Cu Chulainn

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Dawn
_{A New Day}

---

It was another day in Dawn. Another day of hard work managing the village's food supplies and ensuring they weren't overstepping their boundaries in any way. Another day of research, piecing together the small bits of information he had gathered from his dungeon delving. And another day of study, having properly taken some soil samples of the nearby wilderness. With a bit more time, Gideon should be able to prepare an almanac detailing all the flora and fauna of Dawn within detail. Perhaps this could even be used to figure out a more renewable food source in this harsh, cold land.

Of course, improving on Dawn's logistics was not the only thing Gideon was busy with. He was hard at work with the spear as well, training and drilling himself on the many spear techniques of his people. There were threats about, both outside Dawn's borders and from within. Gideon needed to practice his techniques, improve upon them so that he could potentially teach the hunters of Dawn how to handle these threats more efficiently. Thoughts of a proper militia had come to his mind within the past few days. The Sage of Steel just waited for the village to stabilize until he brought the suggestion up.

There were a few things that interested Gideon in particular during the town meeting, particularly the attacks made by the Krysa and Yaga. While the time spent with both groups had been varying degrees of strange, especially in regards to the Yaga, Gideon felt like something was off with such an attack. Either Mie carried something of spiritual significance to either party, or the people of Svyataya Zemlya are under some strange influence. It was something he wished to look into, although his... experiences with the Yaga had caused Gideon to stay his hand in mentioning anything. After all, he did not want to interject with a potential accusation against a merchant like Mie, who would have things the village would desperately need. Not without evidence, at least.

In any case, it seemed Gideon would be preoccupied with other matters, especially as he was dragged off by a mountain of a woman along with Enli.

"I-I'm a mere scholar! I'm sure one of the other laborers can help you with what you need!" The Raam protested, on deaf ears. Once again, he was plagued with the burden that was his formidable physiology.

Of course, when Atzi had told her tale, Gideon seemed to be a bit more cooperative. He had a similar encounter with a cultist, although it possibly wasn't one as deadly as craftswoman's. At least, he didn't seem to believe so. After all, the cultist he had fought did seem to die after his head came off... and dealing with the slimes posed no risk to Gideon's extremities. He wondered, if only for a moment, just what Achel was doing in the crypt now that it was cleared, and why she chose to close it off.

"Magical... stones, you said?" Gideon rose an eyebrow. He had an idea of just what Atzi might be referring to, but he held his tongue. "Well, there are a few different sorts of minerals that can be used to aid in various rituals. I've not looked too much into magic given my people's incapability of practicing the mystic arts, but I'm sure I can narrow it down if you described them a bit better." Of course, given how integrated the cultists were in this town, Gideon was hesitant to reveal all he knew, even in the privacy of Atzi's abode. He also feigned ignorance in order to to draw as much information about these crystals from the others as possible. After all, he did not want what he hypothesized to muddle any information given by the others.

Jianghu: Age After War

Bin Myung-Suk

Name:

Bin Myung-Suk

Titles:

The closest thing to a title Myung-Suk would have is "Cockroach."

Age:

24

Rank:

First Class Warrior

Allegiance:

The Heavenly Demonic Cult

Appearance:

5'5". A scrawny weakling, unfit for the Jianghu.

Personality:

A rat who desperately clings onto his own pathetic life, Myung-Suk is the sort of person who seems to put himself over anything else, especially if his life is on the line. He acknowledges that he is a weakling, and is more than fine with being a "doormat" for those who are stronger than him. A weak fool who lacks any form of confidence, it is a surprise that Myung-Suk even has a place in the Jianghu to begin with.

However, deep within the boy's psyche lies a hidden reservoir of grudges. Resentment, envy, revenge, all of Myung-Suk's negative emotions are all kept within, growing and festering until the time is right. Hiding his resentment behind a façade of cowardice, Myung-Suk keeps his grudges close to his heart. Such strong emotions would be better served to push him further towards the direction of his goal: The eradication of the Devil Clans.

This determination to meet his goals by clinging onto grudges long past has given Myung-Suk a conviction of steel to walk the path of a killer. This determination stems from a life of inferiority, a desire to become stronger after living a life of weakness. The root of his hatred is his lowliness, and his wish to rise above his self-perceived uselessness.

Perhaps his guise as a sniveling wimp only serves to further sharpen this resolve.

History:

Twenty-Two Paragraphs...

The Disciples of the Wilted Lotus, sequestered deep within the Jugeul Forests, was one of the more obscure sects of the Heavenly Demonic Cults focused on a certain aspect of Strength, one cultivated through hatred. Because of this, their martial arts edges on the taboo, a mere step away from the forbidden techniques of the Devil Clans. Seeing the Devil Clans as mere 'weeds' who sully the garden of the Jianghu the Wilted Lotus trains its disciples as 'exterminators' tasked with weeding out the miscreant devils from the world of martial arts. By learning their forbidden techniques, they are able to better face off against their heretical foes at the risk of their own humanity. Demons made to fight Devils, it is no wonder the Disciples of the Wilted Lotus operate in secrecy even within the Jianghu.

As the years led up to the Age of War, the Wilted Lotus would find much of its masters eliminated, systematically slaughtered by the Devil Clans as their plans would slowly come to fruition. Those who remained were either too mad to see the machinations of their sworn foes, or too old to meaningfully act against them. And so, the Jianghu devolved into war while the remnants of the Wilted Lotus consolidated their dwindling forces. They began to recruit more desperately as they did their best to maintain their profane traditions in the face of extinction.

One such recruitment drive brought a pair of young warriors, siblings from an otherwise unremarkable Martial Alliance clan whose village had been the target of one of the Devil Clan's earliest raids. They were Jin, the golden child said to have possessed a divine vessel, who had fought back against the raiders of their clan with all his strength, and Myung-Suk, a weakling destined not to make even a ripple in the Jianghu, who played dead until help had arrived. Both boys, who stood at opposing sides of the river of strength, were given the same training and were indoctrinated with the same principles.

Strength over the Devil. Strength cultivated by Hatred.

They trained side-by-side, the difference in their strength and skill made apparent as they continued their cultivation. Jin was praised as a "natural demon," whose fists seemingly aflame with his grudges. Myung-Suk, meanwhile, was mediocre in comparison, incapable of focusing his hatred into more than a single strike. As their training progressed, the divide between the two brothers grew further, and a new seed of hatred grew within Myung-Suk's very being, a seed that he would cultivate for nearly a decade. As he continued to cultivate his strengths, Myung-Suk focused on his hatred.

Hatred for the Devils who scorched his home. Hatred for the Martial Alliance and Recusants who had failed to perceive the threat of the Devil Clans due to their ceaseless feuding. Hatred for his masters, who looked upon his brother with pride and himself with disdain Hatred for Jin, whose natural talents far surpassed his own. And most intensely, hatred for his own weakness.

It was this hatred that allowed Myung-Suk to to keep up with his ever-shining sibling just a few paces behind in their training. It was this hatred that the old master of the Wilted Lotus had been seen within the eyes of the young weakling, a hidden strength he believed could be made of use. And after nearly a decade, it was this hatred that allowed Myung-Suk to reach the Wall of Willpower alongside his brother, who himself neared the Wall of Talent.

At this time, the Heavenly Demonic Master called for the strongest warrior of each of the cult's sects to prepare for the final battle against the forces of the Devil Clan. For the Wilted Lotus, whose remaining masters were either too old or too injured to answer the call to battle, it was instead determined that the strongest among the young Disciples would represent the sect in this battle. To determine who would serve as the Wilted Lotus's champion, the seven most gifted disciples would all participate in the Naraka, a night of endless combat. In the very same room where the disciples had trained and cultivated their strength together, they would face off against each other in a battle royale until only a sole victor remained. While it was not necessarily a battle to the death, to come out of such a trial alive would be nothing short of a miracle. After all, to walk the path of the Demon is to walk a path stained with blood.

Among those chosen were the two brothers, whose differences in strength remained separate as the Heavens and the Earth. It was strange that Myung-Suk had specifically been chosen to participate in the Naraka. Perhaps it was determined that he, the weakest of his cohort, would be made an example of. Perhaps it was a punishment for Myung-Suk's weakness. Whatever the reason, the old master had insisted that both brothers would participate in the Naraka.

At the twelfth hour of the faithful night, the participants would all enter the chamber of battle up to the last before the doors behind them would be sealed. They were to battle in the darkness of the night, no technique or strategy forbidden. This would proceed until the crack of dawn, where the chamber would then be unsealed. A victor would then be determined among those who remained standing.

Myung-Suk, ever the self-preserving weakling, would feign his defeat almost instantly, falling against the first strike made against him. He knew he was destined to lose just as his brother was fated to win. So instead, Myung-Suk chose to survive until the night's end. Closing his eyes, he focused solely on himself in order to drown out the sounds of battle. He focused on his hatred once more, the hatred Myung-Suk bore for himself for his cowardice. He was not fit to be a Wilted Lotus. He was not fit to be a part of the Heavenly Demonic Cult. He was not fit for the world of Jianghu. Myung-Suk focused on his self-directed hatred, his only respite in this dark and terrible night as he fell into a deep trance.

Soon, the sounds of fighting would soon dwindle... no, they shifted, morphed into something more sinister. Screams of pain, torment, all sounds Myung-Suk did not expect to hear from this chamber, yet these very screams were ones he was far too familiar with. He felt the need to stand, to behold the bloodshed before him. As he did, he would come face-to-face with something he had wished to never see.

His brother, Jin, the once shining exemplar of the Wilted Lotus, was now nothing more than maddened beast, laughing with sadistic glee as he ripped the fingernails off an already-defeated disciple.

It was then that Myung-Suk realized the Truth of their cultivation, of their training, of their purpose. The path of the Wilted Lotus was the very same as that of the Devil Clan. To walk such a path would be synonymous with becoming a demon, abandoning humanity for the sake of strength. They were not expected to follow this path directly, but to instead stalk those who follow such a path. The Wilted Lotus was expected to bear the grudges of the demons within their very being, not to burden their bodies with their hatred. It was such a stark difference that truly showed the divide between the two brothers.

