Harmonious Conflict

[Random_White_Guy]

As the previous scroll is added about the Eighth Style - Miserable Toad ((OOC: See Last Post)), so too is a record laid of a Challenge from Najera of Izdu. It sounds as much a broken man's fever dream as any recollection of glorious combat.

I beg forgiveness as my recollection of the contest is somewhat tilted to say the least. Waxing in and out of consciousness we were visited by a collection of Zyaeed, Echemmon, Dorvant, Bashir, and a seven foot tall Skink with a Parrot on its shoulder with the head of an elf.among others took to visiting the Arena as we awaited her arrival.

When the colors on the wall stopped screaming at me their moteism laced tirades came up the steps the Izduan Najera, massive crook in hand. After short report of attack on her person by the inquisition and a Gorilla in a Janissary Uniform muttering did she enter the arena. After brief exchange of pleasantries commenced the fight.

Belching forth my poison she at first endured, preparing herself a litany of prayers and calling upon the Magi's grace to shroud her. Through the fog and the vaguely shaped shrieking faces of my mother, and her mother, I was able to secure a sense of the actual foe. We took to a few brief exchanges volleying back and forth, as I ducked her crook and she cracked my ankles. Leaping and twisting she sought to maneuver but the exertion took its toll.

She took a deep, weary gasp of breath at last - at which point the tide of the battle turned. In her coughing fit I was able to crack her fourth vertibrae and send her collapsing in a heap upon the ground. Deeper into the poisonous cloud she fell as time itself lost all meaning, the vortex swirling in many direction before the severed head of Apothar Azimi's laughing visage appeared. She demanded all of our Dolls before she began to devour us both. No bits, no pieces. Simply massive chunks taken from both of our bodies as severed limbs began to spray Cactus Slurp in beautiful fountains.

When I awoke The Izduan stood over me, barely conscious herself, blood oozing from hear ear, and leaning heavily upon her crook. My head continued to spin as she offered barest prayer - along with Echemmon and Zyaeed. They said it was a contest in which I barely lost but I could not tell you in truth how such a thing came to be.

We were mended, she went on her way, and I nursed the mother of all hangovers as I sought to purge my Ki of the foulness, my body of the toxins, and regain Clarity before my many newfound addictions rattled me to my core.

[Random_White_Guy]

If Clarity is a challenge to keep a focused mind and Toad a foe of internal body, the Road Warrior is a test of the fulfillment of the Spirit itself. To strike out in wandering staff in hand is a sirens song to adventure The spirit yearns above all else to be indulged and to wander free. You must use both mind and body to keep your spirit in check. That being said if one is able to conquer the rising ire of their spirit and channel it? There exists a true and open harmony. Balance achieved of mind,body, and spirit in this the Ninth Style and a true Warrior's Style.

When the mind, body, and soul are in spirit they adopt the similar facets of the Six Talismans, as the Second Spoke is the Warrior. Two of body, two of mind, and two of soul overlay the channels of Ki. As the mind focused, and as the spirit soars, the body is lifted with it. In near ever physical capacity is the Warrior propelled. Swifter, stronger, faster in any conflict.

Of this there is a true balance, if there was to be sighted any flaw it would be upon the mind. To focus it so severely in keeping the Spirit from running rampant may raise the body indeed but it leaves the mind preoccupied. It allows the subconcious to run rampant and eagerly seeking the next road, the next challenge, the next skirmish.

Ah - But to feel so alive, this is the Ninth Style., and like the nine spokes of the Wheel itself a truly balanced Style.

[Random_White_Guy]

The hazard of craving the open road is when constraint comes in the form of restriction there is a natural inclination to rebel. While the faith of B'aara holds mercy unbound the Hospitalier of Ephia take a more militant approach to such mercy. In such an opportunity to lay challenge proved most eagerly agreed by the Inquisitor.

There is a palpable thrill before a journey begins, the road calling to you as your hands and feet already begin to feel it is time to move before you are prepared. A leaping before you look and in such a wanderlust unbound. To see, to learn, to grow, to know. And when one stands in your way of such the Warrior's instinct is to fight.

Not all fights though, especially those of new style and new tool, are easily learned lesson. While I was able to draw blood from the Inquisitor the contest was a brutal one, swift and procedural. The attempt to use the Bo in open combat rather than for travel allowed a degree of protection. A dodge here, absorbing a blow of his mace on its wood there. Ultimately however he was able to nearly shatter it, and with it quite a few of my ribs.

