#Rhuli'a Kanjun

[jancisstuff]

Levinfist 2020

Thank you, generous hosts!

[moonlifter-archive]

when she thought of him it seemed that through the darkness a forked lightning ran.

@steel-peak

[gratande]

His words were...mixed, to her. Was her pain really dragging limb from limb? Did she embarrass herself by wearing her scars as transparent as the night wearing stars? @steel-peak (Thank you for the screenshots & RP!)

[heavens-light-and-hells-ice]

One letter traveling to the south

To Master Rhuli'a Kanjun of The Comet's Cause this letter be delivered, and through it the respect and greetings of Rosaire Ledigne.

Right worthy sir, I humbly recommend me unto you and apologize for the intrusion of this letter that arrives from strange climes. I am a native of Ishgard and the Secretary of the Institute for the Greening of Coerthas and Dravania, an organization involved in agricultural research for humanitarian ends; we come now to the end of our first full year of operation, made possible by generous supporters from across Eorzea, and in gratitude, we wish to give back to our Eorzean neighbors with like support. And whereas the city-state that most needs and deserves our friendship at this time lies to the east, our wish is to extend to Gyr Abania a gesture of fraternity and thanksgiving for the liberation of Her Father's people from the Garlean yoke -- yet our own people being, till late, one that attended little to the ways of foreign nations, my knowledge of the customs, religion, and history of Ala Mhigo is very meager. In my search for those who might remedy mine ignorance, your name was one given to me by a friend as a possible educator.

Therefore do I humbly request an audience, at a time convenient to you and in some location I may easy reach by airship, at which I may ask questions about the beliefs of the Ala Mhigans, as a foreigner wishing to conduct himself with sensitivity and care. If you must decline this too-burdensome request from a stranger, I shall take no offense, but if you are willing to help me, you shall have my great gratitude.

Written at — on this, the —th Sun of the Fifth Umbral Moon of the sixth year of the Seventh Astral Era.

Yours, Rosaire Ledigne

[worrentigre]

Rhuli’a’s trial pt.4 Determination (RP Scene)

Rhuli’a has passed a trial of speed and a trial of agility.  The young man still has a way to go before he can fulfill his life long dream of becoming a Fist of Rhalgr.  Tired and wounded, he presses on.  What further trials await the young man in the next arena? He’s about to find out...

((https://youtu.be/ICKrtbT3PqE <---scene BGM))

As Rhuli'a enters the room, a stone door behind him slams shut. The room is dark, and starts to brighten slowly with a hazy, pinkish ambience that comes from nowhere in particular and everywhere at the same time. From the three walls ahead, three ghostly figures begin to emerge. They seem blue and whispy, but are very much the souls of fallen Fists of Rhalgr, as it can be determined by the temple uniforms they wear. The one on the left holds a spear while the one on the right is carrying a sword. All three say and do nothing, save for stare at the Miqo'te, waiting. Whether it be a friendly greeting or aggressive attack, or anywhere in between, they would not act first. Rhuli'a frowned.

He knew this wasn't the place for politics. He knew he shouldn't open his mouth to converse with potentially, century-long dead. Nonetheless, he did. "Does it not trouble you so that you remain bound to this temple, brothers? Forever damned to languish in its halls, as hallowed as they may be, caged? A cage is a cage is a cage. So suffers those who walk the path of Light."

Turning, he began to pace, quiet as he dwelt on his next words. Even if offered a reply, he would continue to monologue, almost grateful for this respite after all the trials before. "Chains. We should seek to break them in all things. Constraints are an unnatural part of our existence Liberty is all that matters. From kings, from blood, from..."

The Keeper paused, looking to the ghosts. "Life? Mayhap this be only a lesson..." Rhuli'a shook his head. "Nay, Worren clings to tradition. His is the way of bright. Unyielding, static light. A hell I would see none suffer in."

Dropping into a combat stance slowly, Rhuli'a faced his opponents, mismatched eyes traveling between the trio of undead. His left arm extended almost as if to ward off his opponents. Right arm firmly cocked, flickers of aetherical lightning traveling over the limb erratically. "I will deliver you and yours from your torment, spirits, if I can. Drive your proud souls away from this star and into the great, slumbering Dark. Destruction. Just as Rhalgr teaches. Wills it. Demands it."

