The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=indigo]You're damn right it will Bandit. And I bet you're happy about it too, considering the effort you put into getting this thread closed. I gave everyone multiple chances, they weren't taken. If anyone wants to discuss this in greater detail, please PM me your concerns.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]He craned his neck, keeping the muscles under pressure, and examined his hands, smeared almost clean on her torso. He reached out, his long fingers finding the deep wound on her stomach, opening it, and picking her up by it. He sat up on the bed, placing her on his lower legs. His claws traced up and down her spine, while his hands traced absent designs in the blood on her stomach. She took the wound well, but perhaps was too distracted to acknowledge it. He smiled bitterly, and lunged his head forward. She gasped, and recevied a mouth full of silky but thick fur for her trouble. His mouth closed over her throat, but did not even pierce skin. Point made, he withdrew, and sunk his fangs an inch into the flesh of her shoulder. Gently, withdrawing quickly, but the pain was still there.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]OOC: Someone didn't make a lot of sense of the preceding post hmm.... IC: [I]Kynjaka flicked his wings up wyvern like claws on the wing bones brushing against the sides of her skull. He allowed her her "dominance" for the moment, his thick fur was most likely more discomforting to her than she was to him. Besides, any pain she caused him could be returned so easily... He let his wings fall back, his eyes luminous with a violet dazzle to rival her own ...enthusiam for the entire process. He assumed she'd get on with it eventually. After all, she could, theoretically, teaste him as much as she liked. But he would, after all, outlive her.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Your obsession never caused me pain Your love was never cloying Your personality was never annoying You never tried to hurt me But you made yourself change You idealised an entity out of yourself You broke my trust and warped You left me with that confused reflection You destroyed yourself in your quest for me[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]They're simply the most common forms of martial arts, so they come up the most. As for the dying thing...Statistically, you're safer doing martial arts, even something like Muay Thai or even Ishiryoku Jutsu (A mixture of karate and judo designed specifically to cause pain), than you are playing football or even soccer. You may feel a lot more sore after an intense martial arts session, and accidents certainly happen, but overall, it's far safer. Provided, of course, you're doing it in an intelligent and disciplined environment. Tae Kwon Do translates, literally, to hand foot way. Soo Bahk Do, I don't know about. But it obviously is some kind of Korean "way", even if not a sub branch of Tae Kwon Do. I'll ask my instructor sometime next week, see what he says.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Vyrim barely noticed nightfall, merely taking it as a lessening of the intense heat, and the sand was now slightly less reflective. Good enough. Eventually, of course, it got cold. Vyrim wordlessly created a small glowing ball of flame, for heat and light. He moved closer to Raeven, placing an arm around her. They walked like that for a while, before Vyrim suddenly halted. He turned Raeven to him, and kissed her, softly.[/I] Vyrim: I love you.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Kynjaka: Hurt you? That was not a concern. Killing you however... [I]Vondeux's eyes glinted with interest. Kynjaka again held her down, one of his pantherish claws reached down, raking up the inside of her leg.[/I] Kynjaka: This was never of interest to me. [I]Vondeux's eyes dulled slightly in confusion. Kynjaka drew his hand further up, over her soft stomach. He placed his paw in the centre, just under his navel. He bug his centre claw in, hard enough to pierce deeply, and drew it upwards... Utilising as much of the body as possible was always preferable.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Originalimp, more effort please.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Kynjaka flicked his long tongue out, several inches sliding down her throat. As the rough appendage traced the back of her mouth, he somehow managed crude speech.[/I] Kynjaka: Ever been internally strangled? [I]She made a low, guttural sound, the wide transverse waves in her vocal chords not doing wonders for his tongue... He got the point, and withdrew. He shifted slightly above her, spreading his wings out like an impenetrable cloak. The only light was his luminous eyes, like twin will-o-the-wisps, drawing her in.[/I] Kynajak: You didn't leave me a lot to work with mortal. Vondeux: What more do you need? [I]Kynjaka smiled, the thin light illuminating pristine fangs as the dull grey of old bone. He traced her body with his eyes, and a cat-clawed hand, the blood ruffling silky fur.[/I] Kynjaka: Room, my dear, for you to writhe.