Jin, whose shining body served as a font for qi, would instead find himself wholly incompatible with the grudge-seeped fists of the Wilted Lotus.

Myung-Suk, whose meridians struggled to maintain his qi for longer than a single strike, sported the perfect composition that would allow him to excel in the sect's techniques.

It was no surprise that Myung-Suk had put down the beast that was once his brother, the hatred that he held within suffocating the grudges that permeated Jin's profane body. With a single strike, the divide between the two brothers had been crossed.

When dawn struck, the chamber of death was once unsealed, the stench of hatred within almost suffocating to those who were tasked with unearthing the disciples. Only Myung-Suk remained standing, his sole fist covered with the blood of his brother. Among the dead, it was Jin's body that had been rendered the most disfigured, as if his meridians had shattered all at once, engulfed with qi.

The Old Master's beliefs were well-founded. Myung-Suk was hailed as the strongest of the young disciples, the first of his cohort to reach the Wall of Talent. There was one more task left in his training, in his path to earning the title of Peak Master: Myung-Suk must slay one of the Devil Clans' profane masters with his bare fists. And so, he would march to the fields of war alongside the Heavenly Demonic Master, to prove he is worthy of being a Master and to bring an end to this Age of War!

However, for Myung-Suk, a mere cockroach in a world of tigers and dragons, the final battle was nothing short of a bloodbath.

He had awoken almost a week after the final battle in the care of a small hamlet much like the one he was raised in a a child. There, he would learn of the outcome of the Age of War. The Heavenly Demonic Master's life was traded in exchange for the Devil God's death. The battle has ended, and the world would begin to heal as the Jianghu reached a new age of peace...

... Or at least, that is what the commonfolk believed. To Myung-Suk, he knew the scheming Devil Clan had only gone into hiding. The garden was still riddled with weeds, and it was Myung-Suk's duty to trim these parasitic weeds so that the Jianghu may truly flourish once more. He also knew that he could not return to the Wilted Lotus. Not now, not yet.

After all, he still has not slain a Master of the Devil Clan.

Body Enhancements:

Myung-Suk puts rocks in his shoes to make himself about an inch taller.

Equipment:

Myung-Suk carries little on him aside from the black, dirty rags on his back and a cloth mask that covers his face.

Cultivation Base:

The Disciples of the Wilted Lotus utilize a form of cultivation almost akin to that of the profane devils they are sworn to hunt. Simply put, it is the accumulation of grudges, and the conversion of these grudges into qi. By focusing on one's own negative emotions as a source of energy, one could direct their negative emotions into their movements, directing their fists purely through their intent. In other words, to use one's hatred as fuel for their techniques. However, to avoid being consumed by one's own grudges, meditation and breathing exercises are practiced.

Despite this cultivation's focus on the negative, the practitioner requires a strong sense of control over their own emotions in order to properly control this form of cultivation. Also, because of the nature of this form of cultivation, 'negative' qi is produced. To allow one's meridians to be permeated with this qi for too long would result in instabilities on the user's body and mind. In other words, one would become something akin to a "demon." To prevent this, the first and most important step in this cultivation is to focus one's ire onto a particular subject, a "seed" of hatred. This would create a reservoir, where one's grudges can freely accumulate and one's hatred can continue to further fester, so that this negative energy would not profane the rest of one's body.

In Myung-Suk's case, his hatred is centered on himself. His inferiority and self-perceived weakness all serve as a font of grudges he could draw up. The grudges that fuel his qi are directed towards the strong, the talented, those who would dare stand above him. To the Devils, monsters who hail themselves as above the restrictions of humans, this qi is antithetical to their very existence.

Techniques:

Self-Preserving Fists - The unique fighting style of Myung-Suk. Rather than a refined technique, it is instead a series of purely defensive maneuvers that mitigate any damage inflicted against one's self. A warrior's philosophy that can only be followed by one who is unworthy of being a warrior, it is a style that almost guarantees the bearer will lose a battle, but also ensures their survival. Rather than a testament to one's strength, this technique serves as proof of Myung-Suk's weakness as a warrior. After all, if one were to truly equate Myung-Suk's skills in direct combat, he would be nearly third-rate. A mere cockroach among tigers and dragons, it is his worth as a killer that allows Myung-Suk to stand at the Wall of Talent. It doesn't matter if he receives a thousand blows. Only one is needed for victory.

Art of the Eightfold Realms of Hell - The primary techniques of the Wilted Lotus, killing arts that are a stroke away from taboo. One's negative emotions are converted into killing intent against the target. This intent is then directed to a singular blow, engulfing the target of this strike with one's negative qi. Those who are struck would find themselves smothered with the attacker's hostility, their meridians choked with negative energy. In other words, those who are stuck would suffocate under the intense pressure of the attacker's qi, a formation of their intent to end the target's life. If utilized correctly, a second strike is needless. The technique of a killer, to it is difficult to perform this technique multiple times in a single battle given its nature. It can also only be utilized against 'living' targets, the energies only conflicting that which permeates all living things.

