Disciples of the Dragon VII: The Legacy of Zxu'ro [Ochazuke]
[QUOTE=grampagen;4716315]The Central Point is everywhere; those who stand upon its circumference are lost, nowhere. There were a precious few who could find that point within themselves and realize that immense potential, but it was all so very fragile in the face of strife, and no tree can grow to Heaven unless their roots first reach down to Hell.
Standing to his feet, Ochazuke pressed a palm over his face. Feeling something solid beneath brought him back to his senses. When he looked up at the sun it was opaque, alit in burning orange.
The Tiger King's palace was burning.[/QUOTE]
Searching for that mystery that lay half a world away had left him quite disconnected to his current surroundings. Cursing his negligence, Ochazuke stood on weary legs and kicked off to flight, storming through the shattered halls as he passed through Girimekhala's tusked arch of demonic ivory. Breaking through the canopy, choking vapours followed the blaze downhill, and as he laid eyes on it and heard the sounds of rupture, clatter and screaming.
The Southern Gate of the Royal Palace was filled with pandemonium as people scrambled over one another to escape. Once they had been a steadfast bastion of order, and even now converted to a monastery, it had welcomed visitors then as now with a promise of refuge within a wonder of civilization. Now in their panic, these same picturesque walls became their cloister, and they were slowly closing in. Blasts erupted over the sacred pavilions, taking with it the raised markers to the legacy kings of old, shattering the blessed stone censer beside it. Long-burning prayers fell into the many arms of the lacquered idol, its tranquil face burning as camphor-perfumed ashes spread black plumes over the initiates' meditation chambers.
Ochazuke landed in the thick of it, and casting his palm out managed to snuff out a portion of the haze. [I]Who would be so callous as to attack this place?[/I] He threw his hands down before him, and reinforced the palatial grounds with [B]Ishiki Toei[/B], and bolstered within a shell of ki, it would buy those caught up in the crossfire some time. Slowly he worked his way forward, starting with the residence of the custodian monks. Tearing the stony wreck before the door, he cleared an exit for those trapped inside.
"Guide them out of here. Go." The apprentices looked at each other, delaying for a moment as they tried to process what happened, but grateful for a way out began to move.
One by one their numbers dispersed, leaving only the senior monk at the last. The old man sat facing the wall, his shoulders trembling as the smoke rose. Witness to this, Ochazuke found himself dumbfounded. For one who
"A monk should not be so tethered to the material. You least of all, venerable one. This place can be rebuilt so long as its practices survive." Slowly, the elder turned toward him, and Ochazuke found it odd his words would stir him, for he did not entirely believe them himself. Suddenly, he recognized something exuding from the deep pits of the abbot's eyes. Killer intent following such a horrid look of rage upon his face as his lids split to exposed the whites of his eyes in the darkness.
"So you finally show your face. Bold of you to presume your still had any authority over me."
That voice. His pate was shaven and the years had hardened his visage, but despite his worn garb, there was no doubt. This was a face Ochazuke recognized, and a particularly fanatic zeal he had not seen for seven years. [I]How wide the wings spread...and how far the shadow falls.[/I] Though old grudges may die hard...
"Now is not the time to settle this," Ochazuke replied. Slowly, he stepped forward, and began to raise his hands before him, repeating, "Evacuate the grounds."
"Traitor!" The elder raised a finger before him. It was a sharp motion he knew all too well, the space between seconds was all he had to interrupt. Swiftly wheeling inward, Ochazuke slipped beneath his arm and struck his fist deep into the man's solar plexus, folding him to unconsciousness, Denied breath, the saffron-robes slumped neatly over his shoulder, pressed into him with a hateful exhale. The apostate Crane plucked his fellow from the hollow of false worship. The monks, the instated custodians of this place, took their man, backing slowly away as Ochazuke raised his hand.
"If you value the truth of your cloth," he said, though that was now increasingly dubious "you [I]will[/I] get these people to safety."
Casting out a sharp [B]Kiai[/B] before him, an iron wind tore through the remains of the collapsing South Gate, unsealing the path to the bridge walkway. Fleeing sightseers and local merchants took the path of least resistance and swiftly disappeared under the flickering shadows of statue beasts and men of prayers that lined their way back to the common world. The acolytes left last, their eyes steeled before them, casting one last look behind them at the palace they were charged to guard as it disappeared in the smoke. Seeded among their number were those who had no power but the hateful glares, and the words passed between them and Ochazuke unspoken.
They would know he had been here without a doubt, but he had run from his sins long enough.
Slowly he counted them down, and not so much as a moment past the last straggler waddled over the rubble that he felt a sharpness in the air. Reflexively Ochazuke jerked his head back. A hot cylinder, boiling metal munition. It whistled past his ear without a sound, and yet through the air around him, its passage briefly struck him deaf and left standing unbalanced through the ringing as he dodged. Past his shoulder, it ripped a meters-wide gash through the courtyard wall behind him and disintegrated a path through the palm-orchards.
[I]A hidden shooter...no...four, presences, rapidly converging. And at the centre of them...[/I]
Beneath the Dragon's Gauntlets, he felt his hands bound, the wraps taut as he squeezed his fists. [I]Of all places, it would have to be here.[/I] The seat of the old kingdom was burning around him; without hesitation, he threw himself back into the fire.
A veil of burning swept over Ochazuke, when he flew forward, and the welling heaviness in the surrounding air was the only warning for him to guard as the world suddenly flashed white. He threw his hands upward against a fiery pressure that melted the stone around him into a shallow crater. [I]Is this our arsonist?[/I] The wide blast zone caught him, but when he was shot down the very atmosphere seemed to collapse in on itself as his attacker poured on a greater deluge of energy. Thinning the violent torrent with [B]Saifa Kensaku[/B] so he might to move, Ochazuke found only a glimmer swiftly filling the corner of his eye as ancient laterite tiles chipped and shattered in a straight line. A thin streak of light veiled in the tossing ashen debris slithered toward him; in this state, he could do little but narrowly dodge its path as it split his cloak. Gritting his teeth as it hewed a deep gash on his shoulder, directed energy from another shot past him. Falling through the towering Deva statue in the palatial square, a silent, clean cut split through as easily as a steel wire pressed through supple flesh.
[I]There's two...[/I] The fire continued to cascade over him, wave after wave fell and demanding yet greater focus to keep it at bay, and while he attempted to halt any further damage to the grounds, it was with great reluctance that he'd realized the futility of his effort, for the palace was already lost. Abandoning the structural reinforcement he'd put his ki in, Ochazuke drew upon his full reserves as he reached up and seized the descending inferno. Sinking his fingers into it as he grappled with the mantle of energy, he disrupt its integrity and hurled it upwards.
Then with a faint blur, a shift in the air, and the third made himself known. Ochazuke swiftly found a hypersonic impact striking against his chest, a heaving gasp escaping him as a series of blows rained down in an instant. The shearing force that followed behind each blow seemed to linger and burrow into him, cold and heavy, a mechanical twisting ground pulverizing punches rooted in equally swift footfalls. The world grew hazy around him, he fought to maintain his grip as he ascertained the situation. [i]Each strike... it's hardly random, marked by expert shifts in momentum...[/i] and the sonic burst that follow forced him onto the defensive, and though he managed to match the pace with [B]Wolf's Prowl[/B] the shock from impacts alone tore at the incinerated prayer-domes, shattering the gated walkways to the royal antechamber at the heart of the Tiger King's palace.
Skilled ambush, and their numbers and coordination suggested a well-operated confidence. Though Earth had been merely a neglectful nexus in a wider, dire tale, these Red Raiders had not been idle. But now that Ochazuke knew where they were, with each blow pressed into his flesh, he got a feel for their method, slowly discerning the mettle of their ki.
Disciples of the Dragon VII: The Legacy of Zxu'ro [Ochazuke]
The deficiencies were quite narrow, but they existed. Discovering the gap between their thoughts and skills, now he could begin the counter attack.
