Post by Xinrui on Mar 17, 2017 13:05:58 GMT -5
On the bank of a small stream in one of the many forests of Hakone, a young Chinese Quincy had taken to less conventional training methods alone.
Ever since his defeat at the hands of the black-clad girl, Xinrui had grown irritable and increasingly disturbed at the world he had stepped into. It was a world of demons and spirits; a world almost incomprehensible that would one day make itself clear to his scrutiny.
But, for now, he was a stranger.
With his Quincy Cross now broken and effectively useless, he finally invested the time into looking more thoroughly through the things his grandmother had left for him: an abundance of journals, blueprints for outlandish gadgets and instructions on all manner of practices and rituals left him bewildered and intrigued. It was a treasure trove of knowledge that he was only just becoming acquainted with but, as if Lady Luck herself were on his side, one particular artifact was present and stood out as if desperate to be acknowledged.
It was a rusted bracelet-of-sorts: a Quincy Bangle.
According to his grandmother’s schematics and notes, it had been devised by his ancient ancestors as a way for the aged and elderly to compensate for dwindling or even lost powers. Such an implication meant Xinrui’s large reserves of Reiatsu were not exactly a perfect match with the artifact and was hardly the perfect solution to his current problem. Instead, it would be a temporary compromise as he figured out his bearings and researched a more reliable and long-term approach to gathering Reishi.
The bangle yielded clumsy results. The bow it summoned was cumbersome and the arrows equally unrefined. Xinrui's prowess in archery with his previous implement had hardly been impressive either but the present circumstances were downright embarrassing. It lacked precision and finesse - which was fair enough given its original purpose - but Xinrui could not help but compare it to attempting embroidery with a cucumber instead of a needle. In his mind, a bow and arrow was a precise contraption — not the blunt instrument that this present iteration seemed so adamant on being.
Even so, he had already seen vast improvements over the course of that very morning and into the early afternoon. Having left Tokyo the previous evening, Xinrui had spent the night at a small hostel run by an elderly couple before setting out at sunrise into the woods for his training. The city was home to too many prying eyes and only the countryside could offer the mental clarity that he needed in pursuing mastery over the foreign contraption.
Wearing an olive-green Barbour jacket (a memento of days spent in British fields and hills), it only felt fitting to don it for his retreat into the Japanese countryside. Besides, this was no place to be dressed as formally as he usually preferred; dressing inappropriately for a given context was just as tasteless as dressing badly in general, after all.
The sound of rushing water accompanied Xinrui's laboured panting as he glared at the myriad leaf-buds at his feet. Having aimed to carefully incise them from the branches they clung to with his arrows, he had instead partially cleaved through the tiny buds themselves, leaving them torn as if bitten through by insects as they drifted down to the earthen ground in a slow, airborne waltz. A slight breeze then picked up this flurry of singed plant matter before depositing the residue around the naked trees nearby and in the stream trickling amidst the soil and tangle of gnarled roots.
With his trembling fingertips fraying at the cuticles and blood seeping from underneath his fingernails, Xinrui simply sighed.
Then, a sudden chill to the air alerted him to a nearby presence and he instinctively flared his vacuum-like aura in response. With this aggressive reaction then came a creaking sound as the metallic contraption around his wrist abruptly warped and fell to pieces.
Shit!
His relentless training had already put immense technical strain on the item itself and, coupled with the rapid and unrestrained exertion of his Spiritual Pressure, had most likely overloaded the delicate equipment. Now, in the absence of any Quincy artifact - cross or bangle - Xinrui was effectively defenseless.
700 | 700
@scorchys
Ever since his defeat at the hands of the black-clad girl, Xinrui had grown irritable and increasingly disturbed at the world he had stepped into. It was a world of demons and spirits; a world almost incomprehensible that would one day make itself clear to his scrutiny.
But, for now, he was a stranger.
With his Quincy Cross now broken and effectively useless, he finally invested the time into looking more thoroughly through the things his grandmother had left for him: an abundance of journals, blueprints for outlandish gadgets and instructions on all manner of practices and rituals left him bewildered and intrigued. It was a treasure trove of knowledge that he was only just becoming acquainted with but, as if Lady Luck herself were on his side, one particular artifact was present and stood out as if desperate to be acknowledged.
It was a rusted bracelet-of-sorts: a Quincy Bangle.
According to his grandmother’s schematics and notes, it had been devised by his ancient ancestors as a way for the aged and elderly to compensate for dwindling or even lost powers. Such an implication meant Xinrui’s large reserves of Reiatsu were not exactly a perfect match with the artifact and was hardly the perfect solution to his current problem. Instead, it would be a temporary compromise as he figured out his bearings and researched a more reliable and long-term approach to gathering Reishi.
The bangle yielded clumsy results. The bow it summoned was cumbersome and the arrows equally unrefined. Xinrui's prowess in archery with his previous implement had hardly been impressive either but the present circumstances were downright embarrassing. It lacked precision and finesse - which was fair enough given its original purpose - but Xinrui could not help but compare it to attempting embroidery with a cucumber instead of a needle. In his mind, a bow and arrow was a precise contraption — not the blunt instrument that this present iteration seemed so adamant on being.
Even so, he had already seen vast improvements over the course of that very morning and into the early afternoon. Having left Tokyo the previous evening, Xinrui had spent the night at a small hostel run by an elderly couple before setting out at sunrise into the woods for his training. The city was home to too many prying eyes and only the countryside could offer the mental clarity that he needed in pursuing mastery over the foreign contraption.
Wearing an olive-green Barbour jacket (a memento of days spent in British fields and hills), it only felt fitting to don it for his retreat into the Japanese countryside. Besides, this was no place to be dressed as formally as he usually preferred; dressing inappropriately for a given context was just as tasteless as dressing badly in general, after all.
The sound of rushing water accompanied Xinrui's laboured panting as he glared at the myriad leaf-buds at his feet. Having aimed to carefully incise them from the branches they clung to with his arrows, he had instead partially cleaved through the tiny buds themselves, leaving them torn as if bitten through by insects as they drifted down to the earthen ground in a slow, airborne waltz. A slight breeze then picked up this flurry of singed plant matter before depositing the residue around the naked trees nearby and in the stream trickling amidst the soil and tangle of gnarled roots.
With his trembling fingertips fraying at the cuticles and blood seeping from underneath his fingernails, Xinrui simply sighed.
Then, a sudden chill to the air alerted him to a nearby presence and he instinctively flared his vacuum-like aura in response. With this aggressive reaction then came a creaking sound as the metallic contraption around his wrist abruptly warped and fell to pieces.
Shit!
His relentless training had already put immense technical strain on the item itself and, coupled with the rapid and unrestrained exertion of his Spiritual Pressure, had most likely overloaded the delicate equipment. Now, in the absence of any Quincy artifact - cross or bangle - Xinrui was effectively defenseless.
700 | 700
@scorchys
