Zakalwe
Inactive Member
Avatar of Kohana:
Night frost fell to one knee, trying to catch her breath. The white tiger panted, trying to get as much air into her lungs as possible. She had not been fully prepared for the battle, having just been coming from weapons practice, she was in her loose fitting black cloth pants, and a turquoise tunic fastened with a brown leather belt.
The fight had been going on far too long, and her opponant seemed to not even be trying anymore. She was being toyed with.
Reaching back for the hilt of her sword, which she kept just above her tailbase, she pulled the blade, a well crafted longsword with gems encrusting the guard, and Unnari etchings along the blade. Narrowing her eyes, she would rise, squaring her shoulders to her opponant, a tall and lithe figure dressed in all black, with a white mask in the shape of a Kee'Awloo's muzzle.
"You are trying too hard, Youngblood. You let your head guide you, a fool's style. Has your master taught you nothing about fighting not from past battles, but in the current one?" The figure taunted, reaching over his left shoulder with his right hand, pulling free the long boken which had been fastened there.
Spinning it in front of him, and around his body many times like it weighed nothing, he would finish his display by slamming the staff to the ground and motioning for Frost.
"You will not speak of my master in such a way. You know nothing about what it is he has taught me." The white tiger would start to charge her opponant, sword held down at her side in preparation for an upward slash. She had just gotten within range when her opponant sidestepped and brought the end of his staff towards her ankles, giving them a hard rap.
Night frost crumpled forwards, throwing her blade out from beneath her, and hissing in pain. She quickly rolled to her back, clutching her bare feet as she inspected herself for injury. She couldn't find any blood, so that was good. She slowly started to rise, but her opponant caught her in the side of the neck with a spinning blow. Night could taste blood as she fell back to the stone and grassy floor of the ruins.
Rolling to her back, she could see the masked fighter looming above her, ready to deliver the finishing blow, but he would never get the chance. Frost folded her legs up, looking like she was cowering in fear of his next move, but when he stepped forward to bring the staff down on her, she kicked out with all her legs' power.
The wet sound of both the man's knees snapping backwards, and the tearing of ligament, tendon, and muscle, could be heard throughout the surrounding ruins. But that was not enough for Frost. This person had made her look foolish, had insulted her master, and had tried to kill her. For the Kohanians, killing this man would be looked at as nothing more than self defense, and she would face no penalty, so she would make him suffer.
As the man screamed in agony, tearing at his mask, Frost kicked up to her feet and went for her blade, kicking the weapon off the ground with her left footpaw, and into her hand as she spun left to face her attacker again. But she did not attack with the blade, instead resheathing it at her back. Instead, she closed her eyes and would begin to weave her paws through the air, chanting something softly in Unnari.
The longer she chanted, the faster her paws would weave through the air. And the more her paws began to move, the more the wind seemed to pick up around her, tossing her long black braid back and forth across her back. Soon, there was a tempest raging around her, stripping the leaves from trees, throwing stones away from her, with the tiger standing in the middle of it, looking frighteningly serene, and except for her braid, untouched.
Night Frost opened her eyes, and slowly moved her paws forward. As she did, the wind seemed to rush past her, whipping her tail and braid wildly, but also tearing at her clothing. The cyclone moved its way towards the injured man, who by now was trying to pull himself under one of the fallen supports for the long ago fallen ceiling. The man was about there when the cyclone reached him, tugging on his boots and pant legs as he fought for the final few feet. He would never reach the safety of the support, as a rock caught in the tempest whipped around the outer edge and caught the fighter right above the right eye with such force, it penetrated his skull, killing him instantly.
Night heaved a sigh of relief that the fight was over, but then came to the realization that she had violated her vow to never use the Art to kill someone. Her master would be most unpleased, and she prayed he would not find out that she had been channelling when she should have been back with the other students, meditating in the garden.
Suddenly a wave of nausea came over the femme, causing her to fall to her knees. She had been taught about this, that whenever a follower of The Way tapped into the Art, they must give something in return for the elements to grant their blessing, otherwise the channeller would have to give of themselves. Night fought against blacking out, but her vision was swimming, everything spinning. Before she could stop herself, she began to dryheave. Turning her body slowly, clumsily, Night Frost made it to her paws and knees before the sharp pain stabbed into the back of her head, and she vomitted up the meager contents of her stomach.
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When she finally awoke, it was to pitch blackness. Night Frost wanted to move her paws to her eyes, to make sure that she was not blind, but couldn't even feel her fingers or toes. She silently prayed in her head that she had not been blinded and paralyzed for her foolish use of training she shouldn't even have had yet. Thankfully, that prayer would be half answered as whatever had been covering her eyes was lifted, and the early evening sun could be seen streaming into her room from the far window.
But she was not alone in her room. There at the end of the bed was a lean black leopard Dy'Unnar, shaking his head slowly. At her bedside were two Kee'Awloo monks, a black kangaroo with short cropped white hair, and a rather portly red fox. Frost knew them all, and knew that if they were all gathered in her room, that she had been found out, and quite possibly was about to be expelled.
The roo looked over to the leopard and nodded with a reassuring smile. He would then look back at Frost and grin a little more while he packed up the medicines and potions he ahd used to put her back into stable condition. She like him, Brother Bounce, as he was affectionately called by the students, was her favorite of the Temple of the Wind's healers. It made her feel good to know that of all those he could have called, Grand Master Fog had chosen her friend to oversee her recovery. The roo finished gathering his things and would wink to her playfully as he turned to leave.
Once the door was closed behind the monks, the Grand Master walked around the foot of the bed and took a seat on the wooden chair by her head.
"What you did today was reckless, my apprentice. You could have been badly injured by that assassin, you know that though, correct?" Fog asked, to which the tigress just groaned.
"You also know that you killed the man, that there was a wound in his head that showed something had struck him quite hard. It was not a slash or stab wound, so it did not come from your blade, and no one outside of the To'yaree could throw a stone to penetrate bone. So that leaves me with one explanation, Night Frost." The Master slowly looked down to his wringing hands. "You know that you swore an oath that you would never kill anyone with your mastery of the Wind, and for breaking that oath, I should mark you and make you leave the temple."
Frost's eyes began to tear up, a sob welling in her throat that came out as a pitiful deep mewl. Slowly she lifted her paw and rested it on her master's own.
"Prrrease, don'." She groaned, her jaw stiff from being clenched shut, and possibly broken from the staff hit she took.
Sighing to himself, Grandmaster Fog slowly rose from the chair and walked towards the window, staring out over the grounds. "I must, Night. I have talked it over with the monks, and all my advisors, there is no other way. You violated your vow, and the commands are absolute. But do not lose heart, because you have a visitor who has been staying in the guest quarters since your battle. He says that he was actually there to watch you fight. That he has something he wishes to talk to you about. I will show him in once you have a chance to recover from the after effects of the monks' healing."
With that, Fog turned to the door and walked out, leaving Night Frost to wonder what her visitor would want to talk to her about, and what she was going to do now that she had disgraced herself, and could never return to the temple to train in the Art.
