@strigidae_23: It was an instantaneous feeling of warmth as the gates opened before his very eyes. His sight carried outward, analyzing every bit of architecture that stood through the tests of time. "Ivana....?" Her name instinctively slipped off the tongue, like a mental reflex, but the uncertainty of his utterance was made known by his perplexing countenance.
With hesitant footsteps, cautious hands, and an exploring telepathic mind the nomadic soul halted his trek once the entirety of his body had entered the prophesied nest. "This doesn't make sense." Of course it didn't. His life never has. It's one big question mark pushed inside a conundrum. Yet, there he walked his soul knowing where to go, finding Ivana's position without much attention to detail.
@strigidae_23: Stretch almost grins immediately at the mention of powers, for once excited to show another person his gift. Grabbing his cheeks, he pulled at them to present his skin has a rubber nature to them. Then with a spin of his arm, it started to stretch further and further out until it finally smacked against the floor to create a crack. Stretch chuckled just as his arm snapped back to it's lanky length like a rubber band.
"My entire body is like rubber! Inside and out. I can't stretch it at will like in the comics or anything though, gotta force it.."
Coolly nodding with mutely expressed gratitude, the gargantuan Hoodaki Heavyweight voiced his insouciant disposition regarding the Orochi Clan leader's potential dismissal of his request. "And if not, there are alternatives". Dismissing himself with a subtle, inclination of the head, the 100th Strigidae departed, transposing his massive frame elsewhere in wait of the scheduled encounter or in preparation of seeking out his cryptically voiced alternative, his preparations for his impending assault on S.H.I.E.L.D.
@strigidae_23: It was an instantaneous feeling of warmth as the gates opened before his very eyes. His sight carried outward, analyzing every bit of architecture that stood through the tests of time. "Ivana....?" Her name instinctively slipped off the tongue, like a mental reflex, but the uncertainty of his utterance was made known by his perplexing countenance.
With hesitant footsteps, cautious hands, and an exploring telepathic mind the nomadic soul halted his trek once the entirety of his body had entered the prophesied nest. "This doesn't make sense." Of course it didn't. His life never has. It's one big question mark pushed inside a conundrum. Yet, there he walked his soul knowing where to go, finding Ivana's position without much attention to detail.
"Why did he keep me from this?"
"That's my name." I reply. So witty. I should write books. "Why? Who can say for sure. Probably.. well.. most of the Arcani I knew growing up are dead now." Including some dear friends who I missed every day. "He probably didn't want to see you die."
@strigidae_23: Stretch almost grins immediately at the mention of powers, for once excited to show another person his gift. Grabbing his cheeks, he pulled at them to present his skin has a rubber nature to them. Then with a spin of his arm, it started to stretch further and further out until it finally smacked against the floor to create a crack. Stretch chuckled just as his arm snapped back to it's lanky length like a rubber band.
"My entire body is like rubber! Inside and out. I can't stretch it at will like in the comics or anything though, gotta force it.."
I frown. "I see. Unfortuantly your first lesson is going to be 'Fixing the crack in the floor that I just made'. When you have mastered that style.. Then we will begin." Truth be told he wouldn't be the first student to damage the floor. Nor will he be the last. Super powered combat breaks stuff. That's life.
But it's important that he devote himself to menial tasks. Not to learn humility or a work ethic or anything. That's all a load of crap. I'm just mean.
@strigidae_23: It was an instantaneous feeling of warmth as the gates opened before his very eyes. His sight carried outward, analyzing every bit of architecture that stood through the tests of time. "Ivana....?" Her name instinctively slipped off the tongue, like a mental reflex, but the uncertainty of his utterance was made known by his perplexing countenance.
With hesitant footsteps, cautious hands, and an exploring telepathic mind the nomadic soul halted his trek once the entirety of his body had entered the prophesied nest. "This doesn't make sense." Of course it didn't. His life never has. It's one big question mark pushed inside a conundrum. Yet, there he walked his soul knowing where to go, finding Ivana's position without much attention to detail.
"Why did he keep me from this?"
