Wasn't the Black Knight "None shall pass," though?
1
like
1 yr ago
You ever realize that you haven't changed your status in months, go back to change it, and then wonder what the *fuck* your previous status was even talking about?
12
likes
2 yrs ago
No, no, they clearly are referring to Ohio -- which Georgia is geographically south of, so the theory is still sound.
I'm an exceedingly enthusiastic roleplayer who's been writing for about ten years now and yet still hasn't managed to produce any kind of solo piece of writing worth reading. I like to consider myself a good writer, but that's kind of a matter of opinion, as many would argue that my tendency to ramble on at entirely excessive length about things is boring rather than interesting. I'm also incredibly OCD about formatting, so if you're wondering why my bios look so fancy, that's why. It's just something I do because... reasons, I guess.
Anyway, as you've probably noticed from my avatars and RP choices, I'm more than a bit of a fan of anime and manga, but also enjoy movies, video games, the occasional comic book... the list goes on. For you see, I am not a mere dork - I am the one spoken of in legends, the one whose dorkiness transcends all forms and boundaries. I am... the Legendary... OMNI-DORK!
...Anyway, thanks for dropping in to check on my profile! Hope to RP with you sometime!
The floorboards creaked outside the threshold, and instinctively, Xiáyīng lowered her head in one last futile attempt to keep her eyes from being seen. It was of no particular use, of course -- the shadow that towered over her swiftly descended to her own level, peering under the brim of her hood and meeting her gaze before she knew it. She clutched the sheathed sword at her side all the more tightly -- not because she thought she would have to use it, but rather because she feared the one defense she had left would be taken away.
Yet, when he did speak, it was in a kinder, gentler tone than she had heard in a long, long time. The mere sound of his voice surprised her so much that she completely failed to mark the meaning of the words he spoke to her, simply staring at him in bewilderment before her old habits reminded her that she did not deserve the privilege of looking upon a true warrior, and she thus quickly lowered her head.
"Um... Please... forgive my trespass. I had thought this place abandoned, and meant merely to rest. Please, forgive me." Before she knew it, apologies and excuses were spilling from her lips, though she hardly expected them to be received. Even if this man seemed kind on the surface, surely, the temple's owner would be less lenient...
She hadn't intended to eavesdrop. Really, she hadn't.
Xiáyīng hadn't even thought about the conversation the two people outside might have been having at first, as she had been almost entirely preoccupied with self-concealment. But once she had erased her already meager presence, and had tucked herself nicely out of their line of sight, her mind had begun to wander away from the silence of her own quiet breathing, to the voices she could hear outside. And so it was that, without really meaning to, she heard what was being discussed.
"-- isolated village a few hours out seemed to have up and vanished. Not too strange to happen during the war, but a peddler seemed to have traded with 'em 3 months ago."
...So the village she had encountered before wasn't the only one to suffer such a fate? Her heart felt heavy, and her head drooped. Of course, it wasn't as though she expected that the only evils in the world were the ones which she had beheld with her own two eyes, but even so, the reminder and the remembrance that came with it weighed heavily upon her.
If they were investigating such things, though, then didn't that mean they were martial artists? Honorable and upstanding folk, like the man who... Well, at any rate, her curiosity was stirred, and so, against her better judgment, she peered meekly out around the fringe of the doorway when she thought nobody was looking, and --
The wind whistled between the mountain's twin crests. The boughs rustled, their petals plucked -- life strewn carelessly upon the surface of the water far below. Ripples formed around her where she lay, soaked and chilled to the bone, merely gazing up at the sky. She had always been here. She would never be able to leave. She clawed at the stone with bloodied fingers, trying in vain to rise, only to fall and sink deeper -- ever deeper into the dark water.
Silent and still. All was silent and still. Ever and always, silent and still. She was but a single droplet in a boundless spring. A single life within a vast world. A tiny and frail thing that could do naught but sink.
Yet even from within those soundless depths, she could still see the ones who stood above.
One was a warrior ascendant upon a steep and winding road, whose every stride carried him closer -- ever closer to the clouds. But though he bore a thousand blades upon his back, the way was so narrow and so treacherous that none could walk beside him to bear his steel, or share in his burden.
The other's burdens were of a different sort. The road ahead of her was easy, and well-traveled -- if only she could but walk it. Yet shadows hounded her -- their grasp stayed her feet, even as the tracks she followed faded into nothing before her eyes. As the sun began to set behind the mountain, the shadows in her wake grew long indeed -- like jaws opened wide to devour her, while she but stood, and waited for the journey's end.
Xiáyīng gasped, and drew back behind the threshold, shutting her aching eyes -- yet the echoes of the vision still seemed painted upon the insides of her eyelids, drifting phantasms and lingering silhouettes dancing across the darkness despite her attempts to blink and rub them away. Why had she dared to look, when she knew she wouldn't be able to control what she might see? Foolish, utterly foolish, and now --
"I know that you're lookin' after someone here already, so I'd understand if you'd want to stay."
Xiáyīng's heart sank. Now they knew she was here.
The woman called out to her a moment later -- or, rather, seemed to be addressing her indirectly, but nevertheless showed that she, too, had witnessed Xiáyīng's moment of indiscretion. But how much had they seen? Just her face, or had they even noticed her eyes? If they had, would they try to hurt her? She'd be able to tell if she looked at them again, but if she looked then they might see if they hadn't already, and if they saw then they definitely would, so should she just stay hidden? But she couldn't stay hidden because they'd already seen her. Should she say something? But what? Saying "I'm not a thief" would only make them think she was one, but if she asked permission to stay only after already entering the temple then -- then...
Her racing thoughts carried her completely away, and ultimately she became so preoccupied wondering what she should say or how she should say it that she said... nothing at all.
Being lost, after all, required a destination which one intended to reach. A goal. Some sort of purpose. At the very least, a rudimentary grasp of geography was necessary.
Well, maybe that wasn't quite right. One could be lost in ways other than a purely physical sense. To be cast adrift from one's home, one's past, one's very way of being -- surely that could be called "lost" also, right?
The very word "lost" did seem to fit her quite aptly. After all, few could probably claim to have ever possessed half of all that had been taken from her. Even so, thinking about that "loss" could no longer even bring tears to her eyes. Instead, it only carried with it a sense of numbness, and a sort of aimless resolve -- a strong drive to leave all that behind her, which in turn sputtered out within her the moment she turned her thoughts on where, instead, to go.
Either way, she didn't like to think about it more than she had to. It was better to leave such empty feelings in the dark place where they had first been born. The tears she couldn't cry now had already been shed yesterday, and to mourn the loss of one's very ability to mourn would be so laughably piteous that it could only be seen as farce comedy.
...Hm. Yes. That was quite profound. Perhaps it would have made a good poem, if she still remembered any of the education she had received in such pure and elegant pursuits. Unfortunately, no words, however sweet, could fill the yawning void in her stomach, nor would the deepest ocean of philosophical preponderance slake her thirst.
Oh. And she also hadn't the faintest clue where she even was. There was also that.
Even before her... fall from grace, she had seen little and heard less of the world beyond the Severed Peak. Even discussing the affairs of the outside had been a forbidden subject since the heirs were born. To think of leaving -- why, the very idea had been laughable. As a child, she never could have dreamed that she would ever willfully defy that taboo.
But there were a great many things under heaven which she could not have imagined as a child, and compared to the path that had led her down the mountain's slopes, the first steps she had taken into the world beyond it had been wholly unremarkable by comparison. No... perhaps "unremarkable" wasn't the right word. "Disappointing," maybe? Perhaps "sobering..."
Sad. It was sad.
She had walked for days before she found a village. Her hopes had soared at the familiar sight of houses, only to fall again when she got closer and saw their sorry state. Anything taller than one story had long since collapsed, and the rest more resembled charred toothpicks than functional masonry. There hadn't been a single soul alive in the entire place.
"Alive" being the operative word. It had taken her almost three whole days to bury all of the bodies, and by the time she was done she had exhausted all the water she had carried with her from the Dragonspring. That was around when she remembered what "hunger" felt like, and it finally occurred to her that she hadn't eaten in... in...
...Huh. That was strange. She couldn't even remember how long it had been anymore. She'd kept a tally, back in the shrine, but the marks she had stubbornly clawed into the rotten wood weren't something she would have wanted to carry with her even had she been able to, and their number had long since grown beyond any hope of counting.
At any rate, her conscience had gotten the better of her. She hadn't been able to bear the thought of leaving the desolate town's former inhabitants to be picked over by the birds and dogs, and so she had done her best to give them as proper a funeral as she could. They were not so different, after all -- she had simply had the fortune to climb from her grave, whereas they...
...They had died in agony. She had seen it -- or rather, had been forced to see it. Every day as she toiled, the visions wouldn't stop. There, a house now in ruins. There, the site where a beloved child had been crushed beneath the body of a helpless mother. There, where a man fell before the broken gates, his blood spilled in vain for a home he couldn't protect. Blood. Death. Darkness. Even when she refused to look, it surrounded her.
