The Battle at the Tomb, Part 2
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Toshi Ranbo, Month of the Hare, year 1167
Under normal circumstances, the Imperial City was often surrounded by impromptu clusters of tents. These were typically set up by pilgrims visiting the city, or occasionally by merchants hoping to capitalize on heavy traffic during certain times of the year. Now, however, there was little incentive to travel throughout the Empire. A great storm of blood had come and washed away innocence. Most cowered in their homes at night, even months afterward, clinging to their families and hoping that the Fortunes would protect them. For the first time in years, there had been virtually no tents outside the city.
Which had made it all the easier for the Shogun’s forces to set up temporary headquarters near the city gates.
Kaneka stood in the largest of several dozen tents, carefully scrutinizing a map and comparing it against a number of scrolls. He frowned and scratched a mark on the map with a length of chalk, then went back to one of the scrolls to continue reading. He heard the tent flap pulled aside, heard the momentary sound of rain outside, before it fell again and the sound receded to a dull rhythm on the cloth overhead. “Not now,” he said reflexively.
“Interesting,” a familiar voice said. “I am not accustomed to hearing such responses to my presence. At least, not recently.”
Kaneka’s head whipped around suddenly. The man standing at the entrance to his tent was wearing a rather nondescript black kimono, but his features were unmistakable. “Emperor,” Kaneka said dully. “Should you be here?”
“Should I not?” Toturi Naseru replied casually.
“You should remain within the palace, where your guard can protect you,” Kaneka said. “You certainly should not be about without adequate protection.”
“Where in the Empire might I go and be more secure than with my Shogun?” the Emperor asked. “Your duty is to defend Rokugan, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Kaneka said at once. “That was the task you set before me.”
“As I recall, I believe your specific task was to protect against Iuchiban’s threat.” Naseru glanced over the scrolls on Kaneka’s desk casually. “Tell me, how is that progressing?”
Kaneka frowned. “You know he is dead. He spirited away to Otosan Uchi and your… our brother killed him.”
“And now you are here,” Naseru said.
“And now I am here,” Kaneka repeated. “With Iuchiban dead, I have turned my attention to his cult. I assumed you would agree that was a logical progression, but I wanted to make certain I had the opportunity to receive a new mandate if that was your wish.” He gestured in the direction of Toshi Ranbo and smiled. “And so I have come here.”
“As anyone can see,” Naseru said. “My question is why.”
Kaneka gestured to the map and the scrolls. “I have been comparing various magistrate reports from across the Empire, particularly those immediately before and following the Rain of Blood. I am trying to isolate major Bloodspeaker cells so that we can hunt them down. It will be easier now that they seem to have gone mad and become little more than animals, but it will still be difficult.”
“Difficult indeed,” Naseru agreed. “You will use the Imperial Legions, however. This will make the task quicker and easier.”
Kaneka frowned. “The Legions have not trained with my men. It will make coordinating our efforts more complicated.”
“Nonsense,” the Emperor admonished. “Send them out independently. They can operate on their own, and it will dramatically increase the amount of ground you can cover simultaneously.”
The older man nodded. “That is true enough. As you wish, of course, Emperor.”
“Thank you. Upon the completion of your task, return to the Imperial City at once. The people will wish to thank their Shogun for his valor.”
Kaneka smiled slightly. “I would be honored.”
“And I would of course wish to offer you my thanks for following my orders so precisely as well,” the Emperor continued. “Everyone should know of my pleasure with your deeds.”
The smile disappeared. “Of course,” he said. “Everyone should know that I was merely following your orders, after all. That is my duty.”
Naseru looked at his Shogun with an inquisitive expression. “You are the Shogun. I am trusting you and you alone with this task. Does it matter who the people see as responsible for its execution?”
Kaneka forced a smile. “Not to me.”
“Excellent,” Naseru said. “See to it, then.”
The Imperial Palace, Month of the Ox, year 1167
The personal chambers of Toturi III were expansive, but not as lavish as one might expect, and certainly not so much as previous Emperors. It was as Naseru preferred it, with the only decorations not only beautiful but also having considerable personal significance as well. A stone pedestal given him by his friend Shinjo Shono that bore a copy of Leadership the general Toku had once given his father stood in one corner. An exquisite painting Otomo Hoketuhime had commissioned for him hung on another wall. On another, a mask he had been given at his wedding a short time ago by Bayushi Paneki, the Scorpion Clan Champion and a trusted vassal. Everything had meaning. Everything served a purpose.
