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|♠ THE UNMAKER||
Posted: Oct 8 2017, 04:48 AM
2144 • Yaojing • Intuition • Where there's alcohol
Once Upon a Time...
Yi is a minor god turned yaojing (basically a Chinese version of youkai), so he has a few qualities about him that betray his non-human nature, even though he could be mistaken for a typical Asian man with dyed hair if only given a passing glance. His eyes, for one, are wide and pronounced with blown irises. They take on the qualities of a hawk's eyes, golden in hue and sharpened at the ends. This has to do with his powers taken from another deity, the truth-seeing ability.
Yi's hair is a ginger/orange color, though almost artificial with its degree of brightness. His teeth are all sharpened to points, revealing his carnivorous nature as a demon.
Yi tends to wear monk's robes and mostly chooses white, black, or floral patterns. He always carries red prayer beads that are meant to hide him from the prying eyes of the Jade Palace. He also carries with him a large reclining moon blade for battle.
On casual days when he is wandering amongst current humans, he wears a plain white t-shirt and cargo shorts for the sake of convenience and comfort. He's not an avid fan of fashion. Whatever is comfortable to move and fight in is what he's going to be wearing. Even when dressed casually, he wears a necklace of prayer beads tucked under the neckline of his shirt.
TW: blood, torture, death, vulgar language, questionable sexual implications, non-con elements (tldr: don't read if you're faint of heart, srsly).
His voice, cracked from dehydration, echoed languidly through the warehouse, joining the sound of water steadily dripping from the floor. It came from a pipe, just maddeningly out of reach, unable to quench his thirst as he felt his head lull forward from exhaustion.
"Ranmaru, please," he tried again, desperate, "Water."
Footsteps clipped sharply against the ground as the man emerged from the shadows in front of him, eyes nearly glowing as a wide grin spread across his face. Even from his chained position in a forced kneel against the post, he could see the bottle of water held delicately between slender, pale fingers.
"Are you thirsty, Kasza?" His tone was mocking as he squatted down playfully in front of him, fingers seizing his chin sharply in a bruising grip. Kasza glared as he chuckled. "That's some beautiful irony. The fire-user wants water."
The youkai snarled, biting viciously at his captor's fingers. There was a blur of motion before a blinding red pain exploded behind his eyelids, and his head jerked violently to the side from the blow. Blood dripped from his split lip, hitting the ground to join the steady drip of water.
"Naughty! But feisty, I'll give you that. It'd be no fun if you were just sitting there obediently like a dog." Ranmaru shrugged, giving the hand that he had just struck him with a shake.
Kasza watched in weary dismay as he pushed back his bright orange hair, tipping the bottle in front of him. The water flowed freely, splattering and running across the concrete to his knees. Kasza jerked forward in a panic as the chains dug into raw skin. Ranmaru stopped abruptly, leaving barely a mouthful inside the bottle.
He chuckled darkly, "You want this very badly, don't you?"
Kasza didn't answer. He didn't want to waste any energy on an answer that this sick fuck already knew. Sharp teeth glinted as Ranmaru waited. It turned out he didn't like to wait because he tipped back the bottle, drinking the last mouthful of water and crushing the cheap plastic in his grip. A small sound of defeated protest escaped Kasza's throat in horror, but in the immediate next moment, nails dug into his cheeks, pulling him forward. His mind went pleasantly blank as lips crashed against his.
He drank with vigor, letting out a small whimper of relief into his tormentor's mouth as the water slipped down his throat. It was cool, revitalizing, relieving. A violent cough seized him as Ranmaru pulled away, but not before the man swept his tongue roughly against his bottom lip to pick up a taste of blood.
"I don't think I've had youkai before," he hummed as he stood, dusting himself off casually. Kasza's chest heaved as he gasped for air. He could barely hear Ranmaru's laughter over his watery hacking.
"By the way, my name isn't actually Ranmaru. It's Yi," not-Ranmaru snickered, "I deceived the deceiver, didn't I? And I bet you liked it while we lasted."
Blood boiling. Intense heat. Kasza's lips curled in fury as what was left of his energy roared through his veins.