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]God never had a minimilist sense of advertising Satan never knew realised the power of television We danced around the fire that night They looked upon us in confusion and shame God gave us discipline, to swath us up in wool Satan gave us chaos, to live life to the full The mad dance rolled ever on And they shook their heads and moaned God inspired plague, humans respond to fear Satan gave us temptation, fed God's plan The dancers stumbled in their paths They laughed, thinking they had gotten somewhere God repeated his ploy, codified his world Satan held a counter-protest, to appeal to the reactionaries The dance broke into facets They were frustrated by the polarisation God sighed, and relaxed his iron demands Satan muttered, and conceded a need for stability The dancers smiled politely, and sipped their drinks. They left an empty floor. God and Satan sipped their own drinks, and finally as one, they swore. The dancers found a new tune. God and Satan found humility. The moral of the story? Whatever you like. It's your tune.[/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Red [/i] [B][color=002E55]I did Wing Chun for a while, it's very tough to get used to since it's very different. It has some excellent blocking techniques (mostly based on the most basic, yet most used stance in the style). For example, I was able to push my Shifu as hard as I possibly could, yet he would never move from the spot. It's hard to explain - but if you were standing in a normal position you would be moved; the stance involves chanelling energy through your body into the floor. I've seen a couple of people who have learnt Jeet Kune Do as well, a very free flowing style (as I don't think it has stances or forms).. the only moves I've seen seem to draw from the constant movement to pack an extra bit of force. I've trained in a few different styles, I started with Karate which is way too forceful a style in my opinion; I've also done some Tae Kwon Do, Kung Fu and a tiny bit of Kendo.[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=indigo]I always found that in karate the moves were too self-contained, and were done in relation to themselves, rather than in relation to how you can move before and after that move. Each move is done for force, singular force. Tae Kwon Do I find much more preferable, for while there are several powerful kicks done singularly, most of the moves I know can flow in or out of dozens of combinations. I personally don't have a lot of experience with Jeet Kun Do, other than what a friend of mine has taught me. His brother studied in England a few years (tenth level master, or whatever their highest standard is apparently...one of those people who teaches people who to take a hit to the head and feel no pain..), and then came back and taught my friend. One of the precepts apparently is to keep everything loose enough to move. I find that a rather fascinating philosophy, one I try to adopt as much as possible. I don't even use fists, preferring knifehand and palm strike techniques, if I can help it. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Trust me Shinobi, I'm more than aware that double posts are illegal, and more than willing to delete them (up to a point). However, I'd like to point out that a) Goven Man's first post was also redundant spam, and b) your post wasn't much better. It makes my job a lot easier if I have to deal with one or two instances of spam, rather than one or two instances of spam and then a flood of "That's spam" style posts. So we'll either leave this conversation stuff off entirely, or confine it to PMs, hmm.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]The wind was bitterly cold, but Kattarin was well used to ignoring it. She stood exposed, low daylight arcing down from the heavens to kiss her pale brow, and the rays bounced unconceredly off, leaving her skin almost incandescent, even in morning's first struggles. The sun did nothing to warm her, but she truly doubted it would even were it midday. The vista in front of her was one of a windswept, high-grassed plain. She absently ran her long-fingered, thin hands, so well graced by breeding and training, over her wild hair, that so well mimicked the land in front of her. She turned back, the monastery she had spent the last few years rearing up in front of her, cold brown stone that was so much warmer than the surrounding world. The well-mounted gate was still open, a single figure in a homespun, simple robe slowly walked out to meet her. She looked upon the man with whom she had shared her life with for so long, who had taken her away from her old drudgry sheathed in splendour, and was not sad. For he smiled at her, his older, world-wisened eyes, still dancing with that spark that had first shocked her so long ago, bade her all his love, and he felt no bitterness that she left him. Truly told, she left for him. For their union, while sanctioned, could not yet be truly ratified. Not until she returned. A last pilgrimage, before a journey she had no idea how to face, one that she relished more than any other. The man known as the Wyvern reached her, and placed a light, dexterous hand on her shoulder. The touch warmed her entire body, his eyes warmed her soul. He simply looked at her a moment, before he brought her close in a warm embrace. His