The two apparitions on the sides both give a small snort and look over to the one at the end of the room. All three are highlander Hyur, standing tall and at ease. The third stands with a blank expression. He then speaks flatly, voice deep and gravely. "So be it." Is all he says, before walking to the center. The other two follow suit and all get into a combat stance. As the first reaches the center of the platform, Rhuli'a loosened his posture for just a moment. And struck like a viper as soon as the other two stepped forward. To the aggressor goes the victory. Lightning flew across his person as he delivered a salvo of blows at his phantasmal foes, a mighty war cry of his name loosing itself from his lips. "Kanjun! Kanjun!"

The three ghostly figures were obviously much more experienced, and it showed. They could have struck back, but did not. Yet. They simply deflected any blow that came their way, and worked in tandem as if they all were one, even blocking strikes meant to for another. If a kick comes out from Rhuli'a, another kick would come from a different ghost to knock the leg away. If a punch is thrown, a spear stick would lash out to displace the incoming fist. The unarmed monk speaks as this goes on. "Why are you here, young one?" Rhuli'a didn't answer at first, seeking out a way to overwhelm the trio. However, as time went on, his pace slowed, and eventually, he stopped altogether. Ears pinning back, he rose to their challenge. "To become the next stepping stone, why else? Gyr Abania needs strong people inhabiting her. This is a way to become strong."

"Oh, really? And how do you think you will accomplish that?" The apparition crosses his arms, the other two still holding their weapons at the ready. "You speak as if you were there, like you know everything. You speak of light and shadow. We are all Fists of Rhalgr. Nothing more. Nothing less. Except those who are unproven, such as you." He looks on and goes quiet, waiting for a rebuttal. Rhuli'a scoffed. "To pass these trials. To walk the path of Shadow, of discord. Never compromise in my beliefs. You think I've not studied why we fell? Our order was nearly exterminated because of those who sided with the ruling family. Sold themselves out as whores for naught but a hoax! An attempt to garner station when we, the Fists, had no need of such frivolities. And again, do they rally, with their thrice-cursed 'structure'. Poisoned tongues bidding all to become subservient, to involve themselves in an order which will ally with the state again."

Tossing his head, Rhuli'a thrust his finger forward, accusingly. "And I'll not let that happen. There must be a balance. I'll not see the Art extinguished by those who pursue a power other than that which the Destroyer offers."

"Bold words, whelp. Yet, you do not see clearly what you speak of. You speak of balance, yet here you are persecuting what which you do not even know. I hope your master knows what he or she is doing." He then turns his back on Rhuli'a and begins to walk away. He then glances back. "Learn some humility, and the meaning of brotherhood. Then maybe, Rhalgr may grant you what you seek." He says this coldly, and continues walking away. The other two, however, remain. They still stay ready to fight. "Coward! Face me!" Rhuli'a broke into a run, rage in his eyes. Snapping out of his anger, he noticed the other two incorporeal foes still at the ready. Shirking from his path momentarily, he charged the one on the left, a kick aimed dead center towards the chest of the ghost.

The apparition was of course ready, using his free hand to push the offending leg away by stepping a bit to the side and parrying the leg into the other direction. The other with the spear would move fluidly in tandem with his partner to swing the stick out low and sweep Rhuli'a off of his other foot, before the both of them point the tips of their weapons down at the Miqo'te's face.

The other turns as he makes it to the wall on the other side, and leans against it. He begins to phase through it, but does not leave just yet. "You speak of chains, yet it is you who are chained by your own pride and rage. You spoke a name. Worren. Who is he to you?" The Keeper tumbled on his back with an indignant grunt. The cold stone dug into him as he narrowed his eyes at his two assailants. Looking towards the departing spirit, he spat out. "Naught but a teacher for now. Nothing more. Nothing less." Swinging his legs under him, Rhuli'a attempted to knock the spirits off-balance, to clear space for him to regain his footing.

The two jumped back to avoid the sweep, and they turned to follow the other. Whom of which finally broke out into an expression other than a blank face and tone. He chuckles a bit. "Heh heh heh. Such fire and anger. This Worren has a lot of work ahead of him to temper you into a proper fist for the destroyer. When next you see him, ask him what it means to be a fist." He nods, and phases through the wall. The other two become intangible as they also make their way to the wall. "Beasts, stonework, and now ghosts..." Rhuli'a knelt down, sitting as he found himself alone once again. Thinking upon the words the ancient ones had imparted upon him, his brow fell. Furrowing into an expression of contempt, he shook his head. "Something to dwell on later..."

The Miqo'te looked towards his right hand. Callused, scarred, and bruised from today's tribulations, he slowly closed it into a fist. Pushing off the ground, he cast his gaze around the chamber searchingly. Surely there was a puzzle or drawing he must follow. If not... His eyes fell to the door next, gold and yellow both regarding it with impatience.

The door, unlike the others, was devoid of any moss or markings of any kind.  If touched, it would be observed to move freely to be pushed in and slid to the side.  There would be no puzzles or reactions. Rhuli'a gave a small smile. It was probably the first sign of joy the Miqo'te had shown throughout the entire encounter. Walking past the threshold, his features fell once again into a grim nature. Set for the challenge ahead.

There is a short hallway here that leads outside. In this outside area, the stones are covered in moss all over. Further down the path, there is a short staircase that leads to stone double doors that are closed. To the right of this door is another chest sitting there. If opened, there would be a pair of short armored gloves waiting inside. Memories of the moss was still fresh in his mind. Moving carefully, the Keeper tiptoed past the most obvious parts, gingerly passing over them. As he started down the steps, Rhuli'a's eyes snapped to the chest with a hungry gleam to them. Another piece! Barely able to contain his excitement, the main threw it open, starting slightly at the all-too-familiar appearance of the contents.

Where the other pieces of his outfit were tossed aside too fit the new, Rhuli'a took his time with these. Making sure every strap was fastened, locking them into place. Turning over his wrists, he flexed slightly, a satisfied hum coming from his throat unexpectedly. Feeling as if he could take on the entire star and win, he turned to the door next. Waiting to see if there was anything needed to be done.

The door remains as is, though under the moss, there is a symbol of a fist etched into it's surface. There is an outline drawn around the fist, as if it were radiating a light, or power. Nothing else happens. No traps or anything. Yet. Only silence and the sounds of rushing water of the nearby falls and birds. And for some time, it remained that way.

Gazing upon the stone, Rhuli'a blinked slowly, almost in a trance. Was he to...? Clenching his fist, he stood back, allowing some power to flow through him. With a lurch, he struck forward, his knuckles coming within an ilm of the door. The symbol faintly glowed in reaction, then dimmed. Again, Rhuli'a made over exaggerated motions with his limbs. Aether built and flowed through his body like a river's current in a storm. And again, the Keeper struck towards the door.

Again. Again.

Frustrated. Rhuli'a let the natural haze of his anger flow through him. Almost like his Aether, it began to soak through him, his breathing become more and more focused, sharp and resolute. Finally, he stepped towards the door in a strange, shuffle, like he was approaching an enemy.

A feint, two quick palm thrusts...

And his right hand, almost soaked in Aether, trembled, and was bolted forward, squarely into the middle of the passage. The door's symbol faintly glowed each time he struck out.  The aether was definitely affecting it, but it just wasn't enough.  Over and over, it remained as it was, until Rhuli'a struck out hard against the door.  This time, the strong contact had a much more noticeable affect, with the symbol glowing brightly this time.  It fades again, this time slower with the promise of progress.  Yet still, the doors remained closed. The Keeper blanched. The last strike he delivered had taken quite a lot out of him. However, if the only way out was through...

Blow after blow was rained against the unyielding stone. Rhuli'a's aether transferring violently into the frame as he continued his assault. The constant strikes keep the symbol glowing this time, going brighter and brighter until it finally it bursts into a blinding light before fading.  Then there is a short rumble and the two doors slide open, revealing a square platformed area.

TO BE CONTINUED

@the-original-rel @moralistcyclops @syelirakaisuri @thornedblossom @flamesonhammersmith @crooked-tarot-rp @astralagency @valentinoix @interdimensionalpeacekeeping @florihilda @dynamitecowboy @chiyohoshi @thetaleofoldmanmaruud @supermeganick @grandmastream @jancisstuff @berrodarmstrong @nhara-tia @cfs-melkire

[whitherwanderer]

MESSAGE; [ 1 / 3 ]

Sauced Songstress lets the flyer settle on the counter with no answer for Dugald, nor a response for Aedwen. Instead, she picks up the card; finely-crafted vellum in white upon which in starkest black is writ not her name of choice, but the full length of 'Sifhalla Sadaq'. She takes it with a shaking hand. "Rhu? Tell m' this was you," she quietly pleads, glancing up at the miqo'te with an earnest display of dread in her tired eyes.

Rhuli'a Kanjun shook his head, instead motioning towards it. "If I had aught to say to you I would hail you across the pearl. What is this?"

Sif's eyes flit to Rhuli'a when he asks the letter's contents, sharpened and dark. "Burn them," she tells the miqo'te, the lilt of her voice absent and devoid of her warmth. 

She finds her step unsteady, but not for the usual want of drink. Her face hardens, the onset of some inexplicable toll bringing her hand to her head. As she reaches the door, she stops, pallid, and a strained noise leaves her as she goes rigid and collapses sidelong into the rug below.

(( Feat. @shroudandsands​ @moonlifter​ & @steel-peak​ Thanks for letting me kick this story off with you. 💛 ))

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[moonlifter-archive]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Swift as darkness, cold as ash ⠀ Far beyond this dream of paradise lost ━ ☼  

@steel-peak

[jancisstuff]

March 2020

[jancisstuff]

Ala Mhigan Market Night

Had a great time doing a little booth with food and a mini game. There was beautiful music and lots of colorful characters!

Thank you, generous hosts! @bornfrombloodxiv

November 15 2019

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[moonlifter-archive]

Aedwen sighs quietly and looks to the ground, her hand rubbing idly at her neck. "All of are already aware of who I am, in some form or another. Others more personally than the rest." She looks to Svana and Ruran, and then to Rhuli'a, lingering upon the Keeper. "Some have seen a number of my facets. Painter, adventurer, relics enthusiast." She pauses, turning to Vex. "Flighty songstress. I could spend all sun naming them, really."

"I'd ask you to cast them all away, from here on out," she says, looking forward again. "The chapter featuring 'Miss Morning' and her enigmatic whims and dreams of fancy has come to its end, and a new page turned; something well overdue, in hindsight."

She looks to Svana then, and holds out her hand. "Aedwen will be taking her place. A wayward daughter of Ala Mhigo, joined by her most trusted companions as she searches for answers to decades-old questions." Despite the solemnity of her tone, she smiles, bright and warm as ever. "..But who's to blame her for sightseeing along the way, hm?"

@whitherwanderer @locke-rinannis @shroudandsands @vexredain @notoriousmonsterhunter @steel-peak @wyranimh

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By the weight of Aedwen’s silence, and the severity of the frown that made a home in the curves of her lips, it was clear to see whatever words she held were grave indeed. Catching his eye, she parts with a thin sigh before beginning, "Our discussion with Galmr went... Well. As it happens, he and Aljason pursued my father's trail a little farther than his disappearance in Bittermill. It lead them through the Virdjala and past Wightrock, beyond Mount Yorn to the southern reaches of this place."

Looking up to the south east, the Castrum's satellites spin in the reflection of her gaze. "The trail went cold at Abania. They dared not brave the Castrum on their own for the sake of six men. Not when there were bigger battles to wage."

Rhuli'a followed her words until she settled upon the final resting place with her eyes. Following closely, he spoke quietly. "A fetid, cursed place. One that they did well to avoid. I was withstanding a fever at the latter half of the Peaks campaign. Enough to be spared the fate of those who stormed the Specula." He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"The horrors that were wrought in that facility ought not face the light of day. A Garlean heart exists only within poetry, methinks. Morals shared among Spoken were found absent in that pit."

"Do not insult the poets," she quips, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. The toe of her boot nudges a small stone before sending it over the edge of the rise and into the waters of the Wash. "We want inside," she says, her own voice quiet, but firm. A glance is stolen aside to him, her features none the lighter. "If Aljason proves a fruitless endeavour when we reach the city.. I want in, Rhuli'a."

Rhuli'a huffed. And then he gave out a guffaw. Soon breaking out into a fit of sterile laughter, his stoic tone took on a hint of humor. "I wonder what the poets will say of me? Of these choices I happen to find myself making so oft as of late." Hardening once again, he continued; a sonorous lamentation spilling from his lips.

"Will you deny the search of blood for sake of country Rhuli'a? Will you pursue one who is improving the lives of your fellows to deliver a punishment you do not agree with? And now: Will you deliver a host to the belly of the beast?" Closing his eyes to reflect, he growled out. "I take it you know my answer already, as do I. For as soon as the destination left your lips I knew you were to place yourself there no matter the cost. And so I grant you your request so long as you satisfy me with an answer."

Turning to her fully, the Miqo'te spoke bluntly. "When will the cost amount to 'too much'? You are skirting the edges of dangerous things, Aedwen. I know not if those who keep your company can be guaranteed safety. So I ask you, what hell will you see you balk?"

"The others -- they know what they've signed up for. I've made it clear to each and every one of them as I make it clear to you now; for weal or for woe, I will learn the truth." A hand rises to settle on his shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her rigid demeanour. "I am not afraid of the dark, nor the shadows that move within it. Whatever horrors that lie beyond those gates, I will face them without falter."

His brow knitted. Slowly, deliberately, he spoke. "Full glad am I that you've such resolution to see this change carried out. But you must know as well as I that a price must be paid. Blood. A foundation for all of those sowed within this land.”

"I hope you understand that it is not my whim to throw my friends and dearest companions upon the blade for the sake of my pursuit. I will not make them martyrs for my cause, so long as I've a say in the matter." Clearing her throat, she looks back to him, her features returned to their pensive furrow. "If it is blood that must be paid, then let it be theirs." Her head turns in gesture to the Castrum and the Imperatoris. "I've little reason to doubt that we will be met upon the road again, 'ere we reach Ala Mhigo."

Rhuli'a smiled, oddly enough. A self-satisfied grin that spread quickly, perhaps a bit overmuch. "You've not grabbed a hold of one of my propaganda posters have you? 'Let the enemy be the martyrs'. Almost word for word, Morning." Laughing now, genuinely this time, he turned back to the vista. "I must admit that, despite your headstrong nature, you've a roguish charm about you. Almost as if you've writ the end to your tale already some cycles ahead and are just plunging e'er closer to danger to tempt fate."

Aedwen turns in kind with Rhuli'a, a brow quirked at his apparent amusement. She does not meet it immediately as she gazes out over the shallows of the river. "..For twenty years, Rhuli'a, I have waited. It's a long time to think, and to plan, and to seethe. The Empire is a wound that festers. After a while, the ooze turns to rot, and the hole that's left pocks you forever."

"Just let me know what you use to fill it. I've tried all measures of wealth, spiritual and material. My gash still lingers with a depth unparalleled."

"Nothing ever fills it," she says quietly. Her hand's at her sword again, thumb smoothing over the pommel. "I don't think anything ever will. There will never be enough Garlean blood spilt to pay the price for what's been stolen from me. From you; from this place. From all those who came before. There will never be enough."

@steel-peak

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A familiar figure stands on the edge of Mirage Creek, overlooking the drop that carries it into the great Velodyna. Pugils swim in the shallows before her and she watches them idly, arms crossed. At the party's approach, she seizes and turns, blade brandished. Recognizing the group, she pauses, and slowly lowers her sword to her side. No greeting is given, save the slight turn of her head as she looks over them.

Rhuli'a's attentions were seized by a nearby pugil. Staring down into the tributaries waters, he snapped his gaze toward the right as they came across a figure.

"Ah, may'ap we oughta ask if she's seen a wiley lass about—" Sif stops upon recognizing the hood and uniform, pursing her lips. "Well, welll..."

Humming along to an amused note Svana clarifies, "Don't think I'd miss a sword like that, even just now seeing it drawn. There's our feathered friend from that sink-hole."

"Well, that's one kind o' mask, like those in the... Ooh. But... Huh." Swozbhar shrugs at the others. "Who?"

"Ah, our damn savior, tha's who," Sif laughs, reaching out to pat Swoz's arm.

Simply shrugging shoulders she supposes, "Beats me. Resistance patrol, errant adventurer, taciturn mute do-gooder. Might get a name if we risk our necks a few times more but I've not worked it out of her yet."

Shaking her head, the woman returns her blade to her side. A hand lifts and waves at them dismissively. Wishing them away? Insisting it was nothing? Hard to tell.

Raising a hand to her heart Svana feigns at swooning, "And so humble, too."

The woman shrugs.

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