Last Night In Akashima

[Ciato Orlouge]

Crickets chirped into the night air as the waves of the ocean washed over his legs. The wind was an inhospitable cold against the bare legs of the Mystic. Ciato Orlouge’s eyes darted from place to place, his sword at the ready in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. The tide rolled back in to soak black pants of the alabaster bastard and he had to exert every ounce of willpower to keep from the shivers.

Lichensith Ulroke, leader of the Crimson Hand announced a tournament several days ago. The winner of the event would be granted a special item. This tournament would be a way for Ciato to prove he earned his rank as Master of the Blade, a title granted to the most skilled warriors in the Hand. He knew the competition would be fierce; the plant-thing that poisoned Eiskalt, the demon with whom the Mystic shared a contemptuous rivalry with, and Ulroke himself all stood between the nobleman and his victory.

The pot sweetened yesterday, when Lye announced that should he not place in the top three, the winner would take over leadership of the assassins guild. The opportunity to command the less gifted as he saw fit was more than enough to send the ivory skinned murderer into a rigorous training routine. All he needed were foes on par with what he would face at the headquarters of the Crimson Hand, and for that, he needed bait.

The tip of his blade dived into the water as a fine mist washed over his skin. He grimaced at the chill of the liquid, and the hand with the invitation to the competition moved towards his breast pocket. He carefully maneuvered the paper back into his vest and jerked his head when he heard several light chirps from within. A small ruffle of yellow feathers stuck its head out from beneath the pocket, the black eyes of the chick surrounded by hues of white down. So often did the pale skinned aristocrat forget about his familiar that he was surprised it was still alive.

He pressed the head of the fowl back into his pocket, much to the chirpy protest of the bird. He could ill afford such a magical creature to wind up a corpse due to hypothermia. He looked back towards his blade and cursed as he withdrew the sword from the sea. Globs of mud fell from the steel and Ciato once again stood still as a statue under the radiant light of the moon.

He noticed a blue beneath the brown waves and struck once more, a smile upon his features as a pool of red began to float to the top. When the nobleman withdrew his weapon this time, he found a nearly flat fish skewered on the blade. The dark eyes of the flounder saw the blood and water leave its body as it threw itself around in its final death throes. Ciato reached for the creature and peeled it off of his beloved Asterodeia. The dead animal made a slurp sound as it was pulled off of the makeshift kabob, a sound that Ciato could not help but smile from even in the intense cold.

“Patience, precision, and poise win again,” he spoke to nobody in particular, though his chick did chirp in response, “I think this shall do nicely to whet the appetite. Now, let’s see what I can catch with this beauty.” The flounder no longer struggled against him and he slowly began to make his way back to the beach. His body shivered, though not even Ciato knew if it the instinct came from the cold or the anticipation.

[Ciato Orlouge]

A fire sprang to life upon the dried twigs and straw Ciato managed to compile upon the sand. The warmth from the small blaze was more than enough to evaporate some of the water from his legs. He still held the flounder in one hand as his stomach growled in protest of his plan. He could ill afford to eat at the moment; his training was far too important. He sighed and sheathed his blade into its scabbard, and walked back towards the shore.

The waves crashed upon the sand, just at the Mystic’s feet. With one final look at what could have been his potential dinner, Ciato flung the face-sized fish towards the foam of the sea. With bated breath, the alabaster bastard awaited his next quarry. He knew that if he got into the water with his bait, he would quickly find himself without a bigger predator to conquer. The bloodied flounder would have to make due by itself until the aristocrat knew for certain that there was a literal bigger fish to fry.

A dorsal fin peeked out from underneath the murky night water and alerted Ciato that his aquatic guest had arrived. He ran into the waves, his speed considerably slower thanks to the water itself. The nippy waters held no dominion over his form now, as he knew he was mere seconds away from his goal. As the dorsal fin sank beneath the dead fish, Ciato leapt towards the bait.

He quickly found himself in the air, his body now on track to the mouth of an adolescent shark.

[Ciato Orlouge]

He jerked his shoulder as hard as he could to the right as he flew through the air. Hs left hand went towards his weapon, his eyes completely focused on the hundreds of teeth that welcomed the bloodied flounder into its maw. The metal seemed to hiss out of its scabbard like a mother snake defending its young. Ciato’s body spun in the air and the blade of Asterodeia sung with a gentle whistle as it aimed itself towards the face of the beast.

The Mystic found his form underwater, and somehow, not mauled by the large predator. He scrambled back up from the murky depth of the waves; his sword pointed at whichever direction he thought his new enemy may be in. He could see a shadowy blob move about, much quicker than he could ever hope his legs to be. The shape circled around him and the Mystic growled as he tried to keep up with the motions.

“He’s trying to dizzy me…” He spoke softly. He could feel the chick in his vest shake off the water it suddenly acquired, “Or it’s trying to intimidate me…”

His quarry struck faster than Ciato could process. It slammed into the back of his legs and sent him to his knees. His legs throbbed with pain, and the salty water seeped into the fresh cuts caused by the rocks embedded into the mud below. The alabaster bastard could feel his heart race and body tremble. The fear of death and excitement of battle kept him focused. The dark blur began to circle again, this time much closer than before. Ciato quickly prepared for the worst.

Then the foolish shark attempted to strike head on.

Maybe the beast wanted to see the look of terror in the Mystic’s eyes. Maybe the pale skin of Ciato’s front looked strikingly similar to his back. Ciato did not know why the creature decided its attack pattern, and he would never get the chance to find out. The silver skinned monstrosity leapt out of the ocean, mouth agape as if it were attempting to swallow the man whole. Ciato thrust his blade forward and crouched into the water, a deep breath taken to ensure survival. Ciato held his sword with all his might, despite the push from his aquatic nemesis burying his feet deeper into the mud below. He could feel something heavy slam down upon his back, but he knew that the mass was not as heavy as the five foot shark should have been.

He rose from the water, the embrace of the wind his only greeting into the once again silent night air. He could feel the mass that was on his back slink downwards and it quickly splashed into the water. The Mystic tilted his head and turned to see where his opponent wandered off to and what dead weight he literally had shouldered off. He smiled when he found his answer.

The shark’s body drifted upside down in the water, its upward faced belly cut open from jaw to tail. The entrails of the fish floated just inches away from Ciato himself, the mass that he just bared upon his backside. The eyes of the creature looked strikingly similar to those of the flounder, which he now found mostly intact and upon the waves surface as well. He shivered and approached the man-sized animal, his crimson sword once again sheathed as he grabbed the sandpaper-like tail of the sharkling.

The cold slowed him considerably, and the corpse tried to hold him in place. The tide tried to aid him in his quest to move the monster onto the sand, though his body now grew weak from chills, hunger, and his new blue blood hued knees. He coughed into the night air and cursed the Thaynes themselves. “The last thing I need is an infernal cold during the tournament…”

He eventually got his quarry to shore, his blade essential in the disassembly of the creature. He approached his fire and once again used his versatile weapon as a kabob to roast the kidney of the creature. He sat and allowed the fire to try and warm his cold body. Mucus attempted to leave his nose, which he quickly sniffled back in. As he brought the sword back to take a bite, he could hear the howl of wolves in the distance. The nobleman took a bite of his dinner and allowed the blood still within the kidney to gush in his mouth like most people would a snack cake.

The howls got closer as he ate, and his bloody knees quickly dried in the heat of the fire. He licked his lips to try and remove the remainder of the blood away. Defeat of the shark was another great test; with quick wits, he could overcome a much stronger opponent even in their element. He stood with a smile, a confidence about him that seemed to radiate. As he reached for some sand to douse the flames, he quickly paused.

“Howling’s stopped,” he noted as his glance shifted to the shore. Three wolves were now busily feasting away on the carcass of Ciato’s latest kill. “Away, vermin!” the Mystic ordered as if he were attempting to scare away rats from a slice of cheese. The heads of all three wolves rose and focused solely on the swordsman. They had found a new prey.

