and Father, and then Roa admonished me to forget about you, I threw myself into continuing my study of Five Animals style Shaolin kung fu. I took a year off to hone my skills and learn the balance between light and dark, yin and yang. The dragon and the tiger dance on my forearms now as a sign of my mastery of that duality, something you’d be proud to know I finally accomplished if only you were still a brother to me.
✿✿✿✿✿Killing you wouldn’t have helped me, I realize now. I was foolish to believe otherwise, letting my pursuit of you become the sole driving force behind everything I did. It pushed me forward in the beginning, but what would I have done after I’d finally killed you? From where would I recall the motivation to improve myself once you were gone—truly gone?
✿✿✿✿✿It is not my intention to suggest that I keep you alive simply to induce my own progress, no, it’s to show you that I am well enough alone, despite the bitter disappointment you’ve become. I was promoted to captain rank because of you, but that is the last thing I can attribute to your influence. Mastering Five Animals Shaolin, and earning the tutelage of the grandmaster of Choy Li Fut—those are things I did on my own. I only regret that I didn’t break free of my childish idolization of you sooner.
✿✿✿✿✿With or without you, brother, I’m moving on. I will no longer come after you, so don’t expect me to, anymore. ✿ Âu Tuyết Vân✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kurama no Koishi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
3!
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2012 1:36 am
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿SOLO BATTLE - EXHIBITIONThe cracking sound of leather on leather was nearly inaudible against the noise of the crowd. Van’s gloved fist fell again and again into her open palm, a mindless habit she’d adopted when prepping for the fighting stage. Originally, these biannual exhibitions were for the generals, for them to witness the fighting prowess of their subordinates and make adjustments to the roster and hierarchy accordingly. In short, it could mean a promotion, and a summons to these events was never entirely unwelcome.
But Legion recruitment had fallen over the past few years, a result of the secrecy of the Imperial powers, and the demonstrations had changed since they’d first been established. Today, Van was not only fighting in front of the division general and other superiors, but also in front of many of her own men, as well as a select class of the top students from the Academy. It was this uncharacteristic transparency that made her nervous, as it meant recognition and a certain infamy where her job required concealment. This fact alone was what troubled the captain, not the fact that her opponent for the afternoon was her mentor and former captain, now Major Aida, Rikimaru.
The silver-haired man had eight years of combat experience and probably about fifty pounds on Van, in addition to the fact that he’d seen firsthand her growth as a fighter over the past several years. There was probably no one else in the Legion better equipped to take her down, and she recognized this. He outranked her in just about every way, and the nature of these events meant that they were to go at each other with the intent to kill. Van had no doubt that he wouldn’t hold back, but all the same she trusted his control. They were assassins, after all—they knew exactly where a Lunarian’s life began and ended, down to the millimeter. They would leave each other alive, just not necessarily in one piece. This was the most she could ask for, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Van turned now, only to find that he had been staring at her backside for some time already, waiting for her to face him. The smirk that curled his lips was clear to her even from the other side of the stage, so she made no effort to hide hers. Never mind the crowd surrounding them—they were bound to have a spectacular spar regardless of the crowd egging them on, if only because they hadn’t faced each other in ages.
From what she’d heard, the bets weren’t on whether she’d lose, they were on how she would. While Van herself wasn’t expecting to win, she had been affronted by some of the bets. There was one pot for her loss by knockout in the first round, and if nothing else the woman was determined to leave with her dignity intact. Thoughts of money and promotions quickly vanished when the ref hit the gong, however, and Rikimaru barreled toward her with frightening speed, his body low to the ground.
She knew what was coming, but that didn’t necessitate being equipped to deal with it. In the past, one hit from the major meant that she was down for the count, so her sole advantage had lain in her ability to dodge him. Now, it seemed that advantage was lost, but the captain wasn’t too fazed. Rikimaru wasn’t the only one bringing new skills to the ring, today.