He breathed fire, and it licked through the warehouse, turning the entire structure into an oven.
He could feel the cold in his bones as frost crept up his worn clothes and skin. Kasza shivered violently, lips blue as he stared at Yi in horror and recognition.
The ice fell in glittering shards around his form, swirling still around his outstretched hand. Yi exhaled, his breath leaving him in a cloud of white before he suddenly yelped, "Oh shit, that's cold!"
Kasza watched as the man did an odd little dance, the ice receding from the ground. The only evidence of his flames were the charred patches of black against the concrete as Yi seemed to reabsorb every last bit of the cold. He swore, rubbing at his cheeks furiously as if to regain some warmth before noticing Kasza's frozen--pun not intended--silence.
"Oh, you recognized it this time, didn't you?" Yi grinned, waving a hand, "The ice, I mean."
Before Kasza could speak, Yi laughed, letting a few snowflakes spring to life from nimble fingertips. "Yes, I picked it up from a colleague of yours. Tall man. Dark hair. Could turn into shadows. He put up quite a fight."
Kasza felt ill.
"His magic is rather fascinating. With the right control, it doesn't fight against the heat that would otherwise melt it. In fact, it's quite the opposite. It works to absorb the flames and convert them. Amazing, isn't it?"
Kasza shook from the cold against the freezing chains. The metal burned against him as Yi approached, grasping a handful of his hair and jerking.
"Now, let me get a bit of that fire of yours to balance it out."
He was in hell. Everything hurt--from his chest to the tips of all four limbs and his head. Everything pulsed with a relentless, throbbing pain. He wanted to fight back--destroy something--but as far as he could tell, he couldn’t move. The doors opened. Still groggy and half-conscious, Kasza turned his head against the surgical table, trying once more to summon his magic. It was no use. He was too exhausted, too injured. His body wouldn’t be able to bear the strain. There were voices and the glint of a sharp knife over him. He didn’t comprehend what was happening until the pointed edge bit into his skin.
"Let's have a look, shall we, Deceiver?" The voice became more clear, and Kasza remembered the name to the face that was suddenly looming over him.
Kasza jerked against his restraints, agony washing through him in a fresh and startling wave. His breath came heavy, eyes wide as the knife continued its relentless slicing. His mouth fell open in a silent scream when he felt himself plunge into an odd darkness.
The morning sun bounces glaringly off of the polished flooring. Despite looking accusingly artificial and oddly pristine, this fever dream-like sequence does not waver in its reality. The towering statue of Guanyin does not move. She does not spring to life from stone, dipping her willow branch into her holy water jar and scatter the healing droplets over the sick. Instead, she remains seated on her lotus carved of white wood. Today, the Goddess of Mercy has no mercy to spare.
Though the wooden floorboards are cool to the touch, there is still warmth here in this room. He can feel it in the body cradled gently in his arms. He's stroking his fingers languidly through strands of damp hair, brushing it away from a sweaty forehead as he murmurs soothing encouragement. Yes, there is warmth here, but there is also sickness and pain.
"Furen, I told you that you would be ill-suited for this conversion," he finally speaks, voice oddly soft. He knows by now that it is far too late to be saying such things, but regret is a human quality.
"You only say that now because you now have the hindsight," she replies. The blood from her lips is smeared across her cheek. To him, it holds a striking similarity to the apple orchards in the winter, when the bright red fruit begins to rot in the snow. He's always been tempted to pick one up and bite into it, sharpened teeth crunching through the flesh of the fruit. He finds beauty easily in forbidden things that could kill him slowly.
"It's a beautiful spring evening. Shall I take you outside to see the jasmine flowers?" he asks, gathering her up in his arms.
She smiles, eyes wrinkling slightly at the corners as he takes in a raspy breath. He knows that is her agreement. He does not need her to waste any more of her breath, after all. He simply lifts her--she's too light--and steps out into the sun.
The outskirts of the Jade Palace are quiet grounds. Minor deities live out their days in the gardens and corridors, but mornings are mostly reserved for tea, prayer, and breakfast. He knows he will not be stopped when he strolls out the gates of their complex.
