On the Wings of a SOLDIER

[Indigo]

Forgotten, not lost; one in being with the planet

The barely audible thud of Anghara’s feet reverberated almost silently through the loosely packed soil. She was silently reciting the prayer that was forever etched into her memory. It held so much more meaning for her now. She, herself, was long forgotten. But lost? No; she was truly one in being with the planet. Her steps were quick but precise on the scarcely visible path. Very few travelers ever used it; hence the lack of direction it seemed to have.

Sacred, divine, and pure; a being of virtue

It was here she stopped and allowed the sweet scent of pine to assail her nostrils. The smell drew memories from deep within her subconscious to replay themselves behind her glistening brown eyes. Her feet moved forward again at a rapid pace until she found herself surrounded with the very trees she had smelled only moments before. Once safely enclosed in the sweet scent of remembrance, she squatted down in the dirt so that her knees were to her chest and her face stared at the ground. This place felt so very Sacred and pure that she herself was almost enveloped with the heavy feeling of it.

It is with solemn heart and heavy hand that all integrate themselves into the plan of the Mother

One of her olive-skinned hands removed itself from the folds of her cloak to trace circles absently in the loose dirt as she let memories flood back to her. Images of her family, the council, the debate…all of it flashed before her as it had done so many times. There was her rival; accusing her of the crime she had never committed. There was the head of the council, shaking his head and condemning her to exile. The forlorn faces of her family grimacing as tears streamed down their helpless faces. A cool feeling on her cheek jerked her back to reality. A breeze had blown across the tear she had shed. Her fingers flicked the dust from them and moved to wipe the elf’s face. She stood quickly and began to press on.

The woods were not deep. She knew the city was not far off, and the thought of something warm to eat and a soft bed to sleep in was motivation for her pace to quicken. Upon leaving the woods, Anghara drew her hood up to save her face from the occasional harsh winds that blew over these plains. The familiar touch of rigid metal against her left leg was a constant reminder of her purpose. Her sword had been crafted from Stethryl by the hands of her own people only a few years before her departure from the city. The combination of steel and mythril complimented each other beautifully. This weapon was easy to swing, but also accommodated for a very great deal of power. The dagger on her right hip was also within easy reach, but it was only a secondary weapon.

To love and to serve to the best of one’s ability

She paused once more to listen attentively for any sound at all. The dying grass beneath her boots whispered quietly to the trees at her back. She heard their branches respond in the wind, rustling their deeper, wiser tones to the younger but fading grass. A gentle and sincere smile appeared briefly in the corners of her mouth. She had grown so accustomed to nature’s discussions of this kind that it was almost like being able to understand them again. Her destination could not be much further off. Moments later she would be in view of it. Once again, she moved forward.

Perhaps only minutes later, a general hum of activity reached her slightly pointed ears, and her sharp eyes started to pick up an occasional puff of smoke or a flicker of light. Dusk was falling somewhat rapidly, and it was only as she turned a corner around a large outcropping that she saw the entrance to the city in the fading sunlight. It was then she chose to recite the last line of her prayer, and folded her hands across her chest as she did so – purely in the fashion that was accustomed to her upon ending a prayer such as this.

Until the great light has gone out. (Namar)

[LocoColt04]

Seven of them this time?! Shit.

He tightened his two-handed grip on the katana as he slowly turned full-circle, counting the assailants. He'd brutally disembodied three of their comrades; hadn't they gotten the message? These idiots were beyond saving, and his primal bloodlust was craving more manslaughter. None of the seven men made a move toward him. They merely stood around him, casually toying with their weaponry. A voice came from the rooftop above.

"So you're the one called Tiger, hmm? That was quite a show you put on earlier. Two women and a man, ripped to pieces, much like a tiger. How noble of you. Let me tell you how unimpressed I am. Novices, all of them. Yet they forced you to put up quite the fight, did they not? Thomas Hurst, prepare to die."

Never once did Thomas remove his eyes from the circle of men. The figure above scoffed at his confidence, and motioned for the attack. He disappeared into the rooftop entrance, leaving the murder of Thomas Hurst to his henchmen.

Thomas winced as the chained flail whooshed dangerously close to his head. Stooping without a second thought, he removed his left hand from the katana and withdrew a throwing knife from his boot, hurling it in the direction of the flail. A sickening crack was heard, and the subtle vibrations of a large body hitting the ground could be felt. Thomas rose to his feet, and turned to his left. The knife had lodged itself square in the middle of the burly man's forehead; a mixture of blood and brain matter slowly began to seep from the thin slit.

The remaining six men broke the circle, huddling together in front of Thomas, wary of his every motion. He shifted uneasily as the men whispered to each other, unsure of whether he should rush in slashing or wait for them to make a move. The cold brick courtyard beneath his feet called for more bodies; the full moon above hid from the carnage behind a thin layer of storm clouds. Evil was brewing.