It wasn't their fault. What happened here wasn't fair. It was only right that someone should remember a tragedy -- because if she didn't, then who would? Yet even so, that didn't make the things she saw any easier to bear. By the time the last scraps of dirt had been laid upon the shallow mound, all she could bring herself to feel was relief that finally, it was over.
The last one she buried was the man outside the gates. It felt only right. He must have been the first to fall -- standing proudly against whatever force had wreaked this carnage. The soil all around where he had lain had been baked by the sun, bearing a reddish tinge from the blood that had soaked into it. She could still see the footprints, preserved by the drought, showing where his body had been trampled over, his face stomped into the mud and the filth by the advancing enemy.
As she had extricated his crumbling body from the rubble of the gate, it had struck her that even in death, the sword in his hand was gripped so tightly that she could hardly remove it. When she finally extricated it from his grasp, the hand that had held it crumbled to dust, as though its purpose was at last fulfilled.
"You did well," She had said without thinking. The stillness that followed was almost deafening, and for the first night since her arrival in the ruined village, her sleep had been sound, filled only with dreams too fleeting to remember. When she had awakened, she had found herself crying.
She only realized after the burial was done that, after years of isolation, her own attire was little more than rags. By comparison, even the bloodstained and soiled robes of the gatekeeper seemed almost pristine by comparison. His sword, too, though dented and chipped, remained unrusted and unbroken.
She tore up what little remained of her own robes, and used the cloth to mend the nameless warrior's garb. She had expected to feel guilty for her robbery, but strangely, all she felt was an odd sort of peace. He, too, had been like her in a way. Forced to fight a futile battle he did not want, he had not shied away from the inevitable result -- even unto the bitter end. She admired that. If only she herself had possessed that kind of resolve, then surely...
So it was that she now found herself upon an unknown road. It had been many days since then. Weeks, perhaps. Months, even. She didn't really care anymore. She had seen more towns since then. She'd been welcomed in some, and shunned in others. Yet no matter how far she roamed, the visions she saw while she was awake, and the dreams she saw when she was asleep -- those never went away. Nor could she lose the feeling that the old sword now strapped by her side yet had some purpose to fulfill.
But she was hungry, and thirsty, and tired. A town lay ahead, but she could not find it in herself to hope that she would be welcomed there. So it was that she turned instead to a small, decrepit shrine by the side of the road, long overgrown with kudzu and seemingly left abandoned. By the time she realized that it wasn't... well, there was already a visitor in the courtyard behind her, and someone else was coming out from behind the old building, and... and, on instinct, she had hidden herself away before she knew it. She had little pride left to lose, but to be mistaken for a thief come to plunder a holy place would shame even her.
Thankfully, she was well-used to avoiding notice. She tucked herself behind the frame of the temple's door, curled up, and prayed the people outside would leave. Her already miniscule presence faded to almost nothing, and her breathing became so faint that even she could hardly perceive it. Yes, if they would just leave, she would hastily depart and trouble them no longer. She didn't come to take anything, she just wanted a place to rest... But no one would see things that way, and if they met, there would only be conflict. She didn't want any trouble, so if they'd just give her a chance, she'd leave. She was sorry. She'd just been so tired, and so thirsty -- so far from home, and so... so...
Lost.
Without realizing, Xiáyīng had become lost upon the road of life.
...So the right answer when your superior asked you this sort of question... It was yes, right?
Once again, Kai's demeanor proved impossible for the somewhat oblivious blonde to make sense of. He seemed unconcerned with such things, contented to go at his own pace, but then all of a sudden he hit her with the last response she could have expected. Was this some sort of a test? Truth be told, she was actually pretty nervous about what sort of training they'd be doing, and the scornful words of her unwanted roommate were still fresh in her mind. Excitement and energy should have been the farthest thing from her mind as she sat there, munching contemplatively upon a surprisingly-not-stale biscuit.
...But, well, living face to face with the prospect of reaching out and grabbing your childhood dream has a tendency to make it hard to maintain a soulful melancholy for very long. And so it was that she found Kai's question surprisingly easy to answer between mouthfuls as she finished the biscuit and followed up by inhaling a sausage.
Xiáyīng is a tall, slender young woman, most prominently defined by her long, slightly messy tail of greyish hair and her pure azure eyes, which shine with an uncanny luminescence, as though at all times reflecting the fullness of a clear sky. Her build is athletic but wiry, giving her a rather dainty air that seems more befitting of a merchant's daughter or a lady-in-waiting than a martial artist. Her small white hands hide callouses upon their palms, however, and her thin body carries its fair share of scars.
Despite her training, though, she doesn't carry herself with the pride one might expect of a warrior. Her bearing could best be said to be as graceful as a heron... and as bold as a rabbit. She takes small, even steps with her head ever-so-slightly lowered and her eyes held upon the ground in front of her, and keeps her distance from even the slightest sort of contact.
She seems to favor simple attire, making no particular concessions for femininity in the process. More often than not, she can be found clad in a comfortable, boyish blue tunic and pants, over which she wears a looser-fitted white robe. Her wardrobe generally lacks ornamentation, letting the fine quality of the fabric speak for itself. Thanks to her lack of curves, however, her long hair and timid manner are generally the main indicators of her gender. Were it not so, she could likely pass quite convincingly for a young lord; even now, some might mistake her for a man until she opens her mouth.
Xiáyīng's nature is one deeply mired in contradiction. Outwardly, she is polite, composed, friendly, and humble. Yet, despite her politeness, she is deeply distrustful of others. Despite her composure, she holds a great deal of fear within her. Despite her friendliness, she retreats into herself the moment others reciprocate, never allowing anyone closer than arms' length. Her humility, perhaps, is the only aspect of her refined facade that is truly real -- and that solely because she is unable to escape her own feelings of inferiority.
Though blessed with the ability to discern the talents and experience of others, like a koi trapped within its pond, all her eyes have shown her is the vastness of a sky she will never reach. She wants to break out of her shell. She wants to change. If things had turned out differently, then perhaps she'd be happier for it. If only she hadn't failed, and failed, and failed again.
If only.
Xiáyīng doesn't know what she wants anymore. She doesn't know why she was granted the blessing -- or curse -- that she bears, doesn't know why she can't seem to do anything right, and even if she could advance along the path before her, she wouldn't know where to go. Even now, the dream she looks back on is something that was never her own -- a road laid out before her by someone else. But no matter how daunting the heights upon which her peers stand, and no matter how dark the depths of the evil she sees in the shattered world around her, she wants to believe that there is good in others, and that there is value in herself.
When the world was young, two great beasts fought atop the Severed Peak -- a dragon of the heavens, and a dragon of the earth. The reasons for their battle have been lost to time, as has the victor. All that is known is that in the wake of their struggle, the mountaintop was split asunder, and a fountainhead of pure water sprung from the site of the Dragonstear, spreading out through unseen veins beneath the earth and joining with the energies of the land to create new life from death. Great stones erupt from the mountain's steep cliffs, said to be the bones of one or both of the valiant creatures, and atop their silent grave at the foot of heaven, the flowers bloom eternally in tribute.
Regardless of how much of that is true, it was the pride of the Yuán clan to inherit this mystery. Their monastery sat upon the lower half of the Severed Peak, opposite the Dragonspring itself. Their duty since the first days of their establishment was to protect the spring from all those who would dare misuse its power. Said to be blessed by the Dragon of the Heavens, their founders supposedly possessed unique "Jeweled Eyes," which could peer beyond the trappings of the physical world and into the realm of spirit. Of course, no two accounts can agree on what, precisely, this power actually did, as none among the clan inherited it in the last hundred years, and many of the original records were lost during the succession crisis, where two brothers fought to inherit mastery over the clan and its martial arts. The winner of this battle was the clan's most recent head, Yuán Daiyu: a rare genius who would go on to reform the entire Yuán sect, and become one of the greatest warriors in all the Jianghu.
But under his rule, members of the clan began to mysteriously disappear. Soon, none were allowed to scale the Severed Peak, and none atop it were allowed to leave. Rumor had it that his wife had borne him twin prodigies, whom he had taken it upon himself to train personally, but when the doors of the monastery were at last opened, he had but one successor, and one heir -- his son Jingyu, who had not only exceeded his father in the martial arts, but who had, for the first time in a hundred years, manifested jeweled Jade Eyes.
When the Age of War began, the two of them proved themselves mighty warriors for the Alliance. So mighty were they that some began to question the source of their power. Suspicion became doubt, doubt became fear, and fear became horrible reality when the Devil Clans at last revealed themselves, and both father and son, long-since beguiled by the promise of power, heeded the call of their true masters and betrayed their erstwhile allies. Countless heroes were felled by the blade of the young devil Jingyu, who seemed able to master any technique, and see through any deception with his Jade Eyes. But, when all hope seemed lost... his power vanished. The eyes he had so relied on failed him, and his unnatural gift disappeared.
