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| Roshi's Trial; Medium Quest | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 23 2017, 10:31 PM (99 Views) | |
| Fasha | Nov 23 2017, 10:31 PM Post #1 |
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Fasha
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Roshi's Trial Difficulty: Medium Description: Master Roshi has taken you under his wing. After training with him for awhile he gives you his trial. It will be an intense mental and physical gauntlet. Only his best students have survived! Reward: +500 zeni, +5 DP, +40 all stats, +5 Rp Credits Bonus: +55 all stats, +8sp, +1 free Roshi taught technique Requirement: Must have trained with Master Roshi for 2 weeks and must be under 50,000 PL. |
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| Fasha | Nov 24 2017, 09:50 AM Post #2 |
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Fasha
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Roshi’s Trial The day broke and the night ran away. The sun ambled through the trees, illuminating the world and reviving the colours of the forest. Birds began to sing as a new day dawned, heralding the coming of warmth and love and life. The forest buzzed with excitement, each animal yawning and stretching, then scampering around with enthusiasm. It was almost as if the trees themselves lifted their arms up in the air and eased their stiff joints. The woods were beautiful that day, but the two women didn’t notice. When the sun had crept up to their clearing, all it did was expose their shame. The clearing was red. Where once ten men had been being now a bloody soup. It was like they had put a grenade in a bucket of red paint, to coat the forest in a new colour. It had been a long night, one filled with happiness and despair, laughter and screams, woman and men. Fasha had loved it. She enjoyed watching them beg as she made them suffer. She could just picture the arrogance on their superior male faces as they waltzed through every town they came across. She could almost smell the greed and predacious nature of the gang members. When they had transformed into whinging, whining cowards, it made the Warrior feel powerful. So this is why they do it. She had thought as her pride and ego grew. This is why they love putting us in the dirt. As much as Fasha had enjoyed it, Jenna had enjoyed it more. This was a far more personal experience to her as these men had killed her husband in cold blood. They had killed the only person she had ever loved for money, and they had down it in cowardice. Jenna had cackled throughout the night, urging Fasha on as they tortured and desecrated the men. Hurting people, even bad people, was kind of like doing hard drugs. At the time you felt fantastic, like nothing could stop you and anything was possible. Not dissimilar to mania, when people’s moods go flying up and all inhibition is lost and everything is great. After awhile as the drug’s effects wear off you start to feel lower. You start doing more and more of the thing that stimulates you to try and keep that high going but it slips away like water in your hands. Eventually you feel so low that you wonder why you even did it in the first place. Sometimes you look back on when you were feeling so great and feel guilt. Sometimes the things you do were not so fun, and not so great. But, you’ve done them, and you can never take them back. The two woman did not feel pride as they looked around at the massacre, they felt only disgust as they had sunk to the level of the very men they had harboured so much hate for. Since the death of Jenna’s husband, all she could think about was revenge. It was the only thing that moved through her mind until the point she was obsessed over it. She thought night and day about what she would do to the gang members when she found them. She had done each one of those things. She expected to feel elation, maybe relief as the weight of the task dropped from her shoulders. Instead she felt heavy as the true grief of her husband’s death finally became real. She was alone, he was gone, and he was never coming back. Jenna began to cry. The tears ebbed out of her eyes like the morning dew after a cold night. They slid down her face like tiny rivers, melting from a glacier of ice deep within her heart. The streams grew thicker, coalescing to become raging rivers and torrential waterfalls. The tears flowed from her as if there was no end, as if the world was her catchment. Fasha held her tight, not saying anything. She girl half expected herself to cry too, but she felt nothing. Her heart was dead, just like those men. When the ocean was dried up and the tears stopped flowing, Fasha still held her. She was afraid that if she let go Jenna might just crumble into dust. She felt so small and frail in her arms, like a child. Eventually the beautiful woman pushed herself back and considered Fasha’s eyes, “I thought that I would feel better, but I only feel pain.” “The person you love is dead. Nothing can bring him back,” Fasha said, turning her face away. “The pain is good, because I think it would hurt more if you just moved on somehow.” Jenna leaped into Fasha’s arms again, burying her face in her shoulder. She was so warm, and her hair smelled so nice. She smelled as if she was a flower in spring. Fasha found herself burying her nose into her hair, savouring the scents of fruit and coconut. It felt like she was back in Filemu, the land of peace. “I know you have already earned what I paid