Raccoon/MazinPast
Exaltation
“Do you think you are special?” asks a voice rough with anger.
A young boy blinks away tears as he stares at the ground, unsure for a moment just where the voice came from or what it was referring to. With a slow shake of his head, he brushes off the fog on his mind and looks up through his brown hair.
Three other boys stand in front of him, one with a clenched fist, and the other two standing back with smug looks on their faces. The former, a tall blonde with a mask of rage and fiery red eyes, steps forward to lift the young boy by the hair, then slam his fist into his gut.
With the air knocked out of his lungs, the young boy falls to his knees, his attacker having let go of his hair, thankfully. The pain in his gut alleviates the fog in his mind, and finally, he begins to remember just what is going on…
It had happened only earlier that day. The martial arts instructor was giving the un-Exalted young boys their daily drill in hand-to-hand combat here at the House of Bells. They were all paired off into pairs to practice their punches and kicks, but they were one short as one had fallen ill recently. As such, he had been paired with the instructor, a tall, yet stocky Immaculate monk.
The drill continued normally, with him mainly on the offensive, as the monk was naturally holding back. The monk would, of course, take advantage of an obvious opening always followed by helpful advice. This did not go unnoticed by the other students, however, who were being ignored for the most part.
When the lesson concluded, the monk had smiled to him and told him, “I will be expecting great things from you, Mazin…”
In hindsight, he supposes he should have noticed the hateful glares on the faces of his peers. Too late for that now though, he remarks to himself, putting a hand to the ground.
As the other boy steps forward, possibly to deliver a kick from the way his feet plant themselves, Mazin rolls right. Digging his fingers into the soft soil, he uses that hold to change his direction but keep his momentum, bringing his foot around in a sweep that knocks the other boy’s feet out from under him. As the other boy hits the dirt, he has scrambled to his feet and turned to face the other two.
“No!” says the one on the ground as he clambers to his feet. “He’s mine.” As he turns to Mazin, the sight of the small boot knife comes into his vision with crystal clarity.
We haven’t covered weapon disarming. I should be able to. I have great reflexes… but so does he. Crap! His mind works furiously to come up with something as he takes a hesitant step back, but the other boy’s friends have already moved to cut off his escape route.
Gritting his teeth, he looks back to the boy in front of him, and narrows his eyes. “To answer your question,” he snarls, going into a guarded stance, and smiling wickedly, “I am special. It must burn that the only way you can beat me is with that thing.”
This only proves to make the other boy more furious, however, and he charges in with a deadly swipe, screaming, “I’ll kill you!”
It all happens in slow motion. The approaching boy’s footsteps clap with reverberating sound on the soft soil, his clothing flapping in the window. Sweat traces its way back across his forehead, slowly, while the knife sweeps in an arc towards Mazin’s chest. Likewise, Mazin’s body slowly moves backwards, far too slow to evade it, while his hand goes up to guard against it, hopefully to deflect the hand. And, almost defying this strange movement of time, his mind screams, I’m going to die!
The knife digs into the fleshy part of his hand between the thumb and forefinger, blood gushing from the wound, but goes no farther. It is almost as if he had stabbed it into a tree trunk. The pain is absolute for a moment, but it quickly fades, replaced by something else… something strong.
Shards of what appear to be diamonds whip around Mazin’s frame, catching the abundant sunlight and actually nearly blinding the three boys with the brightness of the refractions. This is accompanied by a roar, as if a Elemental Dragon had descended and roared its anger. Their shouts of astonishment are interrupted by the lead boy’s scream of pain, even as he stumbles back, holding the obviously broken arm.
This isn’t enough for the newly Exalted boy. He charges in, fist coming up to smash into the already hurt boy’s ribcage, buckling it audibly. As the injured one collapses to the ground with a gurgle, Mazin spins on his heel and races towards the other two.
With a small leap into the air, he twists, bringing his leg around in a sweeping arc, aimed for the tallest one’s head. Through some degree of luck, the boy manages to scramble backwards, the blow missing him millimeters. Carrying on with the momentum, Mazin twists further until his head is pointed at the ground and brings the heel of his boot down solidly on the other boy’s shoulder.
As the target slumps to the ground with an anguished cry, Mazin falls as well, but quickly rolls to his feet. His eyes scan the courtyard, searching for the last one and quickly finding him. Gathering his legs beneath him, he starts to dart after the boy, but finds his way blocked by the simple brown robes of his instructor.