Unable to continue fighting without his power, the father and son both fled, hunted like dogs for their betrayal. But although the traitorous Yuán who had followed them were purged -- though the clan was abolished and its teachings destroyed, the lord and his heir were never found, even after the war's conclusion. No one knows what became of the traitors, or why Jingyu's Jeweled Eyes failed him in the hour of his triumph.
But rumor has it that at the moment when Jingyu's eyes failed, a girl emerged from the shrine at the heart of the Dragonspring -- a princess clad in rags, her pure Sapphire Eyes yet unsullied by the world. Though none could confirm these rumors, that could not stop people from searching for this ghost, this phantom twin, this holy child. Some said she was a savior who would illuminate the path to enlightenment. Some said that if you took her eyes, you, too, could see past the world and reach the truth yourself. Others said that she was a rare genius who would restore the old ways of the Yuán, and bring about justice for the sins of her forebears.
But the truth is none of those things. The truth is that Yuán Xiáyīng, the lost daughter of Yuán Daiyu, is simply an average girl who had the misfortune of being born into a family of geniuses. Sacrificed for a cause she does not know, saved by powers she does not understand, granted a gift she cannot use, and sought for a salvation she cannot provide, the princess at last emerges from the bottom of the well like a koi challenging the Dragon's Gate, leaping towards a sky she dares not reach.
Cultivation Base _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Yuán Clan's martial philosophy is rooted in the principles of the Wu Xing, and is referred to as the Fivefold Path. Rather than solely distinguishing between Yin and Yang or any other such binary dichotomy, it instead focuses primarily on the Five Agents -- Water, Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal. It is a philosophy rooted in the concept of mirroring the changing facets of the external world within one's self, and in so doing, gaining mastery over the world by achieving harmony with it.
Xiáyīng currently remains stuck at the first of the five Agents, limiting her to harnessing Qi aspected with the philosophy and properties of Water.
As protectors of the Dragonspring, and bearing the name of the sacred Origin, the Yuán clan venerates Water as the origin of all things -- the source and fountainhead from which life itself flows. As such, the first step upon the path is water. As a neophyte, one must be yielding, tranquil, and serene, like the pure waters of the Dragonspring. Only then will a student be ready to receive the power of the water.
Once that power is received, however, it must be refined. Water's nature is transient and fleeting, and cannot be grasped. So too does the Qi cultivated from the sacred spring slip through the fingers of those who would cling to it. But just as water grants life and nourishment to the trees of the mountain, so too may it nourish a student of the path. As the student's knowledge and skills grow, so too must he step out of the shadow of his mentor, like a sapling raising its own branches to embrace the sunlight. He must become confident, but not arrogant, for a young branch that bends and remains firm does not break.
But just as there is a time for growth, there is also a time for harvest. Just as there is a time for learning, there is a time for trial. This is the third step of the path: the element of Fire, representing passion, transformation, and transcendence. At this stage, the student's abilities are pushed to their limits, and in this crucible they must either break or be forged anew.
Once proven, the student's will must be tempered. Their destructive Qi, cultivated through passion and pride, is yet unstable, and the burning spirit of youth must be quenched at last so that the wisdom of age may take its place. For though the fire shines brightly, it burns for only a moment before its spark dies out -- but the mountain endures a thousand years unchanged. Meditation, asceticism, discipline, and relentless practice make up the backbone of the phase of Earth, until at last the aspirant's body is prepared for the fifth step.
Metal represents the completion of the martial artist's trials -- the synthesis of all that has come before. Drawn from the earth, forged in fire, fueled by wood, and quenched in water, Metal stands as the final step of the cycle. Humility, Courage, Passion, Temperance, and finally, Supremacy. From humble beginnings to the very heights of achievement, the student has witnessed all the phases of the world -- has lived them. In so doing, he has cultivated a world within himself, balanced in all its facets. He has mastered first his mind, then his body, then his heart, and at last his soul.
And for such a master, there is then but one final step to take -- one which none have yet managed to take before. One must truly realize that he is the world, and the world is him. There is nothing without that is not within. There is nothing within that is not without. And in this state of "nothingness," one achieves the true goal of the Yuán style, and reaches the Void. One does not strike with the intention to do harm -- one simply wills it, and it is so. The sword divides the mountain, because there is no mountain, and there is no sword. It is all one, and the form that oneness takes is entirely arbitrary. It could be a blade. It could be a flower. And it could be a man without limits.
Immeasurable, free of obstacles, formless and infinite. If one could achieve such an existence, they must surely be either a demon or a god.
However, the Fivefold Path requires that the one who walks it understand the course to be taken, and understand themselves. If one is naturally impatient, they cannot achieve stillness, and cannot draw upon the power in the first place. If one lacks resolve, they cannot achieve firmness, and cannot control the power they obtain. When one obtains one thing, one loses another -- and as you walk the path, the steps you've taken disappear like the melting of snow.
How can one balance five views in one? How can one become a world to themselves? How can one reach the Void that lies beyond the Origin? The only way is to walk the path. When one becomes a master, one must remember their lessons as a student, and see them through once again with a clear mind. Water. Wood. Fire. Earth. Metal. Water. Wood. Fire. Earth. Metal. Repeat them a thousand times, then a thousand more. With each step the path grows shorter. The spiral narrows. A thousand more steps closer, and it narrows still. Where once you walked, now you run, sprinting closer -- ever closer to the end of the spiral. Ever closer to the Truth.
Immeasurable, free of obstacles, formless and infinite. Though none have ever reached it, the Yuán sought this fleeting Truth, no matter how many bodies they had to step over to reach it; even if that body was that of a frail sister, or a weak daughter.
What did the Truth look like through those eyes of Jade? And how could one cast aside by that path ever hope to walk it?
To tread the path, one must understand the course to be taken, and understand themselves. But that path was never hers, and perhaps that is why she could never go beyond the first step. To abandon self, to forsake kindness, to court oblivion -- Xiáyīng was never fit to make such a choice.
And so, she wavers at the foot of the mountain, merely gazing up at the sky she cannot reach, rising and receding with the turning of the tide. But no matter how her feet may falter, and no matter where the flood may bear her, the sky reflected in her eyes remains clear, without horizon.
Whether atop the split peak of a distant mountain, or deep within the darkness of a lonely well, a lone flower blooms in silence.
Body Enhancements _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jeweled Eyes ~ Sapphire: Thanks to her unnatural eyes, Xiáyīng possesses the unique ability to observe the flow of Qi in the world around her. This is both a blessing and a curse, since it can grant her flashes of insight into her own life, and the lives of those around her -- particularly other cultivators willing to open themselves up to her. Though it's a far cry from the superstitions about her being some kind of enlightened maiden, her eyes can allow her to potentially provide a level of empathetic support or insight into the burdens of others.
However, she is unable to control what she sees or when these "flashes" occur, potentially overwhelming her with visions she can't necessarily make sense of. With time and training, perhaps this ability could allow her to grasp and unravel the Qi of others as her brother did before her, but as matters stand, it's a power she can't even understand, much less consciously make use of.
Life Detection: Thanks to her eyes and their power, Xiáyīng does at least have a somewhat instinctual ability to sense the presences of other people -- particularly those with a great deal of Qi. This comes with the downside, however, that powerful presences tend to overwhelm her, assaulting her eyes and mind with more information than she can manage to process, and weighing down upon her with an almost tangible level of mental pressure.
Judgment of Character: Another side effect of her eyes. Xiáyīng can generally tell people who mean harm apart from others based upon her special vision, and as such, has an uncanny instinct that helps her to avoid danger... or to confront it for the sake of those she holds dear. This power doesn't allow her to read minds, tell the truth from lies, or anything beyond sensing a target's immediate hostile or beneficial intentions, however.
Art of the Flow - Breath of Life: The basis for all Yuán school martial arts is the ability to pace one's breathing and enter a state of stillness, balancing one's own body and Qi with the ebb and flow of one's surroundings. By doing this, the user becomes a conduit, drawing in power continuously from their surroundings, coursing it through the body, and then expelling it with each breath.
This grants the user tremendous stamina, as even if the overall pool of Qi the cultivator has at their disposal at any given time is small, they replenish it almost as quickly as it is expelled from their body. So long as Xiáyīng paces herself and her breathing rhythm remains unbroken, she can endure fatigue, hunger, illness, and injury without faltering.
The more advanced application of this art integrates principles of Tai Chi with those of Yuán school spiritualism. Enemy strikes become a part of the rhythm -- a coming tide to be moved with rather than resisted directly. Controlling points of leverage and positioning accordingly requires timing one's footwork and defenses in time with one's breathing, moving with the swell of gathering energy and expelling the enemy from one's own space as the user exhales, increasing the force that is applied.