you but-“ she paused. “I feel that the person responsible hasn’t truly been discovered. These gang members operate because they need money, not because they care who is the World Champion. They were living in a forest when we found them, not exactly lavish in some mansion.” The men had been hired by somebody. They had no reason to want to kill her husband, and they had done a similar thing before. It was someone higher up the food chain who had hired these men. “I feel bad for what we did too,” Fasha replied. “But killing somebody else isn’t going to make this feeling go away.” “But if we don’t then he will just walk off happy,” at that last word she spat in disgust. “He will be happy sipping cocktails somewhere while my husband rots in his grave and these men fade away into dust.” She had a point. If we justified killing them, then how could we draw the line at killing one more man? Fasha buried her nose into the thick, dark hair again. She lost herself in the perfumed flowers of the forest which was her hair. She nodded. Word Count 1050 |
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| Fasha | Nov 24 2017, 10:24 AM Post #3 |
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Fasha
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The Serpent’s Head Something bubbled in Fasha’s stomach as she gazed out over the city. For awhile now she had been feeling as if acid was eating away at her, gnawing at her insides as it struggled to break free. She felt trapped, in a world where there was only good and bad, only shades of grey. She wrestled with herself, day after day, fighting over some mysterious feeling which haunted her. The woman would wake up In the night, dripping with sweat as she felt an intense feeling of dread wash over her. She felt sick, all the time. Because all she could think about was blood, the blood of men. Jenna was iron, he strength resonating wherever she walked. Her appearance was rock, carved from the Earth, permanent. Nothing betrayed her neutral expression, she was pure focus. The screams of men did not even penetrate the thick, metal wall she had built. Fasha couldn’t talk to her anymore, because all she could talk about was revenge. Fasha had begun to have odd dreams. In the dreams she was losing somebody she loved. Often La’ei’s face would be smiling at her before it was ripped away. But, sometimes the face would blur, and become indistinct. Then soon the smiling face would be a man, and he would be dragged away, a look of terror on her face. Indecisiveness filled her life. One large indecision turned into a thousand more as she fussed over what meal to buy and when to go to sleep. She was a mess, a puddle of noodles. Jenna was a rock. They stood outside of the man’s house; Jenna’s eyes as dark as the night sky. Fasha had never been afraid of fighting or of dying. Often, she wished for both of those things, but tonight she was afraid. Her heart felt like a lead weight, every beat an effort. Her breath came short and quick and her mind raced like a chariot. This was just a man. I know man. It was just a man. I know man. Her breathing grew more and more rapid while Jenna sat still and quiet, silhouetted against the darkness of the light. In that light she looked more cat than woman. She crouched; so comfortable and slender. Her body quivered with the impending spring as she narrowed her eyes in on her prey. She leaped forward towards the man’s mansion. His home was surrounded with bodyguards. They all wore long navy coats, with a matching three-piece navy suit. They looked strong, with shoulders the size of small hills and jaws as strong as steel. Beneath their cloaks were large bulges where lethal weapons were kept. In one side would be an assault rifle, like something with fully automatic capabilities. They would also have a pistol so powerful it could separate a person’s head from their body before they even could blink. Weapons like that were scary, but Jenna was scared. She was stone. The first two guards fell without incident, barely blinking themselves before their throats were open to the air. Fasha’s arm moved robotically as she moved to decapitate men. Her body was as if on autopilot, following a set of pre-programmed instructions that had been introduced to her by the people she had met as a child. She worked as a killer, because she had been brought up a killer. Each time she did it, she felt shocked inside, in the place where some people feel love, and others happiness. That was all she ever felt anymore, was the guilt from the horrible things she did. They worked their way around the compound, dispatching each member of security in turn. Fasha couldn’t help thinking about the partners of these men. They were working at ungodly hours, while somebody that loved them slept, expecting them to be there when they woke up. Fasha and Jenna were a tribe on the island of peace, returning death with death, in a never ending trade that leaves everybody broke and nobody good. She saw the anguish on each of their faces, just when they realized they were going to die. Beneath their chiselled jaw, Fasha thought she could see a glimmer of fear, or maybe recollection as they thought of the people that loved him. This look of vulnerability was once something the warrior had savoured. Now she felt sick in every way possible when her body performed its duty. Often she could hear the soft giggle of Jenna as she took another victim. Soon a trail of dead bodies lay behind them and they had free reign to the wall’s of the mansion. Lights moved up and down the wall, they had the noticeably perfect pattern of a computer. They moved in such a way that the wall was always bathed in a good proportion of light and often areas of the bush would be illuminated completely, revealing whoever was hiding. They snuck up to the wall, weaving in between the spotlights, hearts pounding in their chests.. They both scampered up the walls, their tiny frames launching themselves up the wall with rats in a sewer. They flung themselves over to land in the garden, into the sweet protection of darkness. The smell of man once again filled Fasha’s nostrils. Greed, hate and lust. [I know men…[/i] Word Count 889 |
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| Fasha | Nov 25 2017, 12:21 AM Post #4 |
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Fasha
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The darkness shielded its allies, covering the woman in a blanket of shadows as they stalked through the garden. This was a cautious man, his minions littering his property like ants. The woman made their way through the maze of trees, squashing the ants as they went. One man, Jenna took her time with; slowly choking the life out of him with her legs wrapped around his throat. You could see the confusion in his eyes as his blood stopped reaching his brain, the cells going into hibernation as the precious oxygen supplies dwindled. There was a chance he would wake up, but she squeezed for so long that when he did wake up he might be different. The areas in his brain would hibernate for so long that they might die off, and he might feel the same, but everything would be different. He would be different. Jenna let him go and he collapsed, a sack of bones and fluid. They moved on, getting closer to the main complex. They hugged the shadows as they danced wall to wall, avoiding the guards they could and disposing of those they couldn’t. The night was dark, and the animals were out. They got to the big three storey home and leaped onto the wall. Their fingers carving their way into the wood as they hauled themselves up. The scampered up the wall, as quick as monkeys. A shout echoed out from below them, a warning so that they could move even faaster. Strips of wall flew off as the gunfire raked the side of the building. Wood splinters flew everywhere, filling the air with sawdust and the thin smoke of discharging weapons. They reached a window, on the second story and threw themselves inside, crashing through the window pane among a shower of glass. The glass silently tore into their skin, separating edges and inviting blood to exit. They scrambled to the other side of their room, their hands and knees pushing into the glass. They made it out into the hallway. Heavy foot steps thudded against the ground below them as very large men, with very large guns ascended the stairs. The woman slipped silently away and back out the window they had just crashed through. The peeked out. Nobody was waiting below, they had all had run together, competing to be the first up the stairs to capture the two intruders. Fasha and Jenna slipped out the window and resumed their ascent. They paid great attention to where they put their hands and feet, because a fall at this height would surely break their bodies. Their bleeding hands left a trail of bread crumbs for the guards to follow, so they had to also move quick. Just as they were approaching the top they heard a door open from out on a balcony. A man peered down at them, said something into his mike and then opened fire. His rifle rounds raked the wall that they clung to. Fasha looked across to see Jenna get hit, a large wound opening up on her shoulder. She clung to the wall desperately, her grip failing. A familiar crackling sound filled the Warrior’s ears as she watched her friend teeter on the edge of death. Somebody began roaring and Fasha began flying. She launched herself off the wall, propelling herself upward with incredible speed. She crashed into the bodyguard, her small frame knocking him off balance. His body flew like a rag doll, careening into the wall where his head connected with the wood with a sickening crunch. He lay back, his head lolling back and his eyes staring into nothing. Fasha ran back to her friend, who was still clinging to the same spot on the wall. The warrior lowered her spear down to her friend; and positioned herself to take the weight. She had most of her body on the other side of the balcony clinging to the wall, while the other half of her body stretched out to lower the spear down. Jenna reached out and grasped the spear, putting a lot of her weight through the wood. Fasha clung on desperately, her head fighting for purchase on the spear. Jenna began to walk up the building, climbing her way up the spear and then up the girl’s arm. By the time he launched herself over the wall to safety, Fasha’s arm felt as if it might separate at the joints. She rubbed her aching arm as she looked over Jenna. Her arm had been badly hit. Blood was seeping through her clothes and her arm hung limply at her side. The look on the woman’s face was full of pain and fear as she battled to try and control the bleeding. Fasha took off her belt and wrapped it around the woman’s arm. She pulled tight, so tight that Jenna screamed in pain. This would only buy time, because in 6 hours the arm would die and the bleeding would just get worse. “We have to get you to a hospital,” Fasha demanded. “No!” The woman exclaimed. “Not until we finish this! I’m not ready yet.” The determination in her eyes shone brightly, like a forest fire blazing . “Okay,” Fasha agreed with her head lowered and jaw tensed. Word Count 881 |
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| Fasha | Nov 25 2017, 01:27 AM Post #5 |
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Fasha
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The dead man had called to the others before he had started to shoot. They would have dozens of armed men upon them in seconds. Fasha scooped up her friend and dragged her inside. They sprinted down the hallway, paying no heed to how much noise they made. Jenna directed them as they went, weaving left and right down different corridors until they came to a long hallway. At the end were several men, already dropped to their knees with rifles raised. The pair froze, like an animal in the headlights. Fire erupted from the muzzles as bullets hizzed from the barrels. Fasha swung Jenna behind her and began to run forwards. Everything slowed down as she sprinted forward. She could see the bullets twirling through the air, slicing through the air towards them. She moved as if time stood still, slapping the bullets away as they approached. The were diverted and slammed into the walls around them. Hundreds of bullets came, but Fasha kept running forwards, her hands moving like helicopter propellors. The distance was closing to the men shooting, and she could see them begin to panic. One of their guns went dry, choking. The man went to reach for another clip but he paused just long enough to watch the bald woman sprinting towards him. He dropped his gun and began to pound on the thick door behind him. He couldn’t open it, and they wouldn’t answer. Every one of them followed suit, cowering at the end of that long alley as Fasha reached them. They tried to strike out but she merely dodged to the side and whipped her fist out, snapping their heads back and causing them to crumple to the ground. One man tried to grab her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leveraging his body and driving her knees into his chest, again and again and again. After the first strike, all the air left his body and he just continued to splutter and gasp as she drove her knee into him again and again. She left him squirming on the ground, clutching his abdomen as if everything might fall out. The final man was still pounding on the door. Fasha made to walk towards him but suddenly Jenna was there, gripping the man with her one good arm. “Open this door!” She commanded. There was no answer so she grabbed the man’s thumb, twisted and broke his arm. “OPEN THIS DOOR!” She screamed. In a fit of rage, she dug her teeth into the man’s neck and sunk them so deep. His scream could curdle blood. She brought her face up, covered in blood and yelled again for the door to be opened. The door remained stoically shut. She drove her elbow down into the man’s temple, cutting his screams short. The silence was almost worse than the shrieking. Jenna began to slam her fists into the wall in a fit of rage, “OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” She roared. Fasha was scared. Her friend was out of control. Is this how I look when I lose it? “Hold on,” Fasha pleaded. “I will open it.” The girl stepped forward, placing her hand on the thick wooden door and closing her eyes. Inside she let the fire lick at her body. Her skin welcomed the warm touch. She let the fire soak through her bones, spreading along her body and out into her hands. The warmth spread through the whole door as it began to smoulder. The thick brown wood turned to black and then to red as it burned from the inside. It began to crumble, piece by piece. Wood and ash fell to the floor and behind the door the begging began to start. The pair stepped through the door to find a large room. In the corner of the room was a man with a thin face and pudgy body. He sobbed from behind the chair as they approached him. The fury in Jenna’s eyes pierced him, and he soiled himself right there. She gripped him by his throat. “Why?” “What, what do you mean?!” “WHY!?” “Why what, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He stammered. “Why did you order to have my husband killed?” She said, now so quiet you could barely hear her. “Husband? What, no? I design computer games. Please don’t hurt me!” She slapped him, so hard that tears jumped to his eyes, “If you lie to me then this will be much worse for you.” His eyes darted towards Fasha, searching, pleading. She shook her head. “Please!” He moaned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” A look of pure disgust crawled over Jenna’s face. She began to squeeze his neck, so hard that her fingernails tore into his flesh. He began to sob, tears falling down his cheeks just as Jenna’s had that day in the clearing. Without a word Fasha walked forward and grabbed Jenna from behind. She was silent as she wrapped her arms around her throat. She squeezed gently, applying the pressure so as not to hurt the woman. Jenna thrashed wildly in the hold, gasping out Fasha’s name as her consciousness faded. After a minute she dropped into a peaceful sleep and fell to the floor. The warrior turned to the frightened man, “Leave, and never come back.” A soft clapping filled the room. Fasha’s head snapped around to find Master Roshi staring at her. “Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve passed.” Word Count 913 Total 3738 |
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