Wit Beyond Measure is Man's Greatest Treasure

Subject: Wit Beyond Measure is Man's Greatest Treasure 8th August 2018, 7:30 pm

Qeynan lay idly on his bed, glaring up at the ceiling as though it were the cause of all his problems. He had been laying down for about an hour, attempting to clear his mind and focus to increase the number of things he could control at once without putting too much strain on himself. He took a deep breath and tried again, raising his hand and giving a little flourish. The six books lifted from where they had landed when Qeynan got frustrated the last time he tried. They began to dance around the room lazily, to a tune that even Qeynan himself couldn't hear. He then focused on the kunai in his hand. He opened his hand and extended his will to the weapon.... and it moved. It lifted into the air and twirled there for a few seconds, during which Qeynan felt no pain at all. It was only a small increase, but it was better than nothing. Progress always was.

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Qeynan lay in his bed preparing to go to sleep after a rather exhausting day. He had worked on Karasu extensively then smoothed out the schematics for Kuroari and Sanshouo. He was close to being done with his first puppet, then he would move on to starting and perfecting the others. He needed them to be done before his team decided to take on a mission or else he’d be virtually defenseless against whatever foes they may face. He didn’t really want to think about that now, however. This was him time, the hour or so a day he allowed himself to just wind down and relax with a book or a nice bath. Today he was reading the former, a rather interesting adventure tale written by some long dead ninja from a forgotten village. Despite its age, it was a rather captivating read. Qeynan made a note to look up any other works that might be by the man.

He finished the chapter and set his book aside, blowing out the candles he had lit around his room to read by. He walked over to where Karasu lay, almost fully complete, and placed a kiss on the puppets third eye before he turned and got back into bed. He pulled the sheets up to his chin and burrowed deep under the covers, like a creature settling down for a long winter’s hibernation. It always took a couple minutes for him to fall asleep once he put his mind to it. His brain was always active, moving between subjects faster than any normal person would’ve been able to keep up with. The perks of being a genius, one would say, but it was more than a little vexing when he was tired. He felt the pull of sleep sooner than he had expected, though it was different than usual. The inky darkness that came up to meet him put him on edge, but he couldn’t stop it. He was consumed by black…

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Qeynan’s eyes blinked open to an elegant, if somewhat dark, throne room. Along the walls and pillars were sconces carved into the visage of skeletal hands holding torches. Upon closer inspection, he noted that the flames upon the torches were a pure ivory color, and the scones themselves were just made to look like bones. They were bones. He looked around further and noted other decorations made of bone as well. Chandeliers, chairs, coat racks, all manner of furniture were all wrought from the skeletons of what Qeynan assumed were the slain. He didn’t know why he would be dreaming of such a place, nor anyone who would actually live here. It was a bit disconcerting, but dreams were gateways into understanding the subconscious… His mind was obviously trying to tell him something.

He moved from his place beside a pillar and stepped more into the light, the throne that acted as the head piece for the room coming into full view. The throne was made of bone as well, but this variety was different. It was brighter, smoother, like a glittering polished crystal. Behind the throne was a mural, painted with the scene of a magnificent white dragon. The creature had its wings outstretched, descending upon the ground breathing bright ivory flames onto the unsuspecting people below. However, rather than running away from the flame, the mortals looked upon it in awe. Their hands were held out, as if reaching to accept the fire and anything else the creature had to offer. Of course, this only lead to their fiery demise but it was no less captivating.

Qeynan had been staring at the mural for some time, so intensely that he didn’t notice the entrance of others into the throne room. He turned and looked upon the party, slight fear creeping up his spine. Of course this was his dream, but he hadn’t quite mastered lucid dreaming yet so he wasn’t going to be able to control the flow of what happened here. True he couldn’t die, but what if the dream decided to dredge up his fears? Or torture him? He wasn’t keen on the idea. But it was strange because, despite walking straight at him, the group didn’t seem to notice him at all. So he opened his mouth to speak ”Um hello? Would anyone mind telling me where I am?” His voice came out as if he were attempting to speak through deep water, and no one answered. It were as though they couldn’t hear him. He tried again and again to the same results. He couldn’t talk to them. As they came closer he tried to tap one of the party to get their attention, but his hand went through them, his body rippling as though he himself were water.

Qeynan couldn’t speak to or touch anyone here, couldn’t interact with anything other than the floor and walls. He obviously wasn’t meant to interject, so he would watch. He examined the group closely, and was surprised at who took the throne. It was a small male, androgynous in appearance much like himself. His hair was long, falling down his back to his waist, and an ivory white that matched his throne. His eyes were a deep black that seemed too familiar for Qeynan’s comfort. The flesh of his face was pale, as though he had never seen the light of day. He couldn’t speak to the rest of the male’s body as it was covered in flowing white robes, decorated with swirling runes in a shade of black that seemed to absorb all light. The others were unremarkable by comparison, at least to Qeynan. Four were obviously guards, two monstrously tall beings bedecked in bone armor, and two more in white robes with grey flesh and vacant eyes. Then there was a woman equally as pale as the man on the throne, a what appeared to be a knight in armor that looked to have weathered hundreds of battles, and finally a person wrapped so tightly in bandages their gender could hardly be discerned.

As he finished examining them all, one was about to speak but was interrupted by the entrance of another man. He shambled in quickly, and it was obvious that he was undead as his body was quite literally falling apart "White Dragon!" He called out. The man on the throne raised a brow, so Qeynan assumed that was either his name or official title ”M’lord! An enemy… She’s made ‘er way into the castle m’lord! She ain’t killing none, but she is demanding to see ye!” The White Dragon seemed to chuckle jovially, as though this were a welcome occurrence. When he spoke, Qeynan was shaken to his core ”Well? Let her in. The rest of you, leave.” No sooner than the man had spoken did the others leap to obey. And soon after than Qeynan’s vision went dark at the edges and he was falling, falling, falling….

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He woke up in his bed, with a start. He sat up ramrod straight and tried to calm his erratic breathing. That wasn’t a normal dream, it was far from. It felt too real, the man’s zombie’s voice, the detail of the throne room and the mural. That was a memory, but one that did not belong to him. He was experiencing someone else’s memory, someone he didn’t know and someone he couldn’t place. But the most frightening part was that the man who had sat on the throne, the White Dragon…. he had spoken with Qeynan’s own voice. The Genin tried to puzzle out just exactly how dreaming someone else’s memories was possible, but it quickly tired him. He fell back to sleep, though with much more trouble after what had just happened. He didn’t dream anymore that night.

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An hour after he had told himself he was going to go to sleep, Qeynan found himself awake and pacing back and forth in front of his bed. It was about a week after the first dream had occurred, and he found that he became restless whenever he settled down to sleep for the night. It was as though he dreaded being sucked back into the dream, almost as though his mind subconsciously knew something was going to happen within the dream or that some information was going to be revealed. He just didn’t know what and that was driving him insane, as the unknown usually did. He didn’t like not understanding something, it made him feel stupid and if there was one thing Qeynan Hadraniel Taki wasn’t, it was stupid.

He had fallen into a form of routine over the past few days, due to the unexpected change in his sleeping habits. He would decide to go to bed and then stay up for an hour or more trying to calm his nerves enough to actually go to sleep. This had thrown off his normal schedule quite a bit, as he would either wake up too tired to function properly throughout the whole day without a power nap or he slept in for too long. This threw off his projected completion date for Karasu by too much for his comfort, so he was hoping that the dreams would return and finish what they had started. He knew they weren’t finished, that they hadn’t shown him what he was supposed to see. He could tell by how the first had finished, left on a cliffhanger of sorts. It was only a matter of time…

A yawn interrupted his train of thought and Qeynan noticed his eyes drooping mercifully. He sent a prayer out to Cthulhu and scurried into bed. He had gotten fluffier pillows and softer blankets in an attempt to try and make sleep come easier. His father had actually switched out his bed for something softer as well, but it hadn’t helped all that much. He could definitely appreciate the effort, though. As he pulled the blankets around himself and closed his eyes, he could tell this was to be a different kind of sleep. The sequel to that first dream. That first memory. The darkness wrapped around him with clawed hands, though they were familiar now, and dragged him from reality into someone else’s life.

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The black faded from Qeynan’s vision to reveal where he had left the scene before. The White Dragon sat on his throne and his subjects moved off to the sides of the massive room, through exits to various parts of the castle. The undead messenger that heralded the appearance of a strange “enemy” shambled out through the door he had entered in through. Probably to see her through as his lord had commanded he do. Qeynan had stuck to the shadow of a pillar so that he wouldn’t be seen, but he soon remembered he couldn’t be seen or even heard. This is just a memory. It isn’t actually happening so don't go acting like a bloody fool. He reprimanded himself mentally and moved from his spot to stand next to the throne.

Up close he could tell why the male’s eyes had looked familiar: they were so much like his father Sariel’s. In fact he could pick out facial features the man possessed that were similar to his aunt’s or his uncles. Was this an ancestor of his? That would be the simplest explanation of their resemblance, and it would explain why he was seeing these memories, and just who they belonged to. He was seeing the events from the White Dragon’s past, he knew that for certain. If it were anyone else he probably would’ve been forced to follow them out of the room. There was always the chance that someone was hiding in the shadows and he was seeing their memories, but he found that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.

He now knew who these memories belonged to, and part of is connection to them, but he didn’t know why he was seeing them. What even was so important for him to see? He didn’t have time to puzzle this out, because a woman swept into the room. She came from a side entrance so it couldn’t have been the enemy mentioned before. The way she was dressed and the bundle she held wrapped carefully in her arms told him that she was a servant, placed in charge of caring for an infant ”My lord? I received your summons. What was it you needed?” He didn’t speak, simply held out his arms to take the baby from her. She gave the baby gladly and sat back, watching him and the child with a bright, proud smile.

He was smiling himself, just as wide and twice as bright, as the baby cooed at him. Qeynan leaned over his shoulder to get a good look at it. A girl, with striking violet eyes. She was breathtaking, and Qeynan was sure she grew into a beautiful woman after whatever happened here. As he looked, the boy noticed for the first time the large pendant that hung from the White Dragon’s neck. It was ornate, made of polished silver and inlaid with a onyx gem surrounded by mother-of-pearl. Even in his dream-memory, he could feel the aura of… wrongness that emanated from the thing. It was something unnatural that violated the natural order of the world, angered something… primordial within the air. No one seemed to notice or mind, however, least of all the child in his arms. She reached for the shining piece of jewelry with childish glee, the man doing his best to keep it out of her reach.

The happiness in his eyes turned quickly to sadness as he handed his child back to her governess ”Bathilda, I am afraid the war has come like a hound to our doorstep and I must go out to meet it. I don’t know if I’ll survive it… if anyone could kill me, it is the woman who has come to visit today.” His voice took on a strained tone and he looked upon the baby with tear streaked eyes. Qeynan felt his heart breaking for this man he had never known, all his sympathies going from him and what he assumed was the hardest thing he would ever have to do in his life ”Even if I do survive, I do not want Ithuriel around this hell. The Empire is no place for an innocent child, and I want her raised innocent. Take her, change your own name but keep hers in remembrance of me. Protect her. From this, from me, from the knowledge of where she came from. Everything. This is my last order to you as your God. With this I set you free. He snapped his fingers, black markings around her neck like a collar appearing and then fading within an instant. She didn’t say a word, she simply nodded and turned on her heel to leave the room.

The White Dragon allowed himself a few minutes to weep, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, dripping onto his robes where they seemed to simply disappear without leaving any wetness or stain behind. He must’ve had some symbiotic connection with the castle, for he cleared away his tears and made himself presentable just in time for the main doors to the throne room to open once more. A short woman entered this time, rolling on roller skates that Qeynan knew to be Kukinorite in origin. She was bedecked in an outfit that bore a distinct spider motif, much like the one he was beginning to be fond of. Her hair was done in a style very reminiscent of horns, and her eyes were purple, a darker shade than that of the infant that was taken away from the room just before. She held a bored look on her face as she approached the throne, her eyes roving over the walls, sconces and the mural behind the White Dragon. It wasn’t as though she were looking at them really, more like scanning them for data. It was a bit unsettling how mechanical she was.

She came to a stop in front of the two males, the one on the throne bearing a smile as wide as the one he had shown his daughter but… different. This smile held a hint of madness, and seemed to issue a challenge. The way his lips were poised, bearing his teeth, was almost inviting the other into a battle. Whether of wits, words or might Qeynan couldn’t know for certain. He just needed to watch. The two took each other in for a long moment before the White Dragon spoke, again with a voice so close to his own that it scared Qeynan more than a bit ”Of all the people they would send to put an end to me… what do you go by these days, my dear? I’ve heard tales of your actions so of course you’ll have a fresh new title to go along with your...divinity.” There was a bit of a giggle on the last word, as though it were an inside joke between the two that no one else could understande.

”I was called many things, but I’ve taken to one in particular. The Demiurge. And your title isn’t too bad either. White Dragon. Rather… grandiose don’t you think?

He giggled again, and Qeynan was starting to get the impression that he had more than a few screws loose ”I didn’t pick the name myself. Trust me, if I had a choice I would’ve been the Lich. But the Lady Phoenix had planned for all her little Gods and Goddesses...” He let out a small sigh and leaned his cheek on his hand, his head tilted slightly as he peered down from his seat at his company ”I know your purpose for being here. But my question is… why? You’ve never displayed any love towards the Allied Shinobi Nations and you never do anything that doesn’t benefit you. What do you gain from this?”

She gave a small sigh herself, but hers was more from exasperation than nostalgia ”I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that. I hadn’t decided whether to lie to you or tell the truth.... Both sounds good, no?” She raised a brow and he motioned with a hand for her to continue, his smile constant ”First, the lie. You’ve taken up residence in my ancestral homeland. You’ve stationed guards around old Shigakure and more specifically the Kukinorite compound. There are a few things I would like to retrieve from there, and I would simply like to expel you and your ilk from here to...preserve the integrity of the land.”

”All of that is obviously bull because you’ve been here before whilst I’ve occupied it. I allowed you entrance into the old Kukinorite compound to retrieve what you had wanted and you took it all and left without complaint. With barely a goodbye, I might add.”

Her lips quirked a bit, the greatest display of emotion Qeynan had seen from her yet ”Precisely. So… the truth.” She leveled him with a heavy look, one that spoke volumes of what she was about to say ”I have climbed to the very heights of what is capable through puppetry and surpassed what was thought to be the absolute pique. I have bested many puppeteers, helped establish and reinvent several arts into formidable puppetry styles. I’ve even achieved Godhood in order to push my art further. But you… you have always been a road block. All the times we have faced off, puppet to puppet, neither of us have come out the victor. I challenge you to our final bout Samael Andras Ibwa. To decide which ideology is better: Perfection through Evolution or Perfection through Preservation.”

The White Dragon, Samael, looked down on her, his smile having faded to match her most serious tone. Their eyes met and locked for a long while, as if they were attempting to read each other’s minds. Or, more accurately, each other’s souls. Then his smile returned, this time with a fondness rather than manic glee ”I have long felt the same about you. Even though we’ve differed vehemently on which style of puppetry is best, I’ve never found anyone who has matched my passion for the art. For this, I thank you a thousand times over.” He stood and shed his robes, revealing a body marked with what Qeynan recognized as Fuinjutsu and some strange form of Juinjutsu. His arms were bare, though he wore a qipao-like garment beneath, in all black. His robes were left draped over his throne as he took the steps down, standing on even ground with his opponent-to-be.

”So I accept your challenge, Jazz Duo-Kukinorite. May this fight decide who is truly the best puppet master, nay, Puppet God! Let us etch our names into the annals of history: the Clash of the Demiurge and the White Dragon!!”

The twitching of her lips turned into a smile mirroring Samael’s own, full of fondness ”Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way...” Her words sounded far away, the darkness creeping up to pull Qeynan back out of the memory. He fought hard so that he might stay and witness the fight that was to come, but he could not fight it hard enough….

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Qeynan awoke to frustration clawing at every fiber of his being. He needed to know how their bout ended! Both were master puppeteers, people who had perfected the art in ways currently unknown to him. He needed to see what they were capable of, use them as a ruler by which to measure his own prowess. He tried to return to sleep, to re-enter the dream, but it was for naught. He didn’t dream any more that night, and he did not return to the memories of Samaels for days afterwards….

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Qeynan had assumed the pattern was set in stone, that he would only need to wait a week in order to be taken into the memories again. Usually his hypotheses were correct, but it came as a shock to him when the week came and went without so much as a small vision. He was sure that another week should do the trick, but his sleeping schedule suffered for it. He stayed up later and slept longer, walked around as though in a haze most of the time unless he was working on his puppets. It was taking such a toll on him that his fathers worried over him, so much so that they actually took him in to see a doctor. He was prescribed a medicine to help him sleep as well as referred to a psychological medic in order to determine the origin of these “strange dreams” as he had described them.

The medicine helped almost instantly for his problems sleeping, but he was worried that they would make it impossible for him to experience the dreams again. The sessions with his medic, a nice Cryptic man named Erin Jiko, revealed that he was indeed experiencing memories from someone in his ancestry, but they in themselves weren’t affecting his sleeping habits. His own anticipation of them was what had caused him to go a bit off the rails, so he was given exercises on how to calm his mind so that he could sleep without the assistance of the medicine. After about two months of taking them he slowly stopped, using his tactics in order to get to sleep at a good time while only using the meds if his insomnia was particularly bad.

During the time he was able to finish his first three puppets, however. All of their mechanisms were in working order, he just needed to fill their arsenals with ammo and they would be good to go for any mission or exam he would encounter. He also began formulating combinations between his puppets and himself, thinking of unique ways to combine their different mechanisms with what he himself was capable of. He had figured a majority of offensive ability was going to come from his puppets, but he was left able to focus his skillset more on the supplementary, to enhance his own capabilities in order to fit his growing intelligence.

Now he was winding down for bed, a heavy feeling hanging over the room. He decided to keep Erin on as his psychologist and he had told Qeynan that because the dreams were in actuality memories, his sleeping habits wouldn’t stop them from occurring until he had witnessed what they were meant to make him see. He thought that today was going to be the last, he could feel it somehow. He checked on Karasu, Kuroari and Sanshouo out of habit, making sure their limbs weren’t bent at all angles and they would be fine in their positions for the night. He couldn’t risk their more delicate mechanisms being damaged in any way after all the work he had put into creating them, after all.

Qeynan changed into his sleeping clothes and made sure all his things were put away. He looked at the pill bottle that contained his sleeping medicine. Erin had said to him a single pill to fall asleep faster, but three would make his sleep dreamless, would probably even block out the memories he was being shown. He had a bad feeling about whatever he was going to see, he couldn’t explain it but it was there and it reared up like a dangerous beast ready to swallow him whole. The lure of peaceful darkness was strong but he might as well get this over with. He laid in his bed, pulling his covers up to his chin. He closed his eyes and the darkness rushed up almost immediately, dragging him back to that familiar scene...

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Samael stood in that same spot, looking down on Jazz due to the height difference of several inches. Her smile had faded but his remained, bright and gleeful. They just.... stood still. Staring each other down with a dark intent. Qeynan was starting to get bored with this, so he moved to sit on the throne that was no empty. He sighed as their staring match dragged on and on… then Samael spoke ”This is a rather anticlimactic start, don’t you think Jazzie? Shouldn’t we have exploded into movement by now? I had thought my castle would’ve been reduced to rubble within the first few minutes!” He smirked as he looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jazz returned a little flash of a smirk and a nod ”I agree. Allow me to make the first move then” What occurred next had Qeynan baffled for a long moment. She had moved with an explosive burst of speed, cracking the stone floor of the throne room and simply… appearing in front of Sam, poised to make a strike at the pale man’s head. He could tell by her body language, the way her leg muscles coiled and the look in her eyes that the blow was far from normal, it held immense power behind it possibly enough to heavily wound or kill a normal combatant. They way they had spoken told Qeynan that the White Dragon was anything but normal, however, so he had a feeling he would respond in kind.

The feeling turned out to be correct as the male simply raised his arm to block the attack, a pulse of energy reflecting an equal amount of energy back onto Jazz, sending her careening back. Rather than being ragdolled through the air, she flipped elegantly onto her skates and began to move idly. Sam tutted in a mock tone of disappointment, shaking his head softly at Jazz ”Did you really think something so simple would work on me? And you damaged my floor doing it! What am I going to do with you?” He sighed and flicked his wrist, the damage on the floor seemingly repairing itself after he performed the motion. The amount of force that had been exerted from the attack was immense, something that he as a genin had never seen employed and wouldn’t be able to employ himself. The power of gods were frightening, yet riveting as well. He wanted to see more, to know more of their power.

Jazz shrugged in response to Samael’s words ”I didn’t exactly expect it to work, I was testing the waters. Seeing how far you’d come since our last bout.” She began skating from side to side at great speeds, enhancing her movement speed slowly but surely as she did so ”I remember we got straight to a battle between puppets. It dragged on for ages because of that. A different approach might yield different results, don’t you think?” She launched forwards again, though at greater speeds though without the same amount of strength. Her movements were a blur to his eyes but they didn’t affect the environment as it did before. She unleashed a flurry of blows this time, kicks aimed at his head, his right shoulder, his left side, his right and left legs, though each one was matched with the same invisible force as before. The speed of them meant Sam didn’t have enough time to build up his own power, so he couldn’t return the force, but he was more than able to negate it.