Vitrification - The ability to mask one's hostile intent, a step away from the ability to hide one's very presence from being detected that many masters possess. A necessary technique for the Disciples of the Wilted Lotus, for their hatred will otherwise fill the very air around them. In Myung-Suk's case, by focusing on his self-doubt, he is able to appear as naught but a scrawny weakling, unfit for the Jianghu. This is especially effective against those who possess a strong presence of their own.

Jianghu: Age After War

Bin Myung-Suk

Name:

Bin Myung-Suk

Titles:

The closest thing to a title Myung-Suk would have is "Cockroach."

Age:

24

Rank:

First Class Warrior

Allegiance:

The Heavenly Demonic Cult

Appearance:

5'5". A scrawny weakling, unfit for the Jianghu.

Personality:

A rat who desperately clings onto his own pathetic life, Myung-Suk is the sort of person who seems to put himself over anything else, especially if his life is on the line. He acknowledges that he is a weakling, and is more than fine with being a "doormat" for those who are stronger than him. A weak fool who lacks any form of confidence, it is a surprise that Myung-Suk even has a place in the Jianghu to begin with.

However, deep within the boy's psyche lies a hidden reservoir of grudges. Resentment, envy, revenge, all of Myung-Suk's negative emotions are all kept within, growing and festering until the time is right. Hiding his resentment behind a façade of cowardice, Myung-Suk keeps his grudges close to his heart. Such strong emotions would be better served to push him further towards the direction of his goal: The eradication of the Devil Clans.

This determination to meet his goals by clinging onto grudges long past has given Myung-Suk a conviction of steel to walk the path of a killer. This determination stems from a life of inferiority, a desire to become stronger after living a life of weakness. The root of his hatred is his lowliness, and his wish to rise above his self-perceived uselessness.

Perhaps his guise as a sniveling wimp only serves to further sharpen this resolve.

History:

Twenty-Two Paragraphs...

The Disciples of the Wilted Lotus, sequestered deep within the Jugeul Forests, was one of the more obscure sects of the Heavenly Demonic Cults focused on a certain aspect of Strength, one cultivated through hatred. Because of this, their martial arts edges on the taboo, a mere step away from the forbidden techniques of the Devil Clans. Seeing the Devil Clans as mere 'weeds' who sully the garden of the Jianghu the Wilted Lotus trains its disciples as 'exterminators' tasked with weeding out the miscreant devils from the world of martial arts. By learning their forbidden techniques, they are able to better face off against their heretical foes at the risk of their own humanity. Demons made to fight Devils, it is no wonder the Disciples of the Wilted Lotus operate in secrecy even within the Jianghu.

As the years led up to the Age of War, the Wilted Lotus would find much of its masters eliminated, systematically slaughtered by the Devil Clans as their plans would slowly come to fruition. Those who remained were either too mad to see the machinations of their sworn foes, or too old to meaningfully act against them. And so, the Jianghu devolved into war while the remnants of the Wilted Lotus consolidated their dwindling forces. They began to recruit more desperately as they did their best to maintain their profane traditions in the face of extinction.

One such recruitment drive brought a pair of young warriors, siblings from an otherwise unremarkable Martial Alliance clan whose village had been the target of one of the Devil Clan's earliest raids. They were Jin, the golden child said to have possessed a divine vessel, who had fought back against the raiders of their clan with all his strength, and Myung-Suk, a weakling destined not to make even a ripple in the Jianghu, who played dead until help had arrived. Both boys, who stood at opposing sides of the river of strength, were given the same training and were indoctrinated with the same principles.

Strength over the Devil. Strength cultivated by Hatred.

They trained side-by-side, the difference in their strength and skill made apparent as they continued their cultivation. Jin was praised as a "natural demon," whose fists seemingly aflame with his grudges. Myung-Suk, meanwhile, was mediocre in comparison, incapable of focusing his hatred into more than a single strike. As their training progressed, the divide between the two brothers grew further, and a new seed of hatred grew within Myung-Suk's very being, a seed that he would cultivate for nearly a decade. As he continued to cultivate his strengths, Myung-Suk focused on his hatred.

Hatred for the Devils who scorched his home. Hatred for the Martial Alliance and Recusants who had failed to perceive the threat of the Devil Clans due to their ceaseless feuding. Hatred for his masters, who looked upon his brother with pride and himself with disdain Hatred for Jin, whose natural talents far surpassed his own. And most intensely, hatred for his own weakness.

It was this hatred that allowed Myung-Suk to to keep up with his ever-shining sibling just a few paces behind in their training. It was this hatred that the old master of the Wilted Lotus had been seen within the eyes of the young weakling, a hidden strength he believed could be made of use. And after nearly a decade, it was this hatred that allowed Myung-Suk to reach the Wall of Willpower alongside his brother, who himself neared the Wall of Talent.

At this time, the Heavenly Demonic Master called for the strongest warrior of each of the cult's sects to prepare for the final battle against the forces of the Devil Clan. For the Wilted Lotus, whose remaining masters were either too old or too injured to answer the call to battle, it was instead determined that the strongest among the young Disciples would represent the sect in this battle. To determine who would serve as the Wilted Lotus's champion, the seven most gifted disciples would all participate in the Naraka, a night of endless combat. In the very same room where the disciples had trained and cultivated their strength together, they would face off against each other in a battle royale until only a sole victor remained. While it was not necessarily a battle to the death, to come out of such a trial alive would be nothing short of a miracle. After all, to walk the path of the Demon is to walk a path stained with blood.