[Ciato Orlouge]

The wolves began to surround him, one to each side and what Ciato presumed was the alpha in the middle. The blood from the shark still dripped from the mouths of the beasts, and their growls were more than enough to send a normal man to the hills for safety. Ciato stood his ground and slowly reached for his blade, his eyes still upon the alpha male. He knew they would not let their dinner go. It would be a principle that the canines paid for with their lives.

“That is my kill you retched dogs,” Ciato spoke through grit teeth. His chick peeked its head out as if it thought its master was talking to him. He used his free hand to push the bird back into place. As he rearranged the baby avian, it managed to let a chirp of protest out. The small sound was enough for the wolves on his sides to strike.

They leapt towards the Mystic and forced him to charge straight toward the alpha. He heard the bodies behind him collide and whimper as he closed the gap between himself and the leader of the pack. His canine opponent reacted to this charge with one of his own, but the wise wolf jumped back once Ciato swiped his blade towards the face of the creature. Ciato paused and growled. These beasts were much cleverer than the flounder and the shark.

He screamed as he felt something sharp dig into his right shoulder. A mist of blue slew from his joints and the weight of the beast sent Ciato to the ground. He could hear the second wolf approach, its growl more and more audible. The alabaster bastard grimaced and grabbed the hilt of Asterodeia and jammed it behind himself. He could feel the body on top of him go limp instantly. The teeth in his shoulder released, and he scrambled up, his sword frantically pointed in the direction of either wolf.

“One down,” his breath grew heavy as his eyes darted between the remaining beasts, “two to go.”

[Ciato Orlouge]

The wolves drew first blood, and they seemed to know it. The corpse of their brethren at Ciato’s feet motivated the mongrels further. The non-alpha attacked first, and Ciato’s body reacted on instinct alone. As the beast leapt at him, the Mystic threw his right, unarmed hand up. The throat of the creature slammed into the forearm of the Mystic, and Ciato winced at the pressure upon his shoulder. The dog rolled backwards on the ground, and Ciato quickly followed suit.

He ran his sword through the eye of the wolf just as it began to rise once more. A whimper came from the throat of the mutt as it slumped against the dirt once again. Ciato turned to find the alpha now that the immediate threats were taken care of. The leader of the pack had other ideas, as it gained some momentum during Ciato’s chase. The beast tackled the Mystic and sent the two of them into the sand of the beach. A cloud of dust rose as Ciato brought his left hand up to stop the snapping of the creature’s mouth.

That’s when he realized his sword was still left in the alpha’s fallen pack mate.

His eyes widened; Mystic Protection would not work with the dog atop him, and most of the alabaster bastard’s techniques required Asterodeia in his hand. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, and as an idea popped into his head, he smiled in the face of imminent death.

Shadows swirled around his hand to form an ebony glove of sorts. Ciato laughed as the wolf let out a loud whine and pulled away from the Mystic. The nobleman looked at his shadow glove and smirked at the spike he had formed in to palm, the spike that now left a hole in the skin of the alpha’s mouth. There was an intense heat around the two combatants; somehow the battle brought them back towards Ciato’s fire. The Orlouge stood and waved his hand towards his canine opponent, the smug smile still on his face.

“Come mutt,” he said, “come to your death.”

The dog jumped towards him, and Ciato shifted to the right. As the wolf began to sail past him, he placed his spiked palm into the ribs of the dog. The creature moaned as Ciato slammed it down directly into the fire. The Mystic screamed as the flames lapped at his arm and turned his skin from white to tan to a charred black. The wolf twisted and turned as the beast of flame enveloped it. The stench of burnt hair permeated the air, and Ciato wished once again for the chill of the ocean.

It was not until the creature was motionless that Ciato pulled his arm back. His entire right arm up until the shoulder was covered in pus-filled blisters and black charred skin. He ran to the waters with a focused intensity, and quickly plunged his entire body into the waves embrace. He screamed into the night air as the cold water rushed over him. He suddenly realized why his mother always told him to use warm water for a burn rather than cold.

With a severely burnt arm, a bloodied shoulder, a bruised back and knees that were scabbed over, Ciato Orlouge stood and screamed once more, this time in utter rage.

The roar was returned by that of a bear, attracted to the larger fire created by the burning wolf.

“Just….bloody…..fantastic.” Ciato spoke with a sneer upon his features as he walked towards the new opponent.

[Ciato Orlouge]

He cautiously stepped towards the beast, who seemed much more preoccupied with a morbid scavenger hunt upon the corpses not in flames. Ciato sighed, and tried to roll his shoulders, only to feel the intense pain in both of them. His azure blood flowed down his arm, and his body inadvertently rocked back and forth as he got closer to the large mammal. The hand that was not a blackened shell of its former self began to swirl with shadow magic, a large sword of black created in an instant.

He did not get close enough to strike the bear, but instead made several swipes through the air. This was more than a test to see if he could still wield a weapon. Several lines were formed and disappeared into the air. The Mystic closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he got closer to the creature. Without any warning, he swiped his arm forward, and allowed his shadow sword to cut through some of the meat of the hefty animal.

The bear roared and turned around, already in the process of standing on its hind feet. It growled as it moved its paw back and swiped at the alabaster bastard. Ciato, no longer as agile as he was thirty minutes before, was struck by the massive limb and sent into the ocean. He felt his skin scrape against the mud underneath the waves, but he still stood. The cold water and air a constant reminder of his insane plan against the wolf.

The bear slowly approached, a bit cautious to get into the water at first. Ciato flicked his hand into the air and let water fly off of his digits. His slicked back white hair matted to his face, and the nobleman slowly began to approach his larger opponent once more.

The bear stood again, and as Ciato got close, the creature dropped. The bear’s large girth stopped however, as if entangled in a man sized spider web. Ciato grinned as he raised his shadow sword once more. The victory was his. “Checkmate, fool,” he said as he jammed the sword into the chest of the creature.

[Ciato Orlouge]

The next thing Ciato knew, the paw of the bear hit him once again, this time in the face. Blue blood flew into the night sky, as well as the crimson essence of the resilent bear. The Mystic’s form was doused in water once again, only this time the pale murderer was not ready for a counter attack. The nobleman’s arrogance was rewarded with a mouth and nose full of sea water.

He jolted out of the waves with a cough and the salty taste of the water left his form with a great haste. He could feel the congestion in his chest now, and his eyes blurred when he tried to look at the bear. The creature walked closer and Ciato’s vision grew fainter and fainter. It was only the attempted roost of his chick that jarred the alabaster bastard back into consciousness.

He shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up. At the same time, the gargantuan mammal swiped for a third time, the claw of the creature far enough away that it would most definitively deal a death blow to the marble skinned marvel. Ciato closed his eyes and smiled as though he accepted the fate brought before him. Killed by the wilderness the day before the Orders tournament. It was a respectable way to go.

Then, the air around him shattered. Ciato’s eyes opened as he looked to his furry foe. The bear appeared confused, and even more so when the atmosphere itself seemed to fracture and break around the Mystic. Ciato licked his lips as shards of glass formed around him in a snake like ‘S’ pattern.


“I want you to go into the orifice I created for you,” Ciato was surprised he could still speak full sentence, though each syllable caused spittles of blood to fly out of his mouth, “Be sure you’re not gentle with him.”

The glass reacted instantly, and snaked its way between the bear’s legs and into the large hole in its chest. The creature roared and swiped about, as though it were being attacked by a horde of wasps. The enduring animal rolled in the water and Ciato smiled as it tried to fight an opponent that was inside, presumably shredding its organs apart.

He fell back into the water, and hoped that if the bear survived, it would not be able to find his body on the sands.

[Ciato Orlouge]

His body woke up on the shore, his body face-up towards the veil of darkness. His eyes slowly opened up to look at the moon, though it was half-way towards dawn now. He could feel seaweed and other debris from the ocean wash on and off of his form. He sat up, his head a proverbial smiths hammer upon an anvil. He felt as if he had swallowed several gallons of water, and his stomach was not happy about it.

His gut gurgled and churned, and he leaned back into the water to release some of the contents of his meal. The chick managed to make its way out of his inner breast pocket and by his fire. The little thing slowly waddled over to its master upon seeing him awake. Ciato eyed his pet and discovered that it was completely dry.

“How long…” Ciato paused to once again regurgitate into the sea, “how long was I out for?”

The baby chicken merely chirped, which caused the Mystic to shake his head. Of course the avian could not answer him. He scooped up the chick and placed it back in his home. He stood up and stumbled towards the fire. The Mystics whole body ached, and he could feel his burnt arm pulsate as the pus leaked down the charred remains. Some of the blackness was chipped away, thanks to the minnows that nibbled at him in his sleep and he still hurt with every step he took.

The wolf that was once on fire was thoroughly cooked, though the rancid smell of its incenerated fur still wafted in the area. Ciato hacked and coughed on the stench while laying down to recover. The warmth of the fire comforted him, though it caused his damaged arm to feel as though it was once again on fire. The sand from the ground crept into his clothes, though the itchiness of the grains were nothing compared to how he currently felt.

He coughed again, a fit so hard he was forced to close his eyes. When he opened them, he found that he was looking at two large wings, and a lithe body. The figure seemed to descend upon him and blot out the moon itself.

“An angel…?”

As the form glided closer he saw that his assumption was wrong. Leathery, scaled wings, the head of a chicken, and the tail of a serpent all culminated to make one sinister monstrosity. It roared with the ferocity of a lion, something the Mystic thought such a head was incapable of.

“A cockatrice…” Ciato mumbled as he sat up and formed his shadow sword once more, “sure….why not?”

[Ciato Orlouge]

Ciato managed to pull himself up to his feet despite his body’s protests to do otherwise. He kept his gaze lowered so not to look at the man-sized creature directly. The Mystic knew that a cockatrice’s stare was rumored to turn people to stone, so long as they stared back into its ebony eyes. He followed the body of his opponent rather than the head, and attempted to charge with a horizontal, arc-like swing.

He did not feel his weapon tear across the hide of the beast but instead felt the heavy form of the animal as it slammed into his burnt arm. Ciato screamed curses into the night sky as he fell into the ground and created another veil of sandy dust. The cockatrice followed up its assault with a jump, its bird like talons atop Ciato’s smaller body. His eyes began to move towards the face of the legendary monster but he quickly shut them.

Claws tore into his open chest, and rivers of diamond colored blood flew into the air. The beast roared in a combination of what could only be described as a lion eating a chicken. The Mystic struggled to reach for something with his good arm, anything that would be useful. When he felt his palm on the cold steel of Asterodeia, still embedded in one of the wolves like a sword in a stone, he grinned. He gripped the sword and pools of blue left his hand as he withdrew the sharp weapon and attempted to stab at the avian adversary.

He missed.

His body grew too weak to even hold Asterodeia, and released its grip of the sword. The cockatrice saw this as an opportunity and began to claw at the injured arm of the Mystic. He screamed, he writhed, he learned exactly what the animals he killed this night felt when he held dominion over them. He could hear the swirl of magic as it began to flow from the beast’s body.

He could feel the talon grip his charred arm. Ciato’s mouth opened but no scream could leave him as the beast ripped his arm straight from its home on the nobleman’s body. Blood covered every inch of the alabaster bastard now, and he opened his eyes for a split second.

He saw his brothers laughing at a dinner table, his mother worried whenever he went on excursions for weeks on end, his father as he pummeled a younger version of the murderer into the ground. His whole life compacted into a seconds worth of time as his mind tried to ignore his own impending demise. He could hear the call of a rooster as everything began going black.

Then, there was nothing.

[Ciato Orlouge]

His eyes opened to two beady eyes staring at him, though they were much smaller than that of the cockatrice. His chick pecked at his face and chirped before it began to hop about his body. His head turned to assess his surroundings, and was shocked to find that he was now in a comfortable bed, pillows beneath him fluffed and sheets upon him unstained.

“This is…”

“Ixian Castle,” a voice entered the Mystic’s head and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, “we felt it better we bring you here than to your home. Our facilities were much better suited for what kind of operations you needed performed.”

He looked towards the door of his plain white room to see his brother, Sei Orlouge, approach. The orange haired Mystic walked softly, his face in a state of contorted sincerity and smugness. It was a face Ciato tolerated over the years, and a face he would once day see for a final time.

The elder Mystic growled as he sat up and caused his chick to tumble down to his legs. The alabaster bastard realized he was dressed in a nightgown, and that his arm was reattached, though there was a large scar at the shoulder. He felt dizzy, but did not feel any pain, which he found odd. He looked down towards his arm and found it connected to an IV, presumably pumping him full of Thaynes-Know-What to keep him from hurting.

“You saved me, Brother? “ Ciato’s brows rose, “Why would you do that? What do you have to gain from me living? How did I even get to your towers of arrogance when you have that infernal barrier in place?”

Sei raised a solitary hand up with a smile. Ciato wished so badly to wipe that smile off his little brother’s face. “Our barrier only applies to those who –can- do harm to Ixian Castle, which you were in no state to do when we found you. I brought you here because despite all you have done, you’re still my brother, I still love you, and I still believe there is good in you no matter how much wrong you do.”

Ciato hands balled into fists. He loathed Sei’s holier-than-thou attitude.

“And I was not your savior. You have your little friend to thank for that,” Sei’s eyes shifted towards the chick that was now busily hopping between its master’s kneecaps.

“Explain.”

“Of course,” Sei pulled up[ a chair and sat beside his kin, “you see, a cockatrice will fall to the ground dead if it hears the crow of a rooster. It’s a lesser known way to defeat the beast, but it is one that is very effective. I imagine it was a defense mechanism to keep roosters from becoming extinct. Cockatrices love being semi-cannibalistic.” Sei mused.

“Enough of your taunts, Brother,” Ciato said with a harsher tone on the last word, “Bring me my blade and I shall take my leave of you and your damnable Knights.”

Sei’s demeanor instantly changed, his face one of that who was forced to tell a loved one bad news. His eyes became droopy and his face seemed to sag. “Ciato, before I do that, there’s something you have to know about your Asterodeia…”

“What are you babbling about fool?!” Ciato’s fists began to tremble, “Bring. Me. My. Sword.”

Sei sighed and kneeled underneath his elder, rising back with what the demon’s blade had become. Asterodeia was still a rapier-like sword, though it’s blade not only had become winder, but was made of pure stone. Ciato’s eyes widened as he leapt at his brother from out of the bed, his IV ripped from his arm. He landed on Sei and grabbed the stone blade, pointing its tip at his kin.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!”

“Not I,” Sei remained on the ground and sighed, “the cockatrice. It appears as though it’s stone stare not only applies to people, but objects too. We didn’t realize when it fell, it’s eyes could still petrify, and it landed upon your weapon. It still cuts like it should, and it doesn’t seem to break when we slam it upon hard surfaces.”

“YOU USED MY WEAPON WITH YOUR FILTHY HAND!?” Ciato’s free hand came down and slammed his brother in the face. He stood up and growled. His chick hopped over to him and the Mystic quickly scooped him up. He took a deep breath for a moment before he began to walk out. “I thank you for reattaching my arm. I’ll forgive your transgressions today, little brother. Don’t let me catch you out in the open again.”

Sei stood and rubbed his bruised face, “Where are you going, Ciato?”

He looked back, his eyes still balls of fire and rage as he rose Asterodeia up like a general commanding an army. “I’m going to go get my clothes, and then I have an event to attend.”

And like that, the elder Orlouge was gone.

[Quentin Boone]

Ciato Orlouge receives:

639 EXP
An 'upgrade' of Asterodeia to stone, while being unbreakable and hitting with its current equivalent strength.
A cockatrice feather that bestows the ability to turn things to stone. Due to being a single feather, its power is limited to a single limb at a time.


Congratulations!

Please reference this post to confirm spoils as and when required. Be aware that usage of the cockatrice feather is locked until approval through the RoG.

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added.

Awaiting ROG Approval of Spoils.