arms never tremored, he never betrayed some last weakening doubt, for he knew none. He knew her, and trusted her integrity, in all matters. His journey had lead him to her, her journey must now lead back to him. All circles must be closed. Kattarin at last took a step back, let her enigmatic smile convey all words that didn't really need to be said anyway, and turned. They walked away from each other, a smile on each face, glowing confidence in each heart. The Wyvern's road returned him to his eyrie, and a watchful tower in which to wait. Kattarin's road was forged over sweeping grasslands. Clouds brewed in the air over the horizon, the plain taking on a dark aspect that pleased her to no end. For even as her long, raven hair remained complacently chaotic, her life would reflect all aspects of existance, and leave her truly worthy of her paramour. She walked calmly through the long vegetation, her destination borne of convenience rather than design. She went south, because north there only lay the roof of the world. Fate would decide whether that instinct or that happenstance would undo her. She would decide if that instinct or that happenstance truly finished her maturity.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Lacroix, who allowed Ryth to fall back on the grounds that he refused to be in any way responsible for his safety or complete lack thereof (and thus could be neither vindicated or implicated, when one thought about it, but you had to take the good with the bad), was nevertheless somewhat ...nonplussed, by the oversized abomination following them. He fell into step with Ryth, giving him a rather reproving, almost condescending look. He did, however, maintain the forethought to let out a shrill whistle, sure enough sign to the others, now more than fifty metres ahead, that once again something annoying had happened.[/I] Lacroix: Tell me, where you simply interested in examing anatomy from the inside, or did you not realise the damn thing was there when we walked past it not twenty minutes ago? Ryth: How the hell was I supposed to know? Lacroix: Truth be told? Tree leaves usually don't appear in scale patterns. Any, to hell with it. Are we going to keep running, or should we do the noble thing and try a ....delaying action? Ryth: I have a strange feeling you're trying to bait me. [I]Lacroix stopped instantly, spinning on his heel and dropping a foot back into a low stance. That abrupt halt caused the rust monsters behind him to stop in confusion, afraid something worse was ahead. The wyrm also stopped. But it was merely confounded that something wasn't afraid enough to run anymore, which meant it was possibly painful. Lacroix looked back to Ryth, who'd stopped a few paces later.[/I] Lacroix: I take it you've fought greater drakes before? If not, learn fast. And everyone else's presence would be ...appreciated.[/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Narius [/i] [B]Preferred blocking technique is to strengthen the abdomen to a point that you can block with it though the technique is mainly based on the offensive utilizing Balance and Knee techniques. (Muay Thai is the most dangerous Martial Arts in relation to the knee's.) [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=indigo]I've noticed that, in quite a few readings. And it's never really made sense why most martial arts don't utilise the largest muscles in your body to the full extent possible. I've always tried to train myself to use my knees whever I get some free time. Wing Chun or Jeet Kun Do (Bruce Lee's stuff), would be pretty good to do, I admit.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]OOC: Is it just me, or is it becoming abundantly clear why Raiha started this rpg... She wasn't exactly subtle about it. IC: Kynjaka: You did, after all, offer. Vondeux: Oh? Kynjaka: I know the mores of your culture remember. You basically demanded. Vondeux: And you should, after all, aquiese to my demands. [I]He smiled, and slowly raked his panther claws down her back, twin reds lines opening parallel to her spine. His hands reached under her arms and picked her up. She waited, fearlessly in his grasp, while he looked her over, his eyes a swirling purple with emotion now. He was obviously...interested. He threw her down on the bed, and looked down at her, fanged grin rather encouraging, all things considered. When he spoke though, his voice was emotionless.[/I] Kynjaka: Your call, [I]priestess[/I].[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]The possibility, while remote was there. Nilothakiir had been a master of auric possession, better than Lacroix some days. And he'd given Illy enough information to allow his spirit to maintain its resonance, but perhaps not enough to defend itself. He'd always regretted not teaching his one-time pupil more about the etheric side of his art, rather than simply the shadows, but that was past. Right now, he had to developed a contingency plan on just how to avoid that pitfall if it came up. The main problem was a matter of tact. He could have quite easily destroyed or banished the spirit. But untangling two separate, and certainly snarled threads, most likely with more than one person screaming at him for whatever reason, would not be easy. It would be possible, but would not be easy. But then, nothing ever was. Such as the fact that right now, he was at the head of the party, rather than his usual stance as rear guard. Mainly because you got talked to less there...But now there was a practical reason, at least. He signalled as such to Eve and Elysan, who long familiar with him showed no surprise, and stepped off the trail, watching everyone intently as they passed. He fell in about thirty metres behind the stragglers, ears on the slight sounds behind him.