“My lord.” The voice was uncharacteristically soft. Naseru turned to the entrance and smiled slightly as the Empress entered with a short bow. “Your mood troubles me.”
“It should not,” Naseru said calmly. “All is well.”
“Your audience with the Jade Champion did not seem to go well,” Toturi Kurako insisted. “You have been withdrawn ever since. Your proclamation of seclusion concerns many, me most of all. It is… unlike you.”
“Perhaps,” the Emperor said. “What does it matter? I am Emperor. Is it not my duty to be a reflection of my Empire?”
“I would say that it is the Empire that must reflect your rule,” Kurako answered.
“Would that not be ideal?” Naseru said, the slightest hint of scorn in his voice. “But if the Empire is a reflection of me, then I have proven a poor ruler indeed.”
“Their failures are not yours,” Kurako insisted.
“Of course they are,” Naseru said flatly. “If an army is defeated on the battlefield, it is the commander that must bear the shame.”
“This is much different,” she insisted.
“It is not,” Naseru said. His tone would brook no dissent. “It is exactly the same. All that troubles the Empire is the burden of its Emperor. Those scattered few who believe otherwise have forgotten all that has happened in the last half century.”
Kurako looked away. She was quiet for a long time. “What will you do?” she finally asked.
Naseru pondered for a moment. “You heard the announcement I made before the court. The so-called ambassador Daigotsu sent is secure for the moment. The Jade Champion’s concerns are valid, but after some deliberation I find them wanting. The Empire has become obsessed with enlightenment, and it seems even those who claim to have achieved it are subject to near hysterics.”
The Empress nodded grimly. “The people are desperate for something to believe in. The Bloodspeakers have them terrified.”
“And the Gozoku used that to further weaken my rule,” Naseru said bitterly. “Between the two, there is much discord. I have grown weary of waiting for it to resolve itself. I will deal with it myself, if my Champions have proven incapable.”
“How?”
“I will seek enlightenment,” Naseru said. “While I am in ‘seclusion,’ I will wander the Empire and see what it is that has led my people to this spiritual reawakening.”
Kurako tilted her head and frowned. “Do you believe you can achieve it in such a manner?”
“That is completely irrelevant,” Naseru said. “What matters is that I will possess the information I require. I will see those who have supposedly achieved enlightenment, and those who seek it still. If I understand their desire, then I can use it.” He glanced at Kurako and smiled. “I do not expect you to understand, my dear, but I will require your assistance.”
She bowed her head. “If I must, my lord. Am I to be the only one?”
“No,” he said after a moment’s thought. “No, I think perhaps one other. A man well versed in the keeping of secrets, after all.”
The City of the Rich Frog, Month of the Dragon, year 1168
The man simply called the Wanderer sat down heavily in an empty corner of the dark tea house. He nodded wearily to the serving girl, who placed tea and sake before him, along with a small plate of rice and fish. The fish was likely stale, given how far the city was from the nearest major waterway, but he did not particularly care. Traveling, he had discovered, was an excellent cure for the discerning palette.
As he chewed quietly on the simple meal, the Wanderer scanned the room casually, missing nothing. The two men against the opposite wall had the disheveled look of common laborers, but at least one of them had a daisho. They were vassals of the Kaeru, no doubt. Vassals of vassals. Hardly an enviable position, and from the look of them the men had to work long hours at an unpleasant task. Still, they were paid for their labor, and had a steady source of food and shelter. From what he had seen in the past few weeks, they were better off than many. He sipped his tea and watched as a newcomer entered the bar.
The new arrival was a young woman with long black hair. She too wore the trappings of a ronin, but carried herself in such a manner that it was obvious to the Wanderer that she was no simple wave man. She spoke to a serving girl, and in a moment the house’s owner came out to speak with her as well. The Wanderer could not make out their conversation, but from their body language it was easy enough to decipher. The woman had little or no money, and was inquiring after a meal that she could work off in some other manner, perhaps as a yojimbo or something else. The owner was clearly not interested, but the way the sword hung on the woman’s hip gave him pause, and he was struggling to deal with the situation without risking his life.