Among those chosen were the two brothers, whose differences in strength remained separate as the Heavens and the Earth. It was strange that Myung-Suk had specifically been chosen to participate in the Naraka. Perhaps it was determined that he, the weakest of his cohort, would be made an example of. Perhaps it was a punishment for Myung-Suk's weakness. Whatever the reason, the old master had insisted that both brothers would participate in the Naraka.

At the twelfth hour of the faithful night, the participants would all enter the chamber of battle up to the last before the doors behind them would be sealed. They were to battle in the darkness of the night, no technique or strategy forbidden. This would proceed until the crack of dawn, where the chamber would then be unsealed. A victor would then be determined among those who remained standing.

Myung-Suk, ever the self-preserving weakling, would feign his defeat almost instantly, falling against the first strike made against him. He knew he was destined to lose just as his brother was fated to win. So instead, Myung-Suk chose to survive until the night's end. Closing his eyes, he focused solely on himself in order to drown out the sounds of battle. He focused on his hatred once more, the hatred Myung-Suk bore for himself for his cowardice. He was not fit to be a Wilted Lotus. He was not fit to be a part of the Heavenly Demonic Cult. He was not fit for the world of Jianghu. Myung-Suk focused on his self-directed hatred, his only respite in this dark and terrible night as he fell into a deep trance.

Soon, the sounds of fighting would soon dwindle... no, they shifted, morphed into something more sinister. Screams of pain, torment, all sounds Myung-Suk did not expect to hear from this chamber, yet these very screams were ones he was far too familiar with. He felt the need to stand, to behold the bloodshed before him. As he did, he would come face-to-face with something he had wished to never see.

His brother, Jin, the once shining exemplar of the Wilted Lotus, was now nothing more than maddened beast, laughing with sadistic glee as he ripped the fingernails off an already-defeated disciple.

It was then that Myung-Suk realized the Truth of their cultivation, of their training, of their purpose. The path of the Wilted Lotus was the very same as that of the Devil Clan. To walk such a path would be synonymous with becoming a demon, abandoning humanity for the sake of strength. They were not expected to follow this path directly, but to instead stalk those who follow such a path. The Wilted Lotus was expected to bear the grudges of the demons within their very being, not to burden their bodies with their hatred. It was such a stark difference that truly showed the divide between the two brothers.

Jin, whose shining body served as a font for qi, would instead find himself wholly incompatible with the grudge-seeped fists of the Wilted Lotus.

Myung-Suk, whose meridians struggled to maintain his qi for longer than a single strike, sported the perfect composition that would allow him to excel in the sect's techniques.

It was no surprise that Myung-Suk had put down the beast that was once his brother, the hatred that he held within suffocating the grudges that permeated Jin's profane body. With a single strike, the divide between the two brothers had been crossed.

When dawn struck, the chamber of death was once unsealed, the stench of hatred within almost suffocating to those who were tasked with unearthing the disciples. Only Myung-Suk remained standing, his sole fist covered with the blood of his brother. Among the dead, it was Jin's body that had been rendered the most disfigured, as if his meridians had shattered all at once, engulfed with qi.

The Old Master's beliefs were well-founded. Myung-Suk was hailed as the strongest of the young disciples, the first of his cohort to reach the Wall of Talent. There was one more task left in his training, in his path to earning the title of Peak Master: Myung-Suk must slay one of the Devil Clans' profane masters with his bare fists. And so, he would march to the fields of war alongside the Heavenly Demonic Master, to prove he is worthy of being a Master and to bring an end to this Age of War!

However, for Myung-Suk, a mere cockroach in a world of tigers and dragons, the final battle was nothing short of a bloodbath.

He had awoken almost a week after the final battle in the care of a small hamlet much like the one he was raised in a a child. There, he would learn of the outcome of the Age of War. The Heavenly Demonic Master's life was traded in exchange for the Devil God's death. The battle has ended, and the world would begin to heal as the Jianghu reached a new age of peace...

... Or at least, that is what the commonfolk believed. To Myung-Suk, he knew the scheming Devil Clan had only gone into hiding. The garden was still riddled with weeds, and it was Myung-Suk's duty to trim these parasitic weeds so that the Jianghu may truly flourish once more. He also knew that he could not return to the Wilted Lotus. Not now, not yet.

After all, he still has not slain a Master of the Devil Clan.

Body Enhancements:

Myung-Suk puts rocks in his shoes to make himself about an inch taller. Does that count?

Equipment:

Myung-Suk carries little on him aside from the black, dirty rags on his back and a cloth mask that covers his face.

Cultivation Base:

The Disciples of the Wilted Lotus utilize a form of cultivation almost akin to that of the profane devils they are sworn to hunt. Simply put, it is the accumulation of grudges, and the conversion of these grudges into qi. By focusing on one's own negative emotions as a source of energy, one could direct their negative emotions into their movements, directing their fists purely through their intent. In other words, to use one's hatred as fuel for their techniques. However, to avoid being consumed by one's own grudges, meditation and breathing exercises are practiced.

Despite this cultivation's focus on the negative, the practitioner requires a strong sense of control over their own emotions in order to properly control this form of cultivation. Also, because of the nature of this form of cultivation, 'negative' qi is produced. To allow one's meridians to be permeated with this qi for too long would result in instabilities on the user's body and mind. In other words, one would become something akin to a "demon." To prevent this, the first and most important step in this cultivation is to focus one's ire onto a particular subject, a "seed" of hatred. This would create a reservoir, where one's grudges can freely accumulate and one's hatred can continue to further fester, so that this negative energy would not profane the rest of one's body.

In Myung-Suk's case, his hatred is centered on himself. His inferiority and self-perceived weakness all serve as a font of grudges he could draw up. The grudges that fuel his qi are directed towards the strong, the talented, those who would dare stand above him. To the Devils, monsters who hail themselves as above the restrictions of humans, this qi is antithetical to their very existence.

Techniques:

Self-Preserving Fists - The unique fighting style of Myung-Suk. Rather than a refined technique, it is instead a series of purely defensive maneuvers that mitigate any damage inflicted against one's self. A warrior's philosophy that can only be followed by one who is unworthy of being a warrior, it is a style that almost guarantees the bearer will lose a battle, but also ensures their survival. Rather than a testament to one's strength, this technique serves as proof of Myung-Suk's weakness as a warrior. After all, if one were to truly equate Myung-Suk's skills in direct combat, he would be nearly third-rate. A mere cockroach among tigers and dragons, it is his worth as a killer that allows Myung-Suk to stand at the Wall of Talent. It doesn't matter if he receives a thousand blows. Only one is needed for victory.

Art of the Eightfold Realms of Hell - The primary techniques of the Wilted Lotus, killing arts that are a stroke away from taboo. One's negative emotions are converted into killing intent against the target. This intent is then directed to a singular blow, engulfing the target of this strike with one's negative qi. Those who are struck would find themselves smothered with the attacker's hostility, their meridians choked with negative energy. In other words, those who are stuck would suffocate under the intense pressure of the attacker's qi, a formation of their intent to end the target's life. If utilized correctly, a second strike is needless. The technique of a killer, to it is difficult to perform this technique multiple times in a single battle given its nature. It can also only be utilized against 'living' targets, the energies only conflicting that which permeates all living things.

Vitrification - The ability to mask one's hostile intent, a step away from the ability to hide one's very presence from being detected that many masters possess. A necessary technique for the Disciples of the Wilted Lotus, for their hatred will otherwise fill the very air around them. In Myung-Suk's case, by focusing on his self-doubt, he is able to appear as naught but a scrawny weakling, unfit for the Jianghu. This is especially effective against those who possess a strong presence of their own.

The Eiden Lands

Lots of interests, but I see a few familiar faces here (and one lame one @Guy0fV4lor), so I'll put up interest as well! I think I have a funny rumor in mind for an Archfeylock.

Fate/Grand Jackpot - Gamble For Humanity

All good here. I'll just sit this one out.

Fate/Grand Jackpot - Gamble For Humanity

I suppose I'm late for the draw then, after all. o7

Fate/Grand Jackpot - Gamble For Humanity

I see I see. And are self-pairs a must, or is it possible to go in with a single character with the intent of pairing up with someone else, if both parties are fine taking the balance hit?

Fate/Grand Jackpot - Gamble For Humanity

I've got a few Servanto ideas, and a few Masters that could go with them. Whatever is available, I'd be into checking out as I'm not sure what has or has not been reserved...

_{I am playing a Saber in another RP tho, so playing a second Saber is probably going to be sad}

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

I just went Blood Magic because you told me what I did was Blood Magic ;;

That said, I am tempted to focus more on Crimson Star stuff. I say 'tempted' because I'm honestly not keen in writing a third sheet.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Is it No Naught November already?

Astronaught

"To exist is to suffer, to forever be burdened by pain, hunger, the frailty of man... Allow me to ease you of such burdens!"

Name: Cipher

Gender: Male (0)

Abilities:
Aside from the physical and blood-borne abilities of a vampire, Cipher possesses all manner of 'dilettante' knowledge. In particular, he is a genius mathematician, navigator, and astrologer, although much of his knowledge seems to have been lost in the interim, a consequence of his long life. Cipher also possesses the ability to calculate information at rapid speeds, although this ability has somewhat degraded ever since his reawakening. However, none of these skills are as impressive as his master over the stars, and what lies between them.

A master navigator of the Crimson Star, Cipher's signature magic is known simply as Null Nihil Naught - the Origin of All. In essence, it is the creation and utilization of 'rifts' within the world, allowing one to travel from one point to another at an instant. In other words, wormhole generation. The farther and more esoteric the destination, the more difficult it is to create a rift to such a place. If one uses this magic with reckless abandon, there is a chance they may open a rift to the darkest of places between the stars, where countless horrors lie in wait. As such, precise coordinates are required to achieve the best results.

It is quite strange that this is Cipher's sole magic, as he was known as a grandmaster of the Crimson Star in his time. Perhaps even his skills at magery have degraded over time, lost to the long slumber and his apparent degrading sanity.

Perhaps what's stranger is how Cipher had adopted a rather vicious new mode of combat utilizing monofilament wires embedded within the fingers of his gloves as a deadly, if unorthodox weapon. These wires have been reinforced with blood magic to a degree, adding some sort of control to an otherwise wild method of attack.

Personality:
A man whose head is truly in the stars. Aloof and apathetic of most things around him, Cipher's attention is directed to what is beyond. After all, he is a man consumed by his own desire; to achieve eternity, immortality, and everlasting life. His opinion of other vampires is that of pity, seeing them all as trapped in the perpetual cycle that is hunger and satiation. This extends especially to other humans, of whom he sees as especially pitiful due to their mortality.

In essence, a man who only cares to look at the big picture, missing the most minute of details. Perhaps this very nature would lead to his downfall, to be consumed by something much smaller than himself.

Bio:
The man known as Cipher was once an academic of no small renown, a philosopher from a time when philosophy was held in great regard. His true name had been lost to time, but many of his contributions had progressed civilization forward, credited to his students, followers, and admirers. He did not care for such fame and fortune, as there was only one thing he sought in his quest for knowledge: Eternity, immortality, the chance to live everlasting and free from the struggles of the mortal form.

It was through his studies that he looked to the stars, and to the darkness between. It was from this darkness that he had found his scarlet salvation. His captivating countess, clad in crimson, promised him eternal life and more so long as he swore fealty to her, and offered his blood in her name. Such a proposition could not be denied, and soon, the long-lost philosopher king would then be known only as Cipher.

Once an influential mage and advisor to the First of the Undead, Cipher soon grew at odds with his unliving status, not wishing to suffer the hungering pangs of a bloodthirsty vampire. He would grow increasingly complacent in his role the further he increased his mastery and understanding of the stars. It only made sense that Cipher would abandon his court at a time where his abilities were most needed as the Hundred Paladins began their crusade.

Cipher had warped to what he believed was his answer to his thesis, the origin point of all life and existence, a place where he would remain eternally so. Instead, he merely found himself in the wilds, probably the place where the first two humans had fucked or something. It didn't take long for a squad of paladins to find Cipher's whereabouts, brought forth by a peculiar blood mage...

Anything else: Cipher wears a strange helmet that covers his entire visage. Some say it is to protect his head both physically and socially, for his visage was completely masked. A hypothesis closer to the truth would suggest this mask allowed him to see deep into the stars, and what lies within. In truth, it was merely a glorified shade that allowed Cipher to gaze at the stars eternally without hurting his eyes.

Cipher also has a pistol. He knows how to use it.

Perhaps something most peculiar about Cipher is how... off he would seem after his awakening. It's as if he received much more than mere silvered wounds. What isn't known to him, or anyone else in Ichor's fledgling court, is that the Blood Mage that had aided in his death had left something quite insidious within his very being, a 'parasite' that should not once be awakened....

Unfortunately...

... It has already taken root.

"My pawns are in place, my bishops have you cornered, and my knights are at your throat. Your king will be mine. You will be mine."

Name: Ivaroth "Iv" Fortinell

Gender: A Master of Puppets transcends all form of identity! (Male)

Appearance:
A frail boy clad in extravagant attire, Iv stands at a mere 4'9" and sports a rather sickly composition, even as a vampire. Of note, his gloves seem to be laced with thin fibrous wires soaked in blood, a medium for his particular affinity of magic.

Abilities:
While Iv possesses the physical capabilities of a vampire, he is still physically weak in comparison to others of his kin given the nature of his transformation as well as the blood-borne illness that plagued him before he was turned. Inversely, Iv's sports an extreme compatibility with blood magic due to this very same illness. His primary use of Blood Magic is known as Hematic Hegemony, utilizing a series of specially-crafted wires that act as artificial blood vessels. When properly embedded into a living being, they would find themselves 'bound' to Iv's very will, commanded like grotesque marionettes. Sporting an unfathomable potential in the art, it would not be far off to call Iv a genius when it comes to blood sorcery.

However, it seems that Iv had focused his magical knowledge towards a specific niche. What could be considered a cross between Blood Magic and Summoning, Iv specializes in the art of creating familiars: beings who are subservient to their master while also being an 'extension' of the master. Iv's aptitude revolves around the creation of more powerful familiars, favoring quality over quantity. By domineering the bodies of powerful beings through his Hematic Hegemony and slowly integrating their existence into his, he is capable of turning even the most powerful of corpses into a mere part of him. Of course, this process is delicate and time-consuming, with particularly incompatible existences being an extremely painful procedure.

When a familiar is fully integrated, they are able to take the form of Iv's limbs, replacing his frailty with their prowess. Iv has only integrated one familiar into his body so far, the Vampire Lord known as Cipher. However, due to the grisly nature of Cipher's death and Iv's own inexperience in the creation of familiars, Iv was incapable of replicating his knowledge or maintaining his full affinity with the Crimson Star. While Cipher takes the form of Iv's left arm under normal circumstances, he is the form that Iv has chosen to 'adopt' given the position he has found himself in.

An imposter among the vampire lords, one would say.

While his primary fighting style involves the use of familiars, he is capable of using his blood-soaked wires as an insidious, "unseen" weapon. Its potential for slaughter is high, although these wires are somewhat unwieldy, controlled via Blood Magic.

Personality:
Iv conducts himself as a "mage" first, and a "vampire" second. However, it could be said that his very mentality as a mage is inherently the same as that of a vampire. That said, he does not see the disparity of the living and the dead in the same way a 'true' vampire would. Instead, Iv views all in one of two lenses: the weak and the strong. The weak are there simply so that the strong could have those to tower over. They are simple tools at his disposal, whether it is a soldier to fight his battles or a sac of blood to satiate his hunger.

The strong, however, are those that hold Iv's true respect. Those who make their mark on the world, the few who hold power, true power, over the many. In Iv's case, he holds mental acuity in the same light as physical prowess, if not moreso, given his background as a mage and scholar. The strongest among the strong are those that Iv would idolize, superior beings to strive towards becoming... and to Iv, this desire to 'become' another can be interpreted as very literal.

Iv is a man who looks up to the strong, and who desires to become even stronger. That said, this does not mean he disregards the weak. After all, even the most pitiful and insignificant of maggots could be feasting on the flesh of even the gods. An ambitious man who holds the strong above else, but stays wary of the weak. A natural 'lord,' some would say, though it is more accurate to refer to him as a 'dragon' of sorts.

Bio:
The heir of a long line of human heroes, it is said that Ivaroth was destined for greatness, one who is said to bring an end to the undead... or at least, that was what the prophecies promised. Instead of the strong child that was promised to the Fortinell, what came was a sickly disappointment that could nary lift even himself from bed, let alone a sword. A shamed secret of the Fortinell, Ivaroth was instead sequestered away, his very existence censured and written off as a "death at birth."

As he grew older, Ivaroth had instead began a pursuit for knowledge instead, believing that he should fortify his mind as he was unable to do so with his body. It helped that he was all but forgotten, his duties as a lord abandoned to his more able-bodied siblings. He grew increasingly fascinated with the nature of the world itself, particularly in the fantastical beings that had been abundant in the Ophidiel Era. This fascination had lead him into reading into the studies of magic, something he had an astounding interest towards.

It did not take long for Ivaroth to delve into the forbidden, reading of the dark magics that humanity's darkest of foes have used. It was through this that Ivaroth discovered his affinity for Blood Magic. Ironically, it was the very sickness that plagued Ivaroth's entire life that also afforded him a great affinity with this art. At the mere age of 10, he had even developed his own foundation of magecraft in this art, utilizing wires attuned with his blood in place of vampiric abilities.

Ivaroth believed that this magic would give humanity an edge towards the undead beasts that plagued them. Naturally, he had ran away from home when he was barely of age, answering the call of the Hundred Paladins under the guise of a wizard named 'Iv.' While he was not given the honor of wielding a silver sword or given any of the blessings the others have received, Iv was still attached to a squad of Paladins as an auxiliary support. After all, one cannot expect much from a frail scholar.

It was through Iv's magic, however, that they were able to track down and slay a particularly powerful Vampire Lord, a pilot of the stars who possessed a maddening form of magic. In the end, while this lord was cut to pieces, the paladins Iv had ventured with had been afflicted with a strange madness, having seen things man was not meant to apprehend.

To Iv, however, this 'madness' had instead awakened a form of ambition within him. As he gazed upon the vampire's cosmic powers, he too saw beings of great and unfathomable might. To be mighty and powerful, to not be overlooked for his physiological failings... such power was tempting to Iv. It was at this moment that Iv could truly attain such heights, surpassing the frailty of his own mortal form.

And so, he had decided to put a hypothesis to the test. It was a theory that he had once abandoned before due to how maddening it sounded. Firstly, he had forced the remaining Paladins he was traveling with against each other, taking those who were dead or succumbed to their madness under his control. Like puppets under his command, Iv had them slay their fellow brothers and sisters before aptly killing themselves. When his former compatriots were finally taken care of, Iv then implanted his strings into what remained of the star-scourged vampire lord they had been sent to slay.

The lord's forbidden knowledge, maddening magery, and blasphemous blood had surged into Iv all at once. It was something he couldn't control, something he couldn't maintain. Iv knew that slowly, but surely, he was fated to die with the rest of his companions, to die with the quarry they had slain. And yet, Iv chose to live, to stubbornly cling to whatever semblance of life he had left. Power was so close to him, he could not let it get away!

And in his fleeting moments, before he had succumbed to his own maddening ritual, he had heard a voice in his head. Gentle, yet fierce. Welcoming, yet foreboding. It had promised Iv the power he had sought in exchange for mere fealty.

Given his situation, there was nothing Iv could do but accept.

Anything else: Iv walks with a cane, with a ritualistic dagger hidden within its shaft. It is made of a similar material to his blood-soaked wires, and serves many purposes in his sanguinary rituals.

Iv is something of a polyglot, proficient in many of the old Human languages in the Ophidiel era. Whether this translates to languages of this 'new' era remains to be seen.

Iv can make a mean blood parfait.