The tall man with skin like sandstone holds his arm out in front of the young Exalted, his own anima flaring wildly like sand caught in a maelstrom. “I saw, but waited until you were in danger. Now, however, the danger is past. You must stop.” His voice is calming, yet unmistakably demanding. “It is okay now, Mazin.”
With a deep exhalation of breath, the young Exalted slumps forward, only to be caught by the monk. The anima banner fades, followed almost at the same time by the monk’s, and the blinding light disappears.
With an exhale of his own, the monk stoops down to gather up the young boy, then stops as the last assailant approaches. Stuttering, the boy tries to make up some excuse, “H-he just started attacking u…” but it is cut short as a fist from the monk catches him across the cheek.
“Get up,” the monk says, in the same calm voice, any emotions he may have buried. As the boy does so, he rises as well with the young Exalted in his arms. “You will bring medical aid to your friends and admit to everything. Or I will turn this young man on you again, and not hold him back.”
The boy pales visibly before sprinting off. Allowing himself a small smile at this, the monk looks down at the young boy in his arms, and says softly, “Great things indeed.”
The Legions
He had always heard that when you are about to die, your life passes before you eyes. He supposes it’s true, now.
His mother smiles to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek while he tries to pull away. “Mom!” he complains, rubbing his cheek. “Everybody’s watching.” At the roll of her eyes, he looks to her new husband, but gets nothing from him. Not even a smile. Before he can form a comment, his mother has pushed something into his arms.
“This was your father’s,” she whispers, ignoring her new husband’s glare. “He would have wanted you to have it, following in his footsteps and all. I’m sure you can use it now.” Smiling a sad smile, she gives his cheek another kiss, and this time he doesn’t pull away.
With a sad smile of his own, he hugs her with one arm. “I promise I won’t let you down, mother. And I won’t die. I’m too stubborn to die.”
Too stubborn doesn’t help sometimes. Against some things, you can’t fight off death.
“This is my son, Derrick,” a large, heavy set man says, patting the shoulder of a young man nearly the same age as Mazin. The man is Ragara Sousuke, a high ranking senior officer of the Legions, and Mazin’s superior. “I’m placing him under your command, new as it is. Don’t let me down.”
The boy grins at his father, and then turns to Mazin, giving him a lazy salute. “It’s an honor to be serving under you sir!”
Mazin salutes, crisply, then turns back to the father, saluting him as well. “Of course, sir. It would be an honor to take him under my command.”
After a bit of small talk, Ragara Sousuke sends his son off, before clapping the young commander on the shoulder. “You are an amazing young man, Mazin. Fresh out of the House of Bells and already in charge of a Talon. And if you do well under my command, I assure you that you will go far.” He then leans in, lowering his voice. “As for my son, I just want you to stamp out these adventurous ideas. He barely passed any of his classes, and I know he isn’t ready for the battlefield. Just ride him a little hard, try to make him give up. And keep him at the back line.” Patting his shoulder again, the man turns and walks off, leaving Mazin blinking.
Slowly turning his head, he looks off to the side at the splintered trees and shattered rocks, knowing that somewhere over there young Ragara Derrick’s mangled corpse could be found. He died instantly, at least.
Another roar that makes the pebbles rattle across the ground brings his consciousness a little bit further forward, and it is further aided by a quick slap to his cheek. “Maz!” screams a female voice.
Looking to the right, and bringing a hand up to his cheek, he stares at one of his few remaining troops. Zoe, a dark-skinned amazon, and his best archer, glares at him. “Wake the hell up!”
Shaking his head to clear it, Mazin sits up, looking around at the other four soldiers: Mal, an older clean-shaven man who is often times a better leader than him, but only due to his experience; Jayne, another man with a trimmed goatee, strong and good with a sword, but not the sharpest tool in the shed; Wash, a short, blonde-haired man who has never been that great of a soldier but can patch up any wounds the talon could manage; River, a lithe girl that’s good with a knife and would probably have made a better living as a thief than a soldier; and finally, Zoe.
“…you’re supposed to call me ‘commander’,” he mumbles, reaching up to touch his head, already bandaged while he was daydreaming. Looking back to the others, he peers over the outcropping a moment. “Is this all that’s left?”
“Yeah, while you were out in la-la land, we took a look around,” Jayne growls. “Everybody’s flattened.”
Poking his head out of cover a moment, he spots the tail end of the monstrous thing that wiped out his Talon. Covered in thick mammoth fur capable of deflecting non-magical weapons, as they found out, a monstrous behemoth sits in a clearing that actually used to be a forest. Tall antlers that rise above the former treetops adorn its head, while a massive tail slowly weaves back and forth behind it.
“Who would have thought something like that was under the ground?” he asks no one in particular, but knowing that someone would have answer, sarcastic or otherwise.
“It was hibernating or something, sir,” Zoe remarks. “Like a bear in winter.” She is straight to the point, as always.
“Long enough for the earth to settle on it and a forest to sprout?” comes River’s question, with a small giggle. “Wow.”
“And someone with their flashy abilities had to go and wake him up,” Wash says, and then puts up his hands. “Not that I’m pointing fingers.”
Rolling his eyes, Mazin sits back and sighs. “Come on, those barbarians had one of those wolf things,” Zoe pipes in with ‘Lunars’, “Right, Lunars. I had to get serious.”
Jayne laughs out loud, then quiets after everyone glares at him. “Didn’t look like you were serious enough. He was kicking your ass.”
The ground shudders slightly at that, and they all poke their heads out to watch the behemoth slowly treading off. Each of its footsteps make the ground shake, forcing them to go back into a sitting position.
“Nothing left to do but wait,” Mazin says. “Once it’s gone, we can try to find some survivors, and then head home.” To whatever awaits us…
Suicide Run
Their return to society wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was downright hostile. The advanced messenger had reached the Imperial City a full week before the six members of the previous Talon did, and Ragara Sousuke was waiting for them, clearly livid.
It took quite a bit of luck and dealing to keep himself out of prison or being killed right there, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in for a world of badness. At least he was able to redirect all attention to himself, getting the surviving members of his team off the hook. It took even more doing to get them to stay out of the picture, but he finally did it by bringing forth their self-preservation instincts. This didn’t stop them from voicing their complaints at his treatment, or from bringing forth their testimonials to the truth of his claims, once it was assured they wouldn’t be blamed.
In the end, any charges of his misconduct were dropped, but he was to be drummed out of the Legions. Strangely enough, at the time, was that this was turned away by the very man who wanted him decapitated: Ragara Sousuke. It was decided publicly that the man had been brought around to acknowledging that it wasn’t Mazin’s fault, just very bad luck. However, anyone with an ounce of sense would discover that was truly not the case.
As his direct superior, he ordered Mazin and his team to be sent out immediately to barbarian lands, quite obviously through the same area that the behemoth had been spotted. He was then to track down a barbarian encampment believed, or so the orders said, to be in that area. The orders also said that the encampment would be lightly defended with only lightly armed mortals. On his way out the gates, however, he was approached by another superior stating that not only was the encampment truly there, it was heavily defended, likely with a large Lunar presence.
However, orders are orders. Members of the Legion carry out orders whether it is to slay an innocent child or to march into the gates of the Underworld itself. With heavy yet determined hearts, the now nicknamed “Dead Man’s Talon”, reduced to a single Fang, headed into the lands of the enemy…
When the orders said ‘encampment’, they surely meant city. Even though it is a barbarian culture, the city itself is large, and heavily populated. The Lunar presence here, as rumors were abound back home, must be acting as some sort of god for them.
He would have liked to have made this observation from the outside, but unfortunately, this observation is being made as he is dragged through the dirt road between the archaic buildings. His team is likewise bound and being dragged, bruised and cut up, but otherwise none the worse for wear. It would seem they may be about to find out if this culture are cannibals… or the type that like to sacrifice their offerings alive.
He is sapped of his essence himself, the Lunar he faced being of insane strength. Even with the power of the Elemental Dragons, he was barely able to survive, even completely on the defensive. Still, despite this fact, he is also none the worse for wear, despite some nasty bruises and even a pretty deep cut on his shoulder.
After a few minutes, he is summarily dropped on his face in the dirt by the beastmen that were carrying him. The two wolfmen step back, forming a line to either side of the bound Dragon-Bloods, with one end being closed off. The other end, the end the bound Terrestrials are facing, is some kind of crude, though elaborate, throne with a very large white wolf seated on it.
Even though she had battled him in another form, he knows immediately it is the Lunar he faced. He had seen her shapeshifting abilities in action moments ago, after all. Still… as a wolf, she is a large one, and somewhat beautiful. Snow white with piercing green eyes, huge teeth, and paws that could crush a mortal, she is quite majestic.
Rising from her throne, she approaches on all fours, a sort of predatory sway to her movement. “You were quite strong for one of your kind,” she almost purrs, the voice seeming out of place in that form. “Surely you knew coming here would mean death, did you not?”
Lifting his head as much as he can, his comments still kick up sand when he tries speak, giving him a short coughing fit before one of the wolfmen help him rise to his knees. “It was our orders. Even if I’m ordered to die, I’ll do so.” He then flashes her a defiant grin. “Though I was hoping I’d run out of enemies, and be able to return home unable to fulfill the order.”
That big black nose of hers comes up to his face, sniffing, before she comes closer, the white fur rubbing against his cheek. “Your kind does have its moments of being honorable. Also, our battle… even though you were obviously at an absolute disadvantage,” she barks a laugh at his momentary glare, “you kept fighting. You were very talented. It was the first battle in quite a while I could almost enjoy.”
Mazin blinks, looking up to see her pointed ear twitch slightly, then blinks once more as he feels his bound hands come free, followed by his ankles. “If you want to survive, and your companions as well, come with me.”
Turning, she pads off. With a reassuring look to his companions, a look that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he follows her.
Sipping from a glass of wine, Mazin looks over the rim at the wolf now lying on an arranged stack of pillows. “Do you know how beastmen are created?”
He nearly chokes on the wine, coughing a moment, and he almost believes she smiles in a wolfish way. “I’ve… heard stories,” he manages after a moment, setting the glass down.
“I wish for you to do me this service until such a time as I can be sure.” At his questioning look, she continues, “Several weeks will be enough. I have a charm that can determine the result after that period. You may then return to your lands and whatever awaits you.”
Don’t blush, don’t blush, he mutters to himself. Why is my first time going to be with a…wolf-thing? It takes a moment to compose himself, in which time he can’t help but blush. Her wolfish grin only seems to grow. “M-my companions?”
“They will be treated well, as will you,” she says, purring the last three words seductively. This only makes him blush harder. Flicking her tail, unmistakably a ‘come hither’ motion, she says softly, “It will be enjoyable. Trust me.”
Breathless and shaking slightly, he rises to his feet, slowly approaching the wolf…
As they leave the Lunar’s lands, Mazin walking gingerly as if each step hurts, the others look to him with knowing grins but he doesn’t even speak to them.
“So, Maz, what happened? We didn’t see much of you two for weeks,” River asks, managing to sound somewhat innocent. “Did you even eat?”
He is quiet for a moment, but finally answers, “It was an interrogation mostly. She wanted to know about the Realm.” Looking to them, and noticing their grins for the first time, he narrows his eyes. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, sir,” Zoe says quietly, looking at the sky.
“Why did she keep howling?” Wash asks, rather bluntly, his grin saying he already knows.
Going crimson, Mazin nearly trips over nothing at all, wincing at how many aches this sets off. “W-what do you mean? I don’t remember her howling. It was probably a normal wolf…”
“And your uniform? Why was it shredded?” Mal pipes in.
“…Interrogation. I told you.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Jayne asks, looking around, giving Maz’s shoulder a smack. “We were just talking about how they were going at it like animals.”
First wincing then really tripping, again over nothing at all, he falls to the ground. He remains there, sighing against the grass, then mutters, “…You guys are horrible.”
Wash crouches down. “Just be glad you Earth-types are known for your stamina. Otherwise that might have killed you. Once we get to a river, I’ll see about treating those cuts.”
Mal picks up the bag of goodies. “Did she give you all this because you were so good?” Mazin had started to get up, but this just makes him fall on his face again, his blush not abating at all. “I bet if you’d just rolled over and went to sleep afterwards, she would have let you come out every now and then. I guess it worked out better this way.”
In Other Words: Banishment
Their return was again preceded by a messenger, but before they ever reached the Imperial City, the messenger returned with a reply:
‘To Commander V’neef Ferox Mazin,
Do not return to the city. You have new orders. I expect you to not fail in this.’
The orders, which the weary Mazin opens with a heavy heart, are not from Ragara Sousuke, but the higher superior from his own House, V’neef Mason that met him at the gates before he left last time. These read:
‘Your orders are to patrol the Realm. While you are not restricted from returning to the Imperial City at a later date, for now, you must spend your time ensuring that the citizens of the Realm are safe and living prosperous lives. Your authority to dispatch threats to the Realm is at the highest available to someone under my command. Do not let me down.
Senior Officer V’neef Mason.’
Looking to his soldiers with a small smile, he relays the news, much to their jubilant cheers. After it has settled down somewhat, he holds out the orders to them, then announces the plan, “We’ll travel around a bit, do what the orders say, but generally make our way towards Tuchara. I have family there and we can rest for a while.”
“There is also a friend of my mother’s named Windrunner there. He’s worked on my family’s equipment before, and we all need a repair job on our stuff. Let’s move out…”