The woman brought her arms up to shield against his onslaught of sharp punches, gritting her teeth against the pain even as she focused her ki to the area to fortify her bones and turned to avoid the full brunt of his hits. Sliding backwards and away from his force, it took all of her willpower to avoid shaking her arms out, but the surprise that streaked the major’s face was reward enough for her pain. Once upon a time, those hits would have shattered the bones in her arms, but no longer. Van hadn’t spent months punching stone walls for nothing.
Sparing no time, Van began to run again, her form falling into the ever-familiar leopard stance. She knew he knew how to defend against this signature style of hers, but she was sure he hadn’t seen what she was about to pull before. Hurtling downward as she approached, she raked one half-curled fist toward his right knee, allowing him to block her by catching her hand. Instead of following up with the attempt on his elbow as she usually did, she continued forward, riding off her momentum and launching her feet off the ground in a midair tumble. This wasn’t martial arts.
The major hadn’t seen it coming, and crashed to the ground with her as she hooked him with her legs, realizing too late that the captain now had him in a very painful neck crank. She released him only when he tapped the ground, to the uproar of the crowd surrounding them.
Van only smiled innocently, extending her hand when her senior rolled over to glare at her.
“That’s not very ladylike,” he said, knowing he would hit a nerve with the comment. Still, he couldn’t help but smile when her smirk turned into a scowl and she withdrew her hand of help, placing it indignantly on her hip.
“Next time I’ll break your neck.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
She jumped back when he leapt onto his feet and the referee signaled for the second round to begin. Neither of them had had time to catch their breath, but this didn’t matter, for Rikimaru was slow to start the fight. For a few moments they only circled each other, watching each other carefully for a twitch or a sudden movement that would give away the first move. Van could tell that he was trying to figure out what kind of fighting style to expect from her now, if she wasn’t going with her usual, but the truth was she’d only taken a temporary liking to her old wrestling ways after a number of recent private happenings. Besides, her purpose in surprising him had been to make sure he wouldn’t take her too lightly, and she knew she’d accomplished that when his black eyes turned to steel and he was next to her, his movement barely a flicker that rivaled her own speed.
Van regretted ever provoking him in the next moment, when he hit the back of her head with enough force to make stars spring out in front of her eyes. A long leg swept her own out from beneath her, and too quickly she found that they had switched positions from the previous round, an embarrassing turn of events. Distantly, she could hear that their audience was beside themselves in a mixture of sounds and emotions, from jeers of outrage to applause and raucous cheering. They were unexpectedly tied now, Rikimaru’s quick win to Van’s initial one.
“The colonel and general don’t look very happy,” was the murmur in her ear as Rikimaru pulled her to her feet. Van barely allowed herself a glance at her father and the armored, masked man sitting above him—General Goro. The purpose of the event, after all, was an exhibition of their abilities, not an all-out slugfest between two comrades. “Perhaps we should stick with the more traditional routines.”
“Fine,” she answered, brushing his hands off her. The captain rubbed the back of her head, frowning slightly as she felt the lump beginning to form. Even controlled now, she wasn’t going to get out of the situation unscathed. “Let’s just finish this.”
She settled into her leopard stance again, but not for long. Leaping at the sound of the gong, the woman was upon her opponent at lightning speed, raining a barrage of hits on his upper body with the barely contained ferocity so reminiscent of the cat that the style was named for. The major was able to hold off the assault, countering with his own brand of martial arts, Hung Gar. His form was much more dynamic, and it hit much harder than hers ever would, so when he finally landed a fist to her stomach and sent her flying backwards, it was the beginning of the end.
Winded, Van settled back on her feet, but her lungs couldn’t breathe quickly enough to propel her out of Rikimaru’s way when he landed the last blow to her temple, knocking her out cold.
The woman woke just a few minutes later, the sound of clinking coins changing hands and a pleased crowd ringing in her ears. She hadn’t won, and she’d outperformed expectations, but she was somewhat disappointed nonetheless and did not immediately rise. A pair of feet appeared in her vision.
“Sorry,” Rikimaru said as he pulled her upright again. Van could feel the corners of her lips curved up in spite of herself. Her captain always did have the habit of apologizing for things not worth apologizing for.
“Riki, darling,” she mumbled smilingly, still a bit dazed from the hit to the head, “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