The Wanderer gave the newcomer another look. The butterscotch-colored stains on her hakama indicated recent travels through the Lion provinces, where mud of such color was common. He grunted and lifted his coin sack, nodding almost imperceptibly at the house’s owner. The man glanced sidelong at him, then bowed to the woman and disappeared back into the kitchen. The female ronin glanced in the Wanderer’s direction, then strode over and bowed slightly. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“My pleasure,” the Wanderer replied, impressed that she had so quickly and accurately assessed what had happened. “Sit and join me.”
The woman did not move. “Do not mistake gratitude for something else,” she said. “My companionship is not for sale.”
“I merely wanted conversation,” the Wanderer shrugged. “You can find your meal elsewhere if you like. There are no obligations other than a shared meal and tea.”
The woman hesitated, then bowed again. “My thanks,” she said, taking her seat. “It has been some time since I was able to enjoy a quiet meal.”
The Wanderer nodded and poured a second cup of tea. “Did you find the Lion lands unpleasant, then?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You know me, then?” she asked quietly.
The Wanderer shrugged. “No,” he said casually. “You were in Lion lands, however, were you not?”
“I was,” she confirmed. “What of it?”
The Wanderer pushed his plate away. “I grow weary of this defensiveness. If your training was utterly devoid of common courtesy, then you can enjoy the remainder of your meal in silence.” He started to rise.
“I am sorry,” the woman said quietly. “It was not my intent to offend. I have… had a difficult journey.”
The Wanderer slowly sat back down. “That much I can understand.” He pointed to her blade. “You wear your blade in the Shiba style. I merely noted that the Lion lands are between here and there, therefore you must have traveled through them.”
“Of course,” she said. “I am Nagisa. I am on a warrior pilgrimage, and I did travel through the Lion lands. I wished to avoid them, but the battle along their northern border required that I drop within their provinces to travel.”
The Wanderer nodded in assent. “I’m sure they were quite hospitable.”
“Of course,” Nagisa said curtly. “I imagine I won’t be able to go back any time soon.”
“I have spent the past few weeks in the northern Shinomen,” the Wanderer said. “Any interesting news from the Lion lands?”
“The war is all most talk about,” Nagisa said, eating her rice with gusto. “Some say the Unicorn may take part soon, and then it will be the War of the Rich Frog all over again, except with the Crane as well.”
“Shinsei said that history was a cycle,” the Wanderer said. “Still, that news hardly seems of interest. The clans are always at one another’s throats, it seems.”
“True enough,” Nagisa agreed. “There have been interesting rumors of the Imperial Court, however.”
“Oh?” The Wanderer munched a piece of fish, seeming disinterested.
“They say the Lost sent an ambassador to the court, and that the Emperor ordered the Scorpion to hold him. They also say that the Emperor was so enraged that he has gone into seclusion at the advice of the Jade Champion, lest he pit the entire Empire against the Shadowlands in a war that cannot be won.”
“Interesting,” the Wanderer mused. “This is what is being said in the Lion lands, is it?”
“It is,” Nagisa confirmed, beginning a second bowl of rice. “There are similar rumors in the Crane lands, although I heard some their claim that the Jade Champion kept the Emperor from accepting some proposal the Lost offered, and that he has gone into seclusion to contemplate his error in judgment.” She thought for a moment. “I found the very idea blasphemous, to be honest.”
“Typical,” the Wanderer muttered under his breath. “You are a supporter of the Emperor, then?”
“Of course,” Nagisa answered at once. “The reign of his father was ordained by the heavens. He is the Son of Heaven.”
“I imagined the heavens might be more infallible,” the Wanderer offered.
Nagisa paused, her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. “Heaven’s blessing does not make a man infallible,” she replied. “Nothing mortal, or that was once mortal, lasts forever.”
“Interesting,” the Wanderer said, raising an eyebrow. “What brought you to this conclusion?”
“Fortunes died fighting Fu Leng,” she said. “Emperors have made mistakes, one need look no farther than the Steel Chrysanthemum to see that. Even Lord Moon was duped by the Lying Darkness. There is no perfection. There is no infallibility. We do what we can. Why should the gods be any different?”
“Perhaps,” he mused, idly rubbing the tattoo covering his eye. Sometimes it burned worse than usual. He had no idea why. “Certainly it is an interesting philosophy if nothing else. Have you shared it with others?”
Nagisa smirked slightly. “Not many. Most samurai are too set in their ways to hear anything that disagrees with their preconceived notions. I find fellow wanderers to be a bit more… flexible… in their outlook.”
“Surely someone has found it to their liking,” the Wanderer pressed.
