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 Strength of Will.

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Raikou Diasu
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Join date : 2015-01-21

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PostSubject: Strength of Will.   Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:54 am

A culling touch, the waters lapped up at all sides as he floated upon a broken wooden board, head propped up, taking a mouthful of salted sea as the Ronin swayed back and fourth amid the waves of the Ocean, a tinge of red pooling around him attracting all manner of sea life, a dire fight against the undesirable, his body broken of strength and lost in fatigue, bruised, cut, his midsection shattered in result from the stone of a stranger maul. Attacked and sought for, someone had been paid to ensure he did not arrive back to one of the few lands he'd found to be peaceful, for reasons he held no evidence of yet had the mind to lay upon his loss of honor, a feud from rival Samurai looking to uphold Bushido by way of tradition, he was well and truly Ronin now. His life a target for those alike them who were failed by Raikou. Someone had paid well.

An abrupt halt would send the young man astray from his would-be raft, into the not so comforting hold of rocks, jaggered and plenty. Air sent from his lungs echoed upon the dusk setting as ribs were pushed back, already separate from the cage that might hold his internals, his body recoiled, legs coming to and wrapping both arms around his sides, curling into a ball as the wrath of strong water disguised would-be tears of agony, they thrashed upon stone and urged the Ronin upon the beach sand, gaping for breath, clawing at unstable ground in desperate attempt to drag himself away from certain drowning. Death was not the sanctuary he wished for yet he'd run out of friends, his weapons too were scattered across the cape, clothing torn and belongings out of his care, he'd lost everything and it now seemed as if his longing to live to his Masters promise had surpassed he in ability to deliver.


Fade to black.
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Noah Jacobsen



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Join date : 2014-07-07

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PostSubject: Re: Strength of Will.   Sun Jan 25, 2015 1:56 am

"Fresh Snapper! Get yer' fresh Snapper ere!" Called the gruff voice of a fish monger as he hurried to reign in customers at the days begin- for all that lived in poverty knew that the best takings of the day were as the sun broke free of the night hold. Though many that were around at this especial time had less than a penny in their pocket, it was the luck of the first sale that brought on a good days take. It was known.
"Caught just of the Lions Gape Cape, only last night! $10 a pound!" He called again, this time louder, projecting his voice around the few people that had risen before the day. Most of which had done so to set up for the day. These were the people whom would bring food home for their families today. Sleeping in after the sun had awoken brought bad fortune.
"Sardines! Only a day old!" The white haired man continued.
"I'll take the basket."  
For a moment the monger looked around, as if searching for the voice of the bringer of his good fortune. Eventually, his eyes rest upon the only man that was not dressed in brown tatters. "Sir? Dare I say, you 'aven't the money to afford such a-"
"The Sardines. I'll take them all- and two of those Snapper." Noah threw a finger between two likely corpses upon demand.  He had studied them from afar and knew well that a fresh fish had not cloud in it' eyes- and these were so.
"Oh-." The man stammered for words, old fingers shaking as he reached for the paper to wrap the fish. "Yes, yes - Ofcourse."
The young man could feel eyes upon his back as hurry he reached into the pouch at his waist to gather cash enough for his prize. He knew exactly what they were thinking. Why so much? Surely a man so rich would shop in more wholesome places than the docks? Truth was, it wasn't for himself. Noah was young, but he was bountiful with life. There were those whom needed it more than he but could not split with a penny to afford it.
He slapped the money on the counter, which wobbled with instability, and waited for the man to take it before he took the snapper and shoved it into his satchel. "There is money enough in there to buy you a new basket as well. You are welcome to count it while I stand here to make sure." He said as fingers wrapped around the handle of the woven fishing basket and heaved it over his shoulder with no trouble.
"N-Well. Yes. Yes, I will." Replied the monger as he set to counting the wad of cash with the unsteady fingers. There was hesitation but a good businessman always checked his bounty, no matter how it was presented.

While he waited, Noah cast hazel hues upon a small crowd that had begun to gather on the beach a couple hundred meters away. Brows pursed together as concentration coupled with curiosity gathered within and he craned his neck in a bid to perhaps catch some of the conversations; but the distance made it impossible. He breathed a soft sigh in annoyance.
"It's all 'counted fer'." Confirmed the monger with hint of disbelief.
Noah met his blue eyed gaze. The right corner of his lips angled some what in offer of a smile. "So I'm not ll bad at math after all." He jested.
The old man smiled and took a five dollar bill from the wad to give back to Noah, a sign of good luck and fortune, but Noah held his hand up. "Keep it." He ordered before turning on heel and walking away.
"Th-Thank you Sir! May god bless you." He cried after ward, but Noah did not hear him. Eyes had averted to the gathering upon the sand. A small boy had broken loose of the crown and was racing towards the docks. Noah slowed his pace to catch an ear of what the boy had to say. There was panic in his features, as well as fear and excitement.
"We.. need a.. doctor!" The boy exclaimed between breaths. "Man, washed on.. The beach. Bleeding bad." Noah let his eyes scan those around, noting each and every expression upon the faces of the parents and adults present. Within minutes, everyone on those docks would be a flurry of conversation, forgetting about their lives for but a moment. Noah's teeth clenched. The orphanage would have to wait. It was one thing to bring death upon someone, but it was entirely another to let it happen to someone undesirable of it. He had to investigate.
"I am a doctor." He lied, turning to meet the dark skinned boy. "Take me." He demanded. Nodding, the boy began like a rocket back across the sand, not even looking to see if his doctor was behind.
Noah dropped the basket of Sardines in front of the monger. "Take care of this for me. If I'm not back by noon. Sell it." He did not wait to see the old man's reaction.

"Get out of the way. I'm a doctor." He lied again. It was a lie, but it was in earnest. Indeed, he wasn't a doctor, but he knew how to heal people with potions and fix broken limbs; he'd even stitched himself back together. shouldering his way through the crowd, which had grown in size since the boys proclamation on the docks, he set eyes upon the victim. The rocks and waves had taken their toll upon his mutilated body and he would need much and more help if he were to survive this ordeal.
He bent to examine the man more closely. There was no need to check the pulse with fingers as the skin visibly pulsed at the site of the artery in the neck. At least he was alive. Noah looked upward, scanning the people before landing yes upon a burly man with no shirt on, a surfer no doubt, "You. Help me get him up."[/i]
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Raikou Diasu
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PostSubject: Re: Strength of Will.   Wed Jan 28, 2015 6:19 am

Injury taken it's toll, the male out of consciousness, black faded to nothing, to witness there was little to call home, out to the world, body laid out sprawled within sand, the waters edge a wake against his waist, his muscles strewn, broken and torn, bleeding out there was little to be done for the Ronin, by his play, he ought to be dead. In the darkness a light, it followed every glance, distance, a desire to reach it, a tunnel of darkness though he would not follow, he felt not the will to find it, no honor, it ricocheted. Death was no option, that silent release, he denied seppuku, there was no alternate fate that he could willingly follow.

Raikou Diasu was all but whole, he had no way of helping himself, no savior but those willing to contribute to his salvation, blood rose and fell in the wake of the ocean, waves threatening to breach his lips, bore to the world open an entrance to his lungs though he'd tried, the tides wanted not for him to live much alike those that had sought he. Armed with nothing but spiritual denial, his fate in those that surrounded him.


((Apologies for small post but Raikou cannot aid himself in his position, out of consciousness)).
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Strength of Will.
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