Grasping Shadow
3nd of October 2006 A.D.
Glass shatters, pots and pans go flying to clatter against the walls, concrete cracks, steel bends, a symphony of C4 and onto that ruin are the voices of shattered idols rise in praise and in glory. Yet as you coalesce it's not a warcry you hurl into the din, but a warning: "Watch out!" Rage, despair, suffering, sadism, hopelessness like flames lick at the patterns of probability that all the world seems soft,
malleable.
You are at 6/12 Essence and 5/9 Willpower
In the swirling grey smoke vampiric flesh shines with Hunger's pale light, one last desperate up-welling of strength. As by their vows they have been warded so by those vows they answer, helped to their feet by the Einherjar, yes, but not yet spent, for the hour of vengeance had come, the hour to
feast.
Thankfully Monoc's operatives are just as skilled with explosives as they are with are with weapons in their hands, the blast lessens to a a breath of hot air by the time is washes over Abel. Before the Akuma holding his chain can consider turning him into a shield, before the torturer can even speak you remove him arms at the shoulder.
If it comes down to it you're pretty sure you can stitch them back on later. Then you do the same to the second and the third guard, dancing though the moment Usum's blade an incandescent blur even to your many eyes.
Maybe I didn't need help after all... the giddy thought barely has a chance to ripple across the surface of your mind as you see
It. A pattern in the smoke, less than a shadow, yet more real then the world of form that it had impinged upon, like the night swallowing earth and sky on the last sunset of existence.
It had been a man once under the sun damned by sin or misfortune to Yomi Wan, it had been Wan Kuei once, existing under the light and purpose of Dharma, but all of this it had cast away, leaving behind a withered thing that still wept black bile from its mouth, from its eyes and from the gaping void between them that opened into the darkness of Kakuri. Of bleached bone is the armor fused to his chest, such that one cannot see where his own form ends and it begins, not that truly matters to it, you imagine.
What does a tool care about the parts it is made of?
Yet as it falls upon you, night cold shadows tearing at idol stone,brass and essence with night's frozen shadows, you see that this is not your true foe,
wayang, a shade of rage inked in tainted Yin.
Where is the real one then? So far your armor kept you safe from this thing but Lydia would be less well guarded, the others even less.
What do you do?
[] Let Lydia and the others handle this, stay on guard for the real enemy (Hold your actions so that when the Will of Kakuri moves into your aura you have the option to both block and attack)
[] A Shadow is part of the soul is it not? A hunger stirs within (Kill the wayang and try to use Murder is Meat on it)
[] Write in
OOC: Do you know how much damage a satchel charge can do in WoD? I had to look up the explosive rules and it's 20 dice, lowering by 1 die for every 2 ft from the blast, the Monoc guys did not use a full satchel charge of course, but just as a mechanical idea for why supernaturals who still have to worry about the danger of being blown up (which is everyone not in the big leagues) might be wary of mortals. Oh and for anyone wondering why the shadow looks like the Will of Kakuri, its because he's a Greater Akuma, he and his shadow soul are one, molded to the will of his master. 