“There was an old courtier in the Crane lands,” Nagisa admitted after a moment of thought. “I think he may have just been agreeing in hopes of making me more agreeable to his advances, however. He was quite the lecher.”
“I have heard that about old Crane,” the Wanderer said with a smile. “Do you recall his name?”
“Munemori, I think,” Nagisa said. “Of the Kakita. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” the Wanderer said. “Just useful information for later, should I ever be in the Crane provinces. Open minds are always beneficial, do you not think?”
“I suppose,” Nagisa agreed.
The Wanderer rose. “Please, enjoy your meal. I have a message to send to an old acquaintance, and then I must be off again. It was a pleasure to meet you, Nagisa-san. Perhaps we will speak again.”
Deep within the Shadowlands
Naseru stood atop a jagged outcropping of volcanic glass, perched precariously on a flat stop amid the forest of razor-sharp blades of stone that jutted out at every possible angle. He wiped the sweat from his brow with one ragged sleeve. In the plains unfolding beneath him, he could make out the indistinct form of a great tomb carved into the side of a strangely ordinary rock abutment. It had lain hidden for more than a thousand years, but now he had found his way here.
Naseru took a tattered scroll from his obi and glanced at it one last time. He had discovered it within the Shinomen. Even now, the thought made him frown. A rumor had led him into the forest, a rumor concerning an ancient shrine and a kenku sensei that held the secrets of enlightenment. He had not believed them, of course, but the chance that it could have been true was too great to pass up. If such a thing had existed, if the rumors had been true, then evidence of his visit to such a place would have been all the proof he needed to convince others that his “pilgrimage” had been successful. Instead, he had discovered the scroll.
The seal had borne his name. It had been left for him.
The Emperor could not decide if he was more irritated that someone, almost certainly Rosoku, could have so accurately predicted his actions, or if he was merely alarmed that everything Rosoku had said could be true. In all honesty, Naseru had never truly believed in enlightenment. It was nothing more than the pinnacle of self-delusion, or possibly a claim to be used to manipulate the gullible. He had looked into Rosoku’s eyes and seen nothing more than a mortal man that desperately believed he could help save the Empire. He had looked into Asahina Sekawa’s eyes and known that his claim to enlightenment was false.
Now, at the end of a long journey, guided by a mysterious scroll, he wondered. Could it all have been true? Could Rosoku’s gifts truly have an impact on what happened to Rokugan? Was there something within the Tomb that could guide him to the path that would lead his Empire to salvation?
Naseru did not know the answers. He only knew that he must seek them.
His quest had begun like so many things during his life: a manipulation. A ruse to restore the faith of those whose belief in him had been broken. Now… it was something more. He did not know what lay within the Tomb, he only knew now, at the final step, that Rosoku had meant for him to find it.
Naseru climbed down from the rock outcropping and began to cross the last few miles to the Tomb of Seven Thunders. Destiny waited within.
[Story] Battle at the Tomb part 2 & 3
Modérateurs : Magistrats de Jade, Historiens de la Shinri
-
Goju Kaze
- Shinri Historien
- Messages : 5959
- Inscription : 07 mai 2002, 23:00
- Localisation : Honor's Lesson Dojo - Kyuden Bayushi
[Story] Battle at the Tomb part 2 & 3
The only way to keep a secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
-
Goju Kaze
- Shinri Historien
- Messages : 5959
- Inscription : 07 mai 2002, 23:00
- Localisation : Honor's Lesson Dojo - Kyuden Bayushi
The Battle at the Tomb, Part 3
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
The Great Carpenter Wall
Duty atop the Kaiu Wall was considered at once among the most sacred assignments a Crab warrior could receive, and among the most dreaded. The survival expectation of those serving varied considerably depending upon which length of the Wall one served, but there was no section, not so much as a single mile, that could be considered safe. At any point, a sentry might hear the distant rumbling from deep within the Shadowlands, and the alarm would be sounded. So many times over the centuries, the sinister forces of Fu Leng had ridden forth and crashed against the Wall, and so many times the Crab had pushed them back. Losses were inevitable, of course, but the sons of Hida had never shirked from the terrible sound that emanated from the south.
Today, however, the thunder came from the north. The sentries braced at the sound of it, and prepared to signal their brothers along the Wall that another attack had come. Even as they stood ready to light the signal fires and send runners, however, the Crab warriors looked up in confusion, scanning the southern horizon for any sign of an enemy. Then, slowly, they turned to the north.