Performed properly, this art is like a dance, deflecting and striking all in one fluid motion, breaking the coming tide with a single gentle palm. Performed poorly, it all falls apart the moment the user's concentration falters and their breathing wavers. Xiáyīng, unfortunately, tends towards the latter end of the spectrum.
Art of the Flow - Sword of the Dragon's Eye: The traditional form of swordsmanship taught by the Yuán school to newly-minted initiates to prepare them for learning more advanced forms. It is said to draw its inspiration from a whirlpool that forms under certain conditions above the mouth of the Dragonspring. The ebb and flow of the waters as they descend through the valleys creates a back-and-forth motion that is mimicked by this style's focus on dynamic, circular movements.
The swordsman is expected to outspace the enemy, redirecting the enemy's strikes with the very tip of his or her blade in order to maximize leverage while minimizing the distance moved, then follow up by stepping forward, rotating the wrist, and striking back with the opposite edge of the blade in the very same motion, applying pressure and forcing the enemy back.
If the enemy refuses to back off from this pressure, there are also techniques for running one's sword down the enemy's blade, grappling to pin their weapon arm and remove their ability to defend themselves, or locking weapons in order to wind around their guard and launch a swift thrust at close range. Like the water between the rocks of the valley, the swordsman seeks to slip through any gap, their strikes flowing freely around their opponent rather than confronting them directly.
In light of this, a heavy emphasis is also placed on twitch hits - intentionally pulling a strike as the enemy parries it, and using the momentum they impart to bring the blade around and strike the opposite side of the body with a lightning-fast flick. This hit can also then be pulled, continuing a blindingly-fast rain that will wear the enemy down until they make a mistake, and back them into a corner.
The style is tremendously simple in theory, relying on just a few key principles that can each be applied in a variety of different ways. However, although it is a style based around the idea of "formlessness," it's easy for an amateur in the art to fall into predictable patterns of trying the same trick in the same way over and over again, while a master of the style could be entirely unpredictable to a more orthodox opponent. This style also doesn't fare well against those who use weapons too massive to outspace, or too heavy to redirect, with particularly limited utility against unorthodox weapons such as nunchaku, against which the style's tricks will be at best ineffective, and at worst downright detrimental.
In summary, it is a dexterous and elegant style of fighting that is very good for the purpose of confronting other swordsmen, but suffers poor matchups against large crushing weapons and long spears. Additionally, it has a deceptively high skill ceiling, which Xiáyīng herself has not yet even begun to approach.
Art of the Flow - Crashing Wave: Though her swordsmanship is good for drawn-out battles of attrition, where her tremendous stamina and ability to apply constant pressure even when on the defensive can help whittle down an opponent, her inability to advance beyond the philosophy of Water limits her ability to contest an opponent's strength directly.
To address this issue, a technique was created to take advantage of Water's inability to retain the strength it gathers. Like an over-full vessel bursting under pressure, one can draw in external Qi and then release it all at once, creating a powerful shockwave.
This burst of energy is utterly unrefined, and lacks either focus or direction beyond the part of the body from which it is released. However, it can be used in a variety of different ways, to remarkable effect.
By releasing the burst from the user's legs, they can leap high in the air, briefly ascending above their enemy and flipping over the target's head in order to attack from behind, like a tidal wave engulfing all in its way.
By releasing the burst from the user's hand, they can deliver a palm strike capable of washing their target away, opening up the distance and potentially taking advantage of nearby terrain.
With a bit of practice, it's even possible to concentrate the burst within the blade of a wielded sword, allowing the user to deliver a vicious thrust or cut with a great deal of extra force behind it, making up for the style's inability to otherwise inflict serious direct damage in a single blow. However, Xiáyīng has yet to reach this level, and as of yet, is mostly limited to the basic rudiments of this ability -- augmenting her own jumping and physical striking power.
Nameless Sword: A humble double-edged Jian of dull grey steel. Though the frayed crimson tassel adorning its pommel suggests that it was once the possession of a warrior of some standing, its blade is scratched and worn by a great deal of use, making it little better than any other sword. No doubt, it was scavenged from some battlefield or another, taken from the body of a wielder who no longer needed it. It lacks sentimental value or any sort of remarkable properties, but nevertheless serves as an effective tool of self-defense for a forlorn and outcast little traveler.
Young Lord's Vestments: A young man's traveling tunic and robe dyed in the colors of one of the many clans associated with the Martial Alliance, lifted perhaps from the same source as the sword its current wearer now carries with her. Xiáyīng has clearly taken great care to mend the damage to the garments with what meager means she has at her disposal. Though her attire lacks ostentatious ornaments or metal reinforcement, the layered and padded cloth does provide some measure of protection without inhibiting the wearer's freedom of movement.
Furred Mantle: A more recent purchase, made with what little coin Xiáyīng was able to scrounge from the battlefields of the war. A fluffy, fur-trimmed hood adorns a loose and flowing capelet, the thick fur helping to weigh the garment down such that its low-hanging brim helps to conceal her Jeweled Eyes while in the presence of others. Also, it's very comfortable and warm -- a rare treasure for one who possesses few luxuries.
Alright. I think I've finally got this working. Apologies in advance, everyone -- this is probably the most ridiculously extra CS I've ever made on this site. XD
Xiáyīng is a tall, slender young woman, most prominently defined by her long, slightly messy tail of greyish hair and her pure azure eyes, which shine with an uncanny luminescence, as though at all times reflecting the fullness of a clear sky. Her build is athletic but wiry, giving her a rather dainty air that seems more befitting of a merchant's daughter or a lady-in-waiting than a martial artist. Her small white hands hide callouses upon their palms, however, and her thin body carries its fair share of scars.
Despite her training, though, she doesn't carry herself with the pride one might expect of a warrior. Her bearing could best be said to be as graceful as a heron... and as bold as a rabbit. She takes small, even steps with her head ever-so-slightly lowered and her eyes held upon the ground in front of her, and keeps her distance from even the slightest sort of contact.
She seems to favor simple attire, making no particular concessions for femininity in the process. More often than not, she can be found clad in a comfortable, boyish blue tunic and pants, over which she wears a looser-fitted white robe. Her wardrobe generally lacks ornamentation, letting the fine quality of the fabric speak for itself. Thanks to her lack of curves, however, her long hair and timid manner are generally the main indicators of her gender. Were it not so, she could likely pass quite convincingly for a young lord; even now, some might mistake her for a man until she opens her mouth.
Xiáyīng's nature is one deeply mired in contradiction. Outwardly, she is polite, composed, friendly, and humble. Yet, despite her politeness, she is deeply distrustful of others. Despite her composure, she holds a great deal of fear within her. Despite her friendliness, she retreats into herself the moment others reciprocate, never allowing anyone closer than arms' length. Her humility, perhaps, is the only aspect of her refined facade that is truly real -- and that solely because she is unable to escape her own feelings of inferiority.
Though blessed with the ability to discern the talents and experience of others, like a koi trapped within its pond, all her eyes have shown her is the vastness of a sky she will never reach. She wants to break out of her shell. She wants to change. If things had turned out differently, then perhaps she'd be happier for it. If only she hadn't failed, and failed, and failed again.
If only.
Xiáyīng doesn't know what she wants anymore. She doesn't know why she was granted the blessing -- or curse -- that she bears, doesn't know why she can't seem to do anything right, and even if she could advance along the path before her, she wouldn't know where to go. Even now, the dream she looks back on is something that was never her own -- a road laid out before her by someone else. But no matter how daunting the heights upon which her peers stand, and no matter how dark the depths of the evil she sees in the shattered world around her, she wants to believe that there is good in others, and that there is value in herself.
When the world was young, two great beasts fought atop the Severed Peak -- a dragon of the heavens, and a dragon of the earth. The reasons for their battle have been lost to time, as has the victor. All that is known is that in the wake of their struggle, the mountaintop was split asunder, and a fountainhead of pure water sprung from the site of the Dragonstear, spreading out through unseen veins beneath the earth and joining with the energies of the land to create new life from death. Great stones erupt from the mountain's steep cliffs, said to be the bones of one or both of the valiant creatures, and atop their silent grave at the foot of heaven, the flowers bloom eternally in tribute.
Regardless of how much of that is true, it was the pride of the Yuán clan to inherit this mystery. Their monastery sat upon the lower half of the Severed Peak, opposite the Dragonspring itself. Their duty since the first days of their establishment was to protect the spring from all those who would dare misuse its power. Said to be blessed by the Dragon of the Heavens, their founders supposedly possessed unique "Jeweled Eyes," which could peer beyond the trappings of the physical world and into the realm of spirit. Of course, no two accounts can agree on what, precisely, this power actually did, as none among the clan inherited it in the last hundred years, and many of the original records were lost during the succession crisis, where two brothers fought to inherit mastery over the clan and its martial arts. The winner of this battle was the clan's most recent head, Yuán Daiyu: a rare genius who would go on to reform the entire Yuán sect, and become one of the greatest warriors in all the Jianghu.