”You’re correct, my dear, but you’re aware that physical combat isn’t my strong suit. I’m having more than a bit of trouble keeping up with your movements with my speed and barriers alone… Though you’ve never really been one to play fair.” There was a sudden build up of that same, strange power and Qeynan knew that it wasn’t that he hadn’t been able to collect the power to reflect the force of the attacks, he didn’t want to. He was saving the power for another move, this move. He thrust his arm out and the energy exploded in a shockwave that sent Jazz flying back once more. She was on a direct collision course with the wall… but she spun in mid air and landed on her skates on the wall with absolutely no issue. Her head snapped up, and while her face was impassive her eyes shined with a manic joy.

She launched off the wall at Sam once more, but he was prepared. His hands moved as if conducting music, no, as if commanding puppets, and the stone and bone that comprised the room answered. Pillars of rock sprang up in the goddess’ path as she flew, but she simply skated upon or kicked off of them as they came. Blades of calcium launched from the pillars in all directions, aiming to cut, pierce and maim the woman with all of their might but she simply contorted as she flew, narrowly missing being sliced to bits by them. She twirled into a powerful spin kick and he began moving his hands in complex motions. She got close to land her blow and he sent a barrier out to match it. The two clashed, the power from each issuing a powerful shockwave that shatter the ground, toppled pillars and cracked the walls all around them Jazz leaned forward and whispered to him ”You say that to me when you’re the exact same way. When did you become a pot?” He laughed and forced the barrier to toss her away, sending out a retort about kettles and continuing their dance.

They fought like this for what seemed like a long time, however it was possibly only a couple minutes. The scale and speed at which such powerful beings fight makes every second seem like an hour though. Jazz began issuing lightning and dark threads from her body, aiming to pierce through and impale Sam where he stood. Lilac crescents of energy flowed forth from her attacks as well, carrying an air of danger with them that even Qeynan could feel, though Sam treated them as nothing more than child’s toys. Sam commanded the throne room itself to attack, jagged rock and bone flying out to lacerate and tear apart. When truly pressed he was capable of calling upon fire and wind as well, destabilizing or matching her attacks when it was too close a call. They did not continue unscathed. Cuts blossomed across Jazz’s form but that only seemed to push her to fight harder, and after a while the damage seemed to repair itself, and Sam was in very much the same boat. When wounded his body seemed to fall become ash and paper before reforming as good as new. Neither bled, and both were evenly matched.

They stood across from each other and Sam smiled at her ”This is going nowhere fast. I believe we should take our relationship to the next level.”

”I completely agree. I hope your people have evacuated the castle.”

He chuckled darkly ”As do I. Even if they haven’t most of them are undead, they should be completely fine.” They stood among the shambles of the throne room, the place falling down around them. Qeynan’s eyes widened as he could feel the build up of power coming from them. From one, it would be enough to send those without enough strength flying more than a fair distance away but with both at the same time and the current structural integrity of the throne room… they were planning on bringing the place down. Just as his mind came to that conclusion they unleashed what they had built up. It was as if a powerful gale ripped through the place, centered around the two gods. The ceiling and walls were blown away, the rest of the castle crumbling and collapsing as a huge section was scattered to the winds. They were exposed to open air and Qeynan now saw they were on a sky island. So far up that the clouds obscured the ground. Air whipped around the two as they unleashed wave after wave of pure force from themselves, driving away all weaker foes and making room for the final leg of their bout…

They didn’t was time now, Samael extended a hand and crooked his fingers, two caskets rising from the ground and opening to reveal two bodies.wielding large swords. Jazz chuckled flicked her wrist, two puppets appearing seemingly from thin air as she did so, the two also wielding swords. Each pair stood stock still for a moment before exploding into movement, meeting between the two puppeteers in a loud clash of flashing steel. Their movements blurred and Qeynan knew just how greater their mastery of puppetry was than their mastery of the physical or elemental arts they had displayed before. They didn’t move, simply tracked the fight going on before them with their eyes. He had barely been able to keep up with these two when they were fighting alone, but their puppets were impossible to track one hundred percent of the time. He saw swords clashing here, a fireball launched there, beams of blinding light being sent forth, but other than that he just sat in awe as he watched two true masters of the art at work.

While this was more than interesting for Qeynan, it seemed to bore the two participants after a while, so they began adding more puppets to the fray. Those made of flesh and earth and bone for Samael and those made of wood and metal and technology for Jazz. It was as though they had both summoned armies to do their bidding, the island they had cleared becoming a battle zone of massive proportions. Though he was incorporeal and incapable of being damaged by an errant attack, the fear that he would be hurt by being in the middle of this was still there. He found that he could float above the commotion, which should’ve been obvious as this was a dream. The two gods were in the center of the battle, not having moved an inch since the start. Whenever an enemy puppet came too close, one of their own intervened and pushed it back. They gave nothing and they expected nothing to be given, and yet he could tell they were enjoying this immensely.

Jazz flicked her wrist once more and puppets manifested again… though this time they were Large and in the shape of the Tailed Beasts. They charged at Sam, swatting aside his corpses and puppets like so many flies, though he did not look threatened in the least. He waved and a roar shook the skies themselves. Seconds later a massive dragon crashed into the island, completely obliterating it and sending all puppets into a free fall. All those that were smashed in the collision, both Jazz’ and Sam’s alike, began repairing themselves, and rather than falling to the ground they all took flight alongside their puppeteers. Lack of solid ground to stand on didn’t inconvenience them in the slightest, they kept fighting as though nothing had changed, though with the addition of the Bijuu puppets and six undead dragons in the mix. Qeynan was stunned speechless, his jaw dropped as he watched the scene. He couldn’t imagine this kind of action let alone believe it could’ve actually occurred. The amount of destruction they were capable of unleashing without so much as a strain of effort was otherworldly. This was what it meant to be a puppet master of godly proportions, the extremes to which the art could be taken when one gave their all to it.

”What do you say we stop playing around and end this, Sammie?

”That’s what I like to hear Jazzie, dear!

Qeynan couldn’t believe that with all the strength they had shown throughout this battle, they still only viewed this as a game, as child’s play. They hadn’t gotten serious and he was terrified now that he knew they were about to. Their puppets began vanishing, one by one until only they were left. Then they weren’t alone. Four beings appeared behind Jazz with glowing eyes of gold, crimson, teal and green, each riding powerful steeds issuing flames of the same coloring. Four more at her sides, each with a mask and suit of the same design though with their own flair added to them ”Allow me to introduce you to my greatest collections. Those behind me are the Four Horsemen, and those beside me are my Juggernauts.”

”Then it is only fair I do the same, ne?” Six beings appeared behind Samael this time, powerful wings attached to their backs denoted the mark of dragons. There was another roar, though this one was different from the dragon that Qeynan had seen appear before. If that one shook the skies, this shook existence itself. A massive ivory dragon cleared the clouds below and came to a halt behind Qeynan, its gaze settled on the woman in front of its master ”These are my Old Gods. Now enough talk...”

Six dragon knights and four horsemen clashed but the remainder stayed still. Jazz held her hands out to either side and Sam did the same, it was as though they were in sync despite this being a battle of supremacy. Jazz brought her hands two wrap around herself while Sam brought his up to issue a loud clap, but the results were rather the same. The Juggernauts converged upon Jazz and melded with her, light enveloping them as they did so. The dragon’s wings closed over Sam to eclipse him from sight and the creature melted into a mass of what appeared to be liquid bone. As war raged around them, the shockwaves from different clashes destroying nearby islands and creating loud tolls, like thunder in a massive storm. The light faded and the bone solidified, revealing two Titanic forms. One a perfect robotic being and the other a knight with the visage of a dragon.

”Draco of the Eternal Graveyard...”

”Raven of the Cybernetic Consciousness...”

That was all they said before they moved and the world exploded. Everything happened too fast for Qeynan to keep up, he could tell they were landing blows, destroying and then reshaping the world around them with their clash, but that was all. But he knew… this was the height he wanted to reach. This was the power he wished to achieve. He wanted, no he needed to gain this power. To become a puppeteer on the level of these two. Raven and Draco.

When the dust settled he saw that they once more stood across from each other. They didn’t speak for a long moment, but when Samael broke the silence his voice was a whisper ”I feel as though I had always known you would be the one to kill me… Your skill in puppetry is something even I must awe at. You are worthy of the name “Demiurge”. He chuckled and fingered the amulet at his neck, a growing crack apparent on its surface.

Jazz nodded and crossed her arms over her chest ”You were my last obstacle, now I may live up to my claim as the world’s greatest puppeteer. But… I’ll miss the challenge your presence posed. I’ll miss... you. Despite not having originally been one of the exceptions I have come to see you as a precious friend… goodbye.” She turned and skated down from the clouds, disappearing into the distance, while Sam was left floating there. He chuckled and shook his head, building up more power than Qeynan had thought he would be able to summon at a moment like this. An island rose into the air and stopped below him. He moved his hands and black rocks began shaping a castle around him. The entire place was decorated with scenes of dogs and hydra locked in deadly combat, the entract being guarded by two statues of said creatures locked in a deadly embrace. Samael created a new throne room and sat upon it, a mural being painted upon the wall behind him. This time it was of a dragon and a raven facing each other, armies of different warriors and creations at their back. Finally the dragon he had summoned before situated itself upon the top of the castle, seemingly turning to stone as a guardian for the place.

The White Dragon smiled down at the amulet as it radiated power, the crack being repaired as a light enveloped it. He chuckled and made himself comfortable on his throne ”I am sorry my dear but it is not yet my time. I still have work to be done in this world. Until we meet again...” Despite his words the light faded from his eyes as he was dragged into what seemed like a death-like state, but Qeynan was unable to investigate. He was pulled from the dream for what felt like the last time...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he woke it was morning, light streaming in through his window. It wasn’t only how the memory ended, but also a gut feeling Qeynan had that told him that was the last he would be seeing of Sam for a while. Those were his last moments of consciousness, he would assume before his death but those final words told another story. Truthfully he might never know for sure but he knew now who he was to him. The child’s name he had said, Ithuriel, was his grandmother’s name. He would need to talk to her at some point, figure out what she knew of her father if anything at all. Sam had told the woman to not let her know anything of her past. Qeynan needed to find out as much as possible about Jazz Kukinorite and Samael Ibwa if he was going to become like them. And he would stop at nothing to become like them.

WC: 3623/3000

Training:

Qeynan had noticed something since his last dream and his learning about the “death” of Sam. His mind was beginning to work at a faster rate than it had previously, he was capable of taking in more information at greater rates and it felt amazing. He had always been a bit smarter than others but the dreams had… advanced his mind in some way. He didn’t know how. He discussed it with his psychologist and Erin probed his brain. He noted that he had indeed become smarter, jumping several of the “intelligence levels” as they were called, within a short span of time. He looked deeper into Qeynan’s mind and found that the cause of this growth was his Samurai “sword”. In fact the dreams that he had been experiencing were caused by the sword as well, though they were only a side effect of the sword’s influence on his brain. It was more than useful to have had his mental capabilities increased by his sword, as not only was he smarter than others he outstripped even the naturally born geniuses or the artificially enhanced Kukinorite in intelligence.

He began studying people in earnest, as he was now capable of performing the advanced mental functions needed to focus on multiple subjects at once without sacrificing proficiency at one or the other. He was marking subjects for further examination as possible puppet bases, formulating ideas and schematics for future puppetry collections and working out different training regimen for increasing his capability for the areas he lacked in. All of this was done at speeds faster than he could ever remember thinking, and it was no problem at all for him to do so. It truly was an amazing feeling to be able to think at such speeds, he was going to be able to achieve so much more in such a shorter span of time than his “peers”. It would also help him when it came down to formulating strategies and combinations within his team, as well as formulate countermeasures against how the other two fought. He had a hunch Praise may try to make brawls for leadership a frequent thing, so he needed to learn quickly how to best them. They wouldn’t listen to him otherwise. Or rather Praise wouldn’t listen to him.

He mostly used it to construct his plans for his puppets, however. He had planned the rest of his First Dynasty, the cousins to the Black Order. The second Order didn’t have a name as of yet but he had modeled them after methods of torture and execution, while the Warg Order was one that was designed after powerful wolves. They were all going to be unique and varied and he had no doubt they would far surpass anything that another puppeteer could create at his “level”. Especially other Genin. He would be surprised if they could hold a candle to his Black Order and they had been constructed before the enhancement of his mind. He would simply have to find out during the Chunin Exams or while out on missions… He was excited to test them out and examine the results.

WC: 523/500

Training:

Posts : 3780 Join date : 2012-05-06

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Road Trip

With the first round of classes complete and the students already acclimated to life at the academy. The school has organized a field trip in order to give the students a taste of what …

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