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No title.
(2013-11-21 - Now)
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Rakassa Rohy was an immense varg, of mass seldom seen by anyone, of any race inside the World of Ruin, who decidedly possessed grizzled fur from many years of enduring whatever life had to hurl before his path. But more a marvel were his athletic attributes than physical traits only to be held accountable by their aesthetic, than the former, for the retainer's bulk belied his true might, which far exceeded even that of the proportions that one might behold merely by casting their gaze his way, combined with ignorance to his array of long past, or else recent deed. One such exhibition was to be witnessed in his ability to've evidently trounced an Mtek knight of noteworthy renown, crowned with the name 'Cadence Rhiannis', who was already tiered at the rank of colonel, even at just the ripe age of her final year before she would enter a third of one prosperous century, to which could be ascribed her. Other persons of remarkable merit had been subdued by his decree,and done so at personal intervals when Rohy had been afforded duels by his captives, who were rejuvenated so they could engage him in a fair fence, which might've been all the more emboldened on their part by way of his promise to grant emancipation were they to fell him during the course of their altercations. No such luck for any, nay-- not Morgan, not the raven-haired lass named Cadence, neither Rahze, the redheaded Mtek, or Vohstras Engress, a personal favorite of Rakassa's, who was more prodigious in his promise of ascent towards Shadow-Lordship than Queegmaa, her less adept at warfare, and more capable at treacherous conniving that lent him to her seedy, and underhanded chores requiring subtlety, as opposed to force. Vohstras was just a warrant-officer, and subordinate within Cadence's company, while yet being every bit her peer in martiality, albeit, not so in etiquette, or in leadership aptness. So it was on this day that Rohy had battered Vohstras in single-combat to the last ounce of the Mtek's strength, until yield came by way of hamstring, upon being revived with a Fenix-Down, an invaluable product native to the World of Balance, his body had been subject to Rohy's passions; the takeo, the dark samurai known as Rohy was merciless in his pursuit of degrading, and obliterating one's wit, until such time that they'd resemble a mere husk of their former selves, every dignity, every shred of pride torn away from their inner sanctum, at which point the clay would be prepared for some tolerable manner of molding. Three weeks had it taken for him to shatter Cadence, the indigo-maned woman of vast respectability, and while he hadn't yet destroyed her in finality, and absolute entirety, his relentless arguments followed in close proximity by ravishing infringements on her body had availed to him a more vulnerable, impressionable woman who'd been steeled by decades of exhausting program by the less enigmatic, besides more militaristic tutors of Vector, who'd instilled in her a straight-forward, but still pregnable ideology which merely required that an asura of mind-bender could inflict, given nigh a month of unending pressure deflowering both soul, alongside well-toned, and gorgeous anatomy. The defilement of Cadence was a blend of both business and pleasure, whereas resorting to the desecration of Vohstras' frame was done with some reluctance, given that Rohy wasn't particularly partial towards male plunder, yet.... 'breaking' the spirit often meant undermining the vessel that carried it, thus, so did Rohy feel obligated to employ the same punishment to Vohstras whilst violating him in every way conceivable, as he'd done to the Mtek's superior officer, who had taken considerable labor just to turn her into a quasi-putty, whereas just a few days of nudging provoked budge, encouraging Rohy's sundering of what was ripe for the picking!
Rakassa Silently, Rohy held a chain that was coiled several times around his own arm, leading backwards to a slumped over creature who looked to be necrotic in appearance, given how dismantled his demeanor was in physical and psychological disposition-- ergo, the prisoner being led by Rohy, the insidious ronin, offered no resistance, for rebellion was fruitless, and he knew it in totality, without a reasonable shred of doubt as to the matter. His mouth had a metal band wrapped around to the back of his neck, akin to a gag if not a more sturdy, industrial version designed for the express purpose of muzzling even something with jaws able to gnaw through wood, or some brands of stone. He had a robotic arm, prosthesis, which looked to be powered-down, and without energy, beyond the organic one that was inherent to his birth, besides a set of cutaneous horns jutting from his forehead, making him look like all but a demon, who was not so diabolic that he was able to deflect the onslaught brought by his captor, the pitiless bushi known as Rohy. Both of Vohstras' arms were clamped behind him, and with deliberation-- he was to be brought to the place where he kept his other 'would-be pupil' that was being retrained, and Rohy knew that some folk in the world at large were trained in the language of the mute; sign. With hands before, and a pair of lips, one could communicate to try and solicit comfort, or even empathy from a fellow victimized.... but with no means of idea transmission, neither Rohy's former marytyr, nor Vohstras himself could communicate, and reclaim some morsel of fortitude with which to fight him, in mind, word, or body. Rohy yanked the chain as he entered the fissure of the chasm, which would lead to his other prey, which included the three other cell-mates. All of them were gagged, but the ones who hadn't yet been bulldozed into oblivion may or may not've had their hands manacled towards the regionof their backsides, since being remotely sadistic in persona, the wicked eastern warrior might've saw fit to allow them to still communicate with hands, alleging they knew craft of sign, so that they could try and hold limited discourse with one another, while in the company of two despairing souls who'd naught to allow them to offer assurance or have it offered, being devoid of hope, in conjunction with the fact that they could only fathom at what horrors the 'untouched' folk were left to the imagination thereof, and feel all the more sorrow for being able to bring no solace to those who were yet to be spoiled......
Morgan Albaste By now the low pain of having her arms pulled back for so very, very long has been added to the 'do not care' list in Cadence's tormented mind. This alone is a 'feat' as the Dragoon was never one to flippantly say -- to /anyone/ -- ... 'I don't care'. Cadence does not do apathy very well but in this case, such a destitute emotion serves as a relief. She needn't feel a thing... it's all up to her willpower at this point to simply 'blank out'.

To look at the once illustrious lady Dragoon is to see a defeated woman. The strength and fire that she wielded against Rohy, in the earlier days of her incarceration, have deserted her. Cadence looks wan and miserable; her armor is gone and the underclothes that served to protect her skin from chafing are all that remain to her as she sits shackled alongside other prisoners. Even these feeble scraps of clothing are worn out, and it's by sheer miracle that the woman's modesty is intact.. but only barely.

Head down, tousled hair hiding her face, Cadence continues to kneel complacently with her arms cinched cruelly behind her back. It's as if she /knows/ her tormentor is approaching, because suddenly her battered body tenses and tries to arch forward, as if to curl into a ball. However, her restraints prevent even that... Cadence cannot even make herself smaller to hide from Rohy. She hasn't even the energy to chide herself for being so scared.

There is someone manacled beside the defeated Dragoon, it seems... and to see /this/ particular woman is to see a soul that has not yet been subjected to the horrors that Cadence has experienced. While the indigo-haired woman's arms are behind her back, the Elf who settles adjacent has her hands cinched in front of her body, resting in her lap. Morgan Albaste's attire has held up far better as her captivity has only lasted a week thus far.

... and Rohy has not yet accosted her with his sadistic techniques of subjugation. Any attempts, Morgan has been able to weather; at first by way of her magic. That was helpful until, of course, her captors found a way to Silence that formidable defense. Were the Elf to be approached again, she would have less of a chance to fight back...

Morgan's eyes flit sideward to Cadence, and she thinks sadly to herself: 'I will not be broken like that.. I cannot. That poor, poor woman...'

She will die before that disgusting creature touches her. Somehow, she /will/..
Morgan Albaste "My lady," Morgan utters softly in her throat to Cadence, her heart paining for her. Cadence does not look at her outright, but the Dragoon's hung head tilts ever-so slightly in the Elf mage's direction. Morgan leans forth a bit, her tangle of black tresses hanging over her shoulders; coupled with her gray eyes, her mane lends to her a rather fierce, attractive look. Were Cadence and Morgan to be seen side-by-side in better days, one would think them to be sisters.. until seeing the difference in their ears. Now, however, Morgan's vitality far outweighs Cadence's.

"We will live, I promise. once we are free, I will help you.. you and your friend. I promise. Even the blackest marks can be erased..." Morgan tries to reassure the fallen woman.

Cadence responds with the faintest of sniffles, and says nothing.

At this point Rohy arrives, toting his chain-bound bounty, Morgan quickly pivots her head to face the beast and immediately, feels rage trickle into her stomach. If only she could wield her magic; bestow the weakness to Darkness upon Rohy's foul carcass and, with the rage that she feels and has /felt/ for a week now... oh, what she could cast. Just once. Payback for how he jipped her out of much-needed coin; for what he has done to these soldiers. Morgan just wants ONE shot... she doesn't even care about getting back what was originally hers. Rohy has screwed Morgan out of over a month's worth of wages; the bushi appealed to the master seamstress for a massive commission, only to take what he sought and pay the Elf not a scrap of gil. Not only did Morgan lose out on payment, but the time taken to look after Rohy prevented her from looking after other customers.

All she can hear in her mind are the cries of the female Dragoon, during the times that the bushi had..... ugh.

Morgan, who has much to say, chooses to say little at this juncture. Saying 'lots' was what got Cadence in trouble, and the Elf does not want to attract /that/ attention just yet. Not until she determines a means through which to access her spells. She stares hard at Rohy and his captives.... and her eyes should say it all. Stark, fierce.... and if looks could kill, Morgan's gaze would cast Ultima. Rohy shall find the Elf to be none-too-open to conversation, should he engage her. No; Morgan must conserve her strength and safety... and then mayhaps the Fates will give her a shot. But she must be careful.

There is only that deep, seething anger that is writ across every fine-boned feature.
Rakassa Beyond human, and beyond varg, Rohy had long since transcended(or descended) into a new category reserved for very few foul wretches who defied the light in every possible way, which might've served as a subtle reminder to Morgan what exactly one /could/ become if they endorsed the darkness too deeply; however, when gone to excess, one may not even necessarily require darkness as a prerequisite to become sanctified by the diabolical alignment. Inverted so far that he was practically back to the side of normal after a three-hundred and sixty degree twist, it was easily arguable that this particular being had surpassed even Rakassa in his caliber of perversity, alas..... a thousand or more years of sinister introspection had turned him into what he was, and with a millenium under the Shadow Lord's belt, it was entirely possible she might match the bent mind of the one known as Rohy; albeit, not so bent that he was unable to connive, and calculate, which was precisely how he'd kept ahead of Arch Admiral Rakassa for a decade or more, in spite of the fact that she had a third of an empire at her disposal, being the very highest tiered naval officer of Vector.
Rakassa He had something else at his disposal that made him more hideous in his mode of warping life's otherwise tolerable experience, for those who lived it-- the Oni-Yoroi. At one point, he'd harbored all the pieces, but now, the hell-hound humanoid only possessed two pieces.

Still, he'd had such a head start that now even deprived of the talismans, that as of the current moment, the corrupt retainer had in his employ many vast powers he could yoke without additional hand-outs, which had lent to him the fortitude it took to tackle Vohstra, Cadence, Rahze, all simultaneously..... Morgan came along quite later on in the timeline, so by then, Rohy had healed up. "I gather they are becoming desperate to track me down if the collective of Vector saw fit to dispatch the best of the army, navy, and air-force to do the job. In your respective fields, all of you are without equal, and if I do say so, myself, I estimate that I'll still be in recovery for a spell....." which was an undeniable reality-- the amount of stamina he expended couldn't be replenished by simply sleeping in a tent for a night, thus, even as most of his wounds had healed, his actual supply of energy had been demolished by the encounter with all of Vector's best, save General Leo himself, who was a notch higher in the terrestrial branch of the Vectorite military, placing General Rahze a little bit below him, and mayhap below Celes, as well, while Cadence was one of the top-of-the-line IAF Mteks, specifically trained in skyward lancing for aerial strikes. Making certain that Vohstra, in his mentally ruined state, couldn't /physically/ liberate himself, by securing him as Cadence to the totality, Rohy took a whiff of the air in the cavern, and peered backwards over his shoulder, knowing that something was afoot; a canine's sense of smell could not be deceived, plus, the enhancement he'd had through the centuries had made him an utter sentinel, allowing him to detect anything within the range that a demi-god could possibly feel.
Rakassa He knew he had company, although his company wasn't aware that he was on to their presence. With everything stripped of Cadence but her very soul, Rohy had little worry that she would attempt a stunt, and now.... her former romantic interest Vohstra had been robbed of his dignity, strongly negating the contingent that he'd make a try for escape, or resistance. Of them all, Rohy knew Cadence Rhiannis had owned the mightiest willpower, which deliberately why he'd taken the initiative to break her first, before the others could know what they were going to be subjected to; in this way, Cadence couldn't steel herself by resolving to choose death before dishonor, since she couldn't've had time or knowledge to prepare for Rohy's advances until they'd already befallen her! Bowing to Morgan, Rohy remarks, "....Offhandedly.... I should note that, just in case you happen to be wondering, I did not cheat you."

He grinned toothily, all has sharp fangs shimmering before her, "You see, Miss Alabaste..... As you recall, our contract stated that I was to be provided with a fleece of a Tyrannosaur. When I received the hide that you'd sent to me in the crate that came into my custody, I found that the very tip of the tail had withered and detached, thus generating an annulment of our agreement; I in no way said that I wanted ninety-five percent of a Trexaur hide, and your ice magic had caused frostbite that had damaged the goods." He paces back and forth as he explains,
Rakassa "Ergo, I decided to view the package as a donation on your end. You see.... I do recognize that you attached a note claiming that you'd pay the difference, yet, our original pact did not stipulate that I be obligated to modify the price in the event of minor damage to the article.... just if it attained 'serious' damage, which was a little.... technicality you overlooked, in your eagerness to oblige a man in need." Rohy smirked cruelly, "With no /prior/ authorization on my end to be of the mind to -need- to reimburse you for 'very mildly damaged goods', it was within my power to volunteer to decline your offer, however, with the fleece already in my possession, it was thus, mine to do with as I pleased."

The corrupt ronin paused in stride, "I did not feel like sacrificing a shipping fee to send it back, and.... I had no desire to fritter away more of my time in order to make more 'agreeable' arrangements that were mutually beneficial, so, yes.... I kept it, and I did not pay you a single coin. You should.... really.... consider that when you send someone something in the mail, and it isn't viably applicable to a working contract, that technically..... it becomes their property, I think, Miss Alabaste." He taps the side of his cheek, "Now.... as to why you were snooping around in my campsite when Phrego found you, according to my subordinates who interrogated you-- it was a mission of retaliation. You were going to report my location to the local authorities of Vector, so you could collect the bounty, yes? That would have more than covered what I 'allegedly' stiffed you out of, by a mile or more. You would have been set for life..... alas, now, the life that's in store for you will either be an unpleasantly long one, or an excessively short one, because..... I am going to get my value out of you, one way or another. I do not care if I have to ravage your body, dead or alive. And.... as a varg, you must know I am carnivorous, so after that, I will eat you raw. I wouldn't think of cooking you, and drying out your meat."
Rakassa Following this, Rohy exited the cavern, and penetrated the Phantom Forest daringly, seemingly unafraid of being attacked by anything undead, for whatever reason. Eventually, he came to a clearing, and paused, torquing his head over his shoulder to look behind him, remarking, "Flanking somebody is dishonorable. There are no samurai amongst you, I know that much.... and one of you....." he raised his head and sniffed a little harder, " of you, I know for certain, to be a coward. One's company speaks volumes for their own selves, yet, it's unfair to assign guilt simply by association-- except that as noted previously, you're all seeking to get me in the back, which tells me quite a bit about you. Well..... I shall make you feel all the more confident, then. Be it known, you all, that I am only at half my power at this time, and it shall take three moons to replenish all my vigor. Come forth, and show me how brave you men are, to strike a man from the back who is already injured. Come hither, say I, you cringers!"
Queegmaa Some bushes rustle, and some treetops sway in the wind, when a breeze goes by, which is a natural phenomenon ordinarily leading one to think nothing to be peculiar, but as the trees stop with the desisting of the gale, the bushes continue to make sounds until through them erupts one individual who resembles a reptilian cyborg, with a staff in his hand. He hobbles forward until he's within about six meters of Rohy, at which point he halts, and begins to speak some, "Some of us ain't gun ever be replenishin' deir vigre, cuz we're missin' some pieces 'o ourselves dat were taken off in combat. Not sayin' I'm unhappy with da results, y'see, but yer whinin's kinna annoying, mister Rohy...." he grins, exhibiting fangs that belong to an aquatic creature, which are a bit different than Rohy's mammalian teeth, even if they are just as deadly.

Hobbling a foot closer, he levels his staff at Rohy and scoffs, "Ya pledged yerself ta some invisiayble ding in the sky yuh call honor, but what does it getcha in da end, if nobody believes ya got what ya go 'round claimin' ya got? I knowed that these imper'ls all act air'geantly cuz they thinks they dar gots da makin's of greatness, but it's all in deir head, 'n makes 'em mess up when they coulda scored a 'vantage, cuz they dun go 'n be thinkin' dat dey's gotta stick ta rules to win fights..... Well dat ain't real'ty, see. It's all pie in da sky.... You 'n Vohstra ken go 'n obsess over yer honor all day long, but haja any sense, ya woulda had us thinkin' dat ya din know we's comin', 'n cudda wiped us out by surprisin' us. Well I ain't gun try ta change yer mind 'bout it; fact is... I reckon I'm dankful datcher a looney, cuz it means ya got boundaries you gotta stay inside.... where I dun gotta do no such ding!"

He snorts, defiantly, "You wun call me a cow'rd, den you go right ahead if it makes ya happy.... but I may'a run 'fore t'day, but I'm here right now, 'n I'mma ready ta do Admiral Rakassa a good favor, cuz she dun tell me she owe ya fer sum time nowuh."
Rakassa Rohy tilts his head to the side as Queegmaa delivers his speech on what the ronin shouldn't be doing, versus what he actually is, and tries to comprehend the mangled slurring of the kappa's verbiage. After deciding that it's of little consequence what the reptile said, Rohy points his sword at Que and sifts through only a few choice articles that 'almost' sounded like something comprehensible. "I cannot fathom how you came to lay claim to such a poor understanding of the common-tongue, but I can assure you of some things that may be weighing on your mind, if, indeed, you have a mind within which there might congregate any practice of fretting."

He nods his head solemnly, and declares, "Although I cannot account for what mettle you might be composed of, even if it seems to be minimal, at this time, the craven to whom I referred goes by the name of 'Shadow', as I understand it. No, this was not always his name, it's just some ludicrous pseudonym that has to do with his former organization..... The nature of the relationship, I will not announce, for it is not my place to disclose informations that are his business to discuss, but I do detect his scent, and it is unmistakable. I do say, I would not have believed that he would have ever developed the kind of courage it takes to fence with one such as myself, from who he'd run before..... but mayhap he has fruited a sort of internal locus of control formerly unpossessed, and if this be the case, then I do not have any further reason to invoke diatribe regarding his nature-- if this be, then let him, and let your other comrades proclaim their presence, so that I may know their names before they are smitten! I hid not myself in my chasm, but emerged to show that I am willing to face either yourselves, or death, if it turns out that he wears a mask bearing the semblance of you all upon it.

I await what is coming..... Can you all own up to the same as myself?"
Queegmaa The green, slouching peon is obviously a bit more confident than usual, for if not for this boost in self-belief would he be in a combat situation, much less one involving a true master of war, such as Rohy, whose technique dwarfs even that of Vector's finest? There could only be one explanation; he had enough backup to sufficiently give him the inner strength to face an asura who could take down legends.... in turn, this meant that Queegmaa evidently had a trump-card up his sleeve that fueled him with the fire that allowed him to talk back to Rohy. But what little reassurance did Que harbor, that gave him the guts to speak his mind defiantly, in the face of an insurmountable adversary such as the dark samurai? He had the backing of a Shadow Lord!

Queegmaa had not the power, or the grit to tangle with Rohy, but.... his master /did/! And what's more, Rakassa's expanse of acuity in the realm of arcana was so great that it was just possible that somehow or other, she'd cloaked her odor and her aura in a way that Rohy hadn't sensed it prior? Or maybe Rohy just hadn't let on that he knew she was there. Either way, if a Shadow Lord was not a match for for Rohy, then who could possibly profess to be able to treat with him? Whatever the case, the maritime lackey stamped his feet as his grasp of the humanoid language is being mocked, shouting out, "A'ight then, ya snooty long-snouted dog!.... You wan think yer hotstuff 'n ya got it made? Den it's time ta pay da piper..... I got a su'prise fer yuh that even -YOU- can't take lightly. Da biggest billy goat gruff gonna snuff ya!" He waves his hand wildly, beckoning the dark matriarch to step forward.
Rakassa Dark Portals, and the ability to cloak ones' self in darkness is a wonderful thing. The entire time the group has been yammering back and forth, Rakassa has been making herself a lovely little sniper's nest in a convenient tree. Really, it's not all that different than how she hunted back home; only this time, she convenient, Dark-powered camoflage instead of a hunting stand.

Ever one to give her little subordinate hell, as Que introduces her, Rakassa continues to lurk in the treetops. An arrow, already poisoned, has been nocked to her bow for the last minute as she takes careful aim; right for the neck, if she has anything to say about it. Despite the poison, she's not one to take chances with her hated nemesis. Dark-green, sickly tendrils of even more venom sweep onto the poisoned arrow, a horrible combination of many deadly diseases and maladies. This isn't the act of a woman who wants to simply kill the man. No, she wants him to /suffer/. She lets go, a grin on her face.

Only once it gets along to striking the varg does she speak.

"Errant dogs need to lay down and die, rather than keep on yapping. Your tone's annoying. See you in the Forest, scum, hold my ticket for me why don't you?!"
Eric Bartholomew Why, oh why, had he agreed to this?

Eric Bartholomew Mimsy III was hiding in some bushes while the amphibious cyborg entertained discourse with their target, and trying very, very hard to remain unnoticed despite the werewolf's statement of such an effort being entirely pointless. He seriously wondered what kind of severe lapse of sanity made him think that hiking after these people laden with a backpack full of potions to the back doorstep of someone who, for all practical purposes, appeared to have magicked himself into demi-god status was even remotely a good idea. Well the reasoning had been twofold. One, he originally hadn't expected to be along for the expedition - just a merchant that happened to know a potion brewer who sold for cheap but couldn't make the deliveries herself - but either they'd never found a proper healer or the healer they did find ditched them the moment they'd figured out what kind of suicide mission this was. Two, which he would be eternally ashamed to admit they shook a sizeable bag of gil in his face. Now to be fair, he'd recently taken a hard financial hit, so although he wasn't normally the gil-crazed mongrel most noblemen were popularly believed to be he was more than a smidge bit desperate to fill the gaping chunk in his finances that had been taken out with the nasty curve-ball life had thrown at him. He had long-term goals that were derailed by that loss, gosh darnit, and he didn't know how long he had left to actually enact them! Besides these people were competent fighters, and all he was expected to do was hold potions and dispense them when needed, right?

He was rather confident in this before he got a gander at the size and sheer aura this beast was putting off, and now he was wondering what he would do if these fighters fell before he had even a chance to assist them. It seemed highly likely, in that event, that he wouldn't have to worry about his finances or anything else for long

Regardless, he could not back out now - he had a contract to fulfill, and wouldn't likely escape this canine's wrath even if he tried. So, when the immense were called upon those in hiding to show themselves, Eric sighed, took to the emotionally laborious task of ungluing his cowardly tail from where he sat, and very nervously inched his way out from cover. He hiked the backpack up a little upon his back, gave a nervous wave, and in a voice that utterly betrayed his mood said, "Eric Bartholomew " he sighed, "Mimsy the Third" resigning himself to announcing his full name, hoping in the event he died there would be at least half a chance his sister and friends would hear about it.

He didn't often introduce himself by his full name, but thanks to at least one professional tie blabbing about it at a bar one night it had gotten around Lindblum, but since these people didn't know at all (to his knowledge) then that was beside the point. He would've rather as few people knew his last name was Mimsy as possible, but in this case his preference would simply impede, if not utterly negate, all chances of the news reaching those who most needed to know.

When Rohy was struck with an arrow from seemingly nowhere, Eric audibly shrieked and looked around, thinking for a split second that somehow they were being attacked by someone else! But no, t'was one of their allies in the trees, and he gave a small sigh of relief. Of course this likely meant it was time to run or fight /now/. Following the example set by anyone who happened to be at the front with himself and Queegma, he would either stay at their backs ready to give out potions (and possibly cast magic if things seemed desperate enough) or hightail it into the woods with them should their intention be to lure the beast into a chase.
Shadow One of many things that has always made Rohy more dangerous than most: His sense of smell. It is a key reason why Shadow first travelled with Interceptor-- a loud, yet keen smelling dog. You can see and hear sharply-- but scent-- it borders on mysticism how useful it is during a job. It is why the ninja has been here the entire time without letting off a single tell of motion, color, or sound. But scent-- there is only so much you can do when a stray breeze brings a familiar persona to your nose. It smells like the Reaper.

Another thing that makes Rohy so dangerous is that he is often right. It is a heavy weight of accuracy that Shadow does not attack directly. Even when he attacks directly-- it burns and claws at you that it is just a setup for something else. To some it can be considered infuriatingly tactical. But Rohy sees it as something else-- cowardly. Something-- perhaps more true than glorifying the ninja's decisions.

A true coward.

The arrow flies. Beneath it-- behind it-- in it's shadow flies something else. A paper talisman that flies as dark as night in the wake of the arrow. Magic? No. Harmless. Sans one scent. One word. It informs that this all ends tonight-- one way or another-- the Reaper comes for them.
Rakassa Dark Portals and cloaking oneself in darkness is quite a thing, but the fact of the matter was.... while Rohy couldn't smell someone who had used a warp enchantment to materialize on the scene without heralding, there was something special about him that alerted him to her emergence; his ability to detect energy signatures, and chi. Dark Portals exploited dark energy, and having been acclimated to the Oni-Yoroi for a thousand years or more meant that he'd developed a keen awareness of rising auras, not counting what prowess was lent to him by the very pieces of the demon-armor that he wore, which Rakassa coveted so desperately. No.... this was not even about the empire's expansion, and dispatching a known renegade-- that was a cover; this was about Rakassa stealing power from those who were stronger than her, and she had no qualms about allying herself and weakening her prey before dealing the fatal blow, regrettably, even with the preemptive assault by the Mteks, as well as her own initializing of teleportation, along with concealment tactics, the ronin detected her in the nick of time. Had Rohy failed to acknowledge the Shadow Lord's presence, he would've possibly been deceased, since the arrow aimed at his throat could have very easily found a snug location in the cervical vertebrae, the coratid artery, or some vital vessel in the neck that would spell nigh-instant death, when given that Rakassa was no poor shot.

The shaft sails through the air, creating a whistling noise as it shears through the innate, atmospheric turbulence, until finding a home in Rohy's trapezius, lodged next to the upper part of the digastric muscle, which was relatively small, slicing it cleanly, so that jaw movement on that side of his face would be tougher.... Biting people's limbs and heads off was still an option, but there would've been a toll for employing an injured section of his body to bear down hard through sinew and calcified toughness.
Rakassa The hideous pine-colored, enlarged cilia sink into the samurai's massive trunk, causing faint spasms in his body as an immediate result, although these symptoms only last for an instant, at most, due to the fact that Rohy's stamina was beyond belief-- he'd been lugging Magicites around for ages, so all of his physical attributes had been elevated to astronomic proportions. Turning to Rakassa, he outwardly, proudly recites yet another speech, intended to demoralize the one of whom had a moral potency that was already questionable, at best, "Endotoxin. Exotoxin. Cytotoxin. Neurotoxin."

He grips the arrow and pulls it free, causing it to demonstrate a gaping wound in his hide; promptly, it starts to close up, though scarring remains, implying that permanent damage had, and could be done to his body.
Rakassa "I believe that.... You are once more aspiring to utilize the same contrivances to inflict suffering. How quaint, Miss Cahn. You should know by now that I am above the endorsement of such sensations, unless there is some /practical/ cause to mentally accentuate their value, I think?" He shakes his head, disapprovingly, until yet another thing flies his way. It is a note that informs Rohy that someone's time is at an end-- a foreboding message that may have had some sensibility to it, for Rohy had helped directly in assisting with the demise of Baram, back when, of which Shadow had gotten word, given his industrious resourcefulness, and intelligence-gathering. Beyond that, he also just spoke Rakassa's middle name, which she /strongly/ disliked being disclosed to non-essential parties to whom it should be privy, which was liable to disturb her some. Perhaps this would be his undoing, pushing them to their limits to test them, to see if he was worthy, or if they were worthy..... to remain on the premises owned by the universe. "So.... Violence it is. I should have expected no less, especially from you, Miss Cahn." The gargantuan shook his head again, sending a slew of radial energy waves that could curve and shift direction like boomerangs, emitted by the swing of his katana; it may have looked akin to something a master retainer of Doma could have pulled off, if he had trained hard for a few-hundred more years to improve his technique, and was designed to dice that with which it came into contact-- right now, it was directed at Shadow and Rakassa, but not Queegmaa, or Eric. What a strange decision for him to've made.... Why did he elect to attack only those two?

Mayhap they were the only ones who had attacked, or truly threatened him, as of yet? Maybe he just didn't take the kappa and the Nezumi that seriously, and was consolidating his concentration to try and give the other two gashes that they'd carry with them the remainder of their lives, if it so happened that they weren't disemboweled by the sweeping arcs. "You see, this all started when I allied with the empire, so many years back. I began to voice my opinion in protest of their methods, to intellectually convince others to take to the banner that opposed Mister Gestahl's regime." And there he just referred to an emperor as 'mister', which blatantly shows his defiance of the institutions of nobility, equalizing all persons to one station in life...!
Rakassa "The fact is, I felt that I spoke with such merit that I need have not yoked force to pave the way for my dream to manifest.... But you simple-minded folk have not the capacity to see truth, so in place of rational propagandizing, you use brutality. Do you see the difference between my acuity of mind, and your own?" He lets out a very low chuckle, which could sicken the stomachs of those who were faint of heart, before proceeding, "If force is your medium, that tells me you have no other recourse at your disposal, which speaks volumes for your ineptitude, and comprehension of the world. After all these years, Miss Cahn.... you have hunted me long, and hard, but you never mustered the guts to seek me out, personally. Today, I will render unto you the most meager of shreds of respect, for electing to confront me, because just as Mister Mimsy the third, over here, will probably be Mister Mimsy the last.... you too, shall be the last Miss Rudori, unless you've offspring that are in need of deletion....."

This scene contained 19 poses. The players who were present were: Morgan Albaste, Shadow, Eric Bartholomew, Queegmaa, Rakassa