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Enough talk, more stealin'! Ye all okay with that?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Well, I got to one level below Black in Zen Do Kai karate, and I'm now doing Zenith Tae Kwon Do. Now I just spar black belts.... Now, I figure I just need to do judo, jujitsu, ishiryoku jutsu and a few more weapon related arts, and I'll be fine. I can already use a quarterstaff (bo, jo or escrima up to three piece...seven's kind of tricky), kamas, tonfas and the like. I can't use nunchukas though....I need to work on that. And I'll disagree with Muay Thai kickboxing being a better leg exercise than something requiring things like jumping double 260 kicks...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Where he'd found the ability to persistantly nag him inside his head was unknown, but Lacroix found it somewhat annoying. He suddenly stopped, for a reason no one else was able to discern, and let out a rather vicious, not to mention very inventive, string of oaths, and withdrew the obsidian. He absently dropped it, and looked at it a moment, taking a step back as it shimmered and disappeared, being replaced with a now conscious, not to mention irate, Ryth. He started to yell something, but was forestalled by Lacroix.[/I] Lacroix: You could have come back with the piece of obsidan lodged where it lay, which right now is taken up by your body. Think about it a moment, and then tell me I was unfair. [I]He kept walking, more apathetically annoyed than usual. A hard, rather distinct Lacroix, combination that one.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]The offer was tempting, not least because of the personal danger it involved. Kynjaka needed only to try to fathom her motivation, difficult though that may be. The only reason he could think of was that she had some problems, most likely in the form of another Val'Shagress or some other rival, and she wanted a rather high profile, effective, and expendable body guard. If that were it, he'd never go along with her, and he doubted she had the power to coerce him. Which left one way to find out. Trial by combat was a little archaic, but somehow appropriate in this circumstance. He courteously dropped his flamberge, fingers and claws flexing...clawlike. That's right. Clawlike. He waited for her to return to the small alcove, and then stepped forward, right coming around and snapping out in a low section sidekick. He rechambered instantly as she reacted, and sent the same kick out, only higher. She spun to his off side, his back remaining open to her. Normally a fair tactic. Kynjaka simply pivoted toward her, keeping his leg extended. When he was in range, he hooked his heel in sharply. His dew claw opened a wound across the side of her head. He pressed forward remorselessly, flicking openhanded and side swiping blows faster than a being that large had a right too. She fought determinedly, the staff spinning vicious arcs to compensate for Kynjaka's advantage of numerical superiority when it came to limbs. At last, Kynjaka swept his arms apart, and stabbed them all forward, two high, two low, and sent a snap kick out with one leg. The woman simply stepped back, and dealt him a resounding blow. He whipped his wing forward, watching the staff and deflecting it easily. She crouched, her breathing regular, though not easy. He chuckled hideously, the point made, and stepped back.[/I] Kynjaka: I accept.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Name: Kattarin Quisanth Age: 24 Origin: The Civil Grounds Allegiance: Neutral Rank: Job Class: Monk Weapon: Hand to hand. Bio: Kattarin was the daughter of a rich pampered trader, which made her less than unique among those is her set. Even less uniquely, her father fully intended to basically auction her off for various trade agreements. Another less than abnormal factor, she had an elder brother, who of course was pampered, educated, and basically had life given to him rather than ever actually experiencing it himself. Kattarin was the opposite. She to never experienced anything, but she had life wrenched away from her [I]en masse[/I], and was basically cloistered, normally in the company of idiot babbling girls, for her first fifteen years. At that point, she was introduced to society, normally on the arm of her brother, then twenty. So she watched, a face in a stasis expression of a smile, as her brother palmed her off to the typical drooling old men, and courted his own pretties. Kattarin remained congenial, behaved as she was expected to, and dropped dark hints about her father's wrath to anyone who decided to become a little bold. All in all, life wasn't that bad. Her brother, however, started growing moody. Sick of being pecked apart by over-chaperoning mothers, he took to drink rather than flirtation. As he stumbled down the path to blissful libatory intoxication, Kattarin tried to help him. She pleaded, railed, and eventually threatened him with their father's wrath. His response was entirely unexpected. He grew abusive. Inside that small chamber he slept in, where Kattarin strode in and demanded he recover, he beat her into unconsciousness. The incident was not mentioned afterwards, despite it being common knowledge, mainly due to Kattarin's long convalescence.. If anything, Kattarin received reproving glances for goading her brother. She grew sullen in silence, showing no hint to anyone. All continued rather sterilely, until her brother, on some strange whim, insisted they go to a social function, like they had in the old days. Kattarin was now 18. Everything seemed to be a recreation of the past. He palmed her off, flirted courteously, and she endured. This time however, the fondling approach of one of her...suitors.... was not put off so easily. Truly told, the man approached Kattarin's brother, and Kattarin's brother, blinking owlishly and rather happily semi-drunk, insisted she submit to him. Kattarin summarily refused. Her brother grew angry quickly, and lurched to his feet, slapping her hard, and then repeating the move with a closed fist. A few more quick, powerful hits, and Kattarin was on the verge of blacking out. Her brother made some vulgar joke about it being irrelevant, and raised his hand to strike again. Kattarin shuddered, quivering in tears with anticipation of pain. Instead, she heard a series of sharp cracks, then a loud thump. She opened her eyes, aghast that someone had dared intervene with her brother, regardless of what he was doing. She saw a man dressed in a plain robe, with a shaven head. Inquisitive, smiling blue eyes enquired silently as to her wellbeing, then he helped her up. She stood, disorientated a moment, her shock not helped by the sight of her brother prone on the floor. The man assured her he was fine, thinking that that was her cause for concern. Kattarin's eyes narrowed. She spat on her brother's fine garments, and stepped forward and kicked him in the ribs, savagely. She turned and stormed out, ignored the outraged glances and whispers that followed her. The man waited five minutes and came after her, finding her only a short distance away, curled up and whimpering desperately. He comforted her, and introduced himself as Wyvern, a title rather than a name, as he was a member of an order of monks known as the Fades. To calm her, he related what he knew of the order, for he knew not what else to say. She quietened, intrigued, and a month later was indoctrinated. The training was harsh, oriented mainly around physical and mental mastery of the self, through the most extreme activity known, that was a perfect synergy of mind and body. Combat. Nothing else requires such focused concentration. Nothing else is so unique to a person. A line of the order's imparted wisdom is "You tell me how you fight, and I shall tell you what you are". Kattarin, aided by the Wyvern, passed the final initation easily, far outstripping all the other current contenders. Unlike most monastic sects, the Fades are not celibate, and indeed encourage relationships, and quite naturally, Kattarin and the Wyvern had a rather intense, though short lived, passionate affair. To the suprise of most, she was the one to break it off, though there was certainly no ill-will from either party. Rather, Kattarin felt that the final trial of the order had to be faced. A period of return to the outside world, to experience life in all its facets, for this was how they acquired their titles. Their ability to weave the macrocosm into their simple existance, and finally, after having mastered the internal, master the external as well. Kattarin also has a vague notion of finding her brother....Perhaps she'd offer him a rematch. Appearance: The attachment. A few other notes though; she's close to 5"10, and obviously quite slender. That dress she is wearing cuts off at about mid thigh, for mobility. Tends to wear soft-soled black shoes.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Harlequin getting annoyed by random spam is not cute...Of course, that's a personally held opinion. Please, for my sake, don't disagree with me there either....That would just be weird. But anyway, can we confine this kind of thing to PMs please?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]If that trend of double posting continues...then never. Either use the edit function, PM the person you want to talk to, which you should have done rather than posting in the first place, or don't say anything. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]He took her lips into his mouth, closing his teeth over the oxygen-rarefied skin. He brought a hand up, ignoring her now futile struggles, and closed her nose off, so that she had no source of air. He could feel her smile anyway, though it was somewhat faded. He stopped everything else, and concentrated simply on choking her, focusing on her asphysxiation, with a fervour that surprised and pleased both of them.[/font][/color][/I]