01-10-2015, 01:17 AM
Cascading Resonance 3/3
It seemed she would now imitate a warrior!
Caira marveled at the man's armor, the similar adornment united the troops and made her recall she did not have her own aegis. This might prove to be a painful match, if she survived. The figure that had spoken to her, Omni, had said simply enough that she would not die, but she had been insubordinate to an authority figure here, perhaps picked by Omni himself, and this idea itself may just theorize her own destruction. This, she discerned, was a fight for her life. An air of bewilderment crested her thoughts, at her own willingness to fight to the death.
Fencing, she knew of the game. The game of warriors that was played with swords using the tool of wit. As she was too obdurate and unwilling to take back her words that she felt were, for the most part justified, even if she were perhaps, in the wrong. A hesitant breath exhaled from her lungs, this sporting joust which she would contend, was one which honor was at stake. She was willing to defend her own, as it somehow had played out that way.
The battle commenced, with a commensurate raising of ones' sword and her word, "Prêt." Immediately, her foe aggressively lunged for her Octave, which was guarded by her stance and loitering sword. When the clash of metal chimed together, Caira's eyes filled with an image- no, a memory. It clouded her eyes as her sightless muscles parried her opponent's lunge.
Despite this move being in her favor, her feet moved backwards in retreat, she looked around and she had evidently remained in the pearly room and, to her dismay, still in battle. Her eyes met his in disbelief, Is this a trick? she couldn't understand what was happening to her, these flashes of memory surrounded her. There wasn't time to play the series of events back out in her head to comprise an answer, because the foe charged for her with a riposte. CLANK she heard her own sword disengage his, but before her eyes a scene that did not resemble where her consciousness knew she was. In battle.
The experience was rather disjointing, as the retrospection unraveled, so did the ebb and flow of the duel. For some reason at the rumpus of the swords connecting, the flashes of her past were sparked, whilst the battle still remained fluent. It escaped her how she was to win in this inauspicious circumstance. But continued with her best as she planted her toes in and lunged scoring a touch in his Sword Arm where images cut in, and enwrapped her.
Caira was unable to hold her victory as his riposte skimmed over her skin with weak force to her Quarte, her body dodged but not acutely enough, and her mind was launched elsewhere once more.
This battle had become one against herself, it was so good of a tactic, she had to believe it was intentionally from List. "Did you see that?" She asked him, at this point she was hoping the interruption of images were a trick, the memories that returned to her stung with remnants of battles lost and won, fragmented with adventures and orphans, and weighed remorsefully on her heart with survival and death. All fragments of her own history returned, despite knowing where she stood, nor feeling any pain from the small cut dividing her clavicle. After landing this blow he mentioned, "It's foul game to speak in a duel Ayryn, I don't care if you are a bounty hunter or a soldier." The man had no clue of the anamnesis she had referred to, and it was evident he did not see her memories, but merely caused them (with his initiated movement) to spawn before her eyes.
Keep count! She instructed herself, divided into two worlds, and felt another hit, this time the blade grazed her Septime.
Two out of Three, torso. At this rate she was soon destined to loose, and it wasn't hard to see, with Caira's eyes distant and her stance's foundation being the only thing to respond in battle, built on response and instinct alone. It wouldn't last much longer if she was unable to sense the next move coming, with her own memories creating a wave that undermined her thoughts and overwhelmed her keen senses.
Improvise! she mandated, and within the second, created a blindfold after ripping off a sleeve. The opponent she could no longer see, growled, "You are down two Core touches, are you mocking me?" This time, her actions had not been to disrespect him, or retaliate against him, but were necessary to keep up any game she had left.
She could now anticipate his next move. His tactical strategy was based on aggression -however admirable- now, she could easily predict where his next strike would touch.
Caira's perception of the match had rigorously changed. Suddenly, the fluctuation of List's advances seemed to become poky and slow, while she became swift and concise and began to anticipate the attack with pristine clarity. She could hear his feet shift, due to his noisy armor. Her blow fell again on the same sword arm, this time cutting through armor, delivering a flesh wound and presumably partially inhibiting his swordsmanship ability.
This limitation would impede the motion and agility of his revolving sword, and though images of her past came, they were not as powerful to block her cognition of his next incoming attack. She lunged and planted a parrying touch on his Octave. He riposted, but did not land a touch. She then hit is Septime as she disengaged his movement. Suddenly images flashed and she recounted how she had come upon this place. A cognizance was struck. I'm really here.
List lunged too fast for himself and his balance faltered and was lost, while Caira dodged and gasped as a memory of her planet becoming overrun with meteorites filled her with anguish and despair. They can't all be dead.. she thought while her free fist clenched at her side with its knuckles fading into white.
Her foe regained his balance while she was distracted. There was a pause in the silence and absence of movement. They were tied. Even. Equals. However Caira's advantage grew as a rekindled flame ignited within her, the reminiscence sparked a fire that thirsted for vendetta, one that was unable to be quenched with any assuage; this smoldering desire for vengeance elicited within her was something a monk would never desire, but a bounty hunter might.
Their swords met, both leaned in with their power and strength as they attempted to subjugate their opponent for the last time. On her muscles, a pressure shifted, it retracted and Caira astutely gaged the reaction of her enemy by the tense and subtle flow of his sword. Behind her blindfold, her closed eyes recalled the garbled black mass she had been stranded in before she met the cascade of the fountain and the light from the dazzling white room. It was the same darkness that had kept her from saving the ones she cared for.
Caira relinquished as List's arm grew tired. Her stance swiftly drew back as she landed a subversive move that ended the match. He lost his footing, her sword swept across his Sixte shoulder and landed a fraction from his neck. A move that would have landed on his jugular had she not at the last second, relinquished the force held on the sword.
He had been defeated. But Caira had now won a meaningless victory. He seemed surprised when she removed the sword from his shoulder, and that the battle didn't end in his death. But with the defeat of his honor. To her, nothing could compare to the helplessness that encumbered her, and deluged her in emotion. The blindfold she had fastened, had loosened during each movement and now lightly drifted onto the ground. Her vision was speckled, she saw in patches of light; curriculum vitae freshly recounted in her thoughts yet entified behind purblind darkness, would become nothing more than a vestige of her fading past.
A fear now revealed itself, and she descried that she did not belong here, yet it may prove she was destined to become a constituent all the more. Her honor paled in comparison to her hopeless fear of meaningless death.
...
As Leader List treated his wound, he went over to his opponent out of goodwill. "Well Bounty Hunter, you bested me, and earned your guerdon, but first let's fix up your wounds." His spirit had transformed, so had his demeanor; he was perhaps better in failure and renewed with a greater sense of perspective. A polar opposite of Caira, whom now became denatured into the worst she could be, interred with engrossing dismay. (Though honor and life were two very different things.)
Her posture aligned, her eyes had slipped into a pale silver from repressing the painful the surges of memories, and her own sense of sight. His eyes fell on her wounds, her silver blood had commenced healing itself. But he still offered his assistance.
"You don't owe me anything." She said with a toneless sigh as her eyes locked on the ground while her expression sunk with despair, which List couldn't understand because she claimed the victory. Still, she could learn yet, how to rebound from failure, even if it were the one she revered as the most horrific.
Meanwhile, Caira's thoughts tasted a reproachful pain, regret. I'm unable to recompense with the past, with too many questions remaining unanswered and the exigency of the answers could not be of a higher priority. Why were asteroids sent to destroy all that she knew? Who, provoked thus attack on her home? How did she end up on the front lines of the first brigade? And what about her parents? How did she get to this exact moment in time and space? These were questions only Omni might have the answer to. The concatenation between these events- an attenuated thread- would sooner or later be found out. She would then discover the consequence of searching for it.
With the means of her own capabilities, pertinacity, incentive, and the willingness of her own enmity to perhaps do one of the most dangerous things imaginable. She was ready to sacrifice everything and braced herself to convert her soul in order for her answers to be pursued. Driven by the animosity of a vendetta to avenge all she had lost, and being the last alive to achieve the feat, she quested one day to crown it all.
Her vengeance may one day allow her brethren to rest in peace. She would hunt them, and only them, for the purpose of personal bounty on their head. Whoever had done this to her 'kin' would pay. And maybe, just maybe, they were in this very Verse.
"Hm? Well, you won the match, and I am a man of my word, though I don't have much to offer you on a soldier's salary." List offered, somehow still jovial in his failure, and respecting his victor. She turned to him then, "You paid off your debt to me whether you know it or not." He then requested for her to not soil his pride in front of his men.
"I'll tell you how you can pay me back. Offer me a tour of Camelot, List."
...
A few things occurred before they were on their way through the Nexus. Caira overheard a Secondary that was new to List's party, and someone else talking about how to conjure Omnilium step by step, and that it was disappointing that Secondaries had not met Omni personally.
Moments later List requested she create her own steed and asked why she had not repaired her attire. Caira cringed. His questions confounded her because she had no manual to begin with.
After a few minutes of thinking about a new sleeve for her right arm, and picturing a replacement sleeve, a gauntlet of white steel appeared, forming out of an elusive energy bubble. The gauntlet of pristine quality connected to the binds of her attire that was left. She blinked. This didn't match. White gauntlet of armor against a relatively black attire. She frowned. But there wasn't enough time to fix that now, the party had begun mounting.
Next she looked at the fountain and felt a strong correspondence to the flowing of water. Focusing for a few moments, in her hands formed a small circular beaker, she dipped it in, and later corked it. But she would not take and leave nothing behind. In her pocket she dug out the last remnant she had of home, a beautiful picture, half torn and with many creases in the papyrus from use and adoration. She dropped it in the Fountain of Infinity, though she did not know of its name at the time, and stared at the bead of water in the glass, she held it elevated in her hands before securing it.
Lastly, before she was ready to leave, she decided to summon a book. She rather enjoyed infinity at her fingertips, and savored the possibility that something more might come from her abdication here than despair.
It took a few minutes but, it appeared before her and because she had not wanted the others to peer over her shoulder, she encrypted it. Only someone related to her could pick it up and read it, on the cover, past the title, it described "If you can read this, I'm in the Omniverse too." And the contents within, were what she would read as she traveled to the gate. All the things she didn't get briefed on with her strange arrival.
List inclined at her strangely, "You're going to read and walk to the gate? What about a horse for yourself?"
Caira simply explained that there were more important things (like knowledge before arriving at the gate), while trotting onward for some time. And her eyes widened as they trailed the last words on the page. She could summon parts of her world back, if it wasn't destroyed. Instilled with a renewed sense of hope she paused mid step, and idled behind the swift legion of soldiers. She gritted her teeth at the realization, if they weren't alive, would she bring them back from the dead? Their slumber? Necromancy of the Undead was not something she had any information on.
It was almost too much for her as she sauntered nearing the gate, she had finished with the book, and placed it beside the portal. She had no use for it, and the content had been read. She felt she had established a minimal basis on the Verse before her. Camelot awaited.
(from Nexus to Camelot)
It seemed she would now imitate a warrior!
Caira marveled at the man's armor, the similar adornment united the troops and made her recall she did not have her own aegis. This might prove to be a painful match, if she survived. The figure that had spoken to her, Omni, had said simply enough that she would not die, but she had been insubordinate to an authority figure here, perhaps picked by Omni himself, and this idea itself may just theorize her own destruction. This, she discerned, was a fight for her life. An air of bewilderment crested her thoughts, at her own willingness to fight to the death.
Fencing, she knew of the game. The game of warriors that was played with swords using the tool of wit. As she was too obdurate and unwilling to take back her words that she felt were, for the most part justified, even if she were perhaps, in the wrong. A hesitant breath exhaled from her lungs, this sporting joust which she would contend, was one which honor was at stake. She was willing to defend her own, as it somehow had played out that way.
The battle commenced, with a commensurate raising of ones' sword and her word, "Prêt." Immediately, her foe aggressively lunged for her Octave, which was guarded by her stance and loitering sword. When the clash of metal chimed together, Caira's eyes filled with an image- no, a memory. It clouded her eyes as her sightless muscles parried her opponent's lunge.
Despite this move being in her favor, her feet moved backwards in retreat, she looked around and she had evidently remained in the pearly room and, to her dismay, still in battle. Her eyes met his in disbelief, Is this a trick? she couldn't understand what was happening to her, these flashes of memory surrounded her. There wasn't time to play the series of events back out in her head to comprise an answer, because the foe charged for her with a riposte. CLANK she heard her own sword disengage his, but before her eyes a scene that did not resemble where her consciousness knew she was. In battle.
The experience was rather disjointing, as the retrospection unraveled, so did the ebb and flow of the duel. For some reason at the rumpus of the swords connecting, the flashes of her past were sparked, whilst the battle still remained fluent. It escaped her how she was to win in this inauspicious circumstance. But continued with her best as she planted her toes in and lunged scoring a touch in his Sword Arm where images cut in, and enwrapped her.
Caira was unable to hold her victory as his riposte skimmed over her skin with weak force to her Quarte, her body dodged but not acutely enough, and her mind was launched elsewhere once more.
This battle had become one against herself, it was so good of a tactic, she had to believe it was intentionally from List. "Did you see that?" She asked him, at this point she was hoping the interruption of images were a trick, the memories that returned to her stung with remnants of battles lost and won, fragmented with adventures and orphans, and weighed remorsefully on her heart with survival and death. All fragments of her own history returned, despite knowing where she stood, nor feeling any pain from the small cut dividing her clavicle. After landing this blow he mentioned, "It's foul game to speak in a duel Ayryn, I don't care if you are a bounty hunter or a soldier." The man had no clue of the anamnesis she had referred to, and it was evident he did not see her memories, but merely caused them (with his initiated movement) to spawn before her eyes.
Keep count! She instructed herself, divided into two worlds, and felt another hit, this time the blade grazed her Septime.
Two out of Three, torso. At this rate she was soon destined to loose, and it wasn't hard to see, with Caira's eyes distant and her stance's foundation being the only thing to respond in battle, built on response and instinct alone. It wouldn't last much longer if she was unable to sense the next move coming, with her own memories creating a wave that undermined her thoughts and overwhelmed her keen senses.
Improvise! she mandated, and within the second, created a blindfold after ripping off a sleeve. The opponent she could no longer see, growled, "You are down two Core touches, are you mocking me?" This time, her actions had not been to disrespect him, or retaliate against him, but were necessary to keep up any game she had left.
She could now anticipate his next move. His tactical strategy was based on aggression -however admirable- now, she could easily predict where his next strike would touch.
Caira's perception of the match had rigorously changed. Suddenly, the fluctuation of List's advances seemed to become poky and slow, while she became swift and concise and began to anticipate the attack with pristine clarity. She could hear his feet shift, due to his noisy armor. Her blow fell again on the same sword arm, this time cutting through armor, delivering a flesh wound and presumably partially inhibiting his swordsmanship ability.
This limitation would impede the motion and agility of his revolving sword, and though images of her past came, they were not as powerful to block her cognition of his next incoming attack. She lunged and planted a parrying touch on his Octave. He riposted, but did not land a touch. She then hit is Septime as she disengaged his movement. Suddenly images flashed and she recounted how she had come upon this place. A cognizance was struck. I'm really here.
List lunged too fast for himself and his balance faltered and was lost, while Caira dodged and gasped as a memory of her planet becoming overrun with meteorites filled her with anguish and despair. They can't all be dead.. she thought while her free fist clenched at her side with its knuckles fading into white.
Her foe regained his balance while she was distracted. There was a pause in the silence and absence of movement. They were tied. Even. Equals. However Caira's advantage grew as a rekindled flame ignited within her, the reminiscence sparked a fire that thirsted for vendetta, one that was unable to be quenched with any assuage; this smoldering desire for vengeance elicited within her was something a monk would never desire, but a bounty hunter might.
Their swords met, both leaned in with their power and strength as they attempted to subjugate their opponent for the last time. On her muscles, a pressure shifted, it retracted and Caira astutely gaged the reaction of her enemy by the tense and subtle flow of his sword. Behind her blindfold, her closed eyes recalled the garbled black mass she had been stranded in before she met the cascade of the fountain and the light from the dazzling white room. It was the same darkness that had kept her from saving the ones she cared for.
Caira relinquished as List's arm grew tired. Her stance swiftly drew back as she landed a subversive move that ended the match. He lost his footing, her sword swept across his Sixte shoulder and landed a fraction from his neck. A move that would have landed on his jugular had she not at the last second, relinquished the force held on the sword.
He had been defeated. But Caira had now won a meaningless victory. He seemed surprised when she removed the sword from his shoulder, and that the battle didn't end in his death. But with the defeat of his honor. To her, nothing could compare to the helplessness that encumbered her, and deluged her in emotion. The blindfold she had fastened, had loosened during each movement and now lightly drifted onto the ground. Her vision was speckled, she saw in patches of light; curriculum vitae freshly recounted in her thoughts yet entified behind purblind darkness, would become nothing more than a vestige of her fading past.
A fear now revealed itself, and she descried that she did not belong here, yet it may prove she was destined to become a constituent all the more. Her honor paled in comparison to her hopeless fear of meaningless death.
...
As Leader List treated his wound, he went over to his opponent out of goodwill. "Well Bounty Hunter, you bested me, and earned your guerdon, but first let's fix up your wounds." His spirit had transformed, so had his demeanor; he was perhaps better in failure and renewed with a greater sense of perspective. A polar opposite of Caira, whom now became denatured into the worst she could be, interred with engrossing dismay. (Though honor and life were two very different things.)
Her posture aligned, her eyes had slipped into a pale silver from repressing the painful the surges of memories, and her own sense of sight. His eyes fell on her wounds, her silver blood had commenced healing itself. But he still offered his assistance.
"You don't owe me anything." She said with a toneless sigh as her eyes locked on the ground while her expression sunk with despair, which List couldn't understand because she claimed the victory. Still, she could learn yet, how to rebound from failure, even if it were the one she revered as the most horrific.
Meanwhile, Caira's thoughts tasted a reproachful pain, regret. I'm unable to recompense with the past, with too many questions remaining unanswered and the exigency of the answers could not be of a higher priority. Why were asteroids sent to destroy all that she knew? Who, provoked thus attack on her home? How did she end up on the front lines of the first brigade? And what about her parents? How did she get to this exact moment in time and space? These were questions only Omni might have the answer to. The concatenation between these events- an attenuated thread- would sooner or later be found out. She would then discover the consequence of searching for it.
With the means of her own capabilities, pertinacity, incentive, and the willingness of her own enmity to perhaps do one of the most dangerous things imaginable. She was ready to sacrifice everything and braced herself to convert her soul in order for her answers to be pursued. Driven by the animosity of a vendetta to avenge all she had lost, and being the last alive to achieve the feat, she quested one day to crown it all.
Her vengeance may one day allow her brethren to rest in peace. She would hunt them, and only them, for the purpose of personal bounty on their head. Whoever had done this to her 'kin' would pay. And maybe, just maybe, they were in this very Verse.
"Hm? Well, you won the match, and I am a man of my word, though I don't have much to offer you on a soldier's salary." List offered, somehow still jovial in his failure, and respecting his victor. She turned to him then, "You paid off your debt to me whether you know it or not." He then requested for her to not soil his pride in front of his men.
"I'll tell you how you can pay me back. Offer me a tour of Camelot, List."
...
A few things occurred before they were on their way through the Nexus. Caira overheard a Secondary that was new to List's party, and someone else talking about how to conjure Omnilium step by step, and that it was disappointing that Secondaries had not met Omni personally.
Moments later List requested she create her own steed and asked why she had not repaired her attire. Caira cringed. His questions confounded her because she had no manual to begin with.
After a few minutes of thinking about a new sleeve for her right arm, and picturing a replacement sleeve, a gauntlet of white steel appeared, forming out of an elusive energy bubble. The gauntlet of pristine quality connected to the binds of her attire that was left. She blinked. This didn't match. White gauntlet of armor against a relatively black attire. She frowned. But there wasn't enough time to fix that now, the party had begun mounting.
Next she looked at the fountain and felt a strong correspondence to the flowing of water. Focusing for a few moments, in her hands formed a small circular beaker, she dipped it in, and later corked it. But she would not take and leave nothing behind. In her pocket she dug out the last remnant she had of home, a beautiful picture, half torn and with many creases in the papyrus from use and adoration. She dropped it in the Fountain of Infinity, though she did not know of its name at the time, and stared at the bead of water in the glass, she held it elevated in her hands before securing it.
Lastly, before she was ready to leave, she decided to summon a book. She rather enjoyed infinity at her fingertips, and savored the possibility that something more might come from her abdication here than despair.
It took a few minutes but, it appeared before her and because she had not wanted the others to peer over her shoulder, she encrypted it. Only someone related to her could pick it up and read it, on the cover, past the title, it described "If you can read this, I'm in the Omniverse too." And the contents within, were what she would read as she traveled to the gate. All the things she didn't get briefed on with her strange arrival.
List inclined at her strangely, "You're going to read and walk to the gate? What about a horse for yourself?"
Caira simply explained that there were more important things (like knowledge before arriving at the gate), while trotting onward for some time. And her eyes widened as they trailed the last words on the page. She could summon parts of her world back, if it wasn't destroyed. Instilled with a renewed sense of hope she paused mid step, and idled behind the swift legion of soldiers. She gritted her teeth at the realization, if they weren't alive, would she bring them back from the dead? Their slumber? Necromancy of the Undead was not something she had any information on.
It was almost too much for her as she sauntered nearing the gate, she had finished with the book, and placed it beside the portal. She had no use for it, and the content had been read. She felt she had established a minimal basis on the Verse before her. Camelot awaited.
(from Nexus to Camelot)
![[Image: mqdefault.jpg]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/yEac52Ck_1A/mqdefault.jpg)