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He couldn't help but be amused by the many expressions worn upon the faces of those judging him. There were many: bitter anger, hatred, disgust, joy, grief (not for him of course)... He could even see a few that were confused or vacant. The sight made his lips twitch into his infamous cocky grin; an action that caused even more of a reaction from the crowd before him. Inwardly he chuckled. He might have released it out loud if he didn't think the officials would cut his verdict early and dispose of the floor beneath him so that he would hang.
The rope already felt tight around his neck, but it was not fear that caused this. More so out of irateness. The young man had enough of ropes this past week or so. The bonds that kept his hands behind his back were of no help either, and they flexed uncomfortably. Yet still the prosecutor dragged on and on of the list of crimes as well as the verdict of his upcoming punishment, with no sign of slowing. He spoke powerfully and passionately, he couldn't help but admit. It was as if all of Lynthia was being put into his voice, in-justifying and criminalizing the outlaw. Not that he, said outlaw, minded. He knew very well that what he's done were deeds unforgivable, remedied only by act of execution.
“Shike Talisman,” the prosecutor had finally come to his name, which might as well have been “rat” or even “murderer”; he spoke it with the same distaste as one might when stating such words, “for your crimes, you were beaten and tortured thoroughly before you stand here now, in the presence of Lynthia's people, to be hanged. Does this appease the civilians?”
Many shouts and jeers directed at Shike erupted from the crowd, which only made him grin even more. The many bruises and gashes upon his person stung and hurt like hell, but he still managed to do so, as well as stand tall in front of them all without any physical support. If this bothered any of the officials, they gave no sign of it, and his prosecutor nodded in satisfaction to the crowd's response. He rolled up the scroll and stepped back upon the galley, standing right next to the executioner. It was then that King Jair stood, right in his perfect spot behind and above the crowd on the castle wall's terrace, his usual reserved gaze stone-hard as well as cold as it glared down upon Shike like poised daggers.
“Shike Talisman,” his voice rang clear in the air without having to raise his voice, instantly silencing the crowd beneath him. Though his visage remained kingly, his steel-eyes were intense, made more so by his greying hair that had once been dark brown framing them. Shike could see the pure fury that lay secretly in their depths, a look of such threat that it actually made him shiver. If not for his sense of honor and humane nature, the ex-ninja had very little doubt that more would have been done to him by the King's orders.
“Do you have any final words to say before your time ends?” King Jair continued.
Despite the quiver of fear he had stirred within the ex-ninja, Shike hid it well behind his smile and said nothing. King Jair waited a moment, before his frown grew deeper. If that had even been possible.
“So be it.” He nodded to the executioner.
Shike's muscles tensed in the same motion the executioner's did as he reached for the lever that would make the floor give way beneath him; as soon as it did, Shike's hands ripped through the freshly cut rope that had been keeping his wrists bound together. All through the proceedings he had been patiently cutting away, with the aid of a hidden blade he took very extra care to hide upon his person after his last few captured experiences within the same week. Now did he grasp the noose around his neck with both hands just as he fell through the galley, the drop tightening the damn thing around his throat. Already his air supply was shortened, but nonetheless he worked his way through the rope still keeping him in place. The crowd was screaming and in a panic; they were pushed back by the soldiers and knights held present for his execution, before they advanced upon the ex-ninja while his blade worked away at the noose. This Shike cared not for, however, his attention entirely on the task at hand.
At last, the rope was cut.
Shike fell nimbly onto his feet, pulling away the rope that had tried to make its home between his head and shoulders. Now did he chuckle freely, surrounding his aura around both his arms. The knights as well as the soldiers increased their speed, demanding that he surrender to them. Shike waited until they drew nearer, closer and closer they came... When they were within a few feet of him, Shike struck with the speed and ferocity of a lightning storm.
To the right and to the left, his arms as well as his legs flew to connect with any part of the bodies that came at him. Despite the fact his body was badly battered, he gave no reluctance to his captors, for he knew that if he held back for even a second they would not hesitate to take advantage and either re-capture him or end his life then and there. Though he was in massive pain, he could tolerate it for the length of time it took to getting himself out of there.
Aura flew from his feet like daggers at the flips and kicks he directed at the surrounding knights, the cuts and gashes he rewarded his enemies gleeful satisfactions for the pain they had put him through. Well, some of them may not have been directly involved, but nonetheless he was pleased. His arms provided the same effect as they slipped pass the blades of steel and iron, even causing a few of the knights to fall to their knees in pain. Shike's only regret was not having his katana with him; with his trusty blade beside him, he would surely have caused even more damage to these simpletons. Only one had managed to be his equal, and since he was not among the crowd today than none of them had the slightest hope of apprehending the outlaw.
This thought buzzed in his mind when he noticed the chest placed at the foot of the stairs leading up to the galley. Curiosity peaked (as well as a silent hope), Shike slipped in between a pair of knights that charged him at the same time, only succeeding in attacking each other as he did so. He made a feint attack to the next knight blocking his way, made him lunge forward, and cleanly had his elbow ram into the back of his head. As the fellow collapsed, Shike kicked the chest open, surprised it hadn't been locked. Once he saw what was inside, he could see why: why lock a chest of belongings of a dead man? There were his confiscated weapons, including his beloved katana blade. This he grabbed immediately, as well as his dagger. The rest were his pouches of shuriken and kunai, but he didn't have time to grab those. They were easily replaceable; even his dagger was, but not his cherished katana. Its hilt was reassuring in his hand, and securing his dagger back to its belt, he turned to confront the swarm of footman still coming for him.
His sword unsheathed, he made his way cleverly to one of the surrounding walls. Not once was he slowed, his blade now like a tornado that had been added to the already deadly storm, but as easy as he made this look it was taking all of his concentration and willpower not to collapse. He couldn't even manage a look up at the terrace to see the reaction of the King; God only knew how much he wanted to see the outraged look upon the man's visage, but a second spent in doing so would very likely cost him his life. Besides, he didn't think the King would still be up there by now. Knowing him, he would be making his way down there rapidly, shouting outraged yet controlled commands at his followers as well as unsheathing his own blades to stop Shike from making his escape. It was only King Jair that the ex-ninja feared in confronting save for the previously mentioned rival; the King was a notorious swordsman, said to have bested a dragon without even moving a muscle or having to use his second sword. Perhaps this was a rumor exaggerated many times over (not to mention the fact that a dragon hasn't been sighted for many years), but Shike was not willing to test that theory.
At last he made it to the wall, giving a sharp kick in the chest to the knight who tried to stand in his way. His armor saved him from having Shike's aura-blade, sent from his shoe, penetrate through his skin, but the blow had been hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Without missing a beat, Shike turned himself around and stood straight as the King's men swarmed toward him, seemingly never ending. He was not daunted by this; Shike took in a deep breath through his nostrils, calming his senses, clearing his mind. As if releasing all negativity from within himself in a single exhale, the approaching knights suddenly began to move in slow motion. Sound was dulled against his ears, complete and utter silence surrounding him. Ever-so-slowly his left hand raised before him, the aura that surrounded it retreating back where it came from. Unseen to everyone else, his energy gathered within him; piling, increasing, powerful. With the same state of calm, he focused that power to the center of his palm, his sights set on the knights coming toward him.
When time returned to him, the blast of aura that he summoned from himself was like a wave of rushing water to the knights. Every single one of them fell back with startled cries, some flying while others merely collapsed. The frown that had been set on his features flickered back to the signature grin, the same look reflecting in his steel-blue eyes. None of them got up to stop him; a few tried, but they were much too dazed. Shike would have liked to take his time to appreciate this, but his cockiness had gotten him into enough trouble. Reluctantly he took several paces away from the wall, turned, and ran straight for it.