"That's my name." I reply. So witty. I should write books. "Why? Who can say for sure. Probably.. well.. most of the Arcani I knew growing up are dead now." Including some dear friends who I missed every day. "He probably didn't want to see you die."
@strigidae_23: Stretch almost grins immediately at the mention of powers, for once excited to show another person his gift. Grabbing his cheeks, he pulled at them to present his skin has a rubber nature to them. Then with a spin of his arm, it started to stretch further and further out until it finally smacked against the floor to create a crack. Stretch chuckled just as his arm snapped back to it's lanky length like a rubber band.
"My entire body is like rubber! Inside and out. I can't stretch it at will like in the comics or anything though, gotta force it.."
I frown. "I see. Unfortuantly your first lesson is going to be 'Fixing the crack in the floor that I just made'. When you have mastered that style.. Then we will begin." Truth be told he wouldn't be the first student to damage the floor. Nor will he be the last. Super powered combat breaks stuff. That's life.
But it's important that he devote himself to menial tasks. Not to learn humility or a work ethic or anything. That's all a load of crap. I'm just mean.
@strigidae_23: Stretch almost instantly winced just at her unimpressed expression alone, then winced even more when she pointed out how rude he was sort of being already. "Wow, sorry miss. That was pretty rude of me to just start breaking your stuff huh?" The lad grinned quickly afterwards though, taking a knee to inspect the crack he just made. He was many things, and not being an ass was one of them.
"I'll get this fixed up in no time! I'll step inside once I'm done here ok?"
"That works. See you when you're done kid." He handled it with good humor. A sign of a level head at least. I hoped it would be enough to let him survive in this world. It wasn't friendly to mutants then.
Embarked on a peregrination characterized by laborious footslogging, the Autocrat's performance against Washington DC's defenders, while ruthless and magniloquent in its display of his titanic power was no moment of pride for the herculean extremist. He could have committed fewer mistakes, retained his left arm without expending his biophysical energies in regenerating an entire limb in the midst of an ebullient bout. Silently scolding himself as he terminated his trek to the gates of Nest 629, his objective was to unlock the secrets to a more profound brand of martial wizardry. Either from tutelage under Ivana the 23rd Strigidae, sibling to his mean-spirited collaborator, Strigidae 100, or the fiery Asteria, whichever proved most convenient to his preferred approach to combat.
Adorned in his trademark militaristic ensemble, facial features partially veiled by his peculiar mask, the Hound of Justice's footsteps halted, his cool, unblinking indigo gaze transfixing itself on a neighboring Orochi clansman. "You there", the distorted bass of his resolute voice began, conveying his words with an assertive calmness, "Who is most available for me to speak with? The 23rd Strigidae, or the one called Asteria?".
The Orochi drew away from his imposing frame, whispering and muttering among themselves in a knot of crimson shinobi atop the slick cobblestone, between roofs turned ivory, bright with the harsh reflection of sunlight. An agreement was reached and a novice approached the Autocrat. His voice barely broke through the howling mountain wind. "Neither Ivana nor Asteria dwell here any longer. But we shall send a message to the Twenty Third on your behalf."
Several hours passed. The Orochi went about their business. Groups drilled their ancient katas, barefooted upon the cobblestone courtyard, masters issuing punishments for each slip or failed technique. A shinobi, more than any other type of martial artist, must be capable of taking the fight to ill-ground and retaining the advantage. Benches and windows were swept, and those of low rank cleaned the grounds along side those punished for failures and infractions.
Suddenly all of the shadows deepened at once, as if the sun had narrowed to a single point of light and the sky had ceased to scatter its light. Every window in the dojo turned midnight black. From master to novice every Orochi paused, and stared.
The light returned to normal. Ivana strode from the dojo, brow damp with sweat, a black gi tied around her waist with the blood red belt of a grand master. Her tungsten-steel katana hung inside its fiberglass and teflon sheath, her left hand resting upon the nape of the scabbard with her thumb upon the tusba. A golden eye stared at Autocrat. She raised her right eyebrow and waited.
The Autocrat offered no verbal response to the clansman's informative words. Accepting his situation, the ideologically resolute Hound of the Ostracized remained virtually motionless during the hours that came. Only his mystifying indigo eyes shifted to analyze the martial prowess and fighting forms of the encompassing Orochi clansmen. It was only as the shadows grew fervent with an ominous presence that his unwavering gaze wandered, coolly settling on what he assumed was the nexus of the disturbance of the environment's luminosity. First meeting the 23rd Strigidae's eerily enrapturing ingress with tangible silence, the Autocrat stepped forward prior to taking a tame pause, both hands militantly gripping the sides of his armored vest.
He was an oddity. Very much unlike the majority of those who followed the Brahma Bull. He did not share their fiery indignation. He had always conducted himself with an evident degree of poise, his composure was an unsettling portion of his disposition, the soldier that could not be broken. "23rd Strigidae", the perpetually distorted bass of his relatively soft voice began, emitted from the peculiar mask that partially concealed his less than stellar facial features as he addressed her with an odd amount of civility for a ruthless guerrilla juggernaut, "I've come to learn the secrets to blood-bending from you, if you are willing".
Bloodbending. An esoteric form of telekinesis based upon the occult secrets of the legendary Impero. Ivana had learned from Ishin and her skills had served her well. It was time to pass those skills on to another servant of the mutant cause.
"This way." The twenty first century samurai waved Autocrat after her, as she turned and walked into the dojo, intent upon passing on her bloodbending skills to the latest student of the lethal art.
[Unless you had something else in mind we can end it here. No need to write yet another instruction scene!]
@strigidae_23: Since I am fleshing out Alonzo's background and general history. Would you mind if he came here seeking tutorage back when he was younger? Back then he would have had his wings, but feel free to tear them off. :P (Makes it easier than thinking of an actual backstory behind that.)
@matthew_x: Sure thing. That said, I don't want to do a training or meet-and-greet interaction. I've done waaay too many of those. You can just say he was trained here if you like :-)
The notion of mastering art forms upon art forms in a life time was often hard to believe. Almost nobody could reach their finest because their lives were to short. What came after death however was not finite that infinite time could lead to greatness in time that felt minuscule. There wasn't life and death but the glory of that existence surpassing such. Earth was a bleak shadow of what existence cruelly was.
The home she knew fell with no reason why. Ishin for all his might had fallen upon his revival. Shiho was perhaps the greatest potential in the world but was willing to settle. The revenge Ali deserved was never delivered. Outside of her own world the entirety of this planet was similarly poor. The racist war of mediocre value continued, the duality of the villain and hero was still just a series of waves one bigger then another for a time but never much else. It'd led to a radical conclusion.
Peace and equality would never breath in the material world.
For this reason the ghost of Alianette began to roam the Nest. Observing and learning as she used her unique status to learn and evolve. Many spirits of others were tethered to her furthering the rapidity of her education.
(It's meh and I don't know if it'll lead to much but I had ideas and I had time so I entertained me)
Reisho had fallen a time that seemed, to her temporally addled mind, so long ago it was immeasurable. Ishin's reason for doing so, Shiho was not certain of, but she had long before deemed the clan as a whole to be more trouble than it was worth, and so she obliged. Since then she had been back in the world, mostly aimless without her guides, or otherwise occupied with her own training and development.
Unlike most, her training was not primarily physical. For none could keep up in sparring, and her greatest would bring outstanding destruction to the mountain, in this like all else she was a solitary being. Furthermore she considered herself beyond simply physical martial artists; to devote more time than was necessary would be a waste, diminishing her as a fighter. Instead, she focused on the recently recognized potential she had yet to achieve regarding her totality of being. In this she meditated, and in this she sensed it.
The Orochi and Strigidae trained at the temple in relative solitude. Whether or not they could sense Ali's presence, or were she wrapped up indistinguishable from the other energies of the ether was unclear; though they were more receptive to those who could ascend the mountain, and not often preoccupied with spiritual trivialities. But on that day, the Strix formerly titled Strigidae One was present atop the mountain, and she noticed. Alianette died quite a while before the Kejijo Clan had been destroyed. Yet her presence remained as distinguishable as ever. Why had she sought the nest and not her father? He would have wanted to see her, to know that she was still present in some form. But Ali's and Ishin's relationship often seemed tenuous. Maybe it had carried over after she "died."
Whatever the case, Alianette seemed content as she was; the final Impero recognized her brief preoccupation as distracting and turned her focus back inward.
It wasn't long before Ali's pressence was uncovered by one of the few individuals that so much as mattered in the world. Most those around wouldn't see the spector that she was and if anyone did they didn't take it to account for much. Avoiding Shiho though that was a nye improbability. And with enough time would be an undeniable impossibility. Quite frankly the master of life and death was almost insulted to see the final Impero here and so unoccupied. If Ali were alive she'd have been furious. Now though she simply had a stir in curiosity.
The feint whisp nature vanished as the prodigy of death materialized. She looked as real as anything else and seemed like she could return to the living whenever she wanted. Choosing to speak in Japanese for sake of clarity she asked "Shiho why are you here? Could be attending to father after what he did. Or liberating Amaranth. You could provide a better president or better yet run the world. Instead you sit." To see arguably the deadliest force idle was nausiating to Ali.
(I'd of wrote it in Japanese but I ain't got the patience to look it all up)
@alianette: [We don't all. Hehee, plus translators are flawed so it's all whatever anyway.]
Shiho's eyes opened lazily as Alianette spoke, the movements and her features themselves bearing a certain deadness as if she'd been deprived of sleep, or energy, or as if she even lacked the cognitive functioning capability to comprehend what was being said to her. She traced the spectre with tho`se hazy green orbs for a few silent moments, head tilting gradually sideways in her haunting, "calculating" manner. She hadn't expected to be addressed.
Pushing herself to her feet, she shrugged. She did not care for states, presidents, ruling. And as far as she was concerned Ishin did not need attending at the moment. But the mention of Amaranth struck her. It hadn't been the first time he had gone, and as in the past when Amaranth, Kratesis, and Asteria left her without leadership, she was all but directionless. The absence was familiar, and usually it meant one thing in particular.
"<...He is gone. I cannot find him.>" The fact that she could not indicated, in her mind, that he was not in the world at least, and at worst, he was outside of the universe. "<Not 'sitting.' Training.>" In her own way, she was. Not that she expected it to be readily comprehended in full.
The sister that toyed with death and life remained sitting comfortably as her sister rose. Obsidian eyes watched curious to see and hear the response. Observing Shiho's mannerisms was as essential as listening as she wasn't much for words. Answer provided was one to cause an elongated sigh from Ali. It was frustrating to see her spectral counterparts mimic masters in practice in the yard while she sat here before what she saw as an idle god.
"Training for what then? Self progression was all fine and well but don't you think maybe we ought to use if for something less selfish? Complacency is the death of progression, and perhaps that's why are clan fell." News on Amaranthe and Ishin had minimal weight to the death dealer to think both gone in some way was surprising but not a burden Ali cared for.
The taciturn exterior of the diminutive death dealer belied the myriad of thoughts in her mind. She'd long felt the clan as a whole to be more trouble than they were worth, and had no trouble accepting and aiding in its destruction; complacency was irrelevant. And though she felt no need to answer to Ali, the nuances of her own perceived selfishness in the eyes of others escaped her. She had no notable self-concept to speak of, viewing herself primarily in terms of her relationships with those she valued.
In most, she was a tool. The most efficient tool for any job. "<Evolution.>" She lifted her thumb to her chest. "<I am power. But I am limited,>" she explained, demonstrating an awareness of herself beyond what most others saw; that of a limitless beast in child's form. True, she thought. She saw in herself what she saw in Kratesis when the Godslayer was present: the most powerful mutant alive. That made her an effective tool. That had always been enough. Until now. Until she was again in need of direction and at a loss for her missing mentors. Circumstances necessitated she become a better tool than even the greatest to presently exist. And beyond martial training - which she understood herself as far beyond - she saw only one way to outdo herself. "<Evolution. Then I can find Tora-sama.>"
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