Blades of Dust [Remnants - Post-Apoc Mecha RP]

[Simpli]

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=} Blades of Dust {=



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"Grand? What are you talking about? It's a flat piece of rock surrounded by a few piles of rock. 'Grand' my ass."

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@Vagabond422 – Happy Warrior

One wouldn't need to look deep inside Keiko Moris soul to grasp who she was in a fight. While her face was graced by the eternal smile, she had taken upon herself, her every step-in battle brought her closer to the fight, diving headfirst into danger whenever the chance opens. What brought her into oasis city of Wosaro might have been an utterly peaceful caravan escort mission that only now promised to bring some excitement – or maybe she was simply trying her best to outpace the ghosts of her past? The Oasis city held new opportunities to fight, to shine – and to catch the attention of those in need of a young and still unproven Ishinari.

@Valleron – Prince in Exil

Prince Zai once enjoyed luxury, influence and renown. Ishinari Zai defended the remnants of his tattered clan, after having failed to hold onto their home and livelihood. How could a Clan survive by virtue of a Ishin alone? There were tales of man and woman less worried about those that followed them, who had carved their way to new positions of power by the strength of their weapon. But here and now in Wosaro? The rise of its Tyrant was a constant reminder, that man didn't need a Ishin to be dangerous.

@Dariusprime – Gentlewoman

Far had her journeys taken Gilien of Morat Kerr, from the snowy peaks that surrounded her home, down to the scorching desert of the south, where the ever-present frost of her home was a barely believed tale. She had travelled more in the time since she had found her Ishin, than many inhabitants would have in their whole live – down to the very tip of the Shattered Road. To the "City State of Wosaro", barely qualifying for the name – but qualifying. The youngest of city states? Or just another footnote for the history after the breaking of the Great Civilization?

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If there was something just as ubiquitous in the broken land as the ever-growing hunger, that gnawed on everyone's guts as they grew older, that would be thirst. It was water that drove people to shadow of the towering Ishin Keth that had, just little over a century, fought a great battle against a grand monstrosity. The same one, whose bones – bleached white and gigantic in their own right- lay just beyond the rusting hull of its killer. In the wake of the people a grand spire had fallen and from its base had bubbled up streams of water, filling a whole pool in the span of a few years.

The young history of the oasis city of Wosaro were visible wherever you glanced upon entering the settlement. The small huts and modest orchards that had been driven the soil by the first settlers had been torn down and replaced by luxurious villas, which in turn were surrounded by the hazardous growth of newcomers, refugees, gangs and even some farhuman tribes that tried to survive in the underbelly of the new city. But you didn't need to see the cities glittering waterfront to feel the city, you could hear it by the thunder of its people's elation, you could hear their number by the stomping of their feet, you could even smell their presence when the wind turned against the Grand Arena.

Just South of the waterfront Wosaro's Grand Arena is little more than a wide, flat piece of Sandstone from the original spire, surrounded by jury-rigged stands and debris, the Wosaro guard barracks were forming one barrier to its western side, while the cages and cells around it, would give the curious onlooker a chance to look at those who would find their trial by combat in the Arena in the days or weeks to come.

You found yourself not too far away from these cages, but under a more hospital eye of the Wosaro guards, who had made sure to seat you in the shade. Armoured guards, who usually would have used every bit of grandstanding they could muster on the streets of the city or the road leading to the Oasis, being perfectly well behaved and respectful – their weapons visibly absent, only forming a loose cordon around you to keep those who were trying to catch a glimpse of you and your Ishin from coming to close.

While you were new faces in the Oasis, new and untested in the arena at least, your status as Ishinari had gotten you an accommodating, but wary welcome. The pieces of ice slowly melting in your glass cups were a sure sign of it, a small miracle to get either of them out in the broken lands and with the colourful slices of local fruits adding a sweet flavour to the water it was clear that were you were valuable, if not particularly trusted guests – yet.

As for how you found yourself seated together. A visit to Wosaro wasn't complete without a visit to its Arena and it wasn't like there was much else for Ishinari without renown and reputation to test themselves in. It was a good chance to be seen and get known, a good chance to meet other Ishinari if they happened to stop by and a good chance to test one's mettle without the spectre of death that was resting above the rest of the wasteland. Which of them it would be today – or if it would be all of them today – was still in the air, when you were brought together and seated, the guards around you keeping a respectful distance and silence, while servants would only come over when beckoned for.

When you had been seated it was relatively clear what was expected of you: todays trials and entertainment were to be held after another – and Idannur Raz himself, ruler of the Oasis, had decided that your Ishinari would be offered a chance to fight for justice, a reward in precious stones and of course his endorsement if you would decide to go beyond the one fight he was willing to pay you right now. His messenger had been polite, the message promising, and the reward was acceptable at 5 Kay for each of you if you should stand victorious over the accused…

…that there was a bigger opportunity waiting beyond it was hinted at, but not talked about – yet. Most likely the guards of oasis Tyrant were waiting to see if you would be wiling to cooperate, before offering you a harder fight. It would look bad for Idannur Raz to choose three strangers, even Ishinari, for these trials, if you lost… too easily.

The people of Wosaro needed a show, their chants were echoing as much through the air, and if you would become entertainers or entertainment – remained to be seen.

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[Dariusprime]

"Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves?"
-The First History Man, Mad Max: Fury Road


Kryx was curious. As a Wosaro guard, he wasn't paid to be curious. Suspicious, maybe, but not curious. Curiosity ended with a body buried in the sand. These Ishinari fascinated him though.

The man felt like a known quantity. Kryx had seen his type before. The smiling woman came from further afield. He suspected she was more dangerous than she appeared. The scarred woman bothered him the most. Her eyes reflected a hard gleam, and her features screamed that she was a foreigner from far away. Kryx kept his pose and focused on the locals. Those he understood.


I am going to die out here.

At least that is what Gilien thought. As she fanned herself, the oppressive heat threatened to burst her into flames. The shade helped, and she felt grateful for it. Seated cross legged on her rug, shaded further by her coat, sweat still poured down her reddened face. A passing fancy wondered how anyone could survive in this wasteland. Even by her standards, this place was a hole.

She took a sip of ice water and looked at the cup. The glass, the ice, and the fruit... luxury items. Even water had a price out here. That part took her the longest to process. Morat Kerr had no end of shortages but water, in some state, wasn't one of them. Political machinations colored this hospitality since she had encountered the messenger. Now the motivations started falling into place.

Blood on the sand. But whose blood and in what measure? Trial by combat is only a warm up.

She adjusted her hat to keep the sand glare out of her eyes. The Caravaners proved ever wise in recommending she stay out of the sun. Her tawny complexion, though not pale like some, couldn't withstand the southern sun. All skin burned if exposured long enough. The spider's web of fine wrinkles weathered her face beyond four decades, but that is what happened in the frozen north. Out here the people looked... leathery almost. Baked hard in the relentless light.


The servants noted her formal and stern posture. Alien mannerisms, perhaps, to their culture, but conveying a level of respect to which they were not accustomed. She spoke little beyond thanking the servants and greeting the other Ishinari upon seating. Instead she appeared to be watching, her furrowed brow pondering the dust-echoed chants. She was no warrior. That much was obvious. But there existed many ways to be dangerous in this dying world.

Her pet proved another matter. Across her lap lounged an enormous red-and-black insect. It appeared to be a cockroach. If roaches grew as long as a person's forearm and purred when stroked. The horror seemed to stare people right in the eyes, and even hissed at a server that got too close. Obviously, northern people were very strange indeed.

The proximity to the northerner proved telling. She looked old. She looked hearty enough, to be sure, but one's body reflected one's life. She would have been an Elder in Wosaro. The Hunger looked to have spared her body, thickened as it was around the middle with age. But the Hunger gnawed you like a sickness. How, they wondered, did she harden herself against that?


I hope these months are worth the investment.

Gilien didn't like being this far afield. Experienced as she was as a political operator, she proved naive to the tribulations of being an Ishinari. Death had stalked her no less than four times while aboard Locusta. This arena, perhaps, would assist her in building renown, honing her skills, and making connections. The work would be bloody no doubt. Good.

Her mind drifted back to Morat Kerr. Those that knew her commented on her impeccable reputation as a notary and civil servant. That didn't mean she didn't... deal... with unfortunate situations. Such as the bureaucrat's son that liked cutting up women. She helped the young scamp on his way. A right shame a megapede ate him. Rumors have it he screamed for hours.

"Pity."

Her Ishin turned its head toward the chanting.

 

[Vagabond422]

"Fancy," she said looking to the others. Her gaze couldn't help but notice the guards surrounding them, most of them close to her. Not that she was unaccustomed to the eyes of the guards on her. She was the smiling warrior that would not allow her weapons to be taken. Why would she, her arming sword was made by her father one of the few things she had left of him, and the greatsword, a symbol of her position, her purpose. Though that was lost, now, along with her family, her village. But, there were two things she hadn't lost, her ishin, and her smile. She'd made a promise after all.

Though now without anything to anchor her it led her to just wonder the land, moving from place to place, looking for a fight. That was pretty much all she had left to guide her. Noth that she really minded, fighting was something she was good at. And deep down in her heart she knew she loved it. It was the way of the ishinari they lived for the fighting, sought it out. To her it was as good as anything else in her life at the moment.

She took another sip of the water marveling at the excess of it all. The glass a rarity that she only saw when the caravans came to town. Ice was an impossibility, even in winter, why would they waste water just to cool it? Finally the fruit, it provided nothing other than a bit of flavoring a near complete waste of the fruit that was already difficult to grow. And doing all of this in a desert, it was excessive, unnecessary, wasteful.

Not that Keiko truly cared. She was just enjoying it the tang of the lemon on her tongue the cool water sending a chill through her body. It was a welcomed reprieve from the heat, though it was a dyer heat than she experienced back home. It wasn't oppressive, her armor was light enough that it wasn't making thing worse.

She looked to the people with her, an older woman that looked like she'd seen some combat herself, judging by the scars on her face. The other was a well dressed man, that she wouldn't discount his abilities, inishari were always dangerous.

"So," she started a smile on her face. "You guys ready for the fight?"

 

[Valleron]

Mistakes had been made.

No sooner did his Ishin land in the outskirts of Wosaro did word spread like wildfire throughout the little hovel of his arrival: the dispossessed Prince Ashina Zai was in town. He could hear the whispers of the rumourmongers plying their idle trade, feel with his raised hackles the inquisitive gazes that instinctively turned in his direction as he navigated the meandering route that weaved through the seedy underbelly of this young upstart city-state wannabe, which in many ways resembled that of his old home. He wondered what possessed him to this extent of indiscretion: bedecked in his flowery translucent desert garments that did little to hide his heraldic armour, drawing what little attention there was left that his gaudy turban did not already seize. It was a spur-of-the-moment departure from Amantin, with nary a thought for preparations. Zai had received a tip from an information broker he was familiar with, one that was couched with the exact combination of vagueness and urgency that prompted his quick departure from the safety of his newfound exclave. There was a job, he was told, and valuable information as well. From who? Was it bait to pull him out from Amantin and back into the deserts that he had escaped from?

His current predicament left him far from thrilled, and did little to assuage both the annoyance he had with his own recklessness, and the vulnerability he felt being this deep in the bowels of a foreign city-state, where he was exposed to all angles and manner of attack from his innumerous enemies.

A bemused gaze was cast in every direction, from the ostentatious usage of ice, the cordon of unarmed guards that fenced him and his newfound companions in to be gawked at like animals on display, to the greater crowd that amassed the arena that he found himself in. Wosaro had all the familiar trappings of an up and coming desert city-state, and though struggling with his nerves, Zai saw no reason not to indulge himself with the local lordling's meager pickings offered. After all, he was intimately aware of what the miseries that the desert could inflict, even if he was far from the most capable of forging his own survival in it. Besides, luxuries of an oasis ought never be taken for granted.

He spared a glance at the creature on the scarred woman's lap, its buzzing disconcertingly audible to him despite the incessant chanting of the crowd beyond. She appeared distinctly foreign: of the assembled 'guests', she was clearly from the furthest afield; beyond that, she had none of the warrior's bearing that Zai had come to associate with trained warriors, and that withered mien did little to inspire confidence. All irrelevant in an Ishin, of course, and Zai simply had to hope that these combat trials were limited to that.

"You guys ready for the fight?"

Zai turned to the Smiling Fighter, whose reputation somewhat preceded herself. At least this one looked like she could look after herself. If she performed anywhere near as well as her fame suggested, she might even be able to pull the weight of the old scarred one.

"Sure. Put on a show, don't accidentally kill your teammates, and keep yourself alive," Zai shrugged noncommittally. "In exactly that order."

 

[Dariusprime]

Gilien nibbled on the iced fruit and formulated her reply to the young warrior. If beyond the heat, she felt uncomfortable in this place, she did not project as much. She looked vigilant, surely, but unafraid. After all she had traveled more in recent months than most people travel in a lifetime. And what she lacked in a warrior's bearing she knew she had to develop. A warrior she would never be, but survival and self defense had been priorities during her time among the Caravaners. Few people, aside from Wastelanders, knew the world better than the Caravaners.

Before she could reply, the self-assured man spoke and she looked at him. His words, though casual, had the air of good advice. And had the advantage of telling a bit about the social pressures of this place. He himself looked to be, not from here, but most likely from this region. She filed away his comment, in particular the order, and gazed back over the crowd again.

"I am as well," she replied carefully. She turned to the Smiling Fighter. Gilien didn't recognize her. Although her name had made its way to her ears during her travels. She continued, her voice even and businesslike. "Formal introductions are best handled now. Especially if we may be team mates in the arena." She inclined her head in thanks to Zai at that bit of information.

"I am Gilien. A pleasure to make your acquaintances." She tapped her forehead with her fingers, gestured to the two with the same hand, and bowed her head.

Her pet fluttered its wings, and she stroked its head in response. "Patience, Locusta."

Her Ishin turned its head toward its mistress.

 

[Vagabond422]

Keiko just sat, taking in the feeling around her, sipping on the cold water and enjoying the sour tang of the lemon. She knew it wouldn't be an always thing, but she was going to enjoy it while she had it. Her eyes moved over to the man that held himself with an aloof sense. Not that the warrior minded too much they had just met after all. They were still getting to know each other. Something in the crowd caught her eye just some movement and a face that almost looked like...

Then she was pulled out of the memories of her home by the orders handed out by the man with golden hair.

"You got it..." She said nodding her head, it was so much easier to follow orders than to give them. When she was the Guardian, everyone looked to her to lead them, to defend them against the forces at their gates. Her brow furrowed just a little, not enough to mar her grin, at the hissing insect in the older woman's lap, a woman that introduced herself as Gilien...Roches were a sign of filth, of disease, and a place you don't want to be anymore. Her smile covered her full disgust but the furrow was still there.

"Oh, Keiko Mori, though most just call me Happy, or Smiley. Though Keiko works just fine." Her voice was chipper, upbeat, in contrast with the work she did, killing others in deadly combat. "Glad to be working with you."

 

[Simpli]

Even if the chairs were comfortable, the shade welcome and the iced drinks more than comforting after days and weeks in the desert, you had not been brought together to sip on fruit juice. Thus after you had a chance to get to know one another and drink a few glasses, movement could be seen outside the cordon of your guards and a weathered man with the look of a mercenary stepped towards your circle – even if the claw marks on his face and shoulder clashed with the fine dress he had been clad in, his demeanour more fitting to a warrior than a courtier as he bowed stiffly before you and spread his arms lightly as it was custom in some of the western tribes.

"Honoured Ishinari, I bring greetings in the name of the fair city Wosaro's guard and our grand ruler Idannur Raz, who tamed the lands, bringing order and prosperity to our homes and waters.", straightening once more after giving the greeting, his eyes went over the three of you in a more calculating manner before he smiled lightly. "I am to inform you that the criminals are getting brought out into the arena….and shall now be armed."

At a wave of his, the guards standing on the side opening towards the flat and dusty grounds of the arena stepped aside, forming a corridor for you to see the western side of the Grand Arena. Before the barracks of the Wosaro guard's movement could be seen as cages were opened and around ten figures were pushed and prodded out of them, even at a distance it was clear that they were towering over the human guards of the oasis, easily a head taller if not more, their arms wildly trashing and showing that they were not only having two like a human, but four, each looking perfectly functionally from the way they were trying to fight off their captors…at least till something was shouted and one of the figures went down to the ground with blood glittering on the sand for a moment, before being sucked in.

"Kesantra.", your own greater said simply, staring at the distance figures with loathing "They prey upon our caravans and are barely different from their degenerated cannibal cousins. Far humans who have lost most that makes them human aside from how to wield a spear. They will be made to understand what is at stake for them – and they will see what justice awaits them when you step before them in the arena."

True to his word the fighting seemed to die down and the remaining far-humans were corralled towards the opposite side of the Arena, guards with crossbows and swords surrounding them, while others were bringing large bundles clad in leather to them. Only when the raiders unfurled them did it become clear what they had been given: heavy spears easily larger than any of the man surrounding you, each of the raider taking two , with two arms on each side of their torso carrying one.

"They are hardy. The sun barely impacts them, and their spears are hardened and able to pierce through the armour of a man if thrown at a well-chosen angle. They have been kept in the cages for two days now, so they haven't weakened too much yet. A very skilled and experienced Ishinari would be able to take them out on their own. I am sure the three of you together would be able to give the Grand Arena a show to remember."

With one hand he gestured to the Arena, with the other he placed three small bags on the table, the soft clicking giving away their precious content "If you decide to fight as Champions of Justice today, you shall be rewarded, and your names known across the Oasis. If you reject this invitation, you shall go in peace and see those who did step into the Arena earn glory and renown. What is your decision Ishinari?"

He asked lightly, not expecting an answer, as his eyes instead went to your waiting Battle Remnants, gleaming in the sun and waiting for you to step into them – and then onto the sandstone of the arena.

 

[Dariusprime]

"Glad to be working with you as well, Smiley," Gilien replied along with a tight if geniune smile. If she noted the Smiling Warrior's distaste for her pet, she did not give any outward appearance.

Instead she gave a nibble of fruit to the large insect and watched the unnamed mercenary introduce himself. She returned the bow in the manner of the western tribes. Including a wider arm spread since she was seated. A little bit of advice she had picked up from the Caravaners and for which she was now thankful.

She listened with care to him, what he said and did not say, and soaked in the experience he brought to the discussion. Movement drew her attention to the guards, and in the distance, the appearance of the condemned. This then caused a look of surprise. Took her a few moments to school her features as the Kesantra battled their captors. A similar, if smaller foe, had nearly been her end only a matter of days before.

I wonder if they are related.

As spears appeared, she turned back to greater warrior at his description of their foes. His phrasing could mean that the beings presented a great threat. The other interpretation suggested that he didn't think too much of the Ishinari before him. Perhaps both or neither.

Not that it matters.

Gilien glanced at the small bags as they clinked. Yes, this opportunity, while politically loaded, could be a good one. A paying fight under controlled conditions. Maybe even make a name for oneself. Yes, this was good. The time of action had arrived.

Gilien stood and draped her rug under her arm in one motion. Locusta clicked and scurried up her arm onto her shoulder. There the insect sat as Gilien made her way toward the other Locusta. The war machine watched its mistress approach.

The plates of the metal body separated at invisible seams. The machine opened like a fanged maw. Gilien wrapped her rug around herself and did not slow her pace. One quick lunge and the Ishin devoured its Ishinari. The teeth-seams slid together and vanished without a sound.

A little dramatic perhaps. A little flare for the audience.

The war machine Locusta surveyed the sandstone, the audience, and the Kesantra in the distance. The Locustas hissed in anticipiation. Gilien waited. It waited.