Akuma Taijiya -- Part Two


Dark and wet, the intricate weave of alleyways running through the heart of the city were left, for the most part, alone by the city watch. Within the urban corridor they suddenly occupied, which was empty save for them, there was a sense of lurking danger as though the brick walls would at any moment reach out and grab her, or the cobblestone street would open up and swallow her whole. Brais was not far ahead, the wide span of his back covered by the image of a swirling silver dragon that adorned his obsidian kimono. He examined the corridor momentarily and then turned his peripheral gaze over his shoulder to observe her, whispering. "Follow and prepare your magic. What happens next will be quick, and you will need to be ready." He understood the look in her eyes and the plethora of questions that stirred inside of her, thus the reason why he took off in a dash, one hand dropping to his sword hilt as he raced away from her and down the alleyway.

"B-but!" His speed was effective in keeping those thousands of questions stilled and she quickly sped after him. There was no way she was going to linger in this dismal place without him. And while his command of preparation might have meant something else, she did indeed ready herself...to gate away to safety should the need arise. The cobblestones were slick with refuse and ice, the cold air puffing out visibly from her lips as her cloak rippled around her novitiate's uniform. Thankfully dark enough to offer some concealment in this less than pleasant place, though her hot pink leg warmers might ultimately give her away.

A quick turn here, a sharp left there. There was no doubt that if she could not keep up she would be lost in the labyrinth they traversed. They raced passed ominous entryways and dark arches, all of which seemed to have some sort of eager groan emerging with their nearness. Something inside the darkness loomed, awaiting the common passerby to indulge their curiosity and be ripped to shreds. Brais finally ended their hasty sojourn as they arrived at an intersection, pressing his back flush with the wall and quickly taking a look around the corner with only his eyes.

Ozalynne had been in the process of looking over her shoulder into one of those groaning dark alcoves when he had stopped and turned flush with the wall. Her gaze came around just in time to pull up in her hasty flight, desperate to not be lost within the labyrinth she had been moving with little regard to care. She tried to stop. Really she did. But the icy slick cobblestones were her undoing, her footing lost as she slammed into his side, her chin hitting his elbow with enough force to knock her legs out from under her.

His narrowed gaze could be felt burning a hole into her soul, even as his free hand lashed out and took her around the waist, offering no comfort of recoil from her slick collision with him...as well as no chance of tumbling. Her small, feminine form was crushed into the hard lines of slender muscle that laced his body, his mouth pressed hard against her temple as he dared to not even breath for a long time. "If you wish to end your own life I will assist, though do not take me with you, foolish girl." He hissed. He turned his head and again took a quick look around the corner, his sigh of relief foretelling of their continued covertness. "A cambion." He hissed. "You know what a Cambion is, yes? You have Master Smout'n's necromancy class don't you?" His voice was barely existent.

Akuma Taijiya -- Part Four

Naturally he was fast, though thanks to her spell Brais seemed indiscernible. The first stroke of his sword came across in a sidelong line that took the head of the nearest demon, though before that decapitated body could hit the ground Brais pivoted around with a forward plunge to sink his blade into the chest of the adjacent Cambion. Movements were precise. Form was flawless.

That demon, however, was a bit quicker than his fallen comrade, and lunged backwards, clearing more than twenty feet through the air.

Brais launched into a forward roll, out of range of the last demon who laid upon the alleyway floor nearby, avoiding the creature's maddened swipe to cleave his ankles with its claws. Brais held his tongue, warding off the need to shout instructions to Ozalynne. She was still hidden near the corner and they hadn't appeared to notice her presence. While he knew that wouldn't last, the longer he could distract them the better.

Ozalynne was frozen for a petrified moment. Shock and fear were combating with the freezing drizzle that seemed to fall from the sky in weeping tears. The sudden carnage was too much for the young novitiate and she opened her mouth to scream a warming that was unnecessary as Brais' nimbly avoided the deadly swipe of the prone Cambion's claws. The scream would turn into a summoning, as the power that she undeniably possessed rose in a wave at her riot of emotions. The rain that fell seemed to alter in a slow glazing of its hue directly above the creature upon the floor. A sickly greenish luminescence changed the very nature of it to acid.

The transmutation of elements was something she'd always found a natural ease with, perhaps because it was one of the rarer studied forms of magic and therefore required less rigid rules for understanding and completion.

The prone Cambion roared in bestial misery as the acidic rain saturated its flesh, scrambling about and clawing at the cobblestone in frantic search of an escape.

The other fiend snarled as it watched Brais, gathering its composure as it splayed its fingers wide, the black claws that adorned each digit lengthening nearly four times their original size to that of daggers. If there was any sense of panic with the Mage it did not show on his angular visage as he, with a simple word of power, summoned a pair of warriors to stand at each side of him, their glowing eyes and rotting flesh able to be seen through the cracks in their armor, a testament to their undeath. Clenching the hilt of his sword in both hands Brais let loose a war cry and darted forward, followed by his conjurations.

Ozalynne couldn't chase the Cambion with her spell as that would require a change in the casting, nor did she dare alter much more of the rain in the area out of fear of accidentally harming her mentor. As he conjured forth undead warriors she nearly clapped in glee, certain that Smout'n would be proud. "Yes!" She exclaimed in her excitement, inadvertently giving her location away. With a dance of her nimble fingers upon the air, she cast again.

Umbral Audience


影の女王-ブレ; ードのマスタ;; ー
(Kage no joō - burēdo no masutā)


Akira -- Ichi

The summons came toward the end of his morning class. A directness of interruption as Sartha stepped inside the doors of the room and interrupted the Mistress of Divination's explanation of star's alignments. His growled voice cast low but carrying easily and it became quickly known that Brais Galician was being called to the office of the Deaconness.

Brais gathered his things quickly and rose from his seat, his menacing focus avoided by most in the class as he made his way out the door. He did not dally along the way, his stride attentive and military like in its composure. Dressed, as always, in the entirety of his Mage Uniform, Brais made his way up the long stair case that led to that ancient and haunting clock face, a bit unsure of how to proceed, though convinced that the Deaconess would show him the way.

And she most assuredly did.

The clock face slid to the side within the wall and demonstrated a long lonely stairwell that spiraled ever upward. But before he could enter she emerged, a skittering of dark energy leaving the impression of her image behind as if she were the negative of reality. Pale, emotionless. Statuesque in her perfect, her twilight eyes appeared to have been burnt into a dark ochre. She was surprisingly small and curvy up close and personal, the voluptuous quality of her figure contained by the wisps of black satin that she favored. With that same skittering burst of energy she quite suddenly bled into existence before him, the after image of her remaining in the position she'd recently vacated. A hand reached out to touch his shoulder and there was a brief sensation of spinning and falling before they appeared in Mount Yasuo. The portal glowing welcoming behind them.

His breath caught in his throat as she materialized and instantly his eyes went to the floor, head tilted forward in the traditional greeting of his homeland. He remained there as she touched him, the lifeless caress of her fingers on his shoulder causing the flesh and blood beneath his clothing to surge and tighten from her darkly potent presence. He kept his eyes closed as the arcana erupted around them, recognizing that they were traveling, falling, to a new location. The cold chill of the mountain was a familiar welcome, knowing it well from his childhood upon the Galician estate, and slowly he parted his eyes to drink in the sight of her. Arousal in its purest form would be ever present, swirling within the somber oceans of his gaze, as the one true aphrodisiac able to consume him to the very core was the mastery of power. He parted his lips to speak, to greet her, but decided against it, and merely watched.

Nothing was said.

Her steps miniature in nature, the small contained stride of a woman familiar with the formal customs of this land. Eventually they made their way to a breathtaking sight, the ancient Asiatic pavilion of the White Lotus, obviously her intended destination.

Brais fell into stride beside her, arms folded across his stomach so that his hands could rest tucked inside his wide sleeves. Still he said not a word, nor did he let his eyes linger upon her. He kept them forward and a bit down, surveying the path they took. The wind played along his lengthy alabaster hair, sweeping it away from his sharp visage to reveal the angular handsomeness of his youthful profile. There was just something about the keen cut of his features that made him appear dangerous and nearly feral. As the pavilion came into view there was a slight careen to his lips in appreciation of its architecture, certainly a craftsmanship that he enjoyed to witness. Still he said nothing, not bothering her with small talk or worthless banter. She had summoned him and it was for a reason that he was certain would soon be revealed.

Akira -- San


Beneath the weight of her stare Brais did not waver. If anything, he seemed to thrive under its scrutiny. He kept his shoulders drawn strongly across, his chin slightly inclined so that his eyes were level. Hands rested upon his thighs, fingertips barely touching and thumbs entwined. Her words anchored a sense of caution within him. There were a variety of activities he was currently involved in that could have garnered such observation, and to inquiry as to which she spoke of, he knew, would only lead to suspicion regarding them all. He thought about his answer for a moment, though not so long as to appear plotting, and then responded with a short head nod. "Thank you, Deaconess. Anything I can do to gain your attention is truly a blessing, and an achievement of its own."

Her head tilted. It was much like watching an art piece come briefly to life. The shift only altered the angle of the reflection of his serious stature within her gaze. Motionless she held before him, her lips pulled into a semblance of a smile, just a hint, made undoubtedly unnerving by the lack of any emotion in the doll-like perfection of her unanimated face. "Not always is my attention garnered wisely but you have done well with your excursions into RhyDin to rid it of vermin. It is this that brought you to my attention." Her head readjusted. Again a simple slide lacking any change in expression, "And has nominated you for a task that may make you desire that you had never received my recognition."

Rid it of vermin. Those words played in his mind in an echoic loop. She spoke of the Akuma Taijiya, and obviously knew about his trips into the city. This thought spawned an assortment of connecting contemplations, though the one that surged to the forefront was whether or not she knew about Ozalynne. She wasn't with them, so perhaps she didn't, though a chill nearly caused him to shiver, realizing that there was a very real possibility that Ozalynne wasn't in attendance because the Deaconess had already met with her

....and dealt with her.

He showed no sign of hesitation though, again offering a slight bow that differed only in the sense that with this one his eyes never left her. "I am eager to hear what you have intended for me."

"Your thirst for such endeavors, it is a long held tradition, is it not?" Revealing that she did indeed know quite a deal about his activities, though no mention of his pet project gracing her lips. She held up one finger to stall his answer as the staff arrived to quickly divest their table of the untouched tea and replace it with freshly brewed and hot reflections of the original. Again her mug was poured and placed in the same spot near her elbow, though she did nothing to acknowledge their assistance. They did not apparently expect it as this was obviously not a foreign exercise for them.

His new steaming mug mirrored hers at his elbow before they nodded and departed. Should he pay attention the shadows writhed angrily so long as the others were near, draping and twisting about her as if to conceal her from view.

Her finger dropped upon their departure as she obviously expected an answer.

Akira -- Go


Kept secret from him, of course, was that she would always be watching. Judging his advancement, a keen eye on this student who exhibited such potential. And that his reward would quite possibly be to take his place amongst the shadows that bedecked her, a concept that was recognized by those that undulated about her; their hatred of him only growing stronger at the potential for another rival. But such a condition was only placed upon those of incalculable worth...as well as those reluctance to do her bidding. His burning ambition and desire was duly noted. "This particular Act has a personal connection." She draped one arm over the table, the very first full move she had initiated since she'd first sat down and it was shocking in its strangeness, lifeless movement. "Your contact will meet you tonight at midnight, here. Should you choose not to enter into this venture, do nothing. Your lack of attendance will have no consequences." There was something in the lifeless gaze that warned otherwise.

That haunting movement caused a sharp breath to fill his lungs and muscles to tense in preparation of exploding into motion. He was prepared, no matter how futile the attempt might have been.

Always, was he prepared.

The brow that arched earlier did so again, though this time the camber was a bit more defined. Contact? She would not be his informant? He really didn't like that, though the indication that he could put a stop to such activity kept him interested. He nodded, understanding what she said, both openly and veiled. Eyes shifted to glance through a nearby window, taking note of the time, and then returned. "Certainly. I look forward to meeting this contact." He measured the weight of his next statement, swinging upon a pendulum of caution, though ultimately leapt from the proverbial edge. "There is no need to consider my refusal. I will comply."

She rewarded him, though one might question whether it was a trophy he wished to possess. Her smile widening, parting her lips to reveal her straight white even teeth. Almost mannequin like in the lack of anything behind it. A gentle hand reached forward to touch his in approval and the shadows writhed and boiled in agony, for a moment completely concealing all but her slim fingers from sight. Her features disjointed as they were revealed and hidden alternately beneath the shifting blanket of shades. "This is good." She intoned. "Should you wish to form a task group for this special assignment it would be well understood, the only condition I hold upon you is that you keep the students alive. I would have no more deaths." And this would appear to be concern for her students but was in reality a focus upon their reputation. Too many deaths and new students may be reluctant to join.

With his eyes he followed the path of her hand until it was upon him. His folded hands were warm to the touch, and because of that his reaction to her cold embrace was tense and tight. Drifting upward, he met her eyes again and listened, finally answering her with a shake of his head that caused stray strands of white to veil his dark eyes. "There shall be no group, Deaconess. I require only my magic and my blade to accomplish such tasks. Others would merely get in the way." He noted her concern and took it at face value, having no reason to believe that her intentions were not for the betterment of the school...as a school.

The Contact

影の猫は、血液中のブレード

Kage no neko wa, ketsueki-chū no burēdo

Akira -- Ichi

Brais returned to his dorm to don the traditional garb of his homeland, the Galician Gi. The kimono style robe was inky black and trimmed in silver, with a swirling dragon taking up the width of the back. Hakama pants and split toed boots finished off the ensemble, along with the sheathed length of his sword, housed through his belt at the small of his back. He returned as close to midnight as he could, not wanting to be late and yet not wanting to seem too anxious. Unsure of who the contact was -a faceless stranger for all he knew - that first impression was an important element when meeting enemies and allies for the first time. He pulled back the door to the Pavillion, and stepped in.

Shieyu Atsumichi watched him enter the Pavilion with feral eyes. He passed right beneath her as she lazed on the arched trellis that led up the garden's path. Expectations had led her astray. He had no appearance of a gaijin or a student. He blended easily.

Awareness. It was part of the magic that surrounded him. Though the chamber was empty he could feel the presence of another lurking inside. He could have began an investigation, searching the large room for the place where they hid, though instead decided to go another route, moving to the center of the room with a calm and composed step. Upon arriving he lifted his chin to the empty air. "I am here." He stated, his tone even.

She unwound from her position with a flex of sleek muscles beneath soft fur. A large padded foot found a delicate balance upon the framework and with the agility of a great cat she launched herself from the trellis to the roof of the pavilion. Gliding along it with ease and surety she came to the skylight. This. This was the favored killing position of the clouded leopard. Her prey beneath her, the strong tail lashing the air with agitation prepared to hold her weight as she lowered to sink her lengthy fangs into the flesh and rip him into the air with her and death.

But, he was not prey.

He was an emissary and she was to ally herself with him. She chuffed. A low growling cough that warned him of her position even as it threaded through the air, a dangerous reverberation of intent.

The sound from above drew only his eyes upward, even as his hand slid around to take the hilt of his sword firmly within. He had not ruled out the very real possibility that this rendezvous could have been a trap...a test...to see how gullible he was. Feet slid across the floor as he moved out from directly below the creature in the rafters, still unable to make it out completely due to the darkness. "Show yourself." He commanded with a quick glance, taking note of the doors and windows. He wasn't looking to run, but wanted to know the locations of all the exits incase this assailant sought to flee.

She prowled along the rafters unable to resist the temptation of keeping pace with him. A game to indulge her predatory instincts was hard to pass up, but she was kept in the dark much as he was to the true intent of the Mistress of Shades and Shards. To risk offense was unwise. The leopard settled onto her haunches to gather the strength in her hind legs, a launch sending her into a leap to land lightly atop one of the low tables of the White Lotus, directly within the spill of moonlight through the open window. She prowled about in a circle, the lash of her tail revealing agitation as she cooed a purred growl in her throat.

As the cat leapt through the air Brais took a brief moment to appreciate its lethal beauty; it was certainly something that he could admire. That moment was fleeting though, and as the cat landed his sword was freed of its housing, drawn to the somber melody of metal upon metal. He held the katana in a reverse grip so that its curved blade ran the length of his arm, nearly hidden from view save for the glimmer of random candle light staining the steel. "I am here at the command of Deaconess Shah." He chose those words carefully. He hadn't been commanded, in fact it was more of a request, though if this cat was indeed the contact he sought then it would appear to put them on equal footing by suggesting that they were both there following orders.

Sagi wa, sensō no surudoi burēdodesu -- Deception is warfare's sharpest blade.

TRAINING

Part 1

Early morning. She had risen well before the sun to answer a summons given the night before. The sparring ring near the Evocation Hall was the destination, and upon arrival she would have found Mage Galician, bedecked in his station's attire, awaiting her arrival at the center of the main arena. He waited patiently, a silhouette amongst the darkness as there were only a few candles lit, and while she could not see his eyes there was no doubt that they were trained upon her. He said nothing as she arrived, merely watched, and waited for her to approach.

Dressed for classes, half cloak, wand, spellbook in hand, she looked mildly subdued today as her choice of leg warmers was a simple grey. She made out his solitary figure by the rings and hurried toward him, staving off a tired yawn. These early morning sessions were compounded by surprise late night sessions and fostering her relationship with Blizzard. Of course this meant this was translating well inside the classroom because I less focused Ozalynne worried less about doing something wrong.

"I'm glad to see you made it." His tone was even, flat, as always. "In order to prepare you I have decided that you will need two different forms of training. In the morning we will train in the martial arts. In the evening, spell craft. Ultimately, once you've gotten a grip on both we will weave the two together." He assessed her, his harsh gaze running the length of her form from head to toe and back again. "You may put your things over there and then we will begin." With a nod of his head he motioned to a peg on the wall directly beside where his sack hung.

Over the last few weeks of their continued interaction she'd learned to accept his harsh looks and strict tones. In fact, she did not regard his instructions as any less potent but had grown less skittish. And there were inexplicable moments where she apparently chose not to let his demeanor alter her. Case in point, She didn't stop walking until her urchin's face was pressed into his chest where she rubbed it back and forth in a blur of shiny blue tresses. Turning her face upward she let her chin rest upon his rhythmic heartbeat for a moment and cheerily blurted, "Mornin! I brought you a donut with sprinkles." A glide back to hang up her things as he demanded, the wrapped pastry put in his bag that hung there. Beaming a sparkling smile she turned about and lifted her fists in the position he had demonstrated, "Are you sure you want a piece of this?" She growled.

He was not thrown off guard by her early morning affection. Just as she was starting to accept him for who he was, he was doing the same for her. It seemed that she often greeted him with a tight hug or a kiss on the cheek or something equally generous , so to find her nuzzling his chest left him standing there in quiet acceptance. "Thank you." You said evenly in response to the news of her gift, and watched as she slipped it into his pack, nodding to her next question. "I do, actually." His gaze dipped to those fists and he tilted his head, studying them. He then approached with a smooth gait, taking her arms, lifting one a bit higher and dropping the other. "Balance, is the key. In all things."

As he adjusted her arms to their appropriate position she gazed deeply into his onyx eyes, her breathing slowing as the candy blue of her eyes diminished slightly with the nearly hypnotic enlarging of her pupils. She closed her eyes on a long inhale that sounded kind of "Awm-ish" but it wasn't a mockery, she was steadily learning how to center herself. To focus and still the perpetual bird's chirping whiplash speed of her mind. Using Brais' somber eyes as her foci she was able to glide into a place of calm that allowed her to ingest his teachings as if she were soaking them through her skin.

TRAINING
Part 3

Stunned. Yea, the limits of her ability were not too hard to discover. She was untrained, naive, and a believer in the good of all. Her kick was supposed to land. It was tricky, devious and engineered quite well. As she met open air she stumbled into her own dissipating cloud of glittery smoke, she didn't even see him coming. Though his shout forewarned her enough to know that he was expecting more out of her. She drew in a deep breath to prepare and inhaled choppily upon the remainder of her cloud, a choking cough ended abruptly by the impact of Brais Galician's foot with her chest.

There was a fleeting thought to end his attack just inches from her chest, such a spell easily recalled that leave him suspended in the air before her. He was determined, though, as his sensei was to him, to teach her the consequences for such a mistake. If he were a ravaging cambion he would show her no mercy, and because of her misstep her life would be forfeit. He had to instill this severity within her, and knew of only one way. His foot hit her solidly across the breast bone, driven home by not only the strength of the attack, but the added momentum of his flight.

Needless to say, it hurt.

There was no cry, none could be made as the wind expelled from her lungs as surely as if he had conjured it. More importantly however was the explosion of pain. A new sensation really as Ozi had always been able to avoid such tragedies. She crumpled like a balled up piece of parchment, slumping to the floor, her tiny face hidden by the spill of blue hair. She didn't breathe.

Couldn't in fact.

Until finally her lungs filled again on a painful resurgence of air that lifted her tear streaked face upward on a gasped cry.

He landed with the grace of a cat and the silence of a shadow, his dark eyes trained upon her. If there was any sense of concern it did not show, and the only form of sympathy came in two very sharp words.

"Get up."

Her lower lip trembled to hold back a sob that was only held within by the lack of means to give it voice, her lungs still struggling to re-fill. Her stricken candyblue eyes pooled with tears that flooded and spilled. She squeezed her eyes shut against the vision of his harshness, the thick fan of dark lashes spiking with wetness and doing nothing to hold back the torrent. She pushed upward, her normally spritely actions aided by levitation for quick nimble responses, but in her current state she was unable to summon the energy. She made it to her feet but was unable to stand upright, though she dutifully lifted her trembling arms into the defensive posture he had taught her.

He watched her, noting the labor it took to simply rise. He held his tongue as thoughts swirled through his head. Had this been his teacher he would have scolded him and stripped him of any sort of self-worth, dressing him down to nothing more than a fledgling with a word and a look. He could not do this, however. Not to her. It had nothing to do with kindness or softness, he simply did not possess those traits, but what it did have to do with was his ability to observe. She was a not a warrior, and to expect her to be one would be foolish on his part. Instead, he stepped forward and reached out, taking her by the wrists. He lifted her hands again into the defensive form, his food sliding forward to part her legs once more in a wider stance. "This is the center. Do not be fooled by your own excitement. Finish the fight quickly, though do so without surrendering your defense." He stepped back and drew in a deep breath. He waited for a moment so that he was sure she was composed, then launched a punch for her face identical to the one he launched at the beginning of their training.

Her response came much faster this time, the block connecting solidly with his wrist and angling it downward away from her face. She was aided by a very real understanding of the pain that this man could inflict, a pain she hadn't comprehended before. And beneath the sheen of tears there was a heat, a luminscent hint of fierceness that glittered in the sapphire depths of her eyes.

As his punch was redirected with a force adequate enough to be considered a true defense he nearly smiled, though never would he show her such emotion. Instead, he offered a slow nod. "Well done. Very focused." He took a step back. "I want you to work on your kicks and your punches. One hundred of each. Straight punch. Hook. Hammer punch. Uppercut." He demonstrated each of them as he said their title, then he moved into kicks. "Straight kick. Side kick. Round house. Back spin." He turned back to her, ivory locks whipping about his face. "Every night before bed. Make sure to go from the hip. Power is in the hip. In the snap. Use your ki words." He launched a punch, a deep war cry sent with it. "Kiya!"

She nodded and held the position of defense, prepared for an attack. Again his words were confusing, moving into a hodgepodge of assortments in her skittish mind, part of her was focused on doing the math and configuring how many that would be, another was imagining a straight punch as a straight answer and a hook as fishing, a hammer brought to mind a construction crew she'd seen working on one of the wings and the word cut made her think of Blizzard's hair and how desperately she wanted to trim it. It was this inability to focus on directions that made her appear as less studious as her teachers would desire. But she banished all thoughts from her mind as he demonstrated physically, able to focus on that alone to the tune of all else.

He lowered his hands to his sides and dipped into a bow, eyes remaining upon her. "We are done for this morning. Go and bathe and prepared for your day." He lifted and stood tall, shoulders back. "I will see you at midnight on the Island." There was a pause as he glanced toward where her bag hung, bringing his own satchel into view. He turned back to her. "Thank you again for the doughnut. That was very...considerate."
She lowered her own hands and echoed his bow though the movement brought a clearly pained wince to dance across her expressive features. A smile curved her lips despite the pain as he complimented her on her gesture, "Midnight." She confirmed and moved to regain her own belongings, the mottling dark purple bruise on the snow white flesh of her wrist gave a warning of what her breast must even now be turning into. "I got the blue sprinkles."

"My favorite." He said dryly, truly uninspired when it came to such affairs. Still, there was concern about her bruise, if only that the time needed for it to heal would take away from their training. He decided then to get her bracers until it was fully recovered. No need to waste time on something as minute as physical damage. "What is your first class this morning?" The question sudden and random.

Ozalynne A flicker of her gaze toward the large clock faces that adorned the halls, "In an hour." She gave him a quizzical glance. "Yours?"

The quizzical look he gave her quickly melted away as realization set in; it was indeed Tuesday. He simply nodded to her and crossed the room to where his bag hung, stealing it from the hook to drape it over his shoulder. He turned back to face her. "That's right." His tone dipped into something a bit harsher than what it had been. "And you owe me the summoning formula for Formians."

"I actually did some late night research into Formians and discovered that they are based on a strict hierarchy and decided to have maximum effect for the summoning to tailor the formula to differientiate between which exact formians I wished to entreat." And with a flourish she pulled the complicated scroll from her bag, beaming up at him, "So would you prefer a Queen? A worker? Or one of the winged ones?"

He scowled, if only because he hadn't expected her to be so prepared. Granted, it was that sort of work that would lead to her remaining as part of the Institute's student body, which worked to his advantage. "All of them." He replied. "You will be the first presenter in class this morning." The corners of his mouth coiled upward then in a wicked grin. "Which only leaves you about forty-nine minutes."

A panicked gasp. Candy blue eyes wide and with a squeak she turned and fled for his classroom, preparation key. Her voice floated back over her shoulder, "Enjoy your donuuuttttt!"

He watched her go, arms folding over his chest. If she could stay focused she was going to work out well.

.....if.

TRAINING
Second Verse Same as the First
Part 2

Her kicks were much more effortless than her punches. She liked kicking and it showed. The flashy yellow leg warmers doing nothing to soften the effectiveness of her sharp punctuated blows. Her breathing became a rhythmic thing that accentuated the activity.

That's what he was looking for. He had determined early on that, because of her sight build, she would be more effective if she focused on her kicks and it seemed this deduction was coming as naturally to her as it had him. He watched her with the same astute focus as he had her punches, unconcerned with the rush of hair that end his snowy tresses fanning out as her foot nearly collided with his face. "Well done." He said with a nod. His left foot slid back and his knees bent, lowering into a fighting stance. He slid forward. "Again with the punches. Now you will use your series of punches as a counterattack. You will punch, I will block, and you will counter with another punch." His hands came up, open. "Begin. Slow at first."

Bright blue eyes were narrowed in a rare sign of concentration as she nodded instead of responded with her normal squeaky concern. A series of deep breaths to keep her calm and focused and she mimicked his movement, already in a fighting stance, she simply slid forward to better engage her opponent. Ozalynne was short and as it stood her blows were necessarily aimed upward, as they progressed however she would instinctively begin to hover, somehow maintaining the same steady base as if she were rooted to the floor. Her punches a rhythmic response to his blocks.

Rhythmic. A good word to describe the flow of their attack and defense. He brought his hands up to easily knock away her attacks, though that was the point as he hoped that she would soon find herself thinking one step ahead: What would the next punch be? With a graceful flow he moved his arms to counter her strikes, using wrist, forearm, and open hand to send her punches away. After the first round was over her nodded. "Continue." He said. "Though now I want you to step into your straight punches. Hooks and jabs are fine with just shoulder and hip, but your straight punches need to have more power. Step into them."

She didn't seem to notice that she was no longer touching the ground, her levitation holding her in a steady pattern before him that seemed to respond quite easily to his demands as she interpreted them. Stepping on nothing to lean into the next jab, delivering two rapid strikes in a row. She was deep in a concentrating zone and the moves were fluid and graceful. The power he wanted behind them still slightly missing until with a thought she began to use the same power that levitated her to aid in the landing of the blows. Faster, more fierce, and definitely filled with more power, they came.

With her increased power came his increased defense. He wouldn't stop her, nor would he slow her down. He knew with her it would be a natural progression, and he would do nothing to stunt that. Now moving away as she advanced, their violent little dance began to span the entire floor of the dojo. His slaps were becoming more aggressive, as well, and soon the feel of their mock combat would begin to fill the room. He knew that she was channeling her inner power, her Ki power, as he knew it...and he wanted her to ride it all the way through. "Good." He said, sharp and stern. "Now faster."

She was lost in the surge of response and attack. The power that built inside her seemed to respond to Brais' words even as she gave him a quick curt nod that she understood his desires and gave him exactly what he asked for. Her light steps danced easily about the dojo floor, still a fraction above it, and her attacks differed as she pressed harder, faster. With less thought about which type of punch to use, now she simply responded to his blocks with her own and her blows came from a simple understanding of the art in which they engaged. Normally she might find his aggressive stance and pressure overwhelming and fold beneath his fierceness but built up to this zen place she simply engaged.

"Perfect." He said, and in that moment she may have very well realized what made Brais Galician content: Success. No, her success. Never had she seen that look in his eyes that betrayed the sense of stoicism his features attempted to portray. "Now, watch my shoulders. I'm going to throw a punch. Watch the shift in my shoulders and my arms right before I attack. You'll be able to spot it." Still he went through the series of blocks, knocking her attacks wide, and then, with a step and a shift of of his shoulders he launched his own punch aimed for her chest. It was quick, but not too quick, and lacked any sort of mystical force.

She blocked it. And the glee quite nearly undid her concentration. HIs praise was succor, the nectar that she lived on. Ozzie was a pleaser and to find success in pleasing her mentor was enough to have her privately throwing a celebration that may easily have shown upon her expressive features. She lit up like a firework, blue eyes blazing in her thrill, "Like that!" More of a statement than a question.

He paused, stepping out of his stance he tilted his chin upward as though giving praise to some unseen force and then slowly he opened his eyes to greet hers. "Just like that." He said. "Now, kicks. We'll move a bit faster since you know the premise. You strike and I'll block. At some point I'll throw a punch so make sure that while you are getting into the flow of the battle you stay focused. Don't lose yourself in your own attack. "

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Hantāzu -- Ichi

Hantā wa emono ga shinde, korosu



Midnight ~ The Descry Inn and Tavern ~ The Market Place

That's all the note said.

Ozalynne was excited. Giddy with it actually. This was the first time he had asked her to come outside of the dojo training grounds in awhile and she could barely wait for her Illusion class to disperse so that she could prepare. She'd left a note for Blizzard explaining a late night crash study session but left it deliberately vague so as not to imply any real lies or falsehoods. Dressed in her uniform with pale lavender leg warmers she carried her wand and spellbook in a knapsack slung over one slender shoulder as she approached, seemingly on foot, clearly out of place.

The Descry Inn and Tavern was modeled to personify the ideas of Victorian Goth, as was epitomized by its architecture and clientele. There was movement all around the wrought iron gate and velvet ropes near the front as those in attendance - often referred to as the Chic' dredge - came and went with the passing of time. Oddly enough, her attire for that evening, while unique, did not seem all that out of place considering the eclectic steampunk compulsions that swayed fashion's viewpoint. The snow along the main street had mostly melted away, though a few piles did remain along the curbs where it had been brushed off the cobblestones. Perhaps it was the bustle of those roaming that particular section of the Market Place or the light howl of the wind, but his approach was silent, alerting her to him only as he spoke soft sounds across her ear, just over her shoulder. "Ready?" A single word, and yet it seemed to hold so much weight.

She shivered, and it wasn't the snow swept grounds or the icy bite in the air but the silent approach of her mentor. He was a deadly whisper on the wind and in that moment she knew that they were about to rain death down upon another sinful cambion. She nodded, a fierce light catching in her candy blue eyes as she gathered up her courage. An easy enough task for someone who didn't quite have the sense to be scared. Brais would allow nothing to happen to her, after all.

Brais stepped around her, his shoulder slightly brushing hers, eyes locked upon the doorway. The length of his sword was sheathed at the small of his back, its hilt just peeking up over his hip, well within reach. He decided against bringing a weapon for her as their training had yet to progress that far. She was becoming adept with her hands and feet, and of course her innate talents, which would make her formidable enough. Soon she would learn the blade, but not this night. "Stay near me." He said. "And hide your thoughts. We hunt tonight within the den of Vampires. They will let us be, though only after they realize we are not prey." His glacial regard was impervious to the threat before them. He hoped she mirrored his resolve.

Ozalynne nodded quickly, her cotton candy blue hair tamed in a pony tail to spill a river of brilliant azure down to the small of her back. She didn't mind being weaponless as she had never not been and didn't realize yet the comfort a blade could give when walking into dangerous territory. For now she was content to believe her body capable enough of handling whatever was thrown at them. She wasn't sure what he meant by hiding her thoughts and did her best, though they were their usual constant swirl of motion, zinging willynilly, here and there, a hodgepodge of the most inane and marvelous matters. She did attempt to mirror his resolve and there was no hint of fear as she didn't feel any.

Brais walked along the line of people that formed outside the door, bypassing the natural order of things to advance to the front. A group of women dressed in tattered bell gowns hissed and cursed him and the disregard he had for their idle wait, though he showed little concern for them. In fact, he showed little concern for any of it, including the student to trailed in his wake. Well trained, was he. The door man was resistant to Brais at first, though a few hushed words and a handshake that contained more than fingers and palms was enough to gain entry. The music from inside was blaring, the deep bass rattling the walls, the ears, and composure. It was meant to cause chaos and challenge her focus.

Ozalynne bounced up behind him, the hemline of her uniformed skirt fluttering upward as she nearly collided with his back. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the noisy crowd, "Did you just bribe him?" Curiosity, wonder, and even a hint of awe painting her words even as she looked around eagerly.

The only hint of an answer came in the slant of his chin, spilling thick locks of creamy white down his shoulders and chest. Cold eyes narrowed as he perused the crowded interior. It was a swarm of bedlam barely contained, infused with the tangible taste of debauchery. Drinking and dancing marred the room, with entwined limbs and desperate moans filling shadows and alcoves. He seemed attentive and keen, even amongst the entropy.

Immediately she would have found the attention of a man passing by. Shirtless to show the hundreds of tattoos that laced his flesh, he wore only a pair of glossy breeches, a bow tie, and a top hat. He nearly swerved into her, leaning in to whisper beneath the thunder of the music. "Hey sweetie! Have you been a naughty lil student? You lookin' for detention?" He was funny....or at least that's what his intoxication told him.

Ozalynne blinked in startlement, no witty rejoinder quick upon her lips. A mute shake of her head sending that tail of candy blue hair to tickle about her back. She took a half step in the direction of her mentor, fingers flexing slightly in reaction to the drunk man's approach into her private space.

"I like yer hair!" He barked, the following chuckle sending a line of saliva racing down his chin. "It's like a candy bar!" Who knows what he meant, he surely didn't seem to, though that didn't stop him from taking a step toward her and reaching out to touch those locks.

Brais scoured the swarm, seemingly unaware of what was transpiring just behind him. Truthfully he knew exactly what was going on. There were some fights she had to partake in on her own.

"Yea?" She managed. Cringing at his uncouth loudness and the string of attractive saliva and with a whisper of arcana, so light as to be unnoticeable gave the illusion of her hair slithering to life, small, pencil-thin serpent bodies writhing upward, the diamond shaped heads searching out the hand that sought to touch them.

Hantāzu -- San


She watched her mentor launch through the air, swallowing back the awe of the display as blue eyes drifted from him to the crowd awaiting his wrath. She had her own introduction in store, which was made evident by the ball of fire that flared to life in her small hands. She couldn't contain the smile as she looked across the balcony to the vampires, drew a hand back and launched the flaming sphere forward as if she were lobbing a football. The ball of molten flames only growing in rapid expansion as it surged toward the congregation of sin.

As the flame exploded, sending those in its path roaring about with fiery agony, he arrived. The extension of his leg planted his foot firmly into the chest of one of the startled Vampires and, aided by his magic, sent the undead creature flying backwards more than ten fee to slam into the wall. He had barely landed before his sword was drawn, its initial arch to escape its scabbard stealing the hand of a Vampire who sought to grab him, and then plunged into the open chest of a barreling second. As the Vampire hovered, suspended upon his tip-toes by the impaling blade, Brais sent a threatening look to those who still surrounded him, those who entertained similar thoughts to that of their skewered colleague, promising them the same fate if they advanced.

And as if to add a gilded edge of madness to his stance, she landed lightly upon her toes behind him. A school girl by dress and manner, bright blue hair tumbling from the ponytail that swung with her motions. Her fingers were already drawing forth another flaming ball of molten heat, prepared to meet any who did not heed Brais' silent warning.
As preordained, the remaining group of blood-suckers retreated slowly after a brief hesitation. It was not fear, but self preservation, as most vampires were predators in accordance to the ease of the kill. The Tavern offered a smorgasbord board of prey that would be easier to consume than the sword wielder and the school girl. It was Darwinism in its purest, undead form. As they began to withdraw Brais stepped forward, yanking his embedded blade from the chest of the impaled vampire and turning to face the Cambion, who was staring at the two with a devious grin splayed across his fiendishly handsome visage.

"My my" The Cambion said. "Aren't you two fearsome?"

She'd never before been called fearsome in her life and she recognized mockery for what it was, unnerved by his complete disregard for the destruction of his party she kept her slender body angled so as to offer him a limited target, facing him only with her head. She had two spells prepared and then after that it was anybody's guess what she would try to do. Pressure and Ozzie were rarely friends.

Brais kept the sword between he and the Cambion, a defensive slant held at the ready. He knew full well the level of deceit and sabotage these creatures could sink to. He narrowed his dark gaze upon the half-demon. "We are death, fiend. You'll soon know this." He took a single step forward, a sliding stride, though that was all as he turned his chin over his shoulder. "He is yours." He said to Ozalynne, the quick drift of his eyes ensuring that the surrounding vampires were indeed fullyretreating.
The Cambion laughed at the title of death, and did so even harder as he was given over to the girl. He turned his gaze upon her, devilishly reptilian, and drank in the sight of her. Sliding down one side and up the other, he again grinned, revealing a mouthful of fangs. "Yes, little one. I am yours. Come and let me show you what you've won."

This was a sudden shock that she was ill-prepared to receive. She was there to keep the vampires busy while Brais rained death upon the Cambion. Startled she shot candy blue eyes wide and fearful at her mentor, her calm center exploding into a shattered sense of panic.
Brais did not share her panic.

In fact, he hadn't looked more composed all night. He had given her the go on destroying the Cambion, and as far as she could tell, he had no doubt that she would find anything but success. The blade stayed between he and the half-demon, though a sliding step to the side opened up the floor for her. "He is yours. Destroy him and be done with it.' His nod solidified his words.

"Normally I would come at you with the fury of a thousand hells and peel the flesh from your worthless and brittle bones, but, since you seem so...convinced...that you can handle me, just tell me you are ready and we'll get after it." The Cambion laughed again, mocking the very notion of her assault before lowering his voice into a threatening hiss. "You'll fill the slave quarters well, and I'll personally see to your training."

Ozalynne swallowed. Hard. And turned wide eyes back upon the laughing Cambion, but Brais' assurance was enough to wall off that fear and send her spiraling thoughts to the back of her mind. Brais knew she could do this and so she could. Taking a few steps in front of her mentor she lifted her doe like eyes at the Cambion's threat, swirling depths of candy blue were hypnotic in the raw emotion that they exuded. She held the Cambion's gaze there upon the secrets that she revealed even as she drew her small clenched hands upwards. This time it was not flames that writhed her fingers but a greenish cloud of noxious gas that built in a matter of seconds. A kinetic blast of energy was thrown his way on but a word, her tiny body arching upward in a spin that took her arrow straight toward the ceiling, though at each rotation she released a glistening ball of acid in a rapidfire delivery aimed to pepper the Cambion and the area around him to make flight near impossible.

The Cambion's initial response was a simple wave of his hand to dismiss the magic she cast. He had been presented with such spells before, and normally he was able to dismiss their effects. This time was different. He was able to sweep away the first volley, though the continual fall of the acidic spheres proved to be too much, some of them even exploding upon him to eat away at his clothing and his flesh. He snarled, something bestial and fierce as he wiped at those areas, snapping his gaze to her, he drew back his fist and slung it forward, expending a swirling vortex of frost meant to cling and culminate around her to add weight to her movements, to bite her with frost and slow her down.

Yoki shinai yūzā
~An Unexpected Guest~

Akira - Ichi

The midafternoon sky was painted grey thanks to the nimbus clouds that dominated the horizon, spawning a thin veil of drizzle that coated everything with chilling moisture. Brais stood beneath the wide umbrella offered by a corner cafe, which just so happened to be an unpopular establishment absent of wandering eyes and listening ears. Enveloped by his dark cloak, he stood deathly still, awaiting his student's arrival.

Ozalynne was hard to miss. In a grey dreary landscape she was a splash of color, vivid blue hair flying about slender shoulders as her cloak whipped out around her to reveal the novitiate uniform of the IAP. The vibrant pink leg warmers flashed as she ran and agilely leapt puddles of rainwater with the nimble fleetness of a sprite.

Hard to miss, indeed.

Dark eyes aligned upon her as she rounded the corner, unaffected by the smile that he knew was slashed across her face as she jumped and bound over dangerous pools within the cracks of the cobblestone. Her frenetic persona was different than his, and yet commendable. She was not the somber type, and that wasn't a bad thing. He watched her arrival until she was close enough to speak to and then slid his gaze away to focus upon a distant point. "Novitiate." He greeted her.

She skidded to a stop, the patter of her mary janes coming to such a sudden stillness that she actually weaved forward slightly, windmilling her arms to keep her balance, though it was unnecessary as she used a kinetic burst of magic to act as a cushion between them. Landing on Brais Galician would probably not be the best of moves. "Mage Galician!" She piped cheerily, her grin lighting up her face as she trained the deep wells of her brilliantly blue eyes upon him and then noticed his distraction. Immediately she turned to look in the direction he was gazing.

It was a two story building, though the upper floor seemed riddled with fire damage; utterly useless. A pair of pegs extended from above the door to hold a sign that swung in the wind, though what it said was muddled and marred by grim and damage that made it indecipherable. He could feel her attention sway to that which claimed his own. "Greed." He said, allowing the word to hang between them for a moment before explaining. "It is a club that pays dues to the Kokuri Clan. The owner has information that I need."

"Well then I think we should ask some questions, yea?" Brightly, and with the bubble gum cheer that discounted the fact that the long parchment case upon her back carried a katana and that the determined lift of her chin spoke of violence.

"Indeed." He replied with a sharp nod. "He is accompanied by ghouls and is a rather accomplished spell caster. I will make sure to occupy his attention, you take care of his entourage." It was not a request, and yet the tone was not nearly as commanding as when he spoke to a standard subordinate. It was evident that as Ozalynne progressed through the ranks of the Akuma Taijiya that so too did his outlook upon her transformation.

She didn't flinch away from the demanding tone but instead squared her shoulders and moved her katana case off of her shoulder to grip it in her hands. The fierceness in her eyes belied the innocence of her pose as she trained her gaze on the building in question, "We going through the front? Subterfuge? Stealth? Or outright blitz?" She loved the word Blitz; it made her think of Blizz and that brought a grin. She wished she could share these escapades with him and felt that someday soon she would be able to, though for now she heeded Brais' demands of secrecy. Blizzard thought she was running errands in the marketplace for Smout'n.

"I'll take the front." He replied, glancing to watch her handle the scroll case. He liked her decision. It went with the entire persona she epitomized. At first he had been a bit reluctant to let her go with the 'schoolgirl' motif, but after seeing how successful and distracting it was to their prey, he would not have it any other way. "Come in through the back, quietly." He hardened his eyes. "If you are spotted, kill them." He looked back to the building. "Kill them all."

Ozalynne knew nothing about ghouls and quickly queried, "Any magecraft to be avoided?" A glance revealed she could see nothing of the back entrance and she considered the best way to come at it. A whispered incantation had a shield of arcane might sliding into shimmering effect around her, disappearing from sight seconds after it was cast - yet the effects lingered. It was one of Blizzard's favorite abjuration spells and she had worked with him on its perfection.

"No, though do not let them bite you. Their saliva carries an infection that will turn you into one of them. If it comes to it, take the head as quickly as possible." He paused in observation of the front door. "Because the one they serve is a spell caster they might be a bit more resistant to magic. Your more potent spells should be considered." And with that he was starting forward, a wraith-like step leading him through the street between a pair of horse drawn carriages.

She shuddered at the mention of saliva but dutifully nodded her head and scampered off down a cobblestoned alleyway unmindful of the spill of the rain. She was already popping the top of the parchment scroll case, her katana hilt a welcomed sight. "Heads." She murmured to herself as she leaped over a homeless man and darted along the wall briefly before splashing down on the far side of a puddle.

The backside of the building was just as rundown as the rest. A narrow alleyway between opposing buildings was littered with all sorts of garbage and offal. Pallets were stacked and boxes were thrown haphazardly about, making a rather intricate obstacle between where she stood and the actual door, though not impossible. The bum she leapt was just the start, as the length of the thin passageway was filled with them, though luckily they were well beyond her point of entry.

She maneuvered easily enough despite the obstructions. A nimble sprite that relied on mana to dance along, she was light on her feet and rarely needed much of a physical touch upon a hard surface to send her spiraling over another obstacle. Her bright cotton candy blue hair was a banner behind her as she spun around the corner and skidded to the back door. The scroll case tossed up on the roof with a helpful buffet of air. She'd reclaim it later, the gleaming length of the katana kissing the air as her fingers curled lovingly around the hilt.

Akira - San

Ozalynne squeaked, wide cotton candy blue eyes an innocent splash of fear, and lashed out with her katana to slice at the entangling ribbons. She kept their grip from her throat and upper torso but was unable to keep up with so many, the silken scarves gaining the flesh of her legs and coiling about an ankle and a thigh. She gasped as she sought to free herself, her motions growing more limited as she became unable to spin and dance with her blade.

The material was thin and easily sliced by her katana, yet as it coiled around her limbs it seemed much more solid. The scarves coiled tightly, painfully so, around ankle and thigh until numbness was gained. Luckily, distance kept the others around the room from coming, though they licked and hissed against the wall and empty air with equal hunger. The gaunt man barked at two nearby ghouls, each of which turned to face the bound school-girl, and with a bestial bite of their vicious fangs and famished lips, they started for her.

She was a quick learner and in typical Ozzie fashion didn't do things the normal way. Flames had incinerated their brethren and fire would surely take care of the ribbons that held her captive as well. With that being the thought it was a simple enough matter for the sprite to go up in flames, blue fire licking up over her petite frame as she smoldered to life, mimicking her favorite Azer with a fierce grin, the katana brandished before her threateningly.

The sight of the sapphire flames were enough to give the approaching Ghouls pause. Ribbons and silk were devoured easily by the fire, leaving the scorched ends that were now too short to take hold of her whipping and lashing as though in pain. The gaunt man barked at the two hesitant Ghouls in a language that was wicked and unknown, and after a brief moment of consideration they both launched themselves at her. Claws adorned what should have been human hands, seeking to tear open her flesh with an abandon regarding the devastating fire.

She hadn't expected them to risk the touch of her flaming nimbus and was caught in that uncomfortable moment of reaction on flat feet. Swinging the katana she took the first set of clawed hands, severing them in a gout of ghoulish blood, but the sweeping chop left her flank vulnerable and as the second ghoul sunk his clawed hands through the flaming radiance that seared its flesh, her own skin was scored by the rake of deadly claws. Her whimpered cry was girlish and lacked the fearsome quality of most fighters. Using the momentum of her swing to tuck and roll she sought freedom from the attack through an acrobatic move meant to gain her the safety of distance.

As deadly claws sank into her flesh the Ghoul mounted her, uncaring of its brethren's fate. Legs tucked up and bare feet found purchase upon her hips as razor-sharp talons buried into her shoulders. Fire began to engulf it, though it was mindless to the agony of the flame as it seemed to have only one goal in mind: tearing out her throat.

Across the bar blades collided in a symphony of steel as Brais warded off the skillful attacks of the duel-wielding Cambion, Ozalynne's scream enough to break his focus for but a moment, which was more than enough time for the serrated dagger to slash across his forearm. The Mage winced and danced backwards, putting room between he and his opponent.

The Cambion, with wicked grin firmly in place, brought the edge to his lips were a serpentine tongue extended to lick the blood from it. "I didn't realize you brought me a treat." The fiend snarled with a quick glance to the schoolgirl. "I'll see to her needs once I'm done tearing out your heart!"

Ozalynne brought the katana up, a barrier between the ghoul's fangs and her throat as she used their combined momentum to roll completely over, seemingly going down beneath the mounting attack; yet, it was just the speed she needed to flip them all the way over, landing atop with the blade angled perfectly to receive a blast of kinetic energy, bringing it down guillotine style.

The Ghoul howled in victory as its fang-filled maw snapped and barked, her flesh just a lick away. It rolled with her, holding on, just needing that moment to tear out her throat, which proved to be a deathly risk. On its back, it snapped up at her, unaware that the blade she wielded was coming down, and combined with the magical strength assisting her, the head was cleaved from the Ghoul easily. Beneath her, its sinewy body convulsed violently, arms and legs flailing.

The gaunt man, tall and lean, noted her victory and thrust his hands toward her, launching twin balls of acid in her direction in hopes of catching her off guard, or perhaps in a momentary celebration of her survival.

Brais brought his katana around in a wheeling deflection of the Cambion's next series of attacks, a change of speed catching the half-demon off guard enough for the lethal arch of his sword to hack his left arm clean off just below the elbow. The Cambion bayed in pain.

Ozalynne was too concerned with Brais to pause for a celebration over a simple ghoul's demise - after all, they were Akuma Taijiya, Cambion Hunters - and her tussles with their watchdogs was the least important task they were engaged in. Yet, her attention was surely diverted in her concern as the gaunt man had not been her focus. She had just a hint of a warning at the last second and rolled to the side, drawing the body of her fallen ghoul up as a shield between she and the acid balls. Devouring flesh and bone, the acerbic bursts detonated upon the carcass to splash harmful solution nearly the entire length of the body. Luckily the Ghoul was stout enough to absorb most of the damage, leaving her only touched by those small drops.

The gaunt man slammed his fist onto the counter and again thrust his cambered fingers toward her, forgoing physical attacks for mental ones instead. He sought to cloud her mind, shuffle the details of friend and foe as imagery blurred between the Gaunt man, the Cambion and her mentor.

Ozalynne flinched beneath a mental assault she was completely unprepared for, collapsing beneath the weight of it both symbolically and physically. Her fingers convulsed upon the hilt of her katana and almost dropped it as she tried to force the attack away. Candy blue eyes swirled in dismay as she clenched them shut and fought for control of her own mind.

~Hantā wa teddo ni natta toki~
(When the Hunters become the Hunted)


The sweet smell of death permeated the Cambion?s keen senses as he stepped into the desecrated club, the strobe of expiring candlelight crafting a celebration of dancing shadows that washed over the bodies that littered the floor; limbs broken and blood flowing. The rain outside had subsided and the yellow illumination of the sun breached the undulating roll of nimbus clouds, yet within the chamber of macabre there was only death and darkness.

?They are all dead.? Came a voice from the far hall, where a vampire servant called to its master. His exploration of the depths and bowels had revealed a similar sight to that which marred the main edifice: lifeless massacre.

With his hands folded at the small of his back, Jagger Kokuri stepped methodically along the splayed and splattered carcasses, careful not to touch a single one. Bedecked in the stolid grey armor of his clan, he was a fiendish monument to all that the Cambion?s stood for.

Strength. Stature. Brutality.

The crimson stain of footprints followed his path, the rivulets of blood that flowed throughout the room painting a story of his travels. Of all those slain, only one held his true attention, Hailzo, the only other Cambion who occupied the club. Headless, he lay against one of the walls, sitting as though he had been decapitated while lazily reclined.

Jagger kneeled and observed, the snowy hue of his scaly features transcending a shade of deep amethyst ? as it often did when he was angered. Hailzo?s trip was to be simple and routine: Collect what was owed to the Kokuri clan. Instead what he found was a reaper wanting his own payment, who took the boon of his head without mercy or quarter.

?Fool.? He whispered.

?Master.? The vampire said from over the knelt Cambion?s shoulder, his preternatural speed allowing for the swiftest of gaits. ?It was them.?

?I imagine so. It seems they will not stop until we are all dead.?

?It seems they have the tools to carry out such a task.?

?A welcomed challenge.? Jagger replied as he stood, the slant of his chin showing the Vampire his profile. ?We have tolerated their meddling for too long. If they wish to hunt the dragon then they will learn that it is easy for some prey to become the predator.?

The vampire moved back and to the side as Jagger turned about and headed for the door, smoothly falling into step behind him. Neither made a sound; one trained, one innate. ?Where to begin??

?Simple.? The Cambion answered as he pushed through the door. ?With a visit to Asceus.?