As the air thickened, the situation remained at a stalemate. Thomas knew he couldn't go after his target without dealing with the henchmen; the henchmen knew they couldn't exterminate the mercenary without casualties. Thomas' left hand found the lower half of the katana's obscenely yellow handle once more. With a deep breath, he calmed his nerves, stepping toward the men just meters away. At the sound of the first step echoing through the empty courtyard, the six men leapt into action. Placing the job above his life, Thomas thrust the katana forward into the leg of the man wielding identical daggers. Pulling back, he spun to his left, bringing the katana back around to the man's left arm. Before he could sever the limb, a heavy broadsword intercepted the katana. Thomas kicked as hard as he could with his left leg, knocking the swordsman into the lone oak tree. The swordsman slid to the ground as focus returned to the man with the daggers.

In his place stood another man holding a bamboo staff. A dagger slashed across Thomas' right bicep; by reflex, he whirled to the right, slicing through the neck of his attacker. The severed head, still blinking, fell to the ground, rolling into the body of the burly man. Before the body even wavered, Thomas had shoved his katana through the torso, using it as a shield from the axe-wielder behind him. A blow to the back of the head from the staff knocked Thomas to the ground. As he fell, he dropped the katana and removed two more throwing knives from his boots, keeping them from sight. He remained motionless on the ground for a few moments as the chaos around him ceased.

The footsteps of two men flooded his ears; his longbow was beginning to dig into his spine. When the movement stopped, he could feel the breath of a man on his neck. Sensing Death's scythe looming above, Thomas rolled toward the unknown man, slashing across the heels with the knife in his left hand. As he opened his eyes, the man with the staff fell to his knees, unable to stand. Thomas shoved the bloody knife into the right lung of the trembling man. Immediately, the man let out a deafening scream that was so repulsive, Thomas felt he had no other choice than to force the knife in his right hand through the man's larynx. As the vocal cords collapsed, the man began coughing up blood. Thomas left the knife and rose to his feet once more, leaving the wretched man to die in agony.

Rushing footsteps from behind alerted Thomas of another attacker. He stepped to his left moments before impact, locking the right arm of the swordsman in his own. Thomas tightened his grip, slowly crushing the delicate joint of the elbow. The axeman, who had stepped away for a moment to catch his breath, now ran toward his ally. Thomas snapped the arm of the swordsman and kicked him backward and, in one motion, he ripped his longbow from the straps on the back of his vest. In the blink of an eye, an arrow had left the quiver and found its place in the bow.

By the time the axe-wielder had mentally processed the scene before him, an arrow had impacted his diaphragm. Two seconds later, another found its way into his right forearm, forcing him to drop the axe onto the headless body of the man with the daggers. Another sickening crunch could be heard as the head of the axe crushed the lifeless spine of the corpse. A third and final arrow cleanly ripped through his jugular, and the blood began to pour like a fountain. He collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Thomas affixed his bow to his back and retrieved his katana from the corpse in front of him. He walked over to the swordsman, who was cringing in pain on the ground, and poked him gently with the katana. The swordsman's pleading looks met apathy in Thomas' slate gray eyes. As he dragged the tip of the katana down the man's chest and over his stomach, Thomas had a change of heart. The katana slid back up and over the swordsman's heart; a bit of pressure was applied, and the breath stopped.

The sound of applause startled Thomas. He turned around, facing the remaining two men. The taller man had a set of nunchaku, and the shorter carried a pair of sais. He had completely forgotten about their presence.

"How valiant of the heartless Tiger to spare the man from suffering," the tall one scoffed. The short man also chuckled at the remark, and Thomas stood silent.

Obviously the least moronic of the bunch, I'd say...

[Ryayukou]

The dark-gray clouds were scattered all over the night sky, never allowing the full moon to shine to its full potential. The fields beneath the ominous clouds cried silently for rain, for no rain had fallen the entire summer. Rain looked promising, for the dark clouds continued to gather and grow even darker.

The small town right next to the fields was very quiet, save for the shops' windows closing and the doors being locked, signifying the end of a day. People hustled into their houses, shut their doors, and let loose the blinds. All was silent now.

Except for the hustle and bustle near the town's bar, many men and women of different races and species crowded into The Nightshade for a night of drinking, gaming, and for some, even more. The bar soon filled out and the drinking and games began.

Not too long after the activities started, it fell quiet, for a tall figure shrouded in a true black cloak stepped into the doorway. It was carrying, or rather, dragging a large bundle wrapped in a dark cloth which was tied many times with thick rope. The mysterious figure said nothing as it walked across the room and sat in a lone chair by a deserted table, drawing stares from everyone.

Soon everyone went back to their own business, save for a trio of human men still looking at the cloaked figure. It just sat there, and occasionally prodded the bundle near its feet.

What was in the bundle?

The "leader" of the trio, Crumel, slide off his bar stool and walked over to the figure. The two others, Kiipal and Gramak, followed close behind, wiping excess beer off of their lips.

"Hey pretty thang," Crumel said to the figure.

The cloaked person did not respond.

He laughed. "Hey, my buddies and I are pretty lonely tonight... why don't you keep us company for a while, huh? We'll pay ya good,"

"Leave me out of your disgusting hobbies, human," the person in the cloak responded. It was a sharp voice edged with annoyance.

"Hey, no one says no to Crumel's requests, whore!" Crumel yelled back.

A waitress came between the two and placed a pitcher of beer in front of the cloaked figure, who picked it up and drank.

"I just did; now leave me alone and go back to your drinking or die right now," the cloaked creature snapped back.

Crumel grabbed the cloak's collar and jerked the hood to his face.

"Say that again,"

He grinded his teeth in anger, and soon he saw the pair of cat-like emerald eyes shine out from the dark hood and stare him directly in the eyes. His entire body felt numb as the giant mouth broke into a wide grin, showing off large sharp teeth. The creature's giant hand suddenly grabbed his. Crumel had bigger hands than the average man, but this creature's hand easily engulfed it, it was twice his size. The creature gave a gentle squeeze, and it completely crushed Crumel's hand. Crumel's cry of pain spread throughout the entire bar, and he started to slide to his knees. As he slide to the floor, he grabbed the figure's hood and pulled it away. It revealed a head that was very closely distinct to that of a tiger.

A demi-human. A Kou-Aeka.

It was Ryayukou, the famous Hunter. Or Assassin, to some.

"It... it can't be..." Crumel choked.

Ryayukou let go of his hand and wrapped her fingers around his throat. She easily lifted him up and tossed him across the bar. He hit a couple of tables back by the far wall, disrupting card games and drinking. The entire bar stopped its activities and watched in awe at what was happening.

"Why you..." Kiipal growled, and reached for his gun. Ryayukou's eyes and reflexes were much too fast for the human, and her tail, swift as lightning, shot the back of his head and gave him a hard whip. He fell like a sack of potatoes to the ground, gone from all conciousness. Gramak just stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just seen in a matter of seconds. The Hunter stood to her full height of seven feet, towering over everyone. She looked down at her last victim, and grinned widely at him. Gramak just ran out the door, running as fast as he could.

The fight was over. Ryayukou turned around and looked at the crowd, completely quiet. No one moved. No one made a sound.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a bag of coins. She carelessly tossed it to the bartender, who barely caught it.

"Sorry 'bout the mess."

She kneeled down and grabbed her bag. Easily slinging it over her shoulder, she slowly stood to her full height and walked out of the bar.



Ryayukou was now far away from the bar. The clouds had finally broke and rain was pouring down on the thirsty fields. Up in her temporary sancuary, a tree top, she thought heavily on her life.

"So, this is it.... I've been a Hunter and Assassin for almost twenty human years, and now I'm not. What next?"

She tilted her head a few degrees upward, letting the stray drops from the tree's gaping branches splatter on her face. The faces of her two older brothers, Jacquar and Ruuko, came into her mind. Had it been so long since she'd seen them?

Jacquar... Ruuko...

Her fingers idly stroked the pendents on her necklace chain; a jewel in the shape of a teardrop, a tooth from the giant bear, and a tiny bit of fur belonging to a creature she did not know. Both were alike to her brothers' pendents; before they split up almost twenty years ago, they made each other pendents to hold onto. Ryayukou's was the teardrop, Jacquar's was the tooth, and Ruuko's was the fur.

"We'll see each other again, someday. We must keep these pendents, they are all we have now. We can never go back to the mountains."

"Ryayukou... the one without tears..."

She hissed at the thought of the horrible memory surfacing within her. There was no way it was ever going to happen again. She reached down and grabbed the bundle. Inside was her bounty for her last hunt; more money that anyone could possibly need in their lifetime.

"I will find you... even if it means using all of this money... and remembering again. I won't regret it."

She dropped down from the tree and slung the bundle over her shoulders. Ignoring the pouring rain, she walked down the lonely dark path.

[OceanEyes28]

The rain was a gentle mist this morning. As if the stars themselves were falling to the ground as daylight took their place behind the gray tent pitched above the green valley. The sweet smell of damp wood collected in beads of moisture glistening upon her fair skin. Her slender arm made a graceful sweep through the humid air above her and found its way to the cotton sheet spread over a cushion of moss. She propped herself up, and her eyes opened. She had round, blue eyes like sparkling gems set in a creamy canvas. The folds of her rosy gown tumbled to her ankles as she stood. The stone floor was chilly and damp against the soles of her feet, but she had grown accustomed to it during her twenty-four years of living. She slept beneath a carved stone ceiling held up by sturdy columns chipped and worn with age. Past the columns were seven stone steps and a pale frosty autumn courtyard full of scattered stone bricks. Beyond the courtyard to the west was a long path that once shone a brilliant white beneath the sun’s gaze. It led to the temple’s arching entrance, overgrown with vines and winding tree roots. Adrianne leaned against one if her columns and watched the rain for a moment. Then she pealed the gown from her smooth shoulders and tugged her wrinkled white linen shirt over her head. She slipped on pants of the same make, and then her thronged sandals. She went to check on her rain collectors. The painted gourds set out along the faded path were already overflowing. I suppose I’ve slept late. She gathered four gourds at a time, and after all eight had been emptied into a large stone bowl, she set them back outside to collect more water. She returned to her bed’s corner, and folded the gown she had carelessly tossed aside. She made her way into her vegetable garden, gingerly stepping between rows, and picked out a potato and two carrots. Then she went back inside to make herself breakfast.

Adrianne’s existence was lonely, but she did not know anything else. Her mother and father raised her until the age of fifteen. One day, they disappeared without a trace, and she was left alone. She wasn’t bitter, though. All her life she had known that her parents loved her very much. When she was young, her father had her pick a weapon that she wished to learn. She chose a long trident, and her mother was pleased. Alex had been half human and half water nymph. She had always meant to learn how to wield a trident, but her membership in the army only gave her knowledge of the sword. Phillip then taught his daughter how to defend herself in combat. Her mother taught her magic. Soon, Adrianne had the ability to manipulate water and use it to heal herself of injury. It became her element, and her trident was yet another way to channel that energy. Having spent many years in the army, Alex had a kind of learned brashness that Adrianne was, at times, sensitive to. Adrianne resisted developing her mother’s odd charm, but in the end, she was stronger for it. Her mother and father were completely in love up until the last moment she laid eyes on them. Phillip loved Alex for how unorthodox she was compared to most women at the time, and Alex loved Phillip because his tenderness toward her and her daughter had no limit.

Adrianne spent the day like she did every other day. She tended her garden, made sure the temple was kept in descent shape, bathed, washed clothes, dried them, took a walk around the valley, and practiced with her trident. She sang, and danced, and used mashed berries and herbs to make ink to scribble thoughts upon leaves she had woven together and dried. She played the flute that her father had left behind, and chanted the stirring prayers of her mother. Then, when a warm breeze blew in from the east late afternoon, she curled up against her earthy bed and dozed until the evening had faded into night.

The next time that Adrianne awakened, her temple had changed. It did every night. The staid gray dome towers of morning to afternoon were no more. Once the sun dipped behind the jade mountains, the enchantment of the secluded temple came to life.

The temple is lit up with a shimmering gold against the chalky black sky, and blue mist covers the floors. Torches and candles are lit and blazing with warm light into the darkest passages, and the columns glow white. The temple then fills with spirits carrying golden lights. The spirit women wave silver fans and a gentle wind drifts through the hallways and rustles their scarves of iridescent orange, scarlet, and green. Everyone is barefoot on the cool stone, and a soft pattering can be heard. The statues in the walls even seem more animated than before. Beside the glittering white path before the entrance are turquoise pools filled to the top where lily pads glide along the serene water, making smooth ripples that press against the tile borders. All over the temple, there are spirits dancing, sipping wine and slurping tea; there are artists, poets, authors, scholars, philosophers, musicians, and all the fan women sing. The gentle breeze flutters against hanging silks and the jeweled ornaments sing like chimes through the air, and there is always a soft but firm beating of a drum.

Adrianne woke up in the morning to the smell of dew drops. She woke in the evening to the scents of incense and tea.

She still remembered nights spent with her mother walking through the blooming gardens with lotus plants, jasmine, lavender, and pink roses. When she was six, she tried to pick one of the roses, but when she plucked it, the pretty blossom turned to a gray mist in her hands. She came crying to her mother about what she had seen, and her mother explained that everything that occurred within the valley at night was a memory of the temple’s beautifully exotic past. Over time, she had managed to make a place for herself in the memory so she wouldn’t be alone. Sometimes, she could even taste the bittersweet of the tea she put to her lips. Her life was a dream, and one day melted into another. She steadily became very good with her weapon and water magic, and before she knew it, she was twenty-four.

It never rained at night. It always rained in the morning. Twenty-four years, and she had never seen a sunrise. The only mornings she knew were gray and drenched. As time wore on, her curiosity grew, and more and more she wanted to know the warmth of the first ray of sunlight touching the horizon. Her parents had left, and she could not stay forever. She knew there was a world outside the sloping mountains. She just needed to find the way.