He takes note of the hawks flying overhead but declines to react. Instead, he continues to carry the women in his arms close to his chest. He handles her with care--as if she were made of fragile porcelain. He does not want her to shatter. He does not want pieces of her embedded in his skin.
"Xiao Yi, they're beautiful...."
He looks up as she speaks, smiling up at the white flowers blooming from their vines. The hanging garden stretches for miles and miles, but he stopped here because he knows that these blossoms just happen to be her favorite.
"Furen, do you want to pick some for tea?" he asks quietly, shifting her in his arms. He intends to go about their usual ritual. He lifts her to the nearest jasmine, and she reaches out with delicate, pale fingers as white as the flower she intends to pick. But this time, he gets no response.
A calm breeze passes through the courtyard, lifting the aroma of the flowers. A hawk lands on the frame above him, letting out an accusatory call. For a moment, he stands still in silence, fingers still clutching at the fabric of her silken dress.
The hawk turns its gaze on him, and he sets her gently against a jasmine-covered post. "Thank you," he whispers as he closes her eyes for her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. A touch ghosts over his cheeks, wiping away his tears and pressing delicately against his hairline. He feels the power seeping slowly into his eyes, filling him with a foreign warmth. He stands. There is an odd pressure in his chest, and his vision refocused into clarity. A golden hue seeps into his irises as he glances up to meet the gaze of the hawk watching him. He does not turn around when it takes flight, swooping overhead and onto the shoulder of the god standing behind him.
He gets no answer to his greeting. He assumes that the god is too deep in thought to respond just yet.
"You should come back to Court, Wuxing. I will call the Jade Emperor. We can still fix this."
That's the first thing he has to say? There is no doubt that he has seen all that has transpired with Heavenly Eye. It's quite rich. He has to laugh. "No, Erlang Ge. I am leaving. I am a diety no longer."
"There are plenty of yaojing who live in the Jade Palace. Just because you have transitioned, it does not make you a monster."
"You have enslaved the yaojing. I helped you do it. I refuse to live like that as I turn. Did they find my brother?"
He gets no immediate response. The question actually catches the god behind him off guard. There's a bit of satisfaction from the moment. Yi finally turns to face the three-eyed god. "Did you find him?" he asks again.
Erlang Shen has never looked more unhappy to answer. The God of the Heavenly Eye has always told the truth. And he is easy to read. Even now, Yi can see the conflict playing over in his expression. "Yes. I returned from the Heavenly Gathering just this morning. How long has he been dead?"
Ah, but it's the wrong question to ask. "You mean... how long has it been since I killed him?"
Erlang Shen does not flinch. "Wuxing, we can still fix this. You are one of my important guards, and I will vou--"
"I am leaving, Erlang Ge. Let the Court have its rumors. I am sorry about your daughter."
This time, when he turns around, he knows that the god has nothing else to say. Yi knows that he can leave for the realm of humanity, and the Jade Palace would be relieved to put this mess behind them and sweep it under the rug.
He knows he will never see home again.
Meilin is dying. The humans are revolting and bringing in new ideas, but with their people's Red Revolution comes the slaughtering of their monks and the source of their belief. Though all the deities are suffering from the onslaught, it is Meilin's xin, freedom, that has taken the hardest hit.
"You cannot possibly ask this of me," Wuxing hisses in anger and frustration as Wulong follows after him. "You know I do not have the strength to manipulate a goddess's center! She is already weak. She will die if I do this."
"And she will die if you don't at least try. Wuxing--brother--please, I am begging you." Wulong catches him by his wrist, gripping tightly.
He thinks about striking out. He thinks about yelling. But neither option will make his brother listen. He knows this of his stubbornness.
"Erlang Ge leaves tomorrow for the Heavenly Gathering. You must do this for me. If you do not, we will have no other chance. Please!"
Wuxing flinches, stepping back as his brother falls to his knees before him, his forehead pressed to the grass. He stares in horror at his kneeling form, his heart in his throat. "Wulong. You are asking me to kill my own brother. Do not do this. You know Furen would not want this."