In the wake of the contest he was impressed with my alacrity, as well as the spirit. As a style of the Spirit is lent credence to the meditations on the previous scroll. He was cordial enough to allow the same challenge to commence a secondary time, Mercy shown even in such.

Without the Bo in hand I was able to dent his shield, crack his gauntlets, and bury a fist in his chestplate. But such only served to ignite in him a deafening roar as the Mace found my jaw, ultimately securing him victory as well in the second round. Though he was in high spirits and lauded my efforts, and noted my improvement with a more familiar style having put him through the paces more rigorously and pushed him further than I had with the Bo.

[Random_White_Guy]

With Nine Styles to understand of the Mind Body and Spirit begins the journey to understand the world we inhabit. In the desert is water a rarity, but it adds to the ferocity and sting of ice. From Frostport, the Touch of Wroth, and in many circumstances do the clever bring the biting frost to battle. As a Warrior you must adapt and in such comes The Tenth Style. The Freezing Bastion is a mental exercise in which focus of the mind exhibits a slowing of the heart rate and calming of the spirit. Like the desert lizard and the foreign woodlands of the old city as Bear took to hibernation, so too may a focused warrior. To bring yourself to the edge of life and endure the hardships to come does your mind become a Freezing Bastion. Therein you may find peace.

The sting of ice is in the resistance to it. To submit yourself in it willingly brings a numbness soon enough and as your heart slows your mind is settled into a Torpor. As Ice moves slowly, you mimic such in moving slower than even it and in such the pain evaded until the magic fades, or the stark desert heat leads to a swift thaw.

To cede control of your body to ice comes freedom for your mind.

[Random_White_Guy]

Two scrolls are added - The Freezing Bastion before it above, and the contest with the Twindari Hekatomb.

In tale shared upon the Mound told the story of the Twins before their Martyring, sacrificed before Death to spare their village. That one was slain seconds before the other did the Twindari Hekatomb and I meditate upon with a crowd of others. Such a sacrifice to save your brother in a heroic martyrdom, but so too watching your brother give his life that you may survive a few more precious seconds and the guilt, grief, and relief therein.

It raised a number of questions how that moment may feel like an eternity, before you too perish, and a feeling many Warrior know well in largescale skirmish and warfare. We retreated to the Krak de Rose for Contest. To test the Freezing Bastion against the Chill Touch of the Grave.

With massive Scythe did the personification of Death come for me. At the place Death should - The End of my challenges of the Wheel, was the Martyr the Ninth and Final contest to say I have faced each and every Spoke.

With his own unique style of monastic combat did Hekatomb showcase what with trained hands a peasant's weapon may do. The Scythe, culling wheat, taken to a tool to cull the flesh. The first few strikes were evaded before a devastating slice cut one of my legs. I was able and fortunate to recover, continuing to press my attack upon him.

Death though, and the Twindari, ever remember.

A second massive strike ripped through my other leg, causing me to buckle. Both blows in such quick succession rending me defeated and at End - with Finality, my contests against the Spokes completed.

[Random_White_Guy]

If the Freezing Bastion requires stillness, the Acidic Wall forces the opposite. To channel one's Ki and focus it not inward or out, but in rotation. A flowing force throughout the form presents a counter to the caustic nature of such cruel action as Acidic burns. You must continue to flow and bend to even a greater degree than the source often in such cases an Oozing pool. As you ebb and flow with the form physically and your Ki rotates through you it creates a barrier the Wall akin to a wave of water. This wall of Ki channeled in rotating thwarts the effort of solidification borne of the likes of the dread Cube. The explosive outspray of acid upon you by Mage countered by bending with the tide not against and continuing to move with the flow in dynamic means.

The sting of acid is in rigidity. It cannot permeate deeper if it does not have the time to burn through the outer layers of cloth, of flesh, but so too can the Ki ameliorate. Flushing torrents of Ki in rotation adapting to the flow preserves the self in the face of any caustic woe.

If the defeat of Frost is to cede control of your body, to defeat Acid you must have complete and utter control of such.

[Random_White_Guy]

If the Acidic Wall requires fluidity and rotation the Flaming Fortress is a style which requires one to in no uncertain terms consider the fire an invading force. To survive you must envision the flame laying siege to your fortress and in such it must climb higher and higher over your walls To that end you must focus not in rotation and movement but in strength of spirit Raise the fighting spirit as you push both yourself and your limits higher and higher The raising of your Ki through the channels of your body higher than even the flames can surpass Build your fortress and dare it to climb as you continue to raise the wall inch by inch until it exhausts itself Unable to match your willpower as it consume itself in feeble attempt to conquer your willpower Let it burn.