The thunder was cavalry, somewhere between two and three hundred. The sentries tensed, glancing from one to another and preparing for an attack. It was not until the army grew closer and the Emperor’s banner was seen that a cheer went up from the Wall. The Emperor’s defenders had arrived at last.
One man did not cheer. Yasuki Jinn-Kuen grimaced at the approach, then glanced across the Wall into the Shadowlands. His was the expression of a man weighing cost and benefit, and after a moment he merely shook his head in resignation. He turned back toward the advancing army and raised a hand in greeting as they pulled up short. “Hail, Yasuki Hachi-sama, Emerald Champion.”
An exhausted looking Hachi leapt down from his mount, wiping the dirt and perspiration from his face. “Jinn-Kuen,” he nodded. “We will need new horses. These have been riding almost non-stop since the Scorpion lands. They need rest and water or they will die.”
“I expected as much,” Jinn-Kuen said, glancing over his shoulder at the other Crab as Hachi mentioned the Scorpion. “I have made the necessary arrangements.” He waved to a group of youths, who advanced and began taking the obviously exhausted horses away. “The jade I promised is ready. We will leave as soon as you are ready.”
“We are ready now,” Hachi insisted.
“No.” A burly Unicorn samurai leapt down and somewhat reluctantly relinquished his steed to a Crab child. “The men are too tired, Hachi. They need rest.”
“There is no time,” Hachi said flatly. “The Emperor needs us now. It may already be too late.”
“Very well,” Moto Chen said. “And when we reach the Emperor, assuming those great rats can even take us to him as they claim, we will all be too weak from hunger and exhaustion to lift our weapons in his defense.”
Hachi scowled. “There is no time, Chen,” he repeated.
“If we leave now, every man and woman in this force will perish, possibly before we reach the Tomb and certainly within moments of our arrival.” Chen stared at the Champion unabashedly. “What is more important to you, success or punctuality?”
Hachi’s features twisted up in irritation, then crumbled into an expression of almost complete despair. “Three hours,” he croaked. “Tell them.”
Chen nodded. “You will not regret this decision,” he said, and turned to arrange it.
“Hachi-sama,” Jinn-Kuen said quietly as the Champion turned away. “We may have a problem.”
Hachi smiled wanly. “What might that be?”
Jinn-Kuen gestured discreetly to the dozen or so armored Scorpion warriors among Hachi’s forces. “Those men will not be allowed to barrack anywhere in the Crab lands. I suggest you keep them under guard to avoid… unpleasantness.”
“Lord Kuon has given orders,” Hachi began.
“Yes,” Jinn-Kuen interrupted. “He has given orders that your forces be given free travel throughout our lands and that you are to be given any supplies you require. They do not mention anything regarding hospitality, and I assure you that there is none to be had for the Scorpion. We have had a bit of a… shall we call it an infestation, of assassins in recent months.”
“These men are warriors,” Hachi said, gesturing to their heavy armor and weapons. “They are soldiers, not assassins. One can hardly go leaping from rooftop to rooftop with a poisoned blade in one hand and ill will in the other when one is clad in nearly fifty pounds of lacquered armor.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Jinn-Kuen said.
“See to it they are fed and housed,” Hachi snapped. “Anyone who so much as speaks an ill word to them will be executed for treason.”
Jinn-Kuen bowed demurely. “As you wish,” he said.
True to plan, three hours later Hachi’s forces, joined by those of the Crab and bearing an adequate amount of jade to protect the entire force, passed through the rarely opened gate in the Great Wall and began the arduous ride south. And if the Crab sentries that discovered the Scorpion had left their armor behind found the matter odd, it was not of concern to any among Hachi’s forces.
A little more than a day’s ride inside the Shadowlands, the army stopped briefly for a moment in order to let the horses catch their breath. Despite the hardy stock that the Crab insisted upon, the beasts were covered in perspiration and their breath came ragged. Chen dismounted and walked the line, looking for any that were in poor enough condition to change out for the limited number of relief horses the group had brought.
Hachi watched him quietly, shaking his head. The man’s intentions were noble, but ultimately futile. The Emerald Champion knew well enough the steeds would not survive the trip. Indeed, he wondered if any of the riders would survive either.
Sekawa rode up alongside Hachi and glanced along the horizon. “This place is worse that even my darkest imaginings,” he said quietly. “How can anything survive here? How can the Emