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Post by yami on Sept 23, 2009 16:15:40 GMT -5
"It all begins in Birth By Sleep" When the heart leaves the body, what happens to the representation of the physical form? Does the anatomy dissolve and merge with the soil? No, not in this universe. It was as if the incident just occurred yesterday. A golden aura emancipated the alleyway. Two SOLDIER's faced off, blades clashing. One disliked the other with all their being. The other enjoyed the state of mind his opponent was in. A complete state of euphoria, as if everything he has ever wanted was shining upon him. Perhaps that was the case but why did this young man have to be caught in it? A destined fight which spanned across worlds, it ended that day, taking the lives of two people with it. Sephiroth and Isaac James.
The feeling of the nodachi + class blade plunged through his chest; the dark aura sucking at his heart like a vacuum cleaner. The body had memorized such a moment in time, etched into the muscles surrounding the heart. Despite the brightest light shinning in that heroic moment, the body could not remember whom's blade pierced into it. Was it by chance caught in the middle of the final actions? Who's darkness tainted it's body and forcefully separated it from the heart? Perhaps what should have been anger helped to coax the dark journey. There was no light to be had where the body's essence departed. Consciousness all but ceased, it was as if Isaac went into a deep slumber.
Rain
Every drop of precipitation falling to the terrain below made it's own sound. Together they created a simple but elegant symphony. Yet it wasn't the 'music' that mattered in this instance. Rather it was the physical product, the water which drenched the newborn. Black hair was drenched and matted, sprawling across the sidewalk, akin to a lion's mane. Darkness began to etch life across that particular stretch of land. That stretch of road, sidewalks and all, became the birthplace of a new entity. Perhaps the rain was symbolic? Does a newborn not come into the world drench in liquids? So too did this newborn, yet this was no virgin birth. This was could only be described as birth by sleep. It took only several drops of rain pelting against closed lids to awaken the newborn. Eyelids rolling up into those sockets, revealing the sharp eyes of a man. Yes, only in sleep could Isaac James be born anew, this time as a man. A man whom the world knew as a hero.
Secret Agent Mitch, as he was called. Rarely had he given his last name so it wasn't necessary to detail it in this entry. Dark pools focused towards the left, then to the right respectively. There was no need for sudden movements. Experience and trained instinct told this agent that he should remain still upon awakening. There was the potential that one wrong move could trigger deadly traps should he have lost consciousness in battle. Yet as his orbs struggled to grasp the situation clearly, it became apparent that the coast was clear. Thus the agent slowly eased himself to sit upright. His head tilting to look up to the heavens before the rain came directly into contact with his occuli once more. To be awaken in this world, in a state of eternal nightfall. Wasn't it akin to his world? Then was it safe to conclude this was his home?
Easing himself up to his feet, he took in the sights differently. This time he was looking for a different type of detail. Familiarity being the key phrase, but none could be had. This was new territory for the young man. Ruffling his blazer, he made sure his prime suit was in the best condition it could be sans the weather. There was investigation to conduct and this agent would waste no time idling. The first anecdote was that the street was deserted. No lifeforms detected, just the occasionally buggy. It was more of a cute design rather than practical but that was just conjecture on Mitch's part. His careful footsteps, already low in audacity were blocked out by the rain's symphony.