His most immediate assailant was careless with his speed advantage reckless with his timing,. Halting his retreat, Ochazuke rooted his footing with [B]Kokaku Sanchin[/B], shift inward, and with [B]Seisui Tensho[/B] tore the speedster off-course as he tossed him into the oncoming path of the assassin's blade. The glimmer soon diverted so as to spare a comrade, but as a result the attacker's position was compromised - and marked. Tossing a salvo of [B]Senko Setsudan[/B] forward, they began to trace the cutting path back towards their caster. That's when he felt the mounting wave of pressure at his back. The firebrand would strike when he had the greatest opening, but this time Ochazuke was prepared. He would beat him to the draw, and with a [B]Dodonpa[/B] Ochazuke reciprocated before another gout of hellfire could be cast; for the moment this gambit was successful as the rising heat haze in the area seemed to die down.
Gradually, the fires were diminished where the greater share of ruin had been consumed, and he stole the moment to move forward. Smoke parted, revealing the shattered nine golden spires, fallen to slag and cuting into the courtyard. Polished marble flooring stood exposed, laced with spreading cracks beneath the broken pillars that once received many foreign audiences to these lands. Ochazuke approached what was once the Royals' reception chamber, and he trembled to see who stood before him.
Atop the raised platform, standing before the empty throne, the purveyor of the Eight Limbs that once guided him stood facing away from him, her crimson tresses swaying over the dying inferno around her. He'd been chasing after her within memories, in a fearful duality. She'd run her paces backwards, beckoning him and the other of the last generation of students forward, yet as soon as he thought he'd caught up to her, with every step forward he'd only be able to chase after her back.
Always there was that degree of separation. Now that he stood before the last [U]Master of the Tiger School[/U], he finally found the resolve to speak her name.
"Kenshiko!"
Standing atop the stairway next to the ancestral seat behind the flames, the woman who crawled out of hell cast a long shadow over the royal chamber. Ochazuke braced himself for what may come as he stepped inside of it. and when he felt her eyes upon him,
the throne room caved in and burst. The walls behind her were blown apart under a tearing thunder sounded over the premises, and Ochazuke guarded against the hot scattering of dust.
When the violent ash parted, one hand was raised to Kenshiko's side. The other slowly lift a talkie to her face, a sharp, static crackle piercing the heaviness in the open air.
"I didn't call the shot, Corporal."
Hissing murmurs cut out from the line. Kenshiko lowered her smoking glove, tossing the spent tip of a peculiarly large bullet, swiftly caught by a waiting cybernetic hand. The squadron that had attacked him had encircled the area.
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Three on the ground, one far off. But not once did he take his eyes off of her as she descended through the shattered visages of god-kings and chimeric demon-men that bordered the remains of the Tiger King's chair. The last time they met, he'd thought his words reached her. As history burned to ashes around them, Ochazuke felt as though his grasp on what he'd though he'd known was fast slipping away, every step forward landing less solidly beneath him.
Hand gilded in energy, Kenshiko lift it out before her, before slashing it through the air, cutting the columns of flame apart and clearing the haze and smoke in an instant. [I]Her kiai is sharp.[/I]
"We gave the rabble a scare, now move out and finish the mission." That familiar voice once called out to stoke potential, now, loud and clear, it bore the burden of "Topside in ten, evac in fifteen. Go!"
With some reluctance, the three silently departed, leaving the master looking down upon her student as she descended past the stony visages that once guarded the throne, shattered god-kings and chimeric demon-men laying in ruins over a crumbling foundation. Soon Kenshiko met Ochazuke on level footing there was an unsettling calm about her presence. Hands at her side, the first thing he noticed were the fresh scars peeking out from the olive-drab.
"The Vermilion Unit of the Red Raiders. We thought it was appropriate for soldiers dedicated to fight for the forgotten."
Hard, worn boots fell upon the stone as she prowled, watching him. He'd been in this place before under different circumstances. Now as then, he dared not look away.
"Is that Rautt talking? Why are you by the Colonel's side again?" Ochazuke's battered limbs lay at his side, right shoulder weeping red through the cloak. A gaudy reflection of the double-axe 'RR' stitched atop the renewed military chevrons.
"The Colonel? Really?" she scoffed, "I though you'd know what it means to fight for a memory. Why else would you come back here?"
Through the silence, the fain wail of fleeing visitors and locals could be heard over the scrape of falling stone. "Deva lords, pretty little Apsaras, Makara and Garuda, they mean about as much to you as they do to the /farang/. Blissful, deaf gods, a prayer to them is a prayer wasted, they found their path, they can die upon it."
"But the story of Bya Kau is one we understand. The King is nothing without the warrior who will fight for him. Everything that's sprung up will fall empty without a protector. Though everything else falls apart, that strength we inherit is the last thing to die."
Immediately he knew as she did that there would be few words here. Despite the damage he'd sustained, Ochazuke slid one foot forward, flat upon the ground, resting his weight coiled upon the ball of his rear foot. Wary of her approach, he met her with the Crane Guard, and she rolled her neck and scoffed.
"So stiff. The old habit's drilled into your bones, even after all this time isn't it?"
Cautiously, he took a half-step back, attempting to maintain the distance; too late, for she was already upon him.
"But these are your true colours, aren't they, Ochazuke?"
She spoke the name with a hollowness reserved for a stranger, and it was no less jarring for him; yet as she strode towards him, he found his senses deaf to all but the danger.
"I know. Because I taught you better than to hesitate!"
Default Disciples of the Dragon VII: The Legacy of Zxu'ro [Ochazuke]
The structure of the Tiger Temple was built to reflect the idealized shape of a heavenly kingdom, and upon this spiritual ground, how fitting that built into the foundation of the ancient Wat was a large manmade pond. Situated before the North face, it was a resplendent mirror of the king's palace, the nine golden spires imitating the mythic peaks of the divine mountain. Redoubled in fixed perfection, in a manner it brought the earthly closer to heaven, while standing in stillness as a reminder of the intangible. The image reflected was pristine until the stray gesture of a drifting lotus stirred a ripple, [b]Maya.[/b] Sky, earth and water separated to reveal the transient, insubstantial illusion.
Smoke rose over the palace of the Tiger King, black smoke of ruin climbing up to the heavens. [b]Maya.[/b] Blooming lilies scattered over the dark water in the stone pond, reflecting an inverted world, godly shadows bleeding, wreathed in burning.
Leaning back on the defensive, Ochazuke sprung backward on long steps, strikes missing by a hair's breadth as he leaned and slipped to maintain distance from Kenshiko's deadly march forward. [i]Fighting the Colonel's war has only sharpened her technique. So long as I don't lose sight of what's coming, she'll have to come to me.[/i]
But he had engaged the Tiger in her den, and her house already brought to ruin. The shockwaves of her strikes shattered the ashen lacquer and cracked stones to dust, cutting through these lingering images of the old world like burned paper. Hands raised to either side of her face, they began to crackle white as she charged her ki. His eyes hardened. He would recognize that technique all to well; it was how he met her sister, after all.
Swiftly he threw his finger foreard, casting a red [b]Dodonpa[/b] before him to interrupt her charge, too late, for Kenshiko threw two hands forward and [b]Ko-ou Kudaku-ken[/b] ate everything it its path as it smashed through everything. Rolling lingering energies - including those belonging to others - into itself, it swallowed the [b]Dodonpa[/b] and carved a trench into the stone beneath their feet as it chased him, and he knew that when it caught up, it would detonate.
When his flight backward into the courtyard over the pond could no longer avail his escape, Ochazuke flew forward and cast a palm carrying the iron wind of [b]Kongosho[/b] toward snuffing out the spark of the explosion, and though the rupture still struck him backward, the accumulated mass of the explosion had been mitigated. Unfortunately, focusing on this had allowed her to move forward unfettered and he felt her knee smash against his hasty guard. It was not a naked blow either, even through the bracers and the coiled wraps upon his arms, he felt the font of Kenshiko's ki carried through it, sharp coldness, softening to blood-hot.
It would be beautiful to watch if he could engage it at a remove. Trained instincts swiftly silenced those thoughts, and the memories within spurred on his movements.
Guarding his face with both hands left the back of his head open to grasp. He shot his elbow blindly upward to part her hands before they could clinch and took a step to the outside. Kenshiko had already switched her lead to throw more torque behind her followup kick. [b]Ko-ou Retsukyaku[/b] swung to take his leg from the inside, hard like a single-edged blade. [i]Not this time.[/i] Leg tucked in, raised, he felt the clash of bone-on-bone in his lower shin as he checked the strike and the ki shrouding it.
As far as Ochazuke had come to reach this moment, he knew he could reach her; but matching Kenshiko right now, with all that balanced on the edge of being lost forever? Wading through this torrent of emotions, the pain stung, his breaths falling heavy, tapping into the planet to find the path of Zxu'ro had left him increasingly aware of all of this, and with such stark clarity, his focus began to wane.
When the straight teep kick came down the centre, his lead hand parried it; all the Tiger Master had to do was preserve the momentum, reset, and swing the leg again into her true target, his wounded shoulder. Despite bracing for it, the weight of the strike cut through his arm as if it wasn't even there, and a shock spread through the entire limb. Gritting his teeth though he sought to take advantage of this split-second opening, and holding fast, he charged a [b]Dodonpa[/p] from point-blank and fired it into her torso, the explosion throwing her back. Kenshiko skid to a stop on all fours, trembling, her teeth pressed into a half-smile. A glimmer of their shared past, this fight marred with a shadow of pride. Tearing her flak jacket off a black tank, he saw how the world marked itself in white scars over tanned skin, her frame solid, lean, forged from a hunger that was her greatest strength, for her eyes sought their prey.
"One-hit, one-kill. That's what the Cranes called it, right? What a load of bullshit," she smirked, "I've studied your moves, don't tell me that's all you've got!"
She would have. The manual of Zxu'ro he'd left in her possession was meant to be something for her to make penance with, to give her something to return to. But when Jagam had come, he had thrown himself far too deeply into training. He'd abandoned her again, and this was the result.
[i]I won't lose you again.[/i]
Leaning in as she forward, her approach was relaxed, prepared to walk through any resistance he might offer. He spread his meditation field, observing, waiting, and suddenly to his senses, something stabbed at them like sunlight through sleep-drenched eyes. Searching for something, he inched backward; She walked forward, unburdened, without a thought in the world.
[i]This is not her usual stance[/i]
A subtle twitch was the only warning. He raised his lead to check the kick; though swiftly chambered, it cut through his own shin, the impact spilling around to the thigh as she tore him off balance. Loosing a grunt of pain, Ochazuke narrowed his guard to evade the clinch, and their limbs knotted as their tied one another up. She pulled him inward.
[i]Below! [/i]
A sharp knee raised up; he sunk his guard down and let his arm take the hit, but even a glancing blow was laced by that destructive ki, and as Ochazuke froze for that split-second of shearing pain, Kenshiko was already flowing into the next move. This close, fists were useless. Her elbow hooked around his forearm and gashed him straight across the temple, and he felt the edge of his right eye bloom and darken.
He moved to clash against her, and could sense every minute articulation before it came, and yet it somehow it did not seem to matter. Every time he tried to catch her, Kenshiko slipped out of his grasp with an evasiveness like sand; as he pressed into her, she flowed with him, fluid, uncontrollable, yet reforming in an instant when her solid strikes cut into him down the bone. Her hands still guided his, this time with lethal purpose. The very same that honed those skills, the legs whose balanced strides he sought to follow. Seething, he stubbornly pressed forward, and sacrificed his balance. Kenshiko tore him off centre and tossed him through the ground.
Carving a trench and unearthing the stone from the muddy banks, Ochazuke pressed himself up, his stance shaky. After all this time, was this still the gap between them?