But under his rule, members of the clan began to mysteriously disappear. Soon, none were allowed to scale the Severed Peak, and none atop it were allowed to leave. Rumor had it that his wife had borne him twin prodigies, whom he had taken it upon himself to train personally, but when the doors of the monastery were at last opened, he had but one successor, and one heir -- his son Jingyu, who had not only exceeded his father in the martial arts, but who had, for the first time in a hundred years, manifested jeweled Jade Eyes.
When the Age of War began, the two of them proved themselves mighty warriors for the Alliance. So mighty were they that some began to question the source of their power. Suspicion became doubt, doubt became fear, and fear became horrible reality when the Devil Clans at last revealed themselves, and both father and son, long-since beguiled by the promise of power, heeded the call of their true masters and betrayed their erstwhile allies. Countless heroes were felled by the blade of the young devil Jingyu, who seemed able to master any technique, and see through any deception with his Jade Eyes. But, when all hope seemed lost... his power vanished. The eyes he had so relied on failed him, and his unnatural gift disappeared.
Unable to continue fighting without his power, the father and son both fled, hunted like dogs for their betrayal. But although the traitorous Yuán who had followed them were purged -- though the clan was abolished and its teachings destroyed, the lord and his heir were never found, even after the war's conclusion. No one knows what became of the traitors, or why Jingyu's Jeweled Eyes failed him in the hour of his triumph.
But rumor has it that at the moment when Jingyu's eyes failed, a girl emerged from the shrine at the heart of the Dragonspring -- a princess clad in rags, her pure Sapphire Eyes yet unsullied by the world. Though none could confirm these rumors, that could not stop people from searching for this ghost, this phantom twin, this holy child. Some said she was a savior who would illuminate the path to enlightenment. Some said that if you took her eyes, you, too, could see past the world and reach the truth yourself. Others said that she was a rare genius who would restore the old ways of the Yuán, and bring about justice for the sins of her forebears.
But the truth is none of those things. The truth is that Yuán Xiáyīng, the lost daughter of Yuán Daiyu, is simply an average girl who had the misfortune of being born into a family of geniuses. Sacrificed for a cause she does not know, saved by powers she does not understand, granted a gift she cannot use, and sought for a salvation she cannot provide, the princess at last emerges from the bottom of the well like a koi challenging the Dragon's Gate, leaping towards a sky she dares not reach.
Cultivation Base _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Yuán Clan's martial philosophy is rooted in the principles of the Wu Xing, and is referred to as the Fivefold Path. Rather than solely distinguishing between Yin and Yang or any other such binary dichotomy, it instead focuses primarily on the Five Agents -- Water, Wood, Fire, Earth, and Metal. It is a philosophy rooted in the concept of mirroring the changing facets of the external world within one's self, and in so doing, gaining mastery over the world by achieving harmony with it.
Xiáyīng currently remains stuck at the first of the five Agents, limiting her to harnessing Qi aspected with the philosophy and properties of Water.
As protectors of the Dragonspring, and bearing the name of the sacred Origin, the Yuán clan venerates Water as the origin of all things -- the source and fountainhead from which life itself flows. As such, the first step upon the path is water. As a neophyte, one must be yielding, tranquil, and serene, like the pure waters of the Dragonspring. Only then will a student be ready to receive the power of the water.
Once that power is received, however, it must be refined. Water's nature is transient and fleeting, and cannot be grasped. So too does the Qi cultivated from the sacred spring slip through the fingers of those who would cling to it. But just as water grants life and nourishment to the trees of the mountain, so too may it nourish a student of the path. As the student's knowledge and skills grow, so too must he step out of the shadow of his mentor, like a sapling raising its own branches to embrace the sunlight. He must become confident, but not arrogant, for a young branch that bends and remains firm does not break.
But just as there is a time for growth, there is also a time for harvest. Just as there is a time for learning, there is a time for trial. This is the third step of the path: the element of Fire, representing passion, transformation, and transcendence. At this stage, the student's abilities are pushed to their limits, and in this crucible they must either break or be forged anew.
Once proven, the student's will must be tempered. Their destructive Qi, cultivated through passion and pride, is yet unstable, and the burning spirit of youth must be quenched at last so that the wisdom of age may take its place. For though the fire shines brightly, it burns for only a moment before its spark dies out -- but the mountain endures a thousand years unchanged. Meditation, asceticism, discipline, and relentless practice make up the backbone of the phase of Earth, until at last the aspirant's body is prepared for the fifth step.
Metal represents the completion of the martial artist's trials -- the synthesis of all that has come before. Drawn from the earth, forged in fire, fueled by wood, and quenched in water, Metal stands as the final step of the cycle. Humility, Courage, Passion, Temperance, and finally, Supremacy. From humble beginnings to the very heights of achievement, the student has witnessed all the phases of the world -- has lived them. In so doing, he has cultivated a world within himself, balanced in all its facets. He has mastered first his mind, then his body, then his heart, and at last his soul.
And for such a master, there is then but one final step to take -- one which none have yet managed to take before. One must truly realize that he is the world, and the world is him. There is nothing without that is not within. There is nothing within that is not without. And in this state of "nothingness," one achieves the true goal of the Yuán style, and reaches the Void. One does not strike with the intention to do harm -- one simply wills it, and it is so. The sword divides the mountain, because there is no mountain, and there is no sword. It is all one, and the form that oneness takes is entirely arbitrary. It could be a blade. It could be a flower. And it could be a man without limits.
Immeasurable, free of obstacles, formless and infinite. If one could achieve such an existence, they must surely be either a demon or a god.
However, the Fivefold Path requires that the one who walks it understand the course to be taken, and understand themselves. If one is naturally impatient, they cannot achieve stillness, and cannot draw upon the power in the first place. If one lacks resolve, they cannot achieve firmness, and cannot control the power they obtain. When one obtains one thing, one loses another -- and as you walk the path, the steps you've taken disappear like the melting of snow.
How can one balance five views in one? How can one become a world to themselves? How can one reach the Void that lies beyond the Origin? The only way is to walk the path. When one becomes a master, one must remember their lessons as a student, and see them through once again with a clear mind. Water. Wood. Fire. Earth. Metal. Water. Wood. Fire. Earth. Metal. Repeat them a thousand times, then a thousand more. With each step the path grows shorter. The spiral narrows. A thousand more steps closer, and it narrows still. Where once you walked, now you run, sprinting closer -- ever closer to the end of the spiral. Ever closer to the Truth.
Immeasurable, free of obstacles, formless and infinite. Though none have ever reached it, the Yuán sought this fleeting Truth, no matter how many bodies they had to step over to reach it; even if that body was that of a frail sister, or a weak daughter.
What did the Truth look like through those eyes of Jade? And how could one cast aside by that path ever hope to walk it?
To tread the path, one must understand the course to be taken, and understand themselves. But that path was never hers, and perhaps that is why she could never go beyond the first step. To abandon self, to forsake kindness, to court oblivion -- Xiáyīng was never fit to make such a choice.
And so, she wavers at the foot of the mountain, merely gazing up at the sky she cannot reach, rising and receding with the turning of the tide. But no matter how her feet may falter, and no matter where the flood may bear her, the sky reflected in her eyes remains clear, without horizon.
Whether atop the split peak of a distant mountain, or deep within the darkness of a lonely well, a lone flower blooms in silence.
Body Enhancements _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jeweled Eyes ~ Sapphire: Thanks to her unnatural eyes, Xiáyīng possesses the unique ability to observe the flow of Qi in the world around her. This is both a blessing and a curse, since it can grant her flashes of insight into her own life, and the lives of those around her -- particularly other cultivators willing to open themselves up to her. Though it's a far cry from the superstitions about her being some kind of enlightened maiden, her eyes can allow her to potentially provide a level of empathetic support or insight into the burdens of others.
However, she is unable to control what she sees or when these "flashes" occur, potentially overwhelming her with visions she can't necessarily make sense of. With time and training, perhaps this ability could allow her to grasp and unravel the Qi of others as her brother did before her, but as matters stand, it's a power she can't even understand, much less consciously make use of.
Life Detection: Thanks to her eyes and their power, Xiáyīng does at least have a somewhat instinctual ability to sense the presences of other people -- particularly those with a great deal of Qi. This comes with the downside, however, that powerful presences tend to overwhelm her, assaulting her eyes and mind with more information than she can manage to process, and weighing down upon her with an almost tangible level of mental pressure.
Judgment of Character: Another side effect of her eyes. Xiáyīng can generally tell people who mean harm apart from others based upon her special vision, and as such, has an uncanny instinct that helps her to avoid danger... or to confront it for the sake of those she holds dear. This power doesn't allow her to read minds, tell the truth from lies, or anything beyond sensing a target's immediate hostile or beneficial intentions, however.
Art of the Flow - Breath of Life: The basis for all Yuán school martial arts is the ability to pace one's breathing and enter a state of stillness, balancing one's own body and Qi with the ebb and flow of one's surroundings. By doing this, the user becomes a conduit, drawing in power continuously from their surroundings, coursing it through the body, and then expelling it with each breath.
This grants the user tremendous stamina, as even if the overall pool of Qi the cultivator has at their disposal at any given time is small, they replenish it almost as quickly as it is expelled from their body. So long as Xiáyīng paces herself and her breathing rhythm remains unbroken, she can endure fatigue, hunger, illness, and injury without faltering.
The more advanced application of this art integrates principles of Tai Chi with those of Yuán school spiritualism. Enemy strikes become a part of the rhythm -- a coming tide to be moved with rather than resisted directly. Controlling points of leverage and positioning accordingly requires timing one's footwork and defenses in time with one's breathing, moving with the swell of gathering energy and expelling the enemy from one's own space as the user exhales, increasing the force that is applied.
Performed properly, this art is like a dance, deflecting and striking all in one fluid motion, breaking the coming tide with a single gentle palm. Performed poorly, it all falls apart the moment the user's concentration falters and their breathing wavers. Xiáyīng, unfortunately, tends towards the latter end of the spectrum.
Art of the Flow - Sword of the Dragon's Eye: The traditional form of swordsmanship taught by the Yuán school to newly-minted initiates to prepare them for learning more advanced forms. It is said to draw its inspiration from a whirlpool that forms under certain conditions above the mouth of the Dragonspring. The ebb and flow of the waters as they descend through the valleys creates a back-and-forth motion that is mimicked by this style's focus on dynamic, circular movements.
The swordsman is expected to outspace the enemy, redirecting the enemy's strikes with the very tip of his or her blade in order to maximize leverage while minimizing the distance moved, then follow up by stepping forward, rotating the wrist, and striking back with the opposite edge of the blade in the very same motion, applying pressure and forcing the enemy back.
If the enemy refuses to back off from this pressure, there are also techniques for running one's sword down the enemy's blade, grappling to pin their weapon arm and remove their ability to defend themselves, or locking weapons in order to wind around their guard and launch a swift thrust at close range. Like the water between the rocks of the valley, the swordsman seeks to slip through any gap, their strikes flowing freely around their opponent rather than confronting them directly.
In light of this, a heavy emphasis is also placed on twitch hits - intentionally pulling a strike as the enemy parries it, and using the momentum they impart to bring the blade around and strike the opposite side of the body with a lightning-fast flick. This hit can also then be pulled, continuing a blindingly-fast rain that will wear the enemy down until they make a mistake, and back them into a corner.
The style is tremendously simple in theory, relying on just a few key principles that can each be applied in a variety of different ways. However, although it is a style based around the idea of "formlessness," it's easy for an amateur in the art to fall into predictable patterns of trying the same trick in the same way over and over again, while a master of the style could be entirely unpredictable to a more orthodox opponent. This style also doesn't fare well against those who use weapons too massive to outspace, or too heavy to redirect, with particularly limited utility against unorthodox weapons such as nunchaku, against which the style's tricks will be at best ineffective, and at worst downright detrimental.
In summary, it is a dexterous and elegant style of fighting that is very good for the purpose of confronting other swordsmen, but suffers poor matchups against large crushing weapons and long spears. Additionally, it has a deceptively high skill ceiling, which Xiáyīng herself has not yet even begun to approach.
Art of the Flow - Crashing Wave: Though her swordsmanship is good for drawn-out battles of attrition, where her tremendous stamina and ability to apply constant pressure even when on the defensive can help whittle down an opponent, her inability to advance beyond the philosophy of Water limits her ability to contest an opponent's strength directly.
To address this issue, a technique was created to take advantage of Water's inability to retain the strength it gathers. Like an over-full vessel bursting under pressure, one can draw in external Qi and then release it all at once, creating a powerful shockwave.
This burst of energy is utterly unrefined, and lacks either focus or direction beyond the part of the body from which it is released. However, it can be used in a variety of different ways, to remarkable effect.
By releasing the burst from the user's legs, they can leap high in the air, briefly ascending above their enemy and flipping over the target's head in order to attack from behind, like a tidal wave engulfing all in its way.
By releasing the burst from the user's hand, they can deliver a palm strike capable of washing their target away, opening up the distance and potentially taking advantage of nearby terrain.
With a bit of practice, it's even possible to concentrate the burst within the blade of a wielded sword, allowing the user to deliver a vicious thrust or cut with a great deal of extra force behind it, making up for the style's inability to otherwise inflict serious direct damage in a single blow. However, Xiáyīng has yet to reach this level, and as of yet, is mostly limited to the basic rudiments of this ability -- augmenting her own jumping and physical striking power.
Nameless Sword: A humble double-edged Jian of dull grey steel. Though the frayed crimson tassel adorning its pommel suggests that it was once the possession of a warrior of some standing, its blade is scratched and worn by a great deal of use, making it little better than any other sword. No doubt, it was scavenged from some battlefield or another, taken from the body of a wielder who no longer needed it. It lacks sentimental value or any sort of remarkable properties, but nevertheless serves as an effective tool of self-defense for a forlorn and outcast little traveler.
Young Lord's Vestments: A young man's traveling tunic and robe dyed in the colors of one of the many clans associated with the Martial Alliance, lifted perhaps from the same source as the sword its current wearer now carries with her. Xiáyīng has clearly taken great care to mend the damage to the garments with what meager means she has at her disposal. Though her attire lacks ostentatious ornaments or metal reinforcement, the layered and padded cloth does provide some measure of protection without inhibiting the wearer's freedom of movement.
Furred Mantle: A more recent purchase, made with what little coin Xiáyīng was able to scrounge from the battlefields of the war. A fluffy, fur-trimmed hood adorns a loose and flowing capelet, the thick fur helping to weigh the garment down such that its low-hanging brim helps to conceal her Jeweled Eyes while in the presence of others. Also, it's very comfortable and warm -- a rare treasure for one who possesses few luxuries.
For many of the kids gathered at the front gates of Ishin Academy, today was a great day -- a first momentous step that would carry them across the starting line and onto the path of chasing their wildest dreams. The fires of anticipation burned within their hearts, driving them onward into the tumultuous throng so that they might enter into their future one measly step ahead of the rest. They were like ants, really -- all scrambling about in a writhing, teeming mass, stumbling over each other in their haste to reach a goal that was ultimately pointless.
It wasn't that Nishikiyama Izuna didn't understand their enthusiasm, of course. She just had a much more valid reason for wanting to get inside as soon as possible.
Drip. Drip.
COLD. OH GOD IT'S SO COLD.
She had emptied out her Quirk as best she could that morning before getting on the train, wringing every last droplet from her storage like some kind of metaphysical dish rag. Unfortunately, it had snowed the night before all the way up the train line she'd been taking, and the amount of moisture in the air as it melted under the sunlight had been more than enough to fill her back to full capacity before she knew it. It had taken every last ounce of her willpower to keep from flooding the train car, for crying out loud! And so, just as soon as she'd gotten off of it and forced her way out of the station, the relief she had felt had been almost palpable.
Then she had lost her focus, and now look where she'd ended up: soaked to the skin, with icicles already forming at the tips of her silvery hair and frost covering the surface of her already infuriatingly stiff uniform. The thick, tarp-like substance they'd made her stupid mandatory blazer out of had been hard enough to move in to begin with, but now she could hardly even raise her arms thanks to the layer of solid ice coating her sleeves! If it weren't for the insulated wetsuit she'd put on underneath the rest of her outfit, she'd have probably turned blue by now. Her barbels twitched and thrashed about with repressed anger as she tried once again to force her way through the crowd, the photophores in each tendril lighting up a violent shade of crimson.
No dice. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Already, her "tank" was starting to fill up again, and between her discomfort, anxiety, and sheer overwhelming frustration, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold onto it for long. So, rather than holding it in, she tried a new approach. The ice coating one of her arms began to crack and fall away as she forced her hand straight upward, then blasted a jet of water straight up into the air like a geyser. The fwoosh as the water sprayed high overhead caused most of the crowd around her to disperse in confusion at the sudden noise -- a decision they soon became thankful for as a deluge of droplets descended back into Izuna's upraised hand and vanished into it -- with only her generosity saving those around her from getting doused just as she herself already had been.
"Oh, so now I've got your attention," she grumbled. Regardless, since all eyes were on her, she supposed she might as well take advantage of that while she could. So, furrowing her brow and shooting an irritable glare at everybody around her, she cleared her throat, and then...
"Ehem! Outta the way, small fry! I'm gettin' inside before I freeze my ass off and there's nothin' any of you can do to stop me!"