Shike bunched up his muscles, each stride sure and direct. Before he came upon the wall, the ex-ninja gave a mighty leap, his right leg stretched out. The tip of his foot connected with the wall, an action that might have at least twisted the appendage if done so by a normal wielder. But not to Shike. Like a lizard, the foot stuck to the wall and Shike brought up the other one and braced it against the structure as easily as if he was running on the ground still. Nimbly he ran up to the parapet, not once stopping, his speed as well as the skills he required as a former ninja keeping him from falling. Only when he reached the top did he stop, sure that there was no one that could possibly reach him now. Shike turned in place; he moved and stood as graceful as a cat, perfectly at ease at such a height while he smiled down upon the figures that were finally picking themselves up.
“Tell Noah that Shike sends his regards,” Shike rested a hand against his now sheathed-in katana, smirking in his victory as he gave a taunting salute. Without another word, he let himself fall backward, as if a bed or a body of water was waiting to catch him from behind. The knights could no longer see him as he fell from the other side, nor the King as he finally made his way to the ground. It was too lucky and highly unlikely to hope that Shike actually did fall to his death, and as the King stood there with his jaw set and eyes impassive, his mind harbored dark thoughts of what was to be done.
The rope already felt tight around his neck, but it was not fear that caused this. More so out of irateness. The young man had enough of ropes this past week or so. The bonds that kept his hands behind his back were of no help either, and they flexed uncomfortably. Yet still the prosecutor dragged on and on of the list of crimes as well as the verdict of his upcoming punishment, with no sign of slowing. He spoke powerfully and passionately, he couldn't help but admit. It was as if all of Lynthia was being put into his voice, in-justifying and criminalizing the outlaw. Not that he, said outlaw, minded. He knew very well that what he's done were deeds unforgivable, remedied only by act of execution.
“Shike Talisman,” the prosecutor had finally come to his name, which might as well have been “rat” or even “murderer”; he spoke it with the same distaste as one might when stating such words, “for your crimes, you were beaten and tortured thoroughly before you stand here now, in the presence of Lynthia's people, to be hanged. Does this appease the civilians?”
Many shouts and jeers directed at Shike erupted from the crowd, which only made him grin even more. The many bruises and gashes upon his person stung and hurt like hell, but he still managed to do so, as well as stand tall in front of them all without any physical support. If this bothered any of the officials, they gave no sign of it, and his prosecutor nodded in satisfaction to the crowd's response. He rolled up the scroll and stepped back upon the galley, standing right next to the executioner. It was then that King Jair stood, right in his perfect spot behind and above the crowd on the castle wall's terrace, his usual reserved gaze stone-hard as well as cold as it glared down upon Shike like poised daggers.
“Shike Talisman,” his voice rang clear in the air without having to raise his voice, instantly silencing the crowd beneath him. Though his visage remained kingly, his steel-eyes were intense, made more so by his greying hair that had once been dark brown framing them. Shike could see the pure fury that lay secretly in their depths, a look of such threat that it actually made him shiver. If not for his sense of honor and humane nature, the ex-ninja had very little doubt that more would have been done to him by the King's orders.
“Do you have any final words to say before your time ends?” King Jair continued.
Despite the quiver of fear he had stirred within the ex-ninja, Shike hid it well behind his smile and said nothing. King Jair waited a moment, before his frown grew deeper. If that had even been possible.
“So be it.” He nodded to the executioner.
Shike's muscles tensed in the same motion the executioner's did as he reached for the lever that would make the floor give way beneath him; as soon as it did, Shike's hands ripped through the freshly cut rope that had been keeping his wrists bound together. All through the proceedings he had been patiently cutting away, with the aid of a hidden blade he took very extra care to hide upon his person after his last few captured experiences within the same week. Now did he grasp the noose around his neck with both hands just as he fell through the galley, the drop tightening the damn thing around his throat. Already his air supply was shortened, but nonetheless he worked his way through the rope still keeping him in place. The crowd was screaming and in a panic; they were pushed back by the soldiers and knights held present for his execution, before they advanced upon the ex-ninja while his blade worked away at the noose. This Shike cared not for, however, his attention entirely on the task at hand.
At last, the rope was cut.
Shike fell nimbly onto his feet, pulling away the rope that had tried to make its home between his head and shoulders. Now did he chuckle freely, surrounding his aura around both his arms. The knights as well as the soldiers increased their speed, demanding that he surrender to them. Shike waited until they drew nearer, closer and closer they came... When they were within a few feet of him, Shike struck with the speed and ferocity of a lightning storm.
To the right and to the left, his arms as well as his legs flew to connect with any part of the bodies that came at him. Despite the fact his body was badly battered, he gave no reluctance to his captors, for he knew that if he held back for even a second they would not hesitate to take advantage and either re-capture him or end his life then and there. Though he was in massive pain, he could tolerate it for the length of time it took to getting himself out of there.
Aura flew from his feet like daggers at the flips and kicks he directed at the surrounding knights, the cuts and gashes he rewarded his enemies gleeful satisfactions for the pain they had put him through. Well, some of them may not have been directly involved, but nonetheless he was pleased. His arms provided the same effect as they slipped pass the blades of steel and iron, even causing a few of the knights to fall to their knees in pain. Shike's only regret was not having his katana with him; with his trusty blade beside him, he would surely have caused even more damage to these simpletons. Only one had managed to be his equal, and since he was not among the crowd today than none of them had the slightest hope of apprehending the outlaw.
This thought buzzed in his mind when he noticed the chest placed at the foot of the stairs leading up to the galley. Curiosity peaked (as well as a silent hope), Shike slipped in between a pair of knights that charged him at the same time, only succeeding in attacking each other as he did so. He made a feint attack to the next knight blocking his way, made him lunge forward, and cleanly had his elbow ram into the back of his head. As the fellow collapsed, Shike kicked the chest open, surprised it hadn't been locked. Once he saw what was inside, he could see why: why lock a chest of belongings of a dead man? There were his confiscated weapons, including his beloved katana blade. This he grabbed immediately, as well as his dagger. The rest were his pouches of shuriken and kunai, but he didn't have time to grab those. They were easily replaceable; even his dagger was, but not his cherished katana. Its hilt was reassuring in his hand, and securing his dagger back to its belt, he turned to confront the swarm of footman still coming for him.
His sword unsheathed, he made his way cleverly to one of the surrounding walls. Not once was he slowed, his blade now like a tornado that had been added to the already deadly storm, but as easy as he made this look it was taking all of his concentration and willpower not to collapse. He couldn't even manage a look up at the terrace to see the reaction of the King; God only knew how much he wanted to see the outraged look upon the man's visage, but a second spent in doing so would very likely cost him his life. Besides, he didn't think the King would still be up there by now. Knowing him, he would be making his way down there rapidly, shouting outraged yet controlled commands at his followers as well as unsheathing his own blades to stop Shike from making his escape. It was only King Jair that the ex-ninja feared in confronting save for the previously mentioned rival; the King was a notorious swordsman, said to have bested a dragon without even moving a muscle or having to use his second sword. Perhaps this was a rumor exaggerated many times over (not to mention the fact that a dragon hasn't been sighted for many years), but Shike was not willing to test that theory.
At last he made it to the wall, giving a sharp kick in the chest to the knight who tried to stand in his way. His armor saved him from having Shike's aura-blade, sent from his shoe, penetrate through his skin, but the blow had been hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Without missing a beat, Shike turned himself around and stood straight as the King's men swarmed toward him, seemingly never ending. He was not daunted by this; Shike took in a deep breath through his nostrils, calming his senses, clearing his mind. As if releasing all negativity from within himself in a single exhale, the approaching knights suddenly began to move in slow motion. Sound was dulled against his ears, complete and utter silence surrounding him. Ever-so-slowly his left hand raised before him, the aura that surrounded it retreating back where it came from. Unseen to everyone else, his energy gathered within him; piling, increasing, powerful. With the same state of calm, he focused that power to the center of his palm, his sights set on the knights coming toward him.
When time returned to him, the blast of aura that he summoned from himself was like a wave of rushing water to the knights. Every single one of them fell back with startled cries, some flying while others merely collapsed. The frown that had been set on his features flickered back to the signature grin, the same look reflecting in his steel-blue eyes. None of them got up to stop him; a few tried, but they were much too dazed. Shike would have liked to take his time to appreciate this, but his cockiness had gotten him into enough trouble. Reluctantly he took several paces away from the wall, turned, and ran straight for it.
Shike bunched up his muscles, each stride sure and direct. Before he came upon the wall, the ex-ninja gave a mighty leap, his right leg stretched out. The tip of his foot connected with the wall, an action that might have at least twisted the appendage if done so by a normal wielder. But not to Shike. Like a lizard, the foot stuck to the wall and Shike brought up the other one and braced it against the structure as easily as if he was running on the ground still. Nimbly he ran up to the parapet, not once stopping, his speed as well as the skills he required as a former ninja keeping him from falling. Only when he reached the top did he stop, sure that there was no one that could possibly reach him now. Shike turned in place; he moved and stood as graceful as a cat, perfectly at ease at such a height while he smiled down upon the figures that were finally picking themselves up.
“Tell Noah that Shike sends his regards,” Shike rested a hand against his now sheathed-in katana, smirking in his victory as he gave a taunting salute. Without another word, he let himself fall backward, as if a bed or a body of water was waiting to catch him from behind. The knights could no longer see him as he fell from the other side, nor the King as he finally made his way to the ground. It was too lucky and highly unlikely to hope that Shike actually did fall to his death, and as the King stood there with his jaw set and eyes impassive, his mind harbored dark thoughts of what was to be done.
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This has actually been sitting in my folder for awhile. I didn't post it when I first wrote it because it was really just a side-thing for my own enjoyment, an idea I had played with then decided to write down. However, because I loved it so much and feel proud of it, and because I have yet to post anything else on here, I decided it was about time I shared it.
The story takes place in a land called Lynthia, my own fantasy-world I came up with in my head AGES ago, but I won't go into the details. Perhaps another time. Anyway, in this land, Shike is a notorious rogue ninja guilty of many crimes. Now Noah, whom is mentioned briefly in this passage, is, ironically, also a criminal, but mainly a thief with less pressing sentences to his name. Let me also mention that Noah is created and owned by the lovely and wonderful caiktinrose.
Between the two of us, we came across the idea of having Noah being captured by the King's loyal knights, but instead of sentencing him to death, King Jair offers him a deal instead. In exchange for finding and capturing Shike Talisman, Noah will be set free. With his other option only being death, and knowing he wouldn't manage to escape (at least for long) as long as he remained in Lynthia should he try sneaking away once he was outside of the castle walls, Noah accepts the deal and sets out.
Then I wondered: What if he succeeded in capturing Shike? What would happen?
Thus this story was born.
Hopefully we'll see more of Shike in the future. I actually have an idea for a chapter story that involves him as well as his much-hated-but-respected-rival, Noah, that differs from the idea caiktinrose and I came up with, but there's still some details I'm working out. I also have other projects I'm working on; I finished a prologue to a new story that's also been in my mind for awhile, and I've finished the outline to the next chapter of It's a Lorca's Life and just need to write it.
Now if only I can stop being lazy.
Noah © caiktinrose
Writing, Shike Talisman & King Jair © KatsaNovari
Here's a ref of Shike: Shike Talisman
© 2015 - 2024 VoxMagi
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Lots of action.