A short and rough Talislanta post.
Cut.. finally. A cut for those who just don't care ^^. =p
Negi winced as he slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist; the muscles and tendons in his hands made small crackling noises as the calloused skin atop his knuckles slid into position, creating multiple spires that which he had once used to strike at anyone who threatened him or his companions.
He could not believe he had become blind to the numerous warnings his body was giving him over the past few months. The tension in his hands had become almost unbearable and the muscles in his legs felt as though they would explode if he sprinted one more yard. Joints all over his body creaked like wooden planks in an old windship... his back felt as though it would fold up on itself if he allowed his posture to slacken for a single moment.
Channeling the spirits of fallen warriors was taking it's toll on his body.
Negi had found a most potent form of magic through meditation and mysticism just a few months earlier; he had learned to call upon the collective power and knowledge of countless Mystic Warriors through meditation. He would normally ask them for assistance in having the wisdom to properly approach a conflict and allowing them to channel their collective power through his body, and over time he realized their knowledge was not all they were giving him. A powerful surge of energy would flow through his body with every use of this magic; a surge so powerful it was blissfully addictive. His unarmed strikes could kill if care was not taken to avoid contact with any vital part of one's body, his speed had become uncanny, and the capacity to receive physical punishment expanded 3 fold when the spirits were within his person. It was an easy experience to become addicted to.
The Mandalan spoke to no one of how he had achieved his newfound abilities, but he feared that perhaps Marina already knew if she ever took the time to cast a curious glance his way when he would go off into a secluded spot to meditate. He was fairly certain that she had seen the first spirit approach him the first time during his meditation at the Kharakin ruins; she seemed to be attuned to the spirit world enough at times to be able to see the auras of spirits from other realms. If she had not seen that first spirit, though; she had most likely seen the others.
They never spoke to him in his meditative state, but he could somehow understand what it was that they offered. Power. Knowledge. Wisdom. Victory. The area around Negi would soon become saturated with the presence of faceless spirits that had once been Mystic Warriors, ready and most willing to allow him to channel their strength and capacity. He never questioned why they would be so willing to assist him in such blatantly powerful ways, but a dedicated Mandalan never had to question the motives of a Mystic Warrior, for they were the avatar of an idea and state of mind that they all shared.
As the weeks passed by, one spirit turned into ten, and ten turned into one hundred; and then the numbers of spirits that visited him stopped growing. Exactly 100 spirits would visit his dreams as he slept; meditation turned into sessions where Negi felt as though he was the leader of some faceless Mandalan army. 100 faceless warriors ready to share their strength with him for great justice and victory against the Kang and any who opposed freedom for all.
...
“Kun... will you come here please?” Negi said as he motioned with his hands toward his enchanted trunk.
As swift as a person could walk, the multi-legged chest seemed to scuttle across the deck of Asmanis' windship toward Negi, bouncing slightly as though it were a happy pup running back to it's master.
“Thank you Kun; I think I need to practice my artistry skills some more, don't you?” Negi said before he opened the lid of the trunk. A sheet of paper, a folding art board, 2 pencils, and an artist's knife were all that were inside the trunk. Negi smiled as he removed the supplies and gently closed the lid, giving it a single pat as the latch snapped shut. “You've become a most wonderful companion, Kun. Thank you again for keeping our stuff safe.”
The smallish trunk seemed to possibly bow before it once again scuttled off across the deck of the ship as though it were exploring the area, and becoming familiarized with it. Negi grinned as Kun seemed to try to ram into the shins of a deck-hand who tried to mistakingly pick it up thinking it was misplaced luggage. He watched the enchanted trunk bounce and charge after the deck-hand till he was chased up the aft-castle, chuckling a bit before preparing his artistan tools.
Sailing through the skies in the afternoon was a nice distraction from the thoughts of what the Mandalan spirits' true intentions were, as every time Negi moved now he couldn't help but to be reminded of the effect they had on his body and his mind. Even the simple task of sharpening a pencil brought pain to the joints in his fingers at times.
“Perhaps... they too were those who also followed that path.” he muttered to himself as he laid his pencil down and turned his hands over, examining his wrists and forearms. They were slowly regaining their color, not that anyone ever really saw his body outside of his robes or him without his gloves or enchanted bracers.
“They... were quite possibly... only using me so that they could once again live and have influence on this world.” he thought as he traced a dark vein down the back of his wrist and up toward the bend of his forearm. His skin had become pale, and looked somewhat sickly under his clothing; even his face had looked as though he was suffering from extensive fatigue at times; all this was changing, however. The farther away from the Kang empire they got, the healthier he began to feel and the better his appearance became.
He could only wonder how close he was to completely succoming to their influence, and what would have eventually happened. The methods of the spirits were unlike that of the other Mystic Warriors who had recently learned to channel negative energy through their hands and feet; Negi was certain that these warriors knew the actual secret behind the forbidden Death Touch, and he was only a few days away from being tricked into using it. The thought terrified him, and the pain his body was going through was a constant reminder that he had almost followed a similar path to that of his brethren.
Negi leaned up against the aft-castle wall and watched as the suns worked their way toward the horizon, thinking even more about how far him and his compatriots had come in this world and of the trials they had all faced together. A few minutes passed by and Kun returned from his scouting out the deck of the airship, coming to a halt beside Negi's art supplies that he had sat aside.
Negi placed the artistan's tools back inside the trunk and pulled it up beside him, leaning over onto it slightly and propping his arm up on it as he did, just trying to ride out the rest of the evening's journey without much thought other than he had his friends there with him, and what would come would come. He would no longer call upon the assistance of the Mandalan spirits, but he would definetly need to learn of a new way to defend himself and the others if they were going to stop whatever it was that was bringing the world into a collective chaos.
Negi winced as he slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist; the muscles and tendons in his hands made small crackling noises as the calloused skin atop his knuckles slid into position, creating multiple spires that which he had once used to strike at anyone who threatened him or his companions.
He could not believe he had become blind to the numerous warnings his body was giving him over the past few months. The tension in his hands had become almost unbearable and the muscles in his legs felt as though they would explode if he sprinted one more yard. Joints all over his body creaked like wooden planks in an old windship... his back felt as though it would fold up on itself if he allowed his posture to slacken for a single moment.
Channeling the spirits of fallen warriors was taking it's toll on his body.
Negi had found a most potent form of magic through meditation and mysticism just a few months earlier; he had learned to call upon the collective power and knowledge of countless Mystic Warriors through meditation. He would normally ask them for assistance in having the wisdom to properly approach a conflict and allowing them to channel their collective power through his body, and over time he realized their knowledge was not all they were giving him. A powerful surge of energy would flow through his body with every use of this magic; a surge so powerful it was blissfully addictive. His unarmed strikes could kill if care was not taken to avoid contact with any vital part of one's body, his speed had become uncanny, and the capacity to receive physical punishment expanded 3 fold when the spirits were within his person. It was an easy experience to become addicted to.
The Mandalan spoke to no one of how he had achieved his newfound abilities, but he feared that perhaps Marina already knew if she ever took the time to cast a curious glance his way when he would go off into a secluded spot to meditate. He was fairly certain that she had seen the first spirit approach him the first time during his meditation at the Kharakin ruins; she seemed to be attuned to the spirit world enough at times to be able to see the auras of spirits from other realms. If she had not seen that first spirit, though; she had most likely seen the others.
They never spoke to him in his meditative state, but he could somehow understand what it was that they offered. Power. Knowledge. Wisdom. Victory. The area around Negi would soon become saturated with the presence of faceless spirits that had once been Mystic Warriors, ready and most willing to allow him to channel their strength and capacity. He never questioned why they would be so willing to assist him in such blatantly powerful ways, but a dedicated Mandalan never had to question the motives of a Mystic Warrior, for they were the avatar of an idea and state of mind that they all shared.
As the weeks passed by, one spirit turned into ten, and ten turned into one hundred; and then the numbers of spirits that visited him stopped growing. Exactly 100 spirits would visit his dreams as he slept; meditation turned into sessions where Negi felt as though he was the leader of some faceless Mandalan army. 100 faceless warriors ready to share their strength with him for great justice and victory against the Kang and any who opposed freedom for all.
...
“Kun... will you come here please?” Negi said as he motioned with his hands toward his enchanted trunk.
As swift as a person could walk, the multi-legged chest seemed to scuttle across the deck of Asmanis' windship toward Negi, bouncing slightly as though it were a happy pup running back to it's master.
“Thank you Kun; I think I need to practice my artistry skills some more, don't you?” Negi said before he opened the lid of the trunk. A sheet of paper, a folding art board, 2 pencils, and an artist's knife were all that were inside the trunk. Negi smiled as he removed the supplies and gently closed the lid, giving it a single pat as the latch snapped shut. “You've become a most wonderful companion, Kun. Thank you again for keeping our stuff safe.”
The smallish trunk seemed to possibly bow before it once again scuttled off across the deck of the ship as though it were exploring the area, and becoming familiarized with it. Negi grinned as Kun seemed to try to ram into the shins of a deck-hand who tried to mistakingly pick it up thinking it was misplaced luggage. He watched the enchanted trunk bounce and charge after the deck-hand till he was chased up the aft-castle, chuckling a bit before preparing his artistan tools.
Sailing through the skies in the afternoon was a nice distraction from the thoughts of what the Mandalan spirits' true intentions were, as every time Negi moved now he couldn't help but to be reminded of the effect they had on his body and his mind. Even the simple task of sharpening a pencil brought pain to the joints in his fingers at times.
“Perhaps... they too were those who also followed that path.” he muttered to himself as he laid his pencil down and turned his hands over, examining his wrists and forearms. They were slowly regaining their color, not that anyone ever really saw his body outside of his robes or him without his gloves or enchanted bracers.
“They... were quite possibly... only using me so that they could once again live and have influence on this world.” he thought as he traced a dark vein down the back of his wrist and up toward the bend of his forearm. His skin had become pale, and looked somewhat sickly under his clothing; even his face had looked as though he was suffering from extensive fatigue at times; all this was changing, however. The farther away from the Kang empire they got, the healthier he began to feel and the better his appearance became.
He could only wonder how close he was to completely succoming to their influence, and what would have eventually happened. The methods of the spirits were unlike that of the other Mystic Warriors who had recently learned to channel negative energy through their hands and feet; Negi was certain that these warriors knew the actual secret behind the forbidden Death Touch, and he was only a few days away from being tricked into using it. The thought terrified him, and the pain his body was going through was a constant reminder that he had almost followed a similar path to that of his brethren.
Negi leaned up against the aft-castle wall and watched as the suns worked their way toward the horizon, thinking even more about how far him and his compatriots had come in this world and of the trials they had all faced together. A few minutes passed by and Kun returned from his scouting out the deck of the airship, coming to a halt beside Negi's art supplies that he had sat aside.
Negi placed the artistan's tools back inside the trunk and pulled it up beside him, leaning over onto it slightly and propping his arm up on it as he did, just trying to ride out the rest of the evening's journey without much thought other than he had his friends there with him, and what would come would come. He would no longer call upon the assistance of the Mandalan spirits, but he would definetly need to learn of a new way to defend himself and the others if they were going to stop whatever it was that was bringing the world into a collective chaos.