...Nobody seemed to have a problem with those terms, and so, dripping and shivering, the indignant aquatic girl strode through the parted sea of people in front of her, and into the courtyard, leaving behind a trail of rapidly-freezing droplets in her wake. It was only once she was out of the crowd that she realized...
Wait... wasn't that like, the worst first impression ever? Oh god, what if they realized --
She shook her head and slapped her scaled cheeks, dislodging this panicked line of thought before it could take hold.
No, no. Not going there. It's fine, Izuna. Everything's fine. You didn't mention the dragon this time, and there's only one person here who knows about that anyway. Just pretend it didn't happen. It didn't. Happen.
Right. Much better. Right now, there were more important things to worry about anyway. Like where the hell the door was, or if they had any towels. Another gust of wind blew across the courtyard, and Izuna sneezed as the shivers returned in full force.
Aethra didn't know how long she stood there, stock still, before she found herself moving. She wasn't sure why, but to even her own surprise, her feet carried her closer to old ivy-clad tavern, rather than back into the forest from whence she'd come. It wasn't that she expected to be welcomed here -- of that much, she was sure. But... After seeing that the others had kept their promises, she felt ashamed of herself for considering running away. They had come so far, and... well, even if they hated her for it, a part of her wanted them to know the truth. That she was still alive -- that she still had a reason to live. Those who had once been her friends deserved to know that much, at least -- to have some closure.
It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she reached out, and took hold of the door. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and then gave it a gentle push inward, but even as it moved aside, she once again found herself suddenly rooted to the spot. Try though she might, she couldn't seem to bring herself to take a single step over the threshold. But, as fate would have it, at that moment, a gust of wind blew the door the rest of the way back, revealing the occupants of the tavern to Aethra -- and revealing her to them.
Standing in the doorway, she appeared as a figure all wrapped up in her ragged black cloak and the similarly tattered gray dress she wore beneath it. She leaned upon her thin staff of black wood, atop the head of which was mounted the pommel of a broken sword, hunching over so that the brim of her hood would hide her eyes from view a little longer. Yet, from underneath the mantle, her long, messy silver-grey hair spilled out in streams, and the light spilling out through the doorway cast her bone-white horns into stark relief.
Her ragged appearance and hunched, unnatural posture coupled with her hair to give her the aspect of a withered, ominous crone -- but when she at last spoke, the clear and soft voice that emanated from under her hood could only have belonged to a fair young woman.
"...P-please excuse my intrusion... May I come in?"
Full Name - Nishikiyama Izuna (錦山 泉凪) Hometown - Sado, Niigata Prefecture, Japan Quirk Type - Emitter Gender - Female -
P E R S O N A L I T Y
"Cool" Izuna tries to come off as calm, collected, and completely unflappable. From the way she walks with her head held high, to the slow, smug way she speaks, to the strangely villainous, haughty, and confrontational way she sometimes acts while in training, it's clear she's really trying to sell her new image as a coolheaded badass who doesn't let anything get her down.
It's just unfortunate, then, that the rest of her personality undercuts this front entirely.
Excitable Truth be told, Izuna is entirely too friendly and good-natured to keep up the act for long. In a new place, surrounded by new things she's never seen before, and with loads of amazing Quirks to gawk at, she can't help but be swept along in the tide of excitement, and her true colors show before she knows it. Not that this is a bad thing, mind you, but... well... her ideas of what things are and aren't cool are pretty strange, to say the least.
Inferiority/Superiority Truth be told, Izuna mostly just wants people to accept her. Unfortunately, she seems to be under the mistaken impression that the only way that'll ever happen is if she manages to live up to her own ridiculously exaggerated and strangely edgy idea of "coolness." Whenever someone talks down to her, whenever she makes a mistake, or even just whenever she's nervous about something, she tends to lapse deeper and deeper into her facade, submerging herself in an invented persona to run away from reality. She's better about it now than she used to be, but, well... Old habits die hard, and perhaps the world has not yet seen the last of the unspeakably radical darkness carried by this bearer of the boundless sea. (???)
Physical Description
A cool beauty standing at a height of 169 cm (5'7"), with luminous silver hair and eyes like pale gold that, despite their brilliance, hide a deep darkness within, that few mortals will ever see, and none can truly understand... Something like that sounds cool, right?
...Well, to call her a "cool beauty" is definitely false advertising, but at least the "beauty" part has some basis in reality. Izuna is tall, with long legs and an athletic build, honed through a tomboyish childhood spent swimming in the sea and romping through the hills in search of rare insects. Her facial features are sharp, but not overly so -- with rounded, dimpled cheeks below to balance out her high cheekbones. Though, sharp doesn't even begin to describe her ears, which are long and pointed, and extremely expressive, perking up when she's excited or drooping when she's sad -- probably a relic of some of the many mutants in her family tree.
And this is precisely where the line between "beauty" and "weirdo" starts getting muddied, as although Izuna has many features of an orthodox beauty, she also has a lot of unusual mutant features as well. When she smiles, dimples appear in her cheeks, yes -- but she also displays some very pointed teeth that definitely don't look human. What's more, despite her outdoorsy lifestyle, her skin is extremely pale, refusing completely to tan or discolor... not to mention that on her back, hips, shoulders, the underside of her chin, and the outside of her arms and legs, that seemingly smooth, pale skin is actually mixed with an almost invisible layer of translucent scales that often retain at least some degree of water from her Quirk. This perpetual dampness makes her body seem to shimmer and sparkle under the light, but also, coupled with the occasional sharpness of her scales, makes it rather uncomfortable to touch. Her hair, too, is a silvery white-blonde that is almost devoid of color, and her eyes have very large, sensitive pupils of an eerie pale yellow hue, which can make it difficult from a distance to tell where her pupils end and her sclera begin. And, like those of a flashlight fish, they also seem to glow in extreme darkness, creating an imperceptibly thin beam of light wherever she's looking to allow her to see.
Strangest of all, however, are her barbels. Emerging from just below her cheeks along the curvature of her jawline are four long, thin tendrils with transparent blueish coloration, marked periodically by lines of glowing photophores that flicker unconsciously between pale blue, warm orange, and dark, vibrant red depending on Izuna's mood. These fine tendrils are also fully prehensile and quite keen to the feelings of air and water currents around them. Furthermore, they also end in bristling, whisker-like tufts that are covered in incredibly sensitive taste receptors, like those of a catfish, or like the tongue of a snake, allowing her to "taste" her surroundings even in open air -- though they're much more effective underwater. She can extend or retract them to a limited degree, pulling them back into a hollow cavity along the side of her jawbone -- but they always remain extruded at least partially, making it impossible for her to fully conceal them -- a fact she's rather self-conscious about. Thankfully, they at least draw attention away from the small, frill-like gill slits in the sides of her neck directly below them, but, well... she isn't exactly happy about how creepy those look, either.
Her wardrobe tends to be... rather bizarre, to say the least. Due to her tendency to randomly emit water from her body, she can't wear most fabrics commonly used in clothing. Cotton shrinks, wool stinks, rayon stains and mildews, and generally, most of the clothes she'd like to wear end up ruined. So, instead, her casual clothes generally consist entirely of waterproof items. For summer, she wears swimsuits, while in winter, she wears full-body insulated wetsuits instead. She accentuates these core items with waterproof windbreakers and bomber jackets for fashion and modesty, or full-length raincoats as a sort of pseudo-dress -- though during the daytime, she tends to keep her hood up whenever possible, as her eyes are extremely sensitive to bright lights and colors.
Ishin Academy's uniform, unfortunately, is non-negotiable. Though she's been given a custom waterproof version, it's very bulky and stiff thanks to its plastic coating, and doesn't have any means of covering her face to hide her barbels and protect her eyes, either. Overall, she rather dislikes it, but isn't quite so rebellious that she'd violate school regulations just for the sake of her own comfort, so she usually just bears with it, even if it looks really stupid and chafes her scales like you wouldn't believe.
Thankfully, it seems like the combat department was a little more lenient with her requests, and she's been allowed to personalize her standard-issue combat jumpsuit to a significantly greater degree under the excuse that unnecessary fabric would create drag underwater and inhibit her mobility. Rather than a full-body suit, it's more like a sleeveless, backless romper or leotard, with the arms and legs removed and the main body of it fitting her significantly more snugly -- a sleek second skin fit for a fishy heroine. Her arms and legs she leaves bare so as not to agitate her scales, and her feet are covered with oddly flipper-like sandals. Over the top, she sometimes drapes a hooded black cape and mantle, meant to cover her eyes when out of combat -- though its real purpose is mostly just because she thinks it looks cool. As of yet, she has no particular special gear or equipment, though maybe that'll change once she gets a budget.
Personal History
Izuna's past is something she'd rather not talk about. Not because it's dark and heavy, mind you -- but simply because just thinking back on her elementary and middle school days makes her cringe.
