@_strigidae_: Throws her in the ocean
Agiad'coda (CVnU Arashikage Island)
@the_last_arashikage: Kills that too. Goes deeper.
@_strigidae_: Yeah!
@the_last_arashikage: Mhm.
The Past - "I had never imagined such beauty still remained in this World."
muffled beneath a spiraling ascension of bandages his voice echoed. A thin horizontal partition allowing him to gaze in wonder at the unfathomable illustrations of nature residing on the island. His child aged guide carefully keeping a short distance as he continued ahead. Her posture on a continuous radar like observation never allowing even a momentary lapse of attention. A trait the stranger had intuitively noticed in all the women of the island. As he had slowly recovered an even slower process of indoctrination had been bestowed upon him, though at first only through his own cultural observations and then eventually graduating to a sophisticated scholastic set of ritualistic development. In his former life, the wonders of the World abroad had served as a matrix layered foundation in which all his previously impressive cultivation of skills and elaborate intellectual proficiency had proliferated from like an intricate spider-web of knowledge and abilities. But even that paled in comparison to the machinations of these philosophers of combat. Little did they know they had unintentionally welcomed a snake into their garden....
All around the chaotic chorus of war resonated with deathly re-enforcement. Many had died in their sleep, throats slit after having been dosed with a muscle relaxing sedative during their evening meal completely unaware that it would be their last supper. The murderous orgy that followed in and of itself a scene congeneric to the bible complete with rivers of blood and sun cloaking clouds of onyx colored smoke painting a backdrop of genocidal cleansing. No one was left alive, no one except for self-proclaiming Last Arashikage and a lone prisoner. Collard and chained she was now forced to walk around on her hands and knees forever resigned to the feet of her master. She had been renamed Slave as a constant reminder of her new found station and had her tongue removed, for her voice held no significance to her master and there for held no significance at all.
Before her live had been shattered and disgraced however she had managed to send a single telepathic message meant for her father. Sadly overwhelming anger and agitation had disrupted her concentration and as a result the message was sent to a woman she had known in the past. A woman she had helped train. A woman who was her only hope....."Mercy...."
Sitting forward between his bowlegged posture with his elbows resting on his knees and the leather leash strap of Slave's collar (as she laid quietly in the sand), wrapped loosely around his fist, the Last Arashikage looked out over the ocean with complete nonchalance. Not even the far off rumblings of a distant plane flying overhead seemed to disrupt his content behavior. Barely moving at all until the faint rustling of leaves on the edge of the woods leading out onto the beach suddenly produced the secretly trained assassin, Mercy. Peering back over his shoulder charismatically smiling underneath his unraveling facial bandage, the self-proclaimed practitioner of martial arts Darwinism spoke, "Looks like I missed one. Though I think I would have remembered a face so masterfully adapt at hiding a true killer. It must be hard, I bet even your closest loved ones have no idea who, or should I say, what, you truly are.." smuggly smirking before wrapping Slave's leash around the displaced stump he had been situated on. "If you've come for your one of your own" briefly pausing as his gaze drew attention to cowering girl, "I'm afraid the auction is closed. If its revenge you seek by all means, come and claim it."
Tracking the female assassin with monocular vision as she fell, the Arashikage's corneal accommodation allowed his left eye to focus on her decent analytically gauging depth perception while a liberated right eye, which had previously been scanning the environment, began to couple. Forming independent accommodation of sight as his right hand protruded two fingers bent in at the knuckle streaking towards the downed assassin's lower vertebrae. Perhaps through fatigue of his early confrontation with the entirety of the Arashikage, or the unmitigated skill of his opponent, his spectacular visual repertoire had failed to register any early warnings pertaining to the strategically launched mule kick. The force of which drove his feet backwards allowing gravity to instantly snag his body in an attempt to plant his face straight into the sand. But an exhibition of raw dexterous deployment was illustrated through the flashing of his arms shooting into the ground catching himself with a quick push-up mirroring save. Not until he brought his legs back underneath his body and rose up did he realize the abdominal puncture wound releasing a stream of blood trickling downwards painting the sand red.
Like the fangs of a viper the preeminent paragon had struck her target and recoiled faster then the human eye could follow silently impressing the Valor of Vendetta as he momentarily dabbed his hand on the wound. Covered with blood he then took his palm and firmly pressed along the side of his bandaged face leaving a red graffiti-ed imprint stained in its wake. Before suddenly premiering a fraction of his acrobatic prowess and amazing leaping ability plundering the laws of gravity with a 80.3" vertical leap up and over his lovely opponents head contorting his body with a dazzling corkscrew slip before landing silently several feet away. Having in the midst of his vault, unsheathed the only real weapon in his possession. A fractured Arashikage sword that had been broken off a little over half way up the blade leaving behind a diagonally serrated edge forming a sharp needle nose point at the top. Striking little fear, at least visually, in the hearts of few. Yet the blade was never the less one of his most prized possessions considering it an invaluable antiquity of lethal legitimacy. Postured up into a readied defensive Arashikage stance clutching the weapon upside down horizontally aiming the hilt backwards towards his chest and slightly turned with his lead shoulder pointed towards the unknown bible linked assassin, his free hand mockingly gestured two fingers to come and get her throat cut.
The lapse in time and added trajectory altering vault off the tree was more then enough for the evolutionarily enhanced vision and reflexes of the Last Arashikage to track. A simple equation involving her rate of motion, distance, and angular momentum, formulated his mathematically populated reaction. Twirling the broken blade up and behind his back while keeping the entirety of his body motionless in deflecting the initial barrage aimed for his neck. Followed instantaneously by an accelerated execution of acrobatic artistry, premiering a diminutive hop backwards onto his hand performing an angled back-handspring. Avoiding the double daggers of the adeptly trained assassin. His legs, still in the process of being carried over, split in a scissoring motion allowing the remaining dagger strike to harmless slip between their division. Prominent exertion of strength down to his wrist allowed the acrobatic Black Rose to influence his hips in an attempt to bring his right foot across the face of his impressively skilled opponent before bringing both feet down with a round-off. Stylishly transitioning to the opposite hand, planting it in the ground as to support his weight, he sat out into a spinning sweep in hopes of removing or at the very least disrupting her center of gravity. The generated momentum of the Capoeira inspired assault brought the bandaged enigma around and up to a guarded position aligned for a knuckle bent palm strike launched at a rate of speed closely equal to 49,789 miles per second.
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