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Circle of Vengeance: Kung Fu Revenge Quest

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13. An Old Friend
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    • Wind - Blindingly fast techniques that tear and mangle an opponent's extremities. Excellent for seizing the initiative and disabling an opponent, but struggles to inflict substantial damage with any individual blow.
    Your goal here is to kill all the Powder Scorpions. In the process of doing so, you will hone your bullet-catching skills. You've brought Alya along in order to secure whatever weapons she can while you do this.

    In the end, you can't really say what causes you to pick what you did - beyond the basic grounding in elemental theory you'd acquired from an apothecary when you were young, you hardly knew anything about what the various elements Mistress Petal referred to entailed. You could make guesses, sure - Shell was probably more sturdy and grounded, and Albumen more fluid and yielding in the way that it moved. There had been that move she showed you, Typhoon Beneath The Waves, that seemed elementally-inclined in the way it was named, but that suggested two elements, so you weren't altogether sure how that worked either.

    In the end, it was probably mostly the fact that Wind was the only one she hadn't given a weird alternate name for that made you pick it above anything else - it made the word stick easier in your head, and if there was any one thing you didn't want to do, it was keep Mistress waiting while you mulled over your choice like a child deciding between sweets.

    "Wind," you spoke, forcefully keeping the hesitancy you felt from entering your voice. "Show me Wind."

    Mistress Petal only smirks as you make your choice - perhaps she already knew which one you'd pick, or perhaps she simply finds the choice fitting. "Very well," she says, and turns to the dying man in front of you. "Watch closely, girl." You've seen Mistress fight before, so you're not entirely caught off guard by the sudden burst of movement that follows, but it still takes you aback. The way she jumps from ordinary stillness to abrupt flashes of blurring speed defies all your inbuilt expectations of what anyone, let alone an elder like her, is capable of.

    She grips the curled-up man by the roots of his hair and tosses him into the air as if he weighed no more than a feather. Before his feet leave the ground, her gnarled fingers have darted in and plucked one of his eyes entirely out of his skull. As he becomes airborne, she barrages his torso with a dizzying variety of strikes, so fast they almost appear to be landing simultaneously. He reaches the peak of his arc some two feet above the ground and she snatches the fingers on his hands in a vice grip and snaps downward, breaking them with a litany of gruesome pops and wrenching him back towards the floor. Then, before the man's body has a chance to do more than begin to fall, she meets his head with a jumping knee, and finishes him off with a grasping, clawed hand that crushes his throat as he hits the ground.

    She straightens herself up and looks to you as the miner's last breath rattles out of his collapsed trachea. "To embody Wind, you must always move, from breath to breath," she says. "Do not allow your body or the opponent to restrict you, and disregard obstacles as something beneath your notice. Water flows around obstructions, but you must simply be elsewhere. Be everywhere and nowhere, impossible to grasp yet deadly with your bite. Scour your opponent down to the bone like a sandstorm, and -"

    A question pops into your head as Mistress speaks, and you realize that, without meaning to, your hand's raised itself. You yank it back down to your side, but it's too late, she's already sighing in the manner of an aggrieved teacher. "You have something to add?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

    As a matter of fact, you'd rather shrink yourself down and hide inside of a shoe, but it's too late, and so you forcibly straighten your ears from where they'd flattened down against your skull and speak. "N-not to interrupt, but, uh … could you show me how I'd do any of that? I haven't really trained anything like your style before, aside from the last day or thereabouts, so, er… a basic technique or something?" You shrug sheepishly.

    Mistress' expression is stone faced and impenetrable, but if you were less terrified and more adept at reading faces, you'd see the ever-so-slight quiver of her lips at one corner of her mouth, the minute crinkling of the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, that are her trying to suppress laughter. Of course, she's had years of practice at looking stern, so you don't catch any of this, and remain caught in suspense as she silently considers your fate.
    "Honestly, can't even be properly angry since it's not even impertinence, just overapplied eagerness."
    At long last, she grunts and waves you over, muttering something under her breath that you can't quite pick up. She shifts to a stance you don't quite recognize, her feet spaced out in a long, straight line, her knees bent a good amount, her weight coiled on the back leg, and her front hand held up by her chin while the other drops low across her body. "Match this position," she orders, and you obey, taking a few moments to get used to the way your legs settle. "Chin tucked, front shoulder forward. Up off your heels as though a sheet of paper's sliding underneath them," she corrects, and you wince as you adjust - you can already tell this is going to be hell on your calves to keep up.

    The next minute or so is one of dozens of minuscule adjustments - you're made to sink your weight down as though your legs have become a flea's, loosen your waist, engage your abdominal muscles as you breathe, and move in darting patterns back and forth across the floor, giving as little forewarning to your movement as you can. She tells you to recoil your punches back thrice as fast as they issue out, and to stabilize your core as you move your legs so you don't throw yourself off balance as you kick. When you can't get your foot high enough for her tastes, she jams a finger into a point on either side of your hip and twists, leaving you gasping in pain that rapidly loosens as tension you didn't even know you were carrying melts away.

    "A good enough foundation for the task ahead of you," she decides after a scant few minutes. "You can learn more specifics later, and for now we need to keep moving. One more thing." She reaches within her shawl and fishes out an unassuming bell of dull black stone, strung on a cloth cord that she pulls over her head and holds out in front of you. "My master passed the harmonies of Thundering Bell down to me in the form of sounds, and while neither you nor I can hear the frequencies that he used, I will respect his teachings so that he may be remembered."

    She reaches out and flicks the bell with a single finger, somehow making it spin without swaying back or forth at all. As you watch, the usual chime you'd expect to hear is absent - instead, a faint, rushing, hissing sound echoes out through the air - sssss.

    "Wind can have no opposition, for there is nothing that can permanently contain it. Don't allow yourself to be slowed or stopped, and remember the rhythm of this noise. This is what will bring you victory, do you understand?"

    You look up at Mistress, having grasped only the slightest bit of what she's saying. You think you can understand her intent, but without trying this stuff out for yourself there's no way to really be sure. Still, you're not so stupid as to undermine her big teachy moment (again), so you look her in the eye and nod. "Meet you at the weapons room?"

    She nods, and you figure you're only probably imagining the glint of approval in her gaze. "Off with you, then," she says. "I'll make enough of a ruckus to draw the lot of them to me."

    Knowing exactly what she means by 'ruckus', you quickly nod and beat a hasty retreat, heading at a run towards the rear of the mining bay. It's a long, low room mostly carved from the rock around it, filled with piles of extracted ore-rich stone from the canyon below. At its far end are several sets of metal rails leading upwards through a slanting tunnel and a collection of hollow carts with sturdy-looking handles on either side. A few pairs of drake-goats lounge off to the side, staring lazily at you as they chew on some unidentifiable thing lying in their midst. "That must be how they haul the ore up to extract it," you mutter. "Suppose it's a good thing we came here in the middle of the night or else there'd be a whole crew hanging around."

    You don't particularly fancy climbing up the tunnel on your own, but one look at the drake-goats dissuades you from the notion of trying to hitch one up - they may not breathe fire, but the hybrid creatures are exactly as ornery as one would think the combination of their two progenitors would be, and you've no intention of getting the rest of your face bitten off today. Instead you hunch your back, bend your knees, and duck into the tunnel, not looking back as a tremendous crashing sound echoes across the room from behind you, followed by yelling.

    Your neck quickly develops an unpleasant ache from keeping it bent at the uncomfortable angle necessary to not hit your head on the low ceiling, and the steep angle of the tunnel sets your legs aflame. You're not sure how long exactly you climb for, but eventually you emerge into the belly of the facility, and, as you expected, no small amount of mayhem. You can hear the tromping of dozens of pairs of feet, the krak of pistols firing, and the wet-sounding crunching and screaming that usually accompanies Mistress fighting. She must've gotten up here ahead of you, though you haven't a clue how. Seems she's doing her job of drawing all the attention - best get a move on, you figure.

    You're in what looks like a long warehouse, probably the same one you and Mistress were scoping out just a few hours ago, though it looks as if the floor's been dug out somewhat, so you're still below ground as is. The room is shaped like an inverted pyramid with three levels, from what you can figure, with the level you're on being the smallest, and each successive floor getting broader as you go up. There's catwalks going across every level, and sets of stairs and ladders leading from floor to floor. As you watch, though, a group of Powder Scorpion recruits runs past on the level just above you, their voices worried, and you decide you'd best be quick if you don't want to be caught.

    "Past the smelters to the right," you mutter as you climb up the closest ladder. "Rather unclear, that. I know he was being tortured and all but would it have killed him to draw a map?" You continue to gripe as you clamber up the rungs, looking around for anything that could resemble a smelter. The second level is dominated by semi-organized piles of rock that seem to have been sorted based on the concentration of shell-ore in them - some piles are almost entirely milky white, while others have only flecks of the pale stone mixed into them.

    Tracks and carts like the ones you followed to get here lead to the far end of the floor, where a squat, windowless building stands. There's no door you can see, but the air around it shimmers with heat, and you can see flickers of orange light dancing out of the crevices where the tracks lead into. If that's the smelter, then … your gaze flickers up and to the right, and sure enough, there on the ground floor proper, against the wall of the warehouse there's a set of double doors with a red and black sigil emblazoned on the wall above them. You can see Scorpion gangsters rushing in and out - you'd best hurry.

    You set off at a trot, clambering back up a nearby ladder onto the catwalk above you and heading towards the door. You'd held hopes of getting to it without anyone the wiser, but as you get closer, a group of five turns a corner and climbs onto the catwalk, heading right towards you. You grit your teeth, duck your head, and quicken your step in the hopes that you can get past them without anyone saying anything. The whole catwalk is shaking with the vibrations of whatever Mistress is doing to the poor bastards wherever she is, surely there's too much of an emergency for idle chitchat, right?

    You get about three steps past the lot of them before a gruff voice stops you in your tracks. "Girl. Do I know you?"

    "Probably not," you bite back before you can stop yourself. "Can't you hear the fighting? I've got to get to the armory."

    "You don't have your pistol with you?"

    Shit. "No, I. Uh." You fumble for an excuse for a moment, and a horrid shriek from the rear of the building both draws all your combined attention and gives you a perfect out. "I lost it fighting the … flower granny. Barely got away."

    To your chagrin, your perfectly-crafted alibi only draws more suspicion. You haven't turned to face them fully, but you can see the group shifting out of the corner of your eye as their leader makes their way to the front. "You got away from that demon?" He snorts. "Trollshit. There's no way a scrawny thing like you could've survived. You're just trying to cut and run without doing your duty to the Crew. Coward." He spits at you, a big hefty globule that hits the back of your head and sticks to your fur. You can tell instantly that you'll be scrubbing that out for hours.

    The world seems to slow, and two distinct choices make themselves clear to you. They suspect something's wrong, although you haven't seen anyone you personally know yet, so your identity isn't yet compromised. You could keep trying to talk your way out and hope they move on, or you could take the initiative and hope you can beat them all quickly enough to get to the armory before it's blocked off.

    On one hand, fighting them would probably risk tiring you out before you even got to the task of clearing out the armory, and it's not as if you've been done any actual harm by being called a coward. You could easily take the hit to your pride, move on, and save yourself a lot of potential pain.

    On the other hand…

    [] Use your words
    [X] Use your fists

    He fucking spat on you.

    Before you even really finish thinking, your body's made the decision for you. You leap, pushing off the balls of your feet and covering the distance between you and the group in a single bound. You twist in midair and your back foot whips around, catching the leader right in the temple and sending him crumpling in a heap. The other four Scorpions back up a step, lighting up bulky gloves, and you chide yourself silently as you look left and right, the tension growing for a moment. Why do you always get yourself into these situations?

    The Scorpion on the far right lets out a yell and charges forward, swinging wildly, and you ghost backwards, just out of range of his haymaker. You coil on your back leg and spring forward, driving a punch into his gut that knocks his air out. You duck narrowly under another swing, drive your palm heel into his nose, and sweep his lead foot out from under him before scrambling past the rest of the group as they all try to get to you at once, barely avoiding getting smashed against the railing.

    Your father always told you never to be so stupid as to fight a group by yourself, but if you couldn't avoid it, to only fight one of them at a time. The catwalk helps you in this, since there's only so much room and it's hard for them to spread out and surround you on it, but you can't stop moving if you want to win.

    A pair of the Scorpions move towards you while a third helps the other one up. You dance backwards as one swings, then side kick him in the face when he overextends, toppling him backwards. You get too close to his partner, though, and you're wrenched downwards as he grabs ahold of your neck with both flaming hands and pulls you close. You cross your hands in front of your face and block the knee you see coming, firing one of your own back into his thigh. He flinches, giving you just enough space to squirm your hands up to his face. Your thumbs dig into his eyes and he screeches, offering no resistance as you step behind a leg and sweep, driving his head straight into the catwalk.

    The distinct click of a trigger being gripped registers in your ears and you leap forwards, avoiding being shot by sheer luck and crashing into the standing gangster in an awkward tackle. He's driven back a little, but retains his footing and clubs you right in the ribs with his pistol butt. You gasp in pain, and wrap your arms around his in an overhand grip on reflex. He's stronger than you, though, you can already tell, so instead of trying to hold on, you tuck your chin and drive your forehead into his nose. Cartilage crunches, and you follow it up with a swift knee to the groin as he flinches backwards, sending him stumbling to one knee.

    There's a yell from behind you, and you're abruptly shoved forward as someone kicks you in the back. You manage to get your hands out in front of you and break your fall, but it's nowhere near as graceful as you'd like, and you roll over onto your back to see the Scorpion you kicked in the face leveling a pistol at you. "Dodge this," he cries, and you use the small moment of time that gives you to kick the gun out of his hand, sending it clattering to the second level below you. He stares incredulously at his hand, mouth gawping.

    You could make a quip about how you shouldn't talk when you fight, but instead you elect to scoot closer to him and kick him in the balls, then grab his leg and get back to your feet as he doubles over. You lift and push him back towards the railing, letting out a yell as you throw him over. You damn near fall over the side yourself, barely managing to arrest your momentum in time to watch him fall a few dozen feet and land on his head.

    Panting heavily, you look around. Your ribs are bruised, you're pretty sure, your lungs feel like they're on fire, and you have a few burns from where they'd managed to grab you that are rather minor on the whole of it, but would still hurt. You feel like you've sprinted for a day,and your heart's never beat this fast. There were so many times you could've died there, it was completely nonsensical.

    You've never felt more alive.

    …

    Okay Alya, focus, deep breaths. There was one more, I was sure of it - ah, there he is, he's running away, good riddance.

    Wait, that means reinforcements. Shit. Gotta move quick, gotta get to the armory.

    You set off at a sprint, discarding any pretense at stealth. If you can just get to the door then you'll be able to lock it from the inside and clear out anyone who might be there. You dash off the catwalk, swerve around a half-empty cart and a drake-goat that hisses at you as you skirt past. You look left, look right, see no groups of Scorpions heading your way - the sound of the brawl going on behind you has only been growing louder this whole time, so Mistress must be fighting the whole crew here at once by now. You make it to the door, push both of them open like they weigh nothing at all, and stop dead in your tracks.

    "Well now," an all-too-familiar voice drawls. "I must say, I never expected to see you again, dear Cait. What-ever are you doing here?"

    Glimmering Shell, your oldest friend, turns to face you, and your sight narrows as though a tunnel is closing in all around you. You feel an odd pressure on the back of your eyes, and you find that you're clenching your fists hard enough to punch bloody half-moons into your palms. There's a rushing sound in your ears, and you're breathing very deep and fast all of a sudden. Everything seems rather far away.

    "Now now," Glimmer's voice cautions. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were angry with me, Cait."

    Angry?

    Angry?

    "After what you did?" You hiss, your voice low and guttural. "I'd say just fucking angry doesn't cut it."

    Article:
    You grew up with Glimmering Shell - they were the child of the navigator, tasked with learning the customs and languages of any sea kingdoms your ship might pass over on its voyages, so you could continue to sail without being sunk by a territorial mother kraken or the like. They were particularly good at their job, for not only did their mother hail from beneath the waves, they themselves were a Current, a person whose identity could shift between genders as easily as the tide turned - a thing considered semi-sacred to many sea peoples. For their part, Glimmer usually prefers to stay unattached to any gender in particular, adopting characteristics as they please. The one consistent thing about them is the trait they got from their mother, marking them out as a half-breed.

    Glimmer has…

    [] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.

    [] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    [] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.

    [] [TRAIT] Write-in: Describe what sort of sea creature Glimmer was born to, and how that's affected them aesthetically. Must stay more or less humanoid for QM's ease of fight scene writing. These traits are pretty much aesthetic only, Glimmer's fighting style is already decided.

    Not long ago, your life fell apart and you were thrown into a cell to rot. Rumor abounds through the Powder Scorpions as to why exactly this happened - some claim that you'd sold the clan out entirely, others say that you attempted to poison the Captain out of misplaced anger, and some have simply forgotten you entirely. None quite grasp the truth. None but Glimmer, who was the one who betrayed you.

    How did they do this?

    [] [BETRAYAL] Pity: Glimmer happened across a gang of street urchins on an outing, and being prone to impulsive displays of generosity, snuck them - with your reluctant assistance - into the galley on your ship to feed them, which they were profusely grateful for. When the same scoundrels later made use of their knowledge to steal something of the Captain's, any and all culpability for the deed somehow fell on you.

    [] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.

    [] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.

    [] [BETRAYAL] Write-in: Subject to QM veto if necessary for plot reasons


    A/N: I tried real hard to decide between a bunch of ideas I had for Glimmer, and then realized that y'all might have opinions on this as well! Boss fight post coming up after this vote's settled. GET READY … though I'm gonna keep the vote open until discussion dies down, so no rush necessarily either.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • The Shadow Over Kung-Fu.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.

    Feels like an interesting philosophical counterpoint to Granny's life and the Revenge permeating this story. It also provides a dark way that Cait might defeat them.
     
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    [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    Static electricity + an armory probably stocked with pistols and gunpowder. Absolutely nothing can go wrong here, because epic explosions are exactly what I'm aiming for. :V

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.

    I feel like it'd be an even more anger-inducing betrayal the less Alya has to do with it. With Pity and Pride she was at least somewhat guilty, sneaking the urchins aboard for the former and helping with the cover-up for the latter. But with Mercy, that was all Glimmer's choice with no input of her own, and then despite their friendship Glimmer immediately framed Alya some something she didn't do the moment it became clear they fucked up to save their own skin. And if that's not vengeance bait I don't know what is.
     
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    Oh, I should note - Glimmer will be distinctly bishie no matter the aesthetic option chosen, since this meshes better with their 'somehow, infuriatingly, better than you at everything without much seeming effort' vibe.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    ... you roll over onto your back to see the Scorpion you kicked in the face leveling a pistol at you. "Dodge this," he cries, and you use the small moment of time that gives you to kick the gun out of his hand, sending it clattering to the second level below you. He stares incredulously at his hand, mouth gawping.

    You could make a quip about how you shouldn't talk when you fight, but instead you elect to scoot closer to him and kick him in the balls, then grab his leg and get back to your feet as he doubles over. You lift and push him back towards the railing, letting out a yell as you throw him over...

    :D

    Pity he landed on his head. Might have figured out a valuable lesson.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pity: Glimmer happened across a gang of street urchins on an outing, and being prone to impulsive displays of generosity, snuck them - with your reluctant assistance - into the galley on your ship to feed them, which they were profusely grateful for. When the same scoundrels later made use of their knowledge to steal something of the Captain's, any and all culpability for the deed somehow fell on you.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
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    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.


    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pity: Glimmer happened across a gang of street urchins on an outing, and being prone to impulsive displays of generosity, snuck them - with your reluctant assistance - into the galley on your ship to feed them, which they were profusely grateful for. When the same scoundrels later made use of their knowledge to steal something of the Captain's, any and all culpability for the deed somehow fell on you.
     
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.
     
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    Xantalos said:
    [] Use your words
    [X] Use your fists

    He fucking spat on you.
    Click to expand...
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    Valid, very valid.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.

    Don't care so much about the first choice
     
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.

    [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.

    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    Gonna call the vote tomorrow morning! Right now it seems like you'll be getting a soft-hearted bishie fishperson as your rival, but there's always room for that to change.

    I am going to eventually commission artwork of all the major characters in this story, so I look forward to seeing how any of these appearances shake out in actuality.
    Adhoc vote count started by Xantalos on Apr 24, 2023 at 3:22 PM, finished with 16 posts and 15 votes.
    [trait] [betrayal]
    • 11
      [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
      [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.
      [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.
    • 15
      [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
      [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.
      [X] [BETRAYAL] Pity: Glimmer happened across a gang of street urchins on an outing, and being prone to impulsive displays of generosity, snuck them - with your reluctant assistance - into the galley on your ship to feed them, which they were profusely grateful for. When the same scoundrels later made use of their knowledge to steal something of the Captain's, any and all culpability for the deed somehow fell on you.
    Click to expand...
     
    [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.
    [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
     
    I dunno. I feel like glowing electric rival or sea-foam-haired rival is just a more interesting and divergent look than Deep One rival. Like, more obviously paranormal and mysterious as opposed to just "is a fish."
     
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  • Voting
    • Scheduled vote count started by Xantalos on Apr 23, 2023 at 1:39 AM, finished with 19 posts and 16 votes.
    • [X] [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. DUring Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
      [X] [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
      [X] [TRAIT] A Storm Spirit's Corona: It's said that their father saw St. Iqbal's Fire dancing atop the ship's mast one night and climbed up, entranced. Glimmer's inherited a soft glow from their ethereal parent that permeates through their flesh and forms a tangible aura around them, along with a tendency to accrue static electricity.
      [X] [BETRAYAL] Pride: On an otherwise ordinary day, Glimmer was gravely insulted by someone over the matter of their heritage and their status as a Current. Incensed, they lashed out and killed the offender, only to realize that it had been someone very important indeed. They came to you in desperation, and you helped them conceal the body as best you could. When the truth was inevitably unveiled, you were the one brought to task for it, while Glimmer walked off scot-free.
      [X] [TRAIT] A Frothrusher's Mane: Their mother was a princess of the people that exist entirely within the churning foam that accumulates on top of the ever-rolling waves in the Green Thunder Sea. Glimmer's father bested her in a race atop the water, and she bore him a child in gratitude. Glimmer's hair is made of sea foam that they change the shape of at will, and their voice sounds like crashing waves.
      [X] [BETRAYAL] Pity: Glimmer happened across a gang of street urchins on an outing, and being prone to impulsive displays of generosity, snuck them - with your reluctant assistance - into the galley on your ship to feed them, which they were profusely grateful for. When the same scoundrels later made use of their knowledge to steal something of the Captain's, any and all culpability for the deed somehow fell on you.
    Click to expand...


    Simon_Jester said:
    I dunno. I feel like glowing electric rival or sea-foam-haired rival is just a more interesting and divergent look than Deep One rival. Like, more obviously paranormal and mysterious as opposed to just "is a fish."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    If I'm being honest I'll probably end up incorporating elements of the other two into the Deep One configuration anyhow, glowing eyes that crackle with electricity or the like. I can sympathize with this, but given I already basically threw Cthulhu in there as a thing that exists, I figured I may as well go whole-hog with the Deep Ones too.

    On another note, aaah time got away from me! Editing RYE update, other projects, IRL activities. Work commencing...
     
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    Alya Character Sheet (Preliminary)
  • Informational
    • As a part of the upcoming fight scene, I reckon Alya kind of needs a character sheet for y'all to reference. The full one will be edited in here after the fight, but for the moment here's a list of combat skills.

    Update dropping soon. Well, 'next several hours' soon, not immediately.

    Burning Venom Palm - Beginner +: Before your imprisonment, you were a Smoldering Palm adept, and were readying yourself for the trials that would initiate you into the level of Ignited Palm. Those plans were cut short, but you haven't forgotten your training.
    Firearms - Skilled: Having spent as much time doing inventory on guns as you have, it was inevitable that you'd wind up with some skill in them. It's no Infernal Meteor Fusillade, but you're a mean shot.
    Wind-Style Thundering Bell - Novice +: You've literally just learned the foundation of this sub-style of Thundering Bell, but it's proven disconcertingly easy to pick up.
    Typhoon Beneath The Waves - Novice: An advanced Thundering Bell technique you were shown that blends Wind and Water together. You don't think you're skilled enough to land it on anyone in a straight fight, but it might work as a surprise.
    A Spark of Rage: You may choose to activate this once per fight, if there is cause. Briefly ignore the limitations of your mind and flesh. Lasts one round, and leaves Alya drained afterwards.
     
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  • Informational
    • 14. Boss Fight - Glimmering Shell
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    • [TRAIT] A Deep One's Fins: Their mother was an envoy from deep Y'ha-nthlei, and Glimmer has inherited the supple skin, nictating membranes, and webbed hands that go along with such a heritage.
    [BETRAYAL] Mercy: During the hectic days when the Powder Scorpions seized control of Shelldrop, a captive was brought back to your ship, to be held there by the Captain's orders. During Glimmer's turn to watch over them, the captive plead desperately for leniency. Their heart swayed by the performance, Glimmer let their guard down, and the prisoner broke out, subsequently going missing. When the Captain's wrath fell on the ship, the blame somehow ended up on your head.
    Your goal here is to kill all the Powder Scorpions. In the process of doing so, you will hone your bullet-catching skills. You've brought Alya along in order to secure whatever weapons she can while you do this.

    Despite their many flaws as a person, it cannot be denied that Glimmering Shell - not their actual name, but you tried to pronounce that once and couldn't talk for a week afterwards, so it's close enough - is one of those people to whom everything they do seems to come naturally. They've been like that for as long as you've known them; poised, intelligent, well-spoken, effortlessly athletic. Their blue-tinted skin's perpetual sheen of moisture makes them seem elegant rather than slimy, their wide yellow eyes had a distinctly empathetic look to them, the finned crest on their head granted them a sleek, majestic silhouette, and even their gills and webbed fingers somehow added to their overall appearance. Clad in loose red silks that were tailored well enough to still show the occasional hint of muscle, they cut a figure that had on many occasions been described to you as "dashing", "elegant", even "beautiful, for a fish." You'd never held any particular attraction to Glimmer in that way, but you were forced to admit that the bored, graceful thing they had going on held an appeal for people.

    The fact that you can't refute that fact even now pisses you off more than it should. You'd gotten used to your scars and burns, but standing next to your former friend brings back old feelings of ugliness and dismay you thought you'd left behind. They don't even seem concerned by your entrance, continuing to lean against a table with their hands by their sides.

    Glimmer blinks languidly at you and has the audacity to look sad. "I am sorry for what happened to you, Cait," they say, the perfect mix of remorse and honesty in their words. It'd almost be believable if you weren't well aware of how good they were at lying.

    "Don't give me that shit, Glimmer," you hiss, your voice a low rumble. "Don't give me that fake pity. You sold me out to save your skin from your own fuckup. There's no coming back from that."

    Glimmer purses their lips and sighs. "It wasn't … there were things happening that night you weren't told about, but I doubt you're in the mood to listen to me talk right now. What are you doing here, Cait?"

    You laugh harshly. "I'm sure there were plenty of reasons why you did what you did, and you're right, I don't care about any of them. I found someone who wants to get back at the Scorpions just as much as I do, and she's sent me to take these weapons."

    Glimmer raises a single painted eyebrow. "The Death Flower's taken you under her wing? I was sure you'd died when the magistrate's office was cleared out." They stand up, nodding to themselves. "The Captain will want to hear about this … but first things first. I can't let you take these pistols, Cait. There's too much at stake."

    You clench your fists and drop into a fighting stance, your weight coiled and ready to spring. "Want to bet on that, Glimmer?"

    Their face tightens, and you can see their weight shifting subtly. "I don't want to fight, but you know I'm better than you, Alya," they say, their words quiet but firm.

    This, too, is true - along with their natural talent at everything else, Glimmer was a virtuoso when it came to martial arts, their watery heritage only making it more of a surprise for anyone they fought when they wreathed their hands in flame. They'd never applied themselves as much as you did, yet still outmatched you in every spar the two of you had ever had, and they haven't been locked in a cell to waste away for weeks.

    This isn't a mere spar, though, and Burning Venom Palm isn't the only art you know anymore.

    "No more words," you growl, and Glimmer sighs, before putting their hands up in a loose guard. They wait there, not moving an inch.

    BOSS FIGHT: GLIMMERING SHELL, POWDER SCORPION NAVIGATOR​


    Credit: Quiietjay, commissioned with the assistance of Patreon​

    Notable Terrain Facts: An enclosed room with one exit door on either end, big enough to take several seconds to sprint from one end to the other. Plenty of empty floorspace. Six support pillars hold the ceiling up, each as thick as a man's torso and crafted of wood. The walls are covered with pistols, and there are chests of ammunition and many pairs of the fireproof gloves and boots Smoldering Palm trainees use scattered around. Torches light the room up, but they're placed high on the walls where they won't touch the guns and are encased in metal cages.

    Known Enemy Facts: Glimmering Shell had, just before their betrayal of you, reached the Ignited Palm level of Burning Venom mastery, and was your unquestioned better in martial arts. They're stronger than they appear due to their Deep One heritage, and have a natural knack for combat. They don't seem willing to fight to their best at the moment, and they don't know about your initiation into Thundering Bell.

    Known Situational Facts: The armory is being emptied by Powder Scorpion gangsters, who will defend themselves but otherwise seem content to let Glimmering Shell handle you. They will finish carting the weapons out in 5 rounds unless impeded. Granny Flowers is also fighting her way through the facility, and appears to be moving towards you, though you can't quite tell how long it'll be before she arrives. Something tells you the better you perform without her help, the more impressed she'll be.

    [] Write-in tactics...

    A/N: I tried everywhere to find a suitable image of Glimmering Shell, even tried to use DALL-E to generate a placeholder image, but to no avail. If anyone has better luck or can recommend me a good artist that accepts commissions, I'll give you a virtual cookie.

    Granny Flowers does present something of a cushion in that Alya won't die here if she gets her ass kicked, but the training wheels present in the troll fight have now been removed - you're not necessarily guaranteed to come out on top here.

    As always, any questions, comments, criticisms, just @ me. Enjoy! -Xan
     
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