The Fire races, you must channel your Ki to move the finish line. Higher, farther, up and away from the self. It is slave to its basic instincts and will chase whatever is given. If you are canny it will feed upon your energy, and not your flesh, allowing you to perform impossible feats that would leave others burning husk.

Fuel the flame's ambition and it will gorge until it relents, freeing you safely.

[Random_White_Guy]

As the Flaming Fortress raises in the highest flows the counterance would be the Electric Shield. In reversing the flow you send your ki into a downward arc beginning at the head and flowing outwards and in the direction of your knees. In such a style does the natural efforts of lightning to arc follow the tunnel carved not in the self but outside the self. Akin to the Leylines of the world these new passages attract any latent energy. In this case the Lightning that has struck is carried through the path of least resistance. Allow the energy to flow do not be afraid of the outcome. Cast both doubt and Ki outwards and downwards as the Electric Shield preserves the Self. In this does
the Warrior become capable of the impossible. To hold lightning in the palm of your hand and direct it onward

Where you feed the Fire's ambition, you must humble Lightning with your resolve. Breaking it with your will, shaming it to prostrate itself before you upon the ground in meek acceptance you are unimpeachable.

In this you will master Lightning, and the self.

[Random_White_Guy]

As all five Scrolls of Elements are added at once, available above, comes the more unique and optical illusion of the Sonic Barricade Style.

Still is the Ice and Fluidity the trait of Acid. Upwards drifts flame and downwards moves lightning. Horizontal though moves the careening waves of sound as they crash into the world around it. To hear matters come slowly from afar in cacophany before descending upon you in deafening howl. This is the terror that comes with War. The drums from afar, the march that shakes the earth, and the sense of foreboding to come. In this though too does the Warrior find quiet power. To know the external and the internal is to know as the self. And in the self is balance had. To use such a thing in balance allows the countering of terror with courage, of confusion with focus, and of the sounds of war a deep peace. In acceptance that death brings with it silence means each sound even dreadful is cherished

For to hear is to be alive, even deafened and concussed by noise - do the vibrations still permeate the hair, the flesh, the very soul. For it is one of the most fundamental tools in teaching Ki to a novice. To ring a gong, and describe without word the sound felt.

From within, from without, there is balance. Inner Peace amidst War.

[Random_White_Guy]

As the Axespecks of the Warrior alter the channelings of Ki through Talismanic magic there exists pathway. The nature of pathways though inherently is that they may be traversed in both direction. Rivers may be long but you choose to flow upwards or downstream if one seeks to battle the current. When six of them are aligned the Talismans present the barest moment of conjunction. A moment in which your bodys Ki lay altered by the Divine Spark If you have diligently trained and focus your spirit bending your Ki you may reach out and grasp that spark Allowing it to course through you and create a greater balance A balance between yourself and the Warrior as not only his strength but his insight and wisdom you consume into your channels flooding the mind with enlightened feats.

To supplicate yourself before the Warrior is what most envision a priest would do but the Warrior respects strength, courage, audacity. He does not wish those who would kneel freely but those who would challenge him. Rise, rise your spirit. Rise your body. Rise your mind. Rise at the moment of opening and strike fiercely. With quick hand stealing away portion of the Divine Spark.

Claim what is yours in battle and the Warrior shall see you rewarded well in enlightenment. To see the world as less of a mortal, and gaze wide upon creation with new thirst for conquest.

For this is the 15th Style of Agasla-Ku.

[Random_White_Guy]

The White Axe of Agaslakku, The White League Candidate for Legate, The Axe's Axes, many names have been held by Echemmon of Ephia. Though some may critique his stances and politics loudly, verbosely, and fervently it stands testament to his devotion. Wherever he lays his boots strife in one form or another follows in his wake. From quarrel with the B'aaran Inquisitor to the Legates themselves he has long been a presence of the White League with the belief that All have place in war by his side.

With Axe and Prybar we ripped open the ruined temple of Agaslakku. What was broken, we broke once more to break a great deal within.

Our battle shook the ruined temple of the Axe. Wood splintered from his heavy swings, blood and spit flying as my fists found his ribcage, boots shaking long settled dust. At long last was Bloodshed returned to the Ruined Temple. At long last were Warriors once more at war.

Through our challenges of the other Spokes these last many weeks I had grown as a warrior, to the point I was able to best him.

In this he called me Brother. For though I was not of the Clergy did the Priest Style channel the will of the Warrior through me and see me to triumph against one of his most active priests in the city.

And bestowed I was the means to open my Dojhaun in Ephia's Well proper.

[Random_White_Guy]

If the Priest style is to open yourself to the divine and a higher power it is the opposite of the Brute. To solidify your form by narrowing your Ki passages resulting in a more savage and primitive power. Such is how the Orc'ah and more revere the Warrior and traverse the Wasteland in their great hordes. To limit the flow of Ki reduces one's self to a baser and more primal state in which the Brute Style emulates to the fullest. To battle without humanity in an unrelenting physical presence is a dangerous pursuit but in War you are surrounded by danger at every turn The Style itself gives the feinted appearance of a lack of skill allowing the possibility to catch off guard many interlopers As the Dalzac Headtwister the Scratcher or the Deathclaw you are a Brutish engine of war.

Absent the higher calling of the mind do the Body and Spirit rise to heights hereto unheralded. Men and women alike marching unrelenting, tirelessly, and unstoppable in a crashing horde upon any foe's line or emplacement.

Truly a thing of terror, the sort of thing that made the first cowards take up bricks to make walls.

[Random_White_Guy]

It is in Balance though that one finds truest harmony To be able to bring a neutral flow of Ki allowing a slow and steady flow in a balance of the Priest and the Brute brings forth the Dervish. As dangerous to the self as it is to the foes in the hands of the untrained to a master in the style it is a harrowing and horrifying feat to witness. Moving with otherworldly alacrity are you able to block strike and countercut The resulting style one favored to those who unafraid to risk the self in pursuit of more a common trait among the impoverished and desperate Yet so too in the hands of the dedicated warrior is one able to tear through a swath of foes with alacrity Laying waste to many in swift short cuts as both weapons and feet utilized to terrorize a foes flanked position Reap the Whirlwind

Legends tell of terrors far and wide as otherwise lowly men and women take up a pair of Kama, a Bo Staff, or other more exotic fare and sow death in wide arcing swaths across the battlements. The oppressor who would put boot upon throat finding a fierce riposte in their ankle's ligaments slicing deep in supernatural fury.

To be where the foe is not, filling the air with blade and ill intention, to spin and move and keep moving... until nothing moves.

Until nothing is heard. Aside from your heaving breath and the lamentations of your foe's widows.

[Random_White_Guy]

When though the balance of Dervish is acquired- That mixture of channeled Ki coupled with the narrow flow of Brute to create the swirling balance does new pathways open. Drawing from the elemental styles you may see the Dervish augmented with the direction you channel your Ki. If you take it to your hands and feet you become the immovable Bulwark Your feet rooted and your hands placed for impact present a defensive stance capable of halting even a rampaging Dune Tiger with a firm grip. So too can a charging foe be placed firmly on their backside regardless of how heavy the armor they are adorned in when they crash into you. You become in essence the object upon which all shatter. A veritable Epicrasis of Flesh as enemies cascade off you like the errant storms sweeping the Great Ash Desert

You meet the Foe's vanguard with shoulders square, hips firm, and hands outward. Prepared to hold back the Wyrm itself if it came cascading against your combination of Mind, Body, and Spirit. Your Ki paths firing in intermittent pulse, unrelenting in your defense of your chosen position. A style for the Strong and Weak alike -

For it is the Spirit that holds you upright in this defensive style.

[Random_White_Guy]

If though rather than the Bulwark's flow of the Ki to the hands and feet, you shift your focus inward to your core you create insidean immovable and truly Indomitable force of energy. The likes of which man, beast or servants of the Gods themself cannot see snuffed out. A coiled spring wrapped and ready for a fierce countering strike you endure whatever thrown at you with patience and caution. It is only then as your body ready and your mind clear you are able to perform the impossible feat. Your heart-rate slowing and your breathing steady are you able to defy Death itself in meditative harmony The likes of which pursuing has seen to the death of many who with errant thought, that they were prepared to undergo such a challenge. But if mastered you are able to stare death in the face and smile as an old friend

For the Indomitable Spirit knows no age of body, nor weakness of mind. There is only the power of the Spirit checked against those who would bring Death upon you in a gaze, in a touch, or in fleeting attempt to break you.

You laugh.

Derisively.

You are Warrior. You are not so easily broken.