Now he was a stranger in a strange land, every second counted. |
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Post by III on Sept 27, 2009 19:34:10 GMT -5
Rain splintered his concentration. It hadn’t always. But before the change he had grown powerful. Powerful enough so that biting winds and extremes of weather did not bother him – could not bother him. No snowflake touched him without his willing it, neither seaspray nor hail would come close without him letting it. After losing his heart it had been much the same – no, if anything, his powers had increased. As had his complacency. Xaldin let out a slow and easy breath as he caught the tail-end of the odd thought, spinning away in the rain as he fought on against non-existent opponents with his Ryugasen. He had changed. He had become more of something, less of something else. Despite being a Nobody. Patapatapatapata… Again the rain. Xaldin froze, one foot in the air kicking forward against an armoured midsection, back arched posteriorly to avoid the hackneyed efforts of a swordsman, twin lances aimed at two other opponents at his sides. He fought to reassemble the remnants of his concentration, but already he was forgetting the steps to his kata – the intricate dance that hovered at death’s door but never passing it. Had his opponents been wielding swords or sabers? Had the one in front advanced with his left or right foot? He couldn’t tell – couldn’t remember. Usually he let his body flow and it simply would. But with the rain it refused to comply, registered each raindrop as a danger requiring immediate attention. Splintering his concentration. The whirlwind lancer slowly retracted his foot and righted himself, trying his best to ignore the way played over the faceless cobblestones or pinged upon the empty fountain at the center of the clearing he had elected to practice within. He had grown complacent once upon a time, had died, and had come back to life. Though there were - he paused briefly to rub at his chest - gains he had made, they had been more than equalled in the losses. He could change. Had to change. And so he practiced, far away from the prying eyes of the other Nobodies, content to dwell in the fractured pretend-world hosting fractured, pretend-people. Xaldin breathed in deeply. Breathed out, preparing to start the kata once more- And then sniffed the air again. Beyond the clean, crisp air he smelled something else. Not dusk or heartless or any who made their abode the Castle That Never Was. Not Light either. Something he could not quite identify. Steel and burning copper but no - that was not quite right. The lances disappeared as Xaldin folded his arms behind his back. Practice could wait. Something new had arrived. And what was the old saying? Practice by doing? Dilan would have smiled. Xaldin settled for a smirk. |
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Post by yami on Sept 27, 2009 20:44:40 GMT -5
 "Birds of a feather...flock together."
Ahead was the only life form he had encountered thus far. It appeared it was a man, no a warrior; striving to practice his style. Quick notes revealed that his form wasn't quite fluid. Perhaps the man lacked skill in his craft? This thought would soon be dismissed as the lances he trained with vanished. The warrior near the fountain made no sudden movements. His arms reached behind his back; a stretch perhaps? Trained eyes began to narrow as they observed the man intently. What was the best approach in this situation? Mitch would soon pick his course. Guided by former half-hearted studies, his mentor's words were echoing through shattered memories. One last glance was taken before the young man stood up calmly. The best choice was to approach in a calm manor. Control the initial image to your enemy and you gained the upper-hand.
Emerging from his hiding spot, his steps were no longer light and stealthy. His confident approach, indicated by the sway in his shoulders, as well as the audible footsteps, served to indicate his awareness. The smell that caught Xaldin's attention belonged to a being whom was bi-pedal, at least that's what an agent like himself would label it as. His facial expression took on a stoic look. The enemy could easily determine their actions if some emotion could be detected. What Mitchell hadn't realized was that he was incapable of truly expressing emotions. They were faux, to put it bluntly. Actions that the body remembered in it's journey through darkness but could not truly understand. Perhaps that was in the agent's advantage? Irregardless of such a train of thought, the gap between Xaldin and Mitch would soon close.
Mitch would be a short distance from him when he spoke up.
"Excuse me sir, I believe you can assist me. My name is Mitch, I'm currently stranded in this world."
After speaking, Mitch stayed in place. Any sudden action would come off as threatening. Yes, the psychological battle commenced. |
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Post by III on Sept 30, 2009 21:25:38 GMT -5
A visitor.
A visitor.
The lancer had little doubt that the stranger spoke the truth – or at least a partial truth. Ever since Xemnas’ fall, the Organization had not been quite so prolific in its multiverse-shattering activities that they would attract much attention. And those that would come here would not delegate such a task to an expendable minion.
Heroes were predictable like that. Even one as un-heroic as Sora.
And for those who were not heroes… well, if they were here because of the Organization they were either scrambling for a fight or were here for shady reasons. Neither option was unwelcome.
If they were not here because of the Organization however...
“Forgive me, it has been a while since we have had company,” Xaldin replied. Dredging up his more recent observations at the Beast’s Castle as well as his memories of Radiant Garden, he replied tic for tac, a name for a name. "I am Xaldin."
His hands remained clasped behind his back, a sign of confidence to those willing to read.
Funny. The rain didn’t bother him anymore despite its cascading symphonies. Already he had decided upon a course of action. Though the Organization was no longer in the business of actively recruiting, those that came to the Organization…
Well. He’d have to make sure of a few things. No one wanted a repeat of the Oblivion crew. And though terribly unlikely, it was possible the stranger still had an intact Heart.
“Your presence is unique. This is not a world of chance encounters... 'Mitch'.”
His voice and expression did not lose the self-aggrandizing smirk though it was subtle, floating just out of reach of the obvious. He had been much more proliferate in its use within a castle whose Master demanded that minimum level of haughtiness to be consider the other equal.
Beast. An opportunity lost.
No matter. He had learned from that experience. Learned enough to make the façade of haughtiness its own weapon: his pride was tempered by the humility of death, he however was not required to reveal that little tidbit letting others assume what they would. He would fight. Practice. Gather his strength.
See to it that visitors were… greeted.
"What kind of assistance," Xaldin asked with no particular inflection, "were you hoping for?"
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Post by yami on Oct 1, 2009 10:28:16 GMT -5
 "Birds of a feather, flock together. Part 2"
Certainly, he was prepared for psychological warfare. The posture he took, the subtle action of placing his hands behind his back. Indeed Mitch had read such a trait, noting the confidence. There was no doubt in Mitch's mind that this man was of a particular skill level. Part of him wanted to test that level but not before gaining some information. The next tidbit of info would soon come, 'Xaldin' had explained to him the world. If one were to read further, he also indirectly implied that this was a world controlled by a force who most didn't toil with. Whether it be the atmosphere, the difficulty in reaching this world, or the forces of this world's leaders. Thus, his acquaintance had implied that Mitch's presence here was a business trip. Be that to spy, to engage in combat, or to arrange a deal of sorts. Xaldin's body did not hint at which way he was leaning towards. No, it had to remain neutral, least a potential opportunity could be lost.
Mitch's eyes now down-casted for the first time since the start of their conversation. It could have been taken as a humbling gesture. It could even be taken as a subconscious twitch; necessary in order for the body to recall events...events that were tragic in nature.
"You say this is not a world of chance encounters, Xaldin? Then this does work into favour. The type of assistance I'm looking for is information. My memories have been scattered, yet a vision haunts my subconscious even now. The memory of a blade piercing through my heart. The memory of a warrior that had slain me, yet I have no information on who this is."
As his words concluded, the downcast eyes returned to their fixated gaze on Xaldin's own eyes. The lack of inflection in the warrior's question was noted. There was a strong possibility that Mitch was an enemy, thus the agent threaded carefully. His words, simple; as were his actions. These were not the strategies of an un-heroic individual.
"Of course, I believe in equivalent exchange, Xaldin. I must render some services to my host yes? I'm certain my skills should be adequate, unless you'd like to test them for yourself?"
The last 'question' didn't come off with such an inflection at all. It was more of a statement, a subtle challenge between gentleman. Yet his body language expressed otherwise. It was very much neutral, still maintaining a non-threatening demeanor. Surely a warrior in such a position could not attack so easily, yet alone counter a surprise attack. Yes, the proof...was always in the pudding. |
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Post by III on Oct 2, 2009 0:29:27 GMT -5
Hmm. Almost certainly a Nobody then. Not many could survive a conventional sword thrust to the heart - it was likely to be an enchanted blade. He had yet to hear of one not attached to a Heartless eating hearts, but it was not so terribly farfetched. The lore on swords that stole souls was legion. Almost ridiculously so.
If it was a Heartless... and more importantly a humanform Heartless... Xaldin filed that thought away for another day. There had always been the potential of another Xehanort - he would not simply drop everything at the merest hint of such an occurrence. Such things could be given time and as the Organization was, it was probably better that way.
In any case, there was always the true test to determine Mitch's status as a Nobody but that could come later. The visitor had asked, nay very nearly demanded to be tested. For martial prowess. Xaldin was not one to disappoint.
Six lances materialized in front of him, hovering like silent guardians and after a brief pause he chose one at random and let the others fade back into the darkness.
Unclasping his hands he took ahold of it... and tossed it to Mitch, not caring if he caught it or not.
"There is a place where memories can be made real, at least for a time. The cost is not... trivial." The lancer said, picking his words with care. One did not make promises about artifices of power without the appearance of reticience: it made bargaining appear more genuine. Gifts were always suspicious and even if Xaldin did not particularly care if Mitch found the strands of his past or not, he had to at least pretend to care.
Well, it was preferable for him to. He had long since been unfettered from the tyranny of the Heart.
"Defend yourself!" The lancer snapped before using [Notus] to spin behind the visitor at speeds nearly imperceptible to even the most trained of warriors.
It had been a while since he had engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
As Xaldin aimed for a kidney, he decided this had the potential to be... rather amusing.
========================
Action recap:
Notus to engage at high level speeds around Mitch. Cooldown: 2 posts.
Basic attack.
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Post by yami on Oct 3, 2009 14:59:27 GMT -5
 "You know what they say about the mentality between two warriors?"
Thus Mr. Gavin observed his opposition. He mentally noted the amount of lances that emerged. Upon the unclasping of his hands there was no visual que within Mitch's body language to suggest flinching or apprehension. His eyes however followed the flow of movements. A lance was chosen at random yet the agent paid special attention to the direction of the chosen lance and the hand that did so. More often than not, the habit of grasping things with the dominant hand occurred. Another mental note was that the remaining lances disappeared as quickly as they came.
"He can materialize his weapon at will, likewise he can unsummon it. He wields a total of six lances, it might be possible for him to utilize them without holding them, considering this world seems to be enchanted."
The reason for Mitch's thought process just now was because his 'world' did not have such abilities. Men and women fought utilizing technology and weapons. Yet it was clear the possibility of magic was in play. Therefore, he kept an open mind. Anything was possible it seems. Thus, the opposing warrior (for Mitch had subtly called him out) tossed him a weapon. Very fair play and in line with a gentleman. Perhaps Xaldin was a man of honour?
Since Xaldin had no interest in whether Mitch caught the weapon or not, it implied that he would not be phased at the level of skill shown in the catch. Although this was not a detail Mitch could comprehend due to the nature of Nobodies (or in Mitch's case, warrior's in his world, whom trained to minimize emotion and body language). Still, to keep up appearances; Mitch did indeed grasp the lance thrown. Depending on the angle and the hand utilized to throw it, Mitch too would use the same hand. Thus he reached out to clasp the lance, his hand arched as if down trod or grasping via backhand (for baseball fans). Of interesting note was how quick the motion of the catch was. A little magic trick one could say or for the realist; a feint. Mitch's hand would appear to grasp the weapon normally despite the precautions made. The arch in which he caught it in should be dully noted.
It was a winding arch which resulted in the front end's tip pointed down to the back at a diagonal angle. Yet Mitch's own body language suggested that he fumbled. Thus the catch in itself appeared like a fluke. Surely not the potential of a warrior, yes? No matter, Xaldin was now talking up how he could assist him which was important. As it goes, there was a place which could assist Mitch with his memory problem. A castle; which was fascinating in a passing glance. Though this offer certainly seemed like one which required work to utilize. Thus it wasn't a gift but an exchange in goods and services. Ah, just like a typical business transaction. This was something Mitch understood quite well.
As an aside not related to combat for those whom read keenly, is not the appearance of an agent akin to a business man? Likewise is not the appearance of organized crime akin to a business man? Yes! The two sides operated in a secret world. When they mingled among commoners, it was in the guise of a traditional salary man. A long occurring stance since the dawn of organized crime and those whom fought against it. This all comes from the fact that r to fight your enemy, you needed to know his world and his style. One cannot play chess without knowing the rules, for example.
With that aside, this was part of the mentality of the Secret Agent (and as an OOC aside, his author). So was Mitch surprised when combat begun so suddenly? Not at all, the warrior even followed a code of honour; forewarning his opponent before attacking. Unfortunately, Mitch wasn't a gentleman and the guise of honour via subtle attacks, already came to an end the moment Mitch caught the lance. His once casual, non-threatening stance contained a lean. A hint in body language which could not be suppressed because it was at a basic body function. Yet only the most keen warriors could pick up on such detail. The opposite side of the body (as in, the one not holding the lance) had moved forward. A strong but subtle taunt; akin to Mitch saying "let's get this party started", yet the hand with the weapon was arched back thus giving his body a small but unnoticeable diagonal. Normal men sometimes had such a sway just in their pose.
Mitch was not an ordinary man. Xaldin's use of a high speed technique didn't shock the agent at all. The speed itself was unfamiliar but the tactic was the same. A quick maneuver to strike your enemy from the back. The mentality of a warrior suggests that only a coward would attempt to strike from the back. Alternatively, a warrior whom wanted to taunt his foe (assuming they both had such knowledge of tactics), would do such as well. Call it a test of witt. In such a pincer attack method, the correct counter would be to move towards the non-dominate hand of your opponent. Your body had to remain parallel to such a direction of course, otherwise you'd screw up. Your own dominant hand would then move to make a back attack.
Mitch of course did just that, the arching motion he had done to catch the lance, was simply a setup for what he felt was the inevitable back attack. A setup, which was already in motion and simply needed to be accelerated to a quicker speed. A speed which didn't need to be nearly as fast as his opponents; due to the reach of the weapon and how instantaneous it would be for the body from his angle. After all, Mitch came from a world where it was expected to "take off the white gloves". It wasn't cowardice, it was just plain smart to strike first and quick. In the Nobody's mind, the warrior's mistake was aiming for the kidney. This was because it was easier to dodge such a strike for one. For another, the downards lunge prevented followup attack. Thus Mitch's own back attack with Xaldin's lance would pierce just about chest level. This was a spot that had the most targetable range and could not be avoided even by a flexible opponent due to simple physics.
Now then regardless of whether Xaldin was pierced by his lance or if the weapon was unsummoned (Mitch's bet due to the observation taken above), his senses had started in [glow=red,2,300]Red Alert[/glow], his own follow-up move was incoming.
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Action Summary
-Mitch prepared counter attack via a parallel side-step and arch back hit. The key thing to note here, is his body was already in motion as this was happening, thus Xaldin moved at high speeds right into a trap. |
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Post by III on Oct 4, 2009 18:25:35 GMT -5
His body moved faster than did his thoughts. There was no shame in admitting it. It was not his thoughts that rambled on like old conceits but rather his body that moved at limits beyond mortal tolerance. His muscles did not require conscious elaboration - he had trained them for speed, splicing in just a touch of magic so that they wouldn't simply burst from the strain but not so much that he would be incapable of moving without the arts arcane. Mitch's tactic - an unexpectedly competent one for the lance was hardly a weapon of choice for most warriors - should have by all rights skewered him at the speed he had engaged. He could read the wind, feel his lances through the pull of deadly, deadly Boreas but all the options available to him: tugging the lance away through the wind, banishing it back to the darkness, sending Mitch staggering backwards through a gust of wind, deploying a protective aero - all of them required conscious thought. Thought required time. Time he did not have. The lance tore through his coat.
Pricked his skin.
Drew blood. And then Xaldin moved. His right arm aiming for a vicious, knife-like strike to a supposedly unprotected back flipped around and over and slammed into the neck of the lance instead making it draw a crimson line as it dug in through soft skin and into the flesh beneath. His left hand blurred as it pulled the lance further so that instead of skewering him where it stood it left a gash beneath his armpit, glancing off the ribs on his left side. True, he should have aimed for the opposite direction: it would have no doubt given him minimal injuries instead of a long line of red that nearly went half an inch deep near the end but operating on instinct, it was not a tenable position and really, it was lucky that he was alive at all. All this took place in a fraction of a moment. And it was hardly over. Still grasping the lance in his left hand he kicked his feet off the ground and leaped around it as if he were the blades of a windmill, left and right hand switching places as he did so. Momentum and a hint of Notus, a wind which usually kept him afloat, made it such that this maneuver would barely phase Mitch by the unexpected weight of the lance as he revolved around it. As his feet hit the ground he jerked the lance towards himself. He had yet to speak; had no time to speak. ========================= Action Recap: Defended with 3x passive attack speed. The spinning thing is a move he does in the middle of a combo. I thought it appropriate though if you think it stretches the '3 attacks' definition, I'll settle for him simply pulling the lance back in the end. =P |
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Post by yami on Oct 6, 2009 13:06:44 GMT -5
 "An exchange of bouts, the price for this transaction."
That didn't mean he wasn't pleased with the results. The lance had tore through Xaldin's coat. One which gave the appearance of thick. No doubt Mr. Gavin had drawn blood from his opponent. Then Xaldin moved, which was noted by Gavin's senses. They had entered Red Alert after all. The intricate maneuver that Xaldin pulled could be considered fascinating; that is, if one had the time to enjoy it. Instead, the agent had to counter his actions. Glimpsing the initial movement from the corner of his eye, Mitch proceeded to turn clockwise. His grip upon the lance loosening in the process. This helped Xaldin's knife-strike to lower Mitch's lance. No doubt this action was made to prevent Mitch from pushing the blade deeper into Xaldin. The spinning motion served to make the attack on his form horizontal.
The gash being made from the right armpit area towards the left rib cage. Alas this was merely the first step in Xaldin's defense. After all, even with the loosened grip; Mitch still held possession of the weapon. Thus Xaldin took to the air spinning like a fan (at a diagonal if I'm remembering the combo move, glad I had Xaldin on a mission prior to writing this post). During this complicated maneuver, Mitch simply angled the lance as he moved more to his left now. Their bodies were directly opposite; head on as it were. This helped Mitch to avoid Xaldin and the weight of the lance he was trying to retrieve. Thus when Xaldin's feet hit the ground and he made the jerking action; he'd be pulling harder than he should. A forced stumble as right before the grasping motion was made; Mitch had let go. Thus he'd end up pulling back and loosing footing.
Whilst he did this, Mitch dashed ahead. His form closer to the ground as his left fist aimed for Xaldin's exposed stomach. SLAM should the fist connect to the stumbled form. It would then cause Xaldin to buckle forward. In this process it would expose his chin which was targeted next. Following up this assault was a direct uppercut to Xaldin's chin. For those whom follow boxing or Hajime no Ippo; this maneuver causes the body to become temporarily paralyzed. Yes, a simple one two punch and if Xaldin's eyes looked to his opponent, there would only be a smile.
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Action Summary:
Mitch moves clockwise so that the two can essentially see ea other face to face. It also puts some distance between them (grasping towards the end rather than closer to the base). This distance is then leveraged by angling the lance. Thus narrowly avoiding the spin but unable to attack Xaldin directly. Then upon landing, Mitch let's go of the lance just before the tug. If you've played Tug a War, you know what happens when there's no weight and you pull a rope. Same occurance here, followed by a dash combo. (1 hit to stomach, 1 hit to the chin/jaw area).
I'm hoping to leverage the fact that you used 3x passive speed to aid your cooldown time on Notus, if I understand right (to be fair I've not actually looked at your abilities). I like to be in the dark; just like my character. |
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Post by III on Oct 7, 2009 22:24:37 GMT -5
Cute, Xaldin thought as he forced his feet to compensate for the unexpected ease at retrieving his weapon, taking a step backwards with his right as he shifted his center of gravity lower. His finely tuned senses whispered dire warnings as the enemy approached, but this was a test. It wouldn't be much of a test if he didn't take the blows that had been offered. Bracing himself, he grimaced as the first blow struck home.
As body blows went, it wasn't particularly strong or weak. Practiced, the lancer decided as he lowered his head, accepting the second blow to his nose instead of his chin, stumbling backwards as it connected. Not broken - of that he was sure. Xigbar had shot him in the face with too many slingshot pellets for him to mistake that sort of wound. Still, it was a fair blow. He felt blood trickle down, red and hot - a delicious contrast to the continuing rain.
Xaldin wasn't exactly what might be considered a smart fighter. He let his body think and assembled disparate strands of the fight that floated through his impressions, immersing himself in the experience not the foe.
It was how he preferred to fight. It was not a state that could usually be achieved while in thrall of a heart though there were a few times where Dilan had thought he had gotten close. Now though, he could turn it on and off almost at will though there was the small and unfortunate tendency for him to forget himself when he indulged. What rose from the morass of the short encounter floated as small nuggets of ideas. Blade and not the bone, speed to skill, will but no heart, fighter instinct, experience without strength.
Xaldin quickly snapped out. No bodies yet. Good.
There was a lot to be learned from a fight. It was that constant act of learning and adapting that separated the smart fighters from the dead fighters. One didn't need to be strong, or quick, or flexible in order to win... one merely needed to win. Under the right circumstances, the mind could be every bit as useful as the body. It was not a philosophy that Xaldin subscribed to. But he imagined that-
"Wind." He called. It answered, sending out hurricane gusts.
-it was one that Mitch might be particularly partial to. It replaced brute force with a certain fidelity toward a purer fight. No magic. Just bluffs and counter-bluffs; movement for movement. It was chess but with admitted handicaps to those that could bend the world to their will. A truly excellent warrior mentality. No doubt it was why he had a humanform Nobody. With such a paradigm there would be no acknowledgment of loss, just the search for new opportunities.
It would be interesting to see if...
But no. Xaldin would not risk the death of such a promising recruit so quickly.
Xaldin clapped. Slowly, but without mocking the other fighter. "Excellent form. Superior grasp of tactics and timing. Your teacher is to be commended."
"Yes. I do think we can use you."
He created a corridor of Darkness. Motioned towards it. It was the final test. Nobodies would be unaffected. Those with hearts... always were.
"But first, your reward."
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Action Recap:
-Took the two blows. Mitigated the chin blow by lowering head and replacing it with a nose blow.
-Boreas active form: creates gusts of wind at a single target that can move the weight of a car one-two meters.
ooc: Notus has two forms. One is active, the other is passive. The active cool-down, doesn't affect the passive one. But wtv. xD |
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Post by yami on Oct 10, 2009 21:31:41 GMT -5
 "The form of the warrior, the grace of the warrior, the mind of the warrior."
Bam!
The intricate slam of the fist, pounding into the abdomen of the foe.
Wham!
The knuckle making contact with the nose, blood gushed forth. The force had sent him back somewhat. Yet there was a brief halt in further attacks. Xaldin was expecting further body blows, indeed that was how the maneuver worked. Instead Mitch stood there, arms at his sides. His facial expression reflected how amused he was. Of course he could not enjoy the bliss for long. Xaldin summoned forth a nasty gust; hurricane force. Mitch proceeded to crouch down. His arms crossing in an 'x' formation. A traditional block to maximize the guard area. Most importantly, it allowed him to shield his face and abdomen from assault. The winds would no doubt push him back, quite far back.
A test of endurance; as well as defense. Mitch was a defense fighter; playing with tact as he lacked strength. He also lacked ambition, to which Xaldin would catch a glimpse of soon. For after the deadly wind, no doubt Mitch would be sprawled upon his back. He layed there for a moment, not moving. Of course his ears perked when he heard Xaldin's clap. He commended Mitchell, stating his teacher was also in need of praise. Of course, this puzzled him. He attempted to ease his upper body up. Just enough so that his face could be seen.
"Just who was my teacher...?"
Something went off in the back of his mind, but due to the agent's focus; twas easily repressed. Now, he had eased into a sitting position. The agent clearly looking relaxed, almost content with his position. He did lack ambition, but he had earned his reward. The man opened up what Mr. Gavin could only assume was a portal. Why did he assume a portal? It contained the arch of a doorway, an entrance if you will; thus a portal. He nodded to acknowledge Xaldin's statement. Followed by getting to his feet. He'd groom himself and prep his attire accordingly. He was an agent after all, once he was done he'd be off. The Dark Corridor awaited, he'd walk through it casually.
Simple proof that he was a Nobody, he easily took steps through the dark corridor. His form showing no visible sign of strain. Where did this lead him? Only his host knew such an answer. Regardless, it appeared his skill level was accepted by this ruling power. Though for now, he needed knowledge. ------------------------------------ Action Recap: -Took the powerful hit of wind OOC: Well Dei, you get to wrap up the thread! Conclude on a note of awesome, likewise...I guess you get to open the thread in Castle Oblivion? I'll PM the link to this thread to Larxy. Maybe I can haz Org Cloak now =D?! |
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Post by III on Oct 22, 2009 19:26:39 GMT -5
And just like that, Xaldin was alone again.
Darkness licked idly at the flagstones. Rain hissed as it came into contact, but beyond that there was no reaction. No Heartless peeked out curiously, no tendrils stretched and roved, no dreams took form ready to fight. Like black and purple fire. Beautiful, really. Master Ansem had called it a blot or a stain on the fabric of reality in his later musings. Earlier, he had thought them bruises - natural responses to pain or hurt.
Dilan, the fool, had thought of it more as a tattoo. An expression of juvenile delinquency in the face of authority. Or perhaps self-realization - I am me. Perhaps. In any case, he had thought the Dark as harmless as a street magician's illusion but pretty enough, nonetheless.
That had been before the Heartless, of course. After that, things had changed.
Once... once upon a time, it reacted to him - weaving a grand tapestry of anger and rage and hate - whispering sweet, sweet promises of power, glory...
Madness.
It had been that last bit that had seduced Dilan. Xaldin never quite knew why. He doubted his heart understood it, either. For the most part, it had been admirably sane despite its upbringing.
Raindrops continued to fall, pitter-patter. The darkness continued to wait there idly, neither welcoming nor discouraging entry. A facade, of course. When there was little cause for excitement, it mimed domestication, always so eager to please. When there was a genuine need for its power, it turned violently capricious, luxuriating in the pain it caused.
Xaldin had tried retreating after Sora had defeated him and then the Darkness had swallowed him whole. For the second time, no less.
He no longer trusted the Darkness.
"Maybe later," he told the corridor politely. No response. Not that he was expecting one.
He stepped through. |
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I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao