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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:28 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:29 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:30 pm
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The forest grew quieter the further in he ventured. There were some things that the walker was starting to accept as facts about this world, one of those facts being that, when the fauna of the forest silenced their incessant chatter, it was not without reason. Danger was afoot, and it was not he they feared. No, they were already hushed by the time he had entered this place.
Still, the walker was not deterred. It would take more than the silence of some birds to dissuade him. A foolish decision for most, but he was unlike most. He was just as - if not more dangerous - than whatever this forest feared.
A mistake.
He felt it immediately, the tension of thin metal as his unwitting ankles moved forward. His eyes widened, not in fear but in fury, as the sound of creaking wood shattered the quiet of the forest. He did not have time to look, only to react. He dove forward, low to the ground, narrowly dodging an enormous log as it swung forward from the treetops. He growled furiously as he rose from the dirt, scanning the trees for any sign of this scoundrel in his midst. In addition to barely evading injury, he had now soiled his fur and clothes, which was perhaps the worst thing that could ever happen to him. More than anything else on this earth, Ashura despised dirt, and, by extension, those who would dare sully his appearance. "Coward!" he snarled, baring his teeth. "Show yourself, you weasel!"
► Word Count | 255 ◄
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:35 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:37 pm
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He whipped his head towards the voice, furious gaze resting on a small fox wrapped in tattered garments. He would have mistaken it for a normal field fox, were it not for the wickedness in her eyes. He tensed a paw to strike the foul creature, but restrained upon further inspection. She was covered in dirt and leaves, and he did not want to touch such a dirty thing with his bare paws. "Disgusting," he growled, still enraged by her conniving assault. "What kind of filthy idiot want to get 'down and dirty?'"
He considered drawing his blade and engaging his foe right then and there; he typically did not like to battle walkers in their feral forms, but he would make an exception for this impudent rodent. He did not, though, for she spoke of a body of water. He blinked, eyes narrowing just a touch. This wretch had already played him for a fool once, and he was not inclined to trust her again; however, his clothes demanded near immediate care or they would stain. He watched her for a moment as she prowled away, eyes fixed on her movements. She surely would not walk into her own traps, unless they were set up in such a way that would only hit larger beings. Thankfully, he, too, was a smaller canine. He shifted into his own feral form, wrapping his sword in his clothes and then picking up the bundle with his many tails.
He followed her swiftly and silently, scoffing at her comment. "Great," he muttered, still irritated with his current state. This is not how he expected his next encounter with a walker to be, being led to a lake to clean his clothes after being rudely tricked into the mud. He wanted an honest duel, and, so far, it did not seem that he would be getting it. He also did not want to have to consider traps during his fights, and would have preferred a more open area, like a clearing... or a lake.
"How much farther?" he questioned, though it was more of a demand than an inquiry.
► Word Count | 355 ◄
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:39 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:44 pm
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He would have sighed in relief, were it not for her derisive remarks. He glared at her as she entered the water, then turned his attention to the lake's disturbed surface. It looked clean enough - he was half expecting a putrid swamp - though he found himself missing the warm, pure waters of the springs to the East from whence he came. "I manage just fine, without any need to 'have fun' in the mud." His hackles rose with the thought. "Those who've trained their bodies and mind don't need to fight with wild, uncontrolled movements, rolling around in the dirt like children."
He shifted back into his more equine form, and entered the water. It tempered his wrath, and he turned his attention away from the other walker to his clothes. He soaked them and seemed entranced as he idly listened to her explanations. "Bears," he scoffed, amused by her reasoning for such underhanded tactics. "The ones I've met are nothing more than large fools who think that strength and size are the only assets they need to kill. They're easiest walkers to slay." He smiled with the thought. "They're stupid and predictable."
Her next comment interested him. "Your legacy? What're you leaving behind besides a couple traps?" he mocked.
He carried his clothes out of the water, then stuck his sword into the earth and draped his silks on the hilt to dry. He watched her as she transformed back into a fox-like creature; it did not seem that she was keen for a fight. "You're welcome, I guess," he stated, sarcasm dripping from his fangs.
"A challenge," he replied, tails lashing with anticipation, "but, if this is how you fight - with traps and dirt - I don't think I'll find one here."
► Word Count | 293 ◄
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:45 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:47 pm
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For a moment, he considered her words, brows furrowing with thought. "What good does it do you to have children?" he asked, perplexed. "How would you use them? Unless they're not walkers... our kind is too unpredictable for use." The girl did not make much sense to him. He was aware of the fact that his days were numbered - especially considering the path he had chosen to walk in his life - but it would not stop him from leaving his mark on the world. He desired to continue learning, improving, all in the name of mastery of his craft. He could not imagine offspring being of any use to him at all.
He began dressing himself, preferring to wear damp clothes than leave his garments and weapons unattended. "Fear... we can't feel fear. That's what separates us from the rest of these pitiful things that live in this world - and you must know that. Hate, however... hate we feel intensely and often, and I hate dirt."
His eyes flickered with delight, though he continued to harbor distrust for this particular walker. He had no intentions of falling into another trap laid by this conniving mare. "Don't worry about me, weasel. My name is Ashura, and I've never shed a single tear." He anchored his paws into the earth, clenching the hilt of his blade with his teeth and drawing it out from the ground. Then, he waited, patient and relaxed.
► Word Count | 240 ◄
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2020 12:14 am
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2020 12:15 am
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He scoffed at her. He knew this game, to goad him right into her claws... or traps, as he suspected. If she was this concerned about bearwalkers, surely she had no intent to actually fight him. Or perhaps she saw him as less threatening. Sure, he was tall, but he was not particularly bulky or imposing. Fine, he did not care if he was underestimated. It gave him an advantage.
"Use them... for your legacy." he pondered aloud, seemingly unconcerned for her as she circled him - certainly, he was unconcerned about embarrassment, given his sword muffling his speech. He was not crafty like Kiyo, and he did not waste time gauging his opponents by prolonged observation. He sheathed his blade by his side to give off the impression that he had dropped his guard. If she was going to lunge, this would be her opportunity. "You want to leave your mark on the world by having as many kids as possible? A little simple, don't you think?" Sure, it made sense that one's strength could be defined in terms of reproductive success, but what should she care about that after her death? "What good is it if no one remembers your name?"
► Word Count | 202 ◄
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2020 5:07 am
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2020 5:10 am
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He expected as much, for he had finally understood that, although all walkers had a need to kill, not all of them strong inclinations to attack. Recently, he had the misfortune of encountering more that seemed to prefer conversation to violence. This weasel, for one, could outmaneuver him in these tangled trees, and it would appear that she would prefer teasing him into one of her traps rather than engage him in an honest duel.
"What do you know about strength?" he countered, keeping his gaze centered on her as she moved.
"You're smarter than I'd like you to be," he smiled, "your traps won't work on me." He sat down now, refusing to chase her any longer. "Since you won't fight me, and I'm not gonna run after you, let's make a deal. I'll tell you about my 'toy,' if you tell me what you're trying to leave behind in this world."
► Word Count | 153 ◄
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2020 5:11 am
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Kiyo lays down on the bolder as she snickers a bit. "True strength is the power within one's self. No traps or toys needed. I know where my strength lays and it' limits. So yes I use traps again big dumb bears. But traps can't be used on someone like you. It is best to let one like you to make the first move and dodge until I get a feel of your movements and attack style before attacking back."
Crossing one paw over the other as she listened to him. "Well, Princess like I said I was waiting on you. After all, a princess should be able to make the first move." Kiyo smirks as she teases.
"Hmm, what I am trying to leave behind in this world is simply my blood. The legacy of blood is offspring, and as for my name. Well, I know if I put fear into others, then stories will be told of me. So my name will remain alive there. My blood will remain in my offspring, so as long as they live and have offspring of their own, then my blood lives on there. And before you ask Princess. My own mother told me about legacy before she took her last breath as I stood over her." This is a telling fact about Kiyo that she killed her own mother to take out the land she calls home and knows that one day her own offspring might do the same to her.
"So, why the toy, Princess?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 05, 2020 5:13 am
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His gaze remained level, unfazed by her criticism. If only she knew the strength of the sword and the skill it took to properly wield it. He was tempted to show her, but he did not trust her. Anything could be a trap with this crafty weasel, and he knew better than to be goaded into his doom.
Instead, he listened as she described her intentions, and, surprisingly, he understood them. "You want to be legendary," he concluded. He realized at that moment that he shared that desire. He labored tirelessly over his art, refining it more and more with each passing day. And yet, why did he bother?
Perhaps Kiyo discerned the diminishing clarity of his gaze as he was further lost in his thoughts. He had not considered his future, or what would happen to him after he was gone. A legend only lasts for so long, and she found a way to ensure its survival through the generations. It was so simple.
"Interesting," he mused, his eyes focusing on her again. "I killed my father, in a way." Although Hojo was not his biological father, he was the only father Ashura knew. The old swordsman raised him, and taught him everything he needed to be as successful a duelist as he had become. He cast his gaze to his sword at his side, then looked back at the weasel.
"It is my art. The sword is a part of me just like my limbs, and it reveals truths about yourself. In order to wield it, you must be in full control of your mind. You channel your aim into the blade, and it obeys... but it will only reflect what you put into it. A clumsy wielder will not see the kind of success as a disciplined practitioner. It is graceful, beautiful, and far more dangerous than any fang or claw can be." He paused for a moment, considering his final statement. "It is the key to becoming the greatest killer this world has ever seen."
► Word Count | 339 ◄
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