Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline is Wednesday, March 23rd, at 11:59PM. Extensions available according to new extension rules.
Meltdown 128: S.H.I.T. vs. Kagura Daikonran (Gold Rush)
- Thread starter Richard Blonoff
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Bernkastel
Reaper of Miracles
It should be spring. The time of year when plants begin to bloom, animals stop hibernating, and the temperature begins to rise. Showers bring the life giving rains that fuel the rejuvenation of all life on the planet. So why is there still snow falling onto the ground? From the heavens snowflakes fall, accumulating and covering the ground in a thick blanket of ice. Streams freeze. The winds are frigid. It is not spring here. And yet it is a time to celebrate, for rejuvenation has come.
A figure appears in the shadows, her figure reflecting off the surface of the snow as lights from a tree decorated in traditional festival garb illuminates her face. A bell tolls… once… twice… a third time. The woman smiles…
“This is a celebration of a new beginning, for me. A few weeks ago I lost something very precious to me, my voice. Over the course of the past month I noticed that I was suddenly starting to lose my ability to speak the language of my peers. That gift was granted to me, a woman of no previous talent for the linguistics of the tongue of even the most common man, now found herself being able to cut the most elegant, beautiful soliloquies. Poetry runs from my lips like water from the purest of streams.”
She frowns.
“But then one day, I woke up and it was all gone; disappeared. ‘And why?’ I wondered. It took me several days of heavy meditation to come to an answer. I had simply surpassed my limitations.”
She takes from her robe the book of curses and laid it upon a great stone. She turns the page to where the Daikonran ritual had been cast. The page was black, as if it had been burned. She turns the pages of the book, uncovering the ritual that she had just cast a week ago.
“How do you like it, Ramparte? Yes, this red seal here represents your voice, which I stole from you. And why, you might ask? Well no particular reason. I don’t hate you, if that is what you now find yourself asking. I held no deep seeded grudge. Nay, I actually respect you a great deal. You see, I had my eye on you for a long time. Watching, waiting, and studying your every move…”
She pauses.
“Well… your every word. The reason why I lost the power of the previous ritual is that I became too smart and cultured for my own good. I had no idea these rituals had limitations. I can see why men coveted its power. For every gift granted comes a price. And the price I eventually paid cost you your voice, Ramparte. You’re the most well spoken man I have ever met. If I needed a new voice, then it makes sense that I just take yours. After all, your limitations are not so easily overcome are they?”
She laughs.
“My head flows with the narrative of a thousand books; stories of untold characters that I have never seen. Poetry, deep and sublime, plots of narratives of heroes and villains so deep that they exceed my imagination. Oh, Ramparte, your intellect is wonderful. This well of unyielding dialogue I am capable of crafting serves to send a warning to the rest of my foes. I have made an example out of you. No one is safe. In order to reach perfection I must keep pressing forward. If I lose my strength I will simply steal it. If I lose my resolve, I can take someone else’s. If I lose my heart, someone else’s is ripe for the picking. I lost my voice and I took yours in order to survive. Calm your anger. It was a necessary move and I’m sure you would have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes.”
She shuts the book, as snow falls on it. The cover and spine were beginning to dampen, but the pages never absorbed the moisture. The book had some kind of special seal placed around it that she did not understand yet. Some enchantment cast on it by an ancient priest. The book had been burned before her every eyes. In his rage Ramparte had tried to destroy it. He failed.
“Yes. You found out first hand that this book is not so easily destroyed. Even I was surprised. Now I don’t have to try as hard to keep it safe. It can’t be destroyed by the hands of a mortal. But I, have gone beyond that now.”
She places the book back into her robes. The snow continues to fall. Wind whips the branches of the barren tree, shaking the bells once more.
“The power that I possess cannot be expressed in words, even yours, Ramparte. If I were to try, perhaps the ritual would be undone and you would regain everything that I took. But to do so would be a mockery of the kami. So to pay my respects perhaps it is fitting that I change my name once more. Kagura Diakonran represents the primordial, chaotic nature of the former shrine maiden called Ryuumi and her many abilities. I wonder how many times she performed the ritual. How many times did she change herself to seek perfection? What did perfection mean to her, to modify her soul so many times? I understand it now, because I inherited everything from her, including her insatiable appetite to consume the fragmented souls of others. It’s almost too frightening to imagine...”
She grins like a madwoman…
“…Ramparte…”
…And places a hand over her chest.
“…to think about all the souls that now lay inside of me. Their power consumes me. Be warned. If you come seeking retribution you will not be fighting one woman. You will be fighting an army. From this day forward I will now be known as Kagura Joheki. For my body is a fortress. My heart is the abyss that moats it. And your voice, well, my voice, is the cannon that arms it. But if you do maybe we will meet on the hill of the final battle of the Gold Rush tournament. I have already set my sights on the world title and nothing will deter me this time. Because for me, holding that title is as close to “perfect” as I’ll ever become.”
She switches gears as her voice takes a more somber approach.
“Yes. There can only be one winner on this battlefield. And my next foe is the Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology that has run roughshod over everyone thus far. You are quite the enigma. You are not quite human and yet you are not quite immortal machine either. Perhaps your brain has tricked your body into believing that you are something that you are not. But maybe you really are a machine underneath all those layers. Tell me, Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology, if I were to peel back your layers what would I find? Would I find flesh, blood, and bone, or would I find moving parts? In the end you’re still my foe. And crushing a machine is the same as crushing a human to a god. Because that’s what I am; a transcended god that has left this mortal plane.”
Her crazed smile reflecting the inner spirits of the many that inhabit her, their voices she hears.
“The strength of many now runs through my veins. This world of humans that you love or hate doesn’t matter to me. A machine or a man, there's no difference. Because beneath that exterior flows a spirit that I can sense within you. All things in this world possess a natural flow, and the vibe I sense from you, Scale Humaniod Industrial Technology?”
Hers gleaming eyes narrow.
“Fear, uncertainty, and doubt; you've never faced anyone like me before. No one has. I evolve. Machine or human, you remain the same. You have limitations. I do not. Steel is your body and fire is your blood. But the power I possess is like ice. You’ll be stopped in your tracks, buried up to your head. Ice stops everything. Even time. The oil in your tubes, the processor in your head, the gears in your chest will all slow to a crawl the same way that the blood in your veins, the brain in your skull, and the muscles in your heart would. Man or machine, you won’t defeat me. Nothing can.”
She looks up at the sky. The dark clouds are still crying; producing ice that dries up the landscape. Plants die. Animals freeze. There is no life here. But yet there is still existence. Memories from long ago scattered on the wind. She can hear them all. In her chest she can hear the voices call to hear. For too long she's ignored them. Maybe it took this long for her to finally realize who they were. Or maybe she realized it and didn’t want to believe it.
“This priestess will not fail. Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology, should I take something from you if I win? That one little piece of humanity that you cling too, that causes you to question your existence; I can take that from you. I don’t really want it, but I can seal it away forever if it suits you. And then what, will you thank me, or will you try and fight me? The duality of man and machine, I almost pity you. But if I did that I might lose my resolve. So don’t hate me after I win our little contest. Don’t hate me if I shatter your existence. Don’t hate me if I reveal to you a truth that you don’t want to see. Don’t hate me if I decide to take something from you to further my own goals. Don’t tread lightly on these words. ”
Kagura Daikonran falls. In her place rises an impregnable defense Kagura Joheki that cannot be broken, a resolve that cannot be shattered. No regret. No mercy.
A figure appears in the shadows, her figure reflecting off the surface of the snow as lights from a tree decorated in traditional festival garb illuminates her face. A bell tolls… once… twice… a third time. The woman smiles…
“This is a celebration of a new beginning, for me. A few weeks ago I lost something very precious to me, my voice. Over the course of the past month I noticed that I was suddenly starting to lose my ability to speak the language of my peers. That gift was granted to me, a woman of no previous talent for the linguistics of the tongue of even the most common man, now found herself being able to cut the most elegant, beautiful soliloquies. Poetry runs from my lips like water from the purest of streams.”
She frowns.
“But then one day, I woke up and it was all gone; disappeared. ‘And why?’ I wondered. It took me several days of heavy meditation to come to an answer. I had simply surpassed my limitations.”
She takes from her robe the book of curses and laid it upon a great stone. She turns the page to where the Daikonran ritual had been cast. The page was black, as if it had been burned. She turns the pages of the book, uncovering the ritual that she had just cast a week ago.
“How do you like it, Ramparte? Yes, this red seal here represents your voice, which I stole from you. And why, you might ask? Well no particular reason. I don’t hate you, if that is what you now find yourself asking. I held no deep seeded grudge. Nay, I actually respect you a great deal. You see, I had my eye on you for a long time. Watching, waiting, and studying your every move…”
She pauses.
“Well… your every word. The reason why I lost the power of the previous ritual is that I became too smart and cultured for my own good. I had no idea these rituals had limitations. I can see why men coveted its power. For every gift granted comes a price. And the price I eventually paid cost you your voice, Ramparte. You’re the most well spoken man I have ever met. If I needed a new voice, then it makes sense that I just take yours. After all, your limitations are not so easily overcome are they?”
She laughs.
“My head flows with the narrative of a thousand books; stories of untold characters that I have never seen. Poetry, deep and sublime, plots of narratives of heroes and villains so deep that they exceed my imagination. Oh, Ramparte, your intellect is wonderful. This well of unyielding dialogue I am capable of crafting serves to send a warning to the rest of my foes. I have made an example out of you. No one is safe. In order to reach perfection I must keep pressing forward. If I lose my strength I will simply steal it. If I lose my resolve, I can take someone else’s. If I lose my heart, someone else’s is ripe for the picking. I lost my voice and I took yours in order to survive. Calm your anger. It was a necessary move and I’m sure you would have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes.”
She shuts the book, as snow falls on it. The cover and spine were beginning to dampen, but the pages never absorbed the moisture. The book had some kind of special seal placed around it that she did not understand yet. Some enchantment cast on it by an ancient priest. The book had been burned before her every eyes. In his rage Ramparte had tried to destroy it. He failed.
“Yes. You found out first hand that this book is not so easily destroyed. Even I was surprised. Now I don’t have to try as hard to keep it safe. It can’t be destroyed by the hands of a mortal. But I, have gone beyond that now.”
She places the book back into her robes. The snow continues to fall. Wind whips the branches of the barren tree, shaking the bells once more.
“The power that I possess cannot be expressed in words, even yours, Ramparte. If I were to try, perhaps the ritual would be undone and you would regain everything that I took. But to do so would be a mockery of the kami. So to pay my respects perhaps it is fitting that I change my name once more. Kagura Diakonran represents the primordial, chaotic nature of the former shrine maiden called Ryuumi and her many abilities. I wonder how many times she performed the ritual. How many times did she change herself to seek perfection? What did perfection mean to her, to modify her soul so many times? I understand it now, because I inherited everything from her, including her insatiable appetite to consume the fragmented souls of others. It’s almost too frightening to imagine...”
She grins like a madwoman…
“…Ramparte…”
…And places a hand over her chest.
“…to think about all the souls that now lay inside of me. Their power consumes me. Be warned. If you come seeking retribution you will not be fighting one woman. You will be fighting an army. From this day forward I will now be known as Kagura Joheki. For my body is a fortress. My heart is the abyss that moats it. And your voice, well, my voice, is the cannon that arms it. But if you do maybe we will meet on the hill of the final battle of the Gold Rush tournament. I have already set my sights on the world title and nothing will deter me this time. Because for me, holding that title is as close to “perfect” as I’ll ever become.”
She switches gears as her voice takes a more somber approach.
“Yes. There can only be one winner on this battlefield. And my next foe is the Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology that has run roughshod over everyone thus far. You are quite the enigma. You are not quite human and yet you are not quite immortal machine either. Perhaps your brain has tricked your body into believing that you are something that you are not. But maybe you really are a machine underneath all those layers. Tell me, Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology, if I were to peel back your layers what would I find? Would I find flesh, blood, and bone, or would I find moving parts? In the end you’re still my foe. And crushing a machine is the same as crushing a human to a god. Because that’s what I am; a transcended god that has left this mortal plane.”
Her crazed smile reflecting the inner spirits of the many that inhabit her, their voices she hears.
“The strength of many now runs through my veins. This world of humans that you love or hate doesn’t matter to me. A machine or a man, there's no difference. Because beneath that exterior flows a spirit that I can sense within you. All things in this world possess a natural flow, and the vibe I sense from you, Scale Humaniod Industrial Technology?”
Hers gleaming eyes narrow.
“Fear, uncertainty, and doubt; you've never faced anyone like me before. No one has. I evolve. Machine or human, you remain the same. You have limitations. I do not. Steel is your body and fire is your blood. But the power I possess is like ice. You’ll be stopped in your tracks, buried up to your head. Ice stops everything. Even time. The oil in your tubes, the processor in your head, the gears in your chest will all slow to a crawl the same way that the blood in your veins, the brain in your skull, and the muscles in your heart would. Man or machine, you won’t defeat me. Nothing can.”
She looks up at the sky. The dark clouds are still crying; producing ice that dries up the landscape. Plants die. Animals freeze. There is no life here. But yet there is still existence. Memories from long ago scattered on the wind. She can hear them all. In her chest she can hear the voices call to hear. For too long she's ignored them. Maybe it took this long for her to finally realize who they were. Or maybe she realized it and didn’t want to believe it.
“This priestess will not fail. Scale Humanoid Industrial Technology, should I take something from you if I win? That one little piece of humanity that you cling too, that causes you to question your existence; I can take that from you. I don’t really want it, but I can seal it away forever if it suits you. And then what, will you thank me, or will you try and fight me? The duality of man and machine, I almost pity you. But if I did that I might lose my resolve. So don’t hate me after I win our little contest. Don’t hate me if I shatter your existence. Don’t hate me if I reveal to you a truth that you don’t want to see. Don’t hate me if I decide to take something from you to further my own goals. Don’t tread lightly on these words. ”
Kagura Daikonran falls. In her place rises an impregnable defense Kagura Joheki that cannot be broken, a resolve that cannot be shattered. No regret. No mercy.
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