"If it will save her, then I am willing. Take my life for yours. You have read the forbidden scripts. You know this is possible!"
He did know that it was possible, but he also knew the price of what he was implying. Wuxing had read the entire script unlike Wulong, and he could perform the transfer of power. It just... required him to lose his humanity. He would no longer be an immortal deity.
"Wuxing, I will not be able to go on if she dies like this. I want someone to have at least tried--"
"Wulong. I understand."
Palpable silence passes between them, and his brother stands. The afternoon wind sweeps through the field, oddly calming. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear many voices screaming in collective agony. He is shaking, tears forming in his eyes as he shakes his head. He doesn't know if he can follow through.
"I'm sorry, brother," Wulong whispers.
He draws his arm back, feeling the brunt of his magic focus in his fingertips as he closes his eyes. He plunges his arm forward like a deadly spear, feeling flesh part and bone crack against the force. The sound of blood splattering to the ground nearly makes him ill. Wulong lets out a single, wet cough. And Wuxing feels his heart pumping in his grasp. Pump in. Pump out.
"You'd better be."
He can feel the muscles convulsing underneath his fingers as he tightens his grip. It's the last struggles of life from a weakening yaoguai, and he knows just how easy it would be to snap its neck in half. Erlang Shen approaches quietly behind him, a hawk swooping down to land on his shoulder.
Wuxing kneels, dark eyes glinting as he snaps the yao's wrist. The demon opens its mouth to howl in pain, but he cuts off the cry with his grip. The only sound that comes out is a gargled choke.
"Are you almost done, Wuxing?" the three-eyed General asks.
"Yes, Erlang Ge. One moment." Wuxing frowns, staring down at the monster in his grip. His voice is calm, quiet, slipping past defenses like an invisible airborne toxin, "Come now. You are no longer in control, are you? It's my decision what to do to you. Should we kill you? Should we enslave you? You don't get to choose. It must be hard on your xin."
A whimper slips past the demon's lips as he loosens his grip, and he feels the thinnest hairline of cracks forming. "Give up your control," he says again, more forcefully this time, and he feels the chest underneath him split wide open.
The screech from the yaojing is deafening. It falls to the ground writhing as Wuxing releases it. He turns to the hunting group, motioning to the strongest of the demons they had left to capture. "You may take it away." He tries not to look weary as he scans the battlefield of slain yaojing they had left behind.
"Fantastic job as always, Wuxing," Erlang Shen says as he steps up next to him. The demon is still screaming on the top of its lungs as the rest of the deities chain it down and toss it into a cage. "I trust that it will be perfectly obedient by tomorrow?"
Wuxing nods, rubbing at the side of his face as he looks back at the yao. He wishes very badly that it would shut the fuck up.
"You should rest when we return," the General pipes up as he studies him, "How many clients and hunts have you taken on this week? I know that breaking and manipulating xin takes a lot of energy from you."
He stares into the distance. Dark spots dance mockingly across his vision, taunting him. "I will, Erlang Ge," he promises.
"I'm getting married." is not the typical response to "I'm getting a promotion." Even so, it is two joyous pieces of news shared between two very close siblings. Wuxing had seen it coming anyways. After all, his brother had spent nearly five years courting the girl.
He's standing there for her wedding among the other guests. The grand hall is ablaze with magic light and dazzling jewels and decorations. Wulong's wife is Meilin, and she looks stunning in her wedding dress. The red cascades from her shoulders, accented with ribbons of flowing gold. Wuxing smiles as he watches his brother turn to bow the Erlang Shen and speak the vows of promise to watch over his daughter forever and always. Then, he turns back to his bride, lifting the red veil and pressing his lips to hers.
For Wuxing, it is a moment of pure joy. Cheers erupt from the crowd as the deities collectively move forward to congratulate the two for their union. The string instruments kick up a merry tune, and the dancing begins.
Wuxing is content with standing aside and watching the new couple laugh. He moves over to the General, nodding politely to his mentor.
"The hunts begin tomorrow, Wuxing. I think I shall leave Wulong to be with my daughter. Will you come with me in his place?"
He did not react, swirling the wine in his glass for a moment before nodding. "Of course, Erlang Ge." He had climbed the ranks of his guards for the sake of proving himself. Giving his brother some time to relax was ideal.
"Good. We leave first thing in the morning."
"Yes, Erlang Ge."
His life is water, an endless flow. Humans are fire, a quick burst of brilliance that vanishes just as quickly. Though young, he makes this comparison the first time he and his brother are taken to one of the observatories in the Jade Palace where deities can look down upon humankind roaming the Earth. When he sees the war and the death and the suffering rampant down below, he decides something different from his brother.
"It's horrible," Wulong says as he watches.
"It's different," Wuxing says to his older sibling in disagreement.
The Jade Realm is the home of the deities, and Wuxing knows that it is his home. He was born here, in the land of great goddesses and gods like the Heavenly Queen Mother or General Erlang Shen. His family belongs to a branch of minor gods, and they are raised in relative peace and quiet. Wuxing remains close to Wulong. They grow together, training, studying, and meditating on their family estate far along the Jade Valley.
Only when they are older does the relative monotony of life seem to become too much for Wuxing. His studies slowly become neglected out of boredom, and he's surpassed most of his sparring tutors. The only one he has trouble matching his beloved brother. Wulong is perfect in almost every way. And he is not the only one who notices this.
He gets to see General Erlang Shen for the first time when he comes to visit their estate. It isn't uncommon for the god to look for younger deities to train. After all, there is never a lack of yaojing to hunt down or capture. When he comes to scout Wulong, he also sees Wuxing.
He's lucky he noticed him. Wuxing is fairly positive that he wouldn't have been able to stand it if he had been separated from his brother.
It's exciting, packing for the Jade Palace. By tomorrow, they would be soldiers under one of the greatest warriors in the Pantheon. Despite their tearful farewells to their family, they were ready to face the road ahead. Wuxing turns to glance back at the family estate as it vanishes under the hillside. He reaches for his brother's hand.
He knows that he will never see home again.
His lungs hurt more than the rest of his body. Every inhale set his lungs aflame from their dryness. Kasza was torn between wanting to cough, and knowing that if he coughed, it would just make things hurt more. Fading in and out of consciousness, he had long lost track of time and reasoning.
Why was he still alive? To him, living was something he did desperately. He clung to life like nothing else mattered, and he had left everything he could have possibly cared about behind. The world was cruel, and its inhabitants were crueler. He acted like a rabid dog, biting at the hands of those who dared to lash out at him first.
Footsteps clicked crisply against the floor, approaching his broken form. He lashed out immediately, electricity through the air, but Yi merely sidestepped. He couldn’t touch him even if he wanted to. Rivers of blood--his blood--flowed freely to the ground as old wounds reopened in their bandages from his struggling. He could see the detailed patches of muscle tissue under his peeling skin, but he wondered which pain was the one associated with it. He couldn’t tell anymore. They were blending together.
He was nothing. He was no creature of flesh and blood but rather a creature of pain and destruction. Despair was his friend. Insanity was his master. He could not escape these hallucinations. In fact, he had forgotten that he was under the influence of them at all.
Kasza had locked down his thoughts, slipping in deeper to bear the torture. All he knew was the sting of blades and whips on skin, the burn of salt water on wounds that would not scar, the soreness of his own body eating slowly away at itself as he struggled for survival.
Why was he keeping him alive?
The knife was back, cutting sharply into him, followed by a deep, dull throbbing as he twitched against it. Pain, pain, pain. He could not see the end of this. He was here, alone. Escaping reality meant going into his thoughts, into his own mind, and it was just as tortuous there as it was facing his slow death on the outside.
Kasza’s eyes flew open, tears glistening against his cheeks as he struggled, letting out a strangled cry. He needed this to stop. He needed--he needed--this to end. Now. He was spiraling deeper into the darker recesses of his mind, drowning in the hallucinations with no escape, no safe space. He had run out of places to flee to. Every bit of memory he had flashed back to only made things worse.
He was on fire. The boiling started in the center of his chest, inflating in his lungs and wracking his body with violent coughs. He needed it to end, and he didn’t care what he took with him to make it happen. He could almost imagine wings of savagery and suffering unfurling around him in his delusion, rimmed with the redness of his blood, fury, and desperation.
"Kasza the Deceiver," the purr was soft--too sharp a contrast against the blunt pain wracking through him.
"It's quite a generic story. You were too afraid of yourself and your own weakness, so you shrouded your identity with false strength and viciousness. I see through you, Kasza."
His lips parted in a silent scream. Strong fingers sunk into his chest, expanding from his lungs and moving to tear out his ribs.
"You are tricking no one. You're simply the same lost, abandoned child you were at birth, crying blindly out into the darkness for parents that never wanted you."
The glass dome shattered, and Kasza could feel himself free-falling. Every bit of him was laid bare before the agony's watchful eye. He awoke on a bloodied surgical table, the pull of every breath borderline exhausting as he stared up at the monster hovering over his still form.
"There we go," Yi crooned. He was a master at his craft, coaxing a process he had no doubt seen many times before along with a sick glee. Kasza did not have enough energy to beg him for mercy.
"Give yourself to me," the yaojing murmured.
Something inside of him leaped in obedience to those words. He could feel a piece of him being lifted from his identity like a torn sheet of paper, but he couldn't and didn't react. He shuddered, tears slipping from his eyes as his lips parted.
"....ill... me... Kill me..."
A hum sounded above him in acknowledgment for what he had said. There was a sharp, piercing pain in his already-opened chest, and he was suddenly floating....
Pump in. Pump out.
Yi was silent as the heartbeat came to a gradual stop against his fingers. He smiled, a sick demonic glee rearing its ugly head within him as he tore the organ fresh from the body. The youkai's last struggles had been futile--as futile as his brother's efforts to sacrifice himself for his wife.
What would Wulong think of him now? Would he be sorry for the beast the blood magic had twisted him into?
It was odd how such a desperate ploy could have gone so wrong. So much sacrificed, yet all of it had been for naught. Meilin had still died, and the memories of his family and friends were now ashes in his mouth. He could not remember the joy of having known them nor the sadness of losing them.
In the end, his brother had been sorry, yes, but Yi idly wondered just how sorry he could make the world when he was done with it.
Yi stretched, idly glancing down at the bloodied mess he had made. Well, he'd clean up first, at least. And probably take a nap. There was no use playing the game if he was tired. Perhaps, he'd open up shop again now that his bloodthirst had been quenched and the power-shopping season was closed. There were always clients still that wanted a center change, and he didn't mind indulging in them.
Yi snapped his fingers, trying to light the youkai flame he had just harvested as an experiment. A small spurt of fire barely the size of a candle flame winked into existence before going out again just as quickly. It was disappointing. The yaojing frowned, snapping harder in frustration.
Yi yelped as the corpse on the surgical table was engulfed in high-leaping flames. He jumped back from the heat, watching as the body slowly began to reduce to ash. Oh. Convenient body disposal. That was good. He just... needed to work on some control before he used this fire.
The last thing he wanted was to singe off his beautiful eyebrows.
Immortality: As a demon, Yi can live forever, but only off of the lives of others. He has the ability to take the hearts of living beings and absorb them. While it isn't true immortality, Yi can hold up to five lives including his original one. In order for him to die, he must die five times (or be killed five times). He completely heals with every time he dies, too. In his fight with Torrance, he lost two hearts, but couldn't replenish them because Torrance was a Nightmare Man. He did get Kasza's heart, though. So at the moment, he only has four lives.
Center Manipulation: Yi can detect the health/strength of centers. While he does not know what the center is, he can sense how attuned someone is to theirs. More importantly, he can break centers. There are many, many conditions required for him to do this, but it allows him to get rid of or even induce a change in someone's center. It's a rather painful process, and it could end up causing death if the subject does not find a new center soon enough. In order to do this, he must first figure out the other's center by either tricking the subject into telling him or figuring it out from observation. Secondly, he needs to have ingested the blood of the subject. He also needs the subject incredibly weak if they are not willing, meaning abuse of the concept (aka mental abuse) or plenty of actual physical torture so... yeah. Either way, the entire process could take days to a month depending on the resilience of the center. Once he has broken a center, he can usually absorb a single power from the subject's repertoire if he so desires--permanently. Granted, he does not take abilities often because he is so picky, and he would never do it to a client of his unless it is an agreed-upon payment for the center-breaking service he will sometimes offer.
Both of these powers will never be used unless on an NPC or with expressed desire and permission. People can figure out he has these abilities, and he might speak of them, but he'd only try to use these powers on a character whose rper has given consent.
One of the first powers he absorbed. It is an absolute truth-seeing power he gained from a daughter of Erlang Shen. Yi can recognize all lies spoken, regardless of whether they are addressed to him or not. The lie detector part of him comes in a scale, with complete lies being obvious to him, and little white lies being nearly undetectable. He wouldn't be able to tell if he wasn't truly focusing on detecting lies. If there is magic or some kind of power to try to mask these lies, he can only notice that there is something blocking his detection, though he will not be able to tell truth from lies. He's also resilient to emotional sway and illusions, but he is in no way completely resistant. It just takes more power behind emotional manipulation and illusions to affect him.
The level of his resistance can be discussed between rpers so it remains at a standard of strength. I imagine he can resist up to Outer Court fae glamour for reference, and he isn't AS affected by Inner Court glamour.
Yi has taken Torrance's ice abilities. In other words, he has Sagittarius ice magic. He can create ice from thin air. The trick usually requires some degree of moisture for him to do it. Heat and fire are strong against this power, but as Torrance demonstrated against the Leos, if the fire does not burn bright enough, it can be countered. However, Yi definitely doesn't have the control or talent since it is a stolen ability. The most he can counter is weak flames that have less concentration or heat. He can easily convert small fireballs the size of volleyballs, but something the size of, say, a large beach ball would give him trouble. The more he tries to counter, the more tired he gets. The true strength of the ice is against water users.
Yi has taken Kasza's fire abilities. He can literally breathe flames and control them. This ability is relatively new, however, so he's still getting used to controlling it. The most that he will do is use it to stop fire from an enemy from reaching him for now. He might toss one or two fireballs the size of fists at people, but if he does try to actually use the powers, he could accidentally just torching everything, himself included.
Yi is actually missing a power and is looking for one to fill it up with.
Yi isn't human. He once was a deity and is now a yao. Basically, he has heightened senses, strength, speed, durability, and healing factors. He can pick up boulders easily, run long distances without tiring, and heal large gashes in a few days (if they don't strike something vital and he dies first).
As mentioned before, Yi has no powers to look into a person. However, as a trained interrogator and borderline torturer, he is quick to pick up on personalities, quirks, and a person's center. While he definitely won't figure things out without the permission and comfort of the other character's rper, he is quite clever and gets under people's skin easily. He's been doing it for so long that some might perceive it as a power. He's good at finding the chinks in a person's armor.
Yi stole these beads from the Jade Palace before he left. They protect him from being seen from the Jade Palace's observatory and Erlang Shen's Heavenly Eye. It also can block attempts to spy on him by scrying or other techniques and is meant to mask his presence from long-distance detection. Basically, he just wants to live his new life of chaos without his pantheon's deities trying to find him and interfere.
Yi has a mastery of most Eastern-styled martial arts, both weaponless and with a weapon. He always carries a 偃月刀, or reclining moon blade with him. He's rather deadly with it.
About the Author...
OOC ALIAS: Shade
Posted: Oct 9 2017, 09:40 PM
??? • Canadian • Feels • The snowy place
MAKE YOUR CLAIMS!
I....gotta say, I'm loving the completely stark contrast we get in this app between the Heavenly scenes and the one with Kasza? Also how dare you make me feel bad for Kasza??
JFC. I'm conflicted. But Yi is a very interesting and layered character and hhhhhhhh you and your descriptive power just murders me again. I love it. The vivid imagery, it really paints the scenes. Yi know what to do now