She was born into a loving family that consisted mostly of mutant-type Quirk bearers, with a loving mother and father, and three younger siblings -- a brother and twin sisters. As the big sister of the family, she felt from a young age that she had to be responsible for protecting those who came after her, which probably sparked the start of her whole need to appear cool and collected. Unfortunately, in practice, that wasn't so easy, as her Quirk and physical appearance didn't exactly make that easy. As a kid, she got in trouble a lot for causing accidental floods due to not understanding her Quirk's passive absorption, much less being able to control when and where she released the water she'd gathered.
Looking like a fish only made things worse, and she got made fun of a lot for her creepy "whiskers" and big "dead fish eyes." In hindsight, she probably could have gone to her parents for help -- but they already had their hands full with raising her younger siblings, and, at any rate, she was the big sister; she wasn't supposed to be a crybaby who couldn't even stand up for herself. So, rather than lashing out or seeking help, she just kind of tried her best to pretend it wasn't happening, and endured it. She learned to print out individual page copies for all her textbooks, and got them all laminated so they wouldn't be ruined by her Quirk. She stopped wearing normal clothes and switched to swimsuits -- at least then she wouldn't get called stinky or get made fun of for the state they ended up in. When people didn't want to do things, they'd push things off on the stupid fish -- but that was fine. Her teachers liked it when she took care of little chores, and they'd give her the praise her classmates never did. She became a lifelong class rep despite her mediocre grades, always shouldering the burdens nobody else wanted to bother with.
In hindsight, even if she didn't really enjoy the job, it wasn't so bad -- since it was through her duties as class rep that she ended up staying behind late enough one day to meet another girl who was bullied for her Quirk -- a bright and angry child named Saika. The two of them ended up becoming a rather unlikely pair of friends, and it was, perhaps, Saika's "scary" demeanor that ended up inspiring Izuna's half-baked plan for a middle school image change. Maybe, if she could change how people saw her, they'd leave her alone, too! But a fish wasn't exactly scary... so, then, instead of a fish, what if she was a dragon?
...The less said about this period of dark history, the better. Suffice to say, she made a complete ass of herself, the teachers who had always thought of her as a good, studious girl were extremely disappointed in her, and her parents and siblings ended up hearing about the whole thing, causing her to quickly bury the persona of "Mizuchi, the Darkwater Dragon and Bearer of the Boundless Sea" and do her best to pretend the whole thing had never happened. The world just wasn't ready to understand her vision, or to appreciate her aesthetic. That, or maybe, she was just never really cut out for being cool, or confident, or a worthwhile big sister, or... or anything, really. After all, she was just a big dumb fish. What could she do?
As it turned out, that question got answered in a way she never expected. Her island home was struck by a typhoon, and flooding rapidly forced everyone to seek higher ground. Pro heroes rushed to the scene, but aside from the local Speedster Hero, Macha, they weren't able to do much -- and even he was hard-pressed to accomplish anything more than rushing people to safety one at a time. At least, until he was approached by a small child who offered him a plan that sounded just crazy enough to work.
"My Quirk can store up a bunch of water inside me! If you carry me to the other side of the island, I can release it into the air there as rainclouds, and it'll all blow back out to sea!"
It was a stupid plan, to be honest. Using an unlicensed child as a bucket to stop a flood could only bring trouble -- but Macha was a native of Sado, and something was better than just watching the whole city flood. Still, he objected. What if she couldn't handle the water and drowned?
"It's fine! I'm basically a fish anyway, so there's no way I could drown!"
With this concern out of the way, the plan began. The speedster hero dashed back and forth across the entire width of the island over a dozen times that day, braving the howling wind and the driving rain while carrying a small, dripping child on his back, who, for the first time in her life, was able to protect her family, like a real big sister.
The incident was resolved with only minor damage to the city, and the other heroes helped to cover up Izuna's involvement. However, in private, they praised her for her ingenuity and bravery, calling her all manner of things she had never expected to hear. These people were heroes. They fought bad guys, and stopped natural disasters, and saved people's lives. And they were thanking her and saying she was cool.
Maybe that's why, when she applied for high school the very next year, she found herself standing outside of Ishin Academy, bearing letters of recommendation from a local hero and from her teachers, and carrying on her back the weight of a big, big dream she'd never have dared to dream before...
Character Arc
Izuna's character arc is a fairly straightforward underdog story, coupled with a secondary plot as she tries to define her own identity and decide who she really is. She's a nobody with a big dream and a lot to prove, but has some big hurdles to overcome to do it -- her lack of confidence, her sense that she needs to be something she's not to succeed, and the like. She's taken her big first step -- but if she wants to keep following this path, she's going to have to face herself in the mirror, and decide that she can accept the person she sees there. It's nothing fancy, but hopefully it'll be a fun, wholesome romp with lots of cool moments as she gets to make all sorts of friends, find her footing, come out of her shell, and really shine.
With enough determination, even a lowly carp can become a magnificent dragon.
Quirk Description
Known by the name of Rainbringer, Izuna's Quirk is a rather odd one. Whenever she comes close to water, she can passively or actively pull that water towards herself and, by touching it, store it within her body utilizing some form of pocket dimension, similar to a teleporter Quirk. She is then subsequently capable of altering that stored water's properties -- temperature, physical state, velocity, and even more esoteric aspects such as its surface tension -- and releasing it from any part of her body. Though it's a strange Quirk, it does have a tremendously wide range of potential applications, limited only by three crippling factors.
Firstly, though there doesn't seem to be a hard "upper limit" to how much water she can store with Rainbringer, the more water she has, the harder she has to focus on keeping it all contained within her, or on emitting it from precisely one part of herself instead of just her entire body in general. Should her concentration lapse, she'll spring a leak, and water will begin steadily trickling out of her storage from all over her until she gets it under control again. The more agitated or flustered she gets, the harder it becomes to concentrate, and thus the more likely she is to lose control and cause a small flood around her. Even if she doesn't fully lose focus, it takes a lot of mental energy to make sure she just releases the water from the part of her body she wants to emit it from. Eventually, she may be able to master her Quirk enough to fire ultra-precise streams of pressurized water from a single finger, but right now she's basically limited to just blasting it from her whole arm at once over a wide area, limiting the amount of concentrated force she can bring to bear.
Secondly, her Quirk only works on things she recognizes as "water." This means that, for example, water vapor in the air works, since the only way she can directly see or perceive it is by observing steam undergoing condensation, which turns it into a liquid form -- therefore allowing her to recognize it as "water." However, even though she consciously knows that ice is just frozen water, it's not something she perceives the same way as liquid water, and therefore can't be stored.
And thirdly, she's obviously limited in how much water she can employ by how much water is in her surroundings, and how much she has stored up. Even in a desert, she could still use her Quirk well if she'd prepared by storing gallons upon gallons of water in advance -- but if she hadn't, she'd be effectively Quirkless. Conversely, when fighting underwater, near the ocean, or in a rainstorm, her effectiveness skyrockets due to the near-limitless amount of water at her disposal.
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZUcpVmEHuk]Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in.[/url]
I'm an exceedingly enthusiastic roleplayer who's been writing for about ten years now [s]and yet still hasn't managed to produce any kind of solo piece of writing worth reading[/s]. I like to consider myself a good writer, but that's kind of a matter of opinion, as many would argue that my tendency to ramble on at [s]entirely excessive[/s] length about things is boring rather than interesting. I'm also incredibly OCD about formatting, so if you're wondering why my bios look so fancy, that's why. It's just something I do because... reasons, I guess.
Anyway, as you've probably noticed from my avatars and RP choices, I'm more than a bit of a fan of anime and manga, but also enjoy movies, video games, the occasional comic book... the list goes on. For you see, I am not a mere dork - I am the one spoken of in legends, the one whose dorkiness transcends all forms and boundaries. I am... the Legendary... OMNI-DORK!
...Anyway, thanks for dropping in to check on my profile! Hope to RP with you sometime!
Nyanpasu~.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZUcpVmEHuk">Oh, hi. Thanks for checking in.</a><br><br>I'm an exceedingly enthusiastic roleplayer who's been writing for about ten years now <span class="bb-s">and yet still hasn't managed to produce any kind of solo piece of writing worth reading</span>. I like to consider myself a good writer, but that's kind of a matter of opinion, as many would argue that my tendency to ramble on at <span class="bb-s">entirely excessive</span> length about things is boring rather than interesting. I'm also incredibly OCD about formatting, so if you're wondering why my bios look so fancy, that's why. It's just something I do because... reasons, I guess.<br><br>Anyway, as you've probably noticed from my avatars and RP choices, I'm more than a bit of a fan of anime and manga, but also enjoy movies, video games, the occasional comic book... the list goes on. For you see, I am not a mere dork - I am the one spoken of in legends, the one whose dorkiness transcends all forms and boundaries. I am... the Legendary... OMNI-DORK!<br><br>...Anyway, thanks for dropping in to check on my profile! Hope to RP with you sometime!<br><br>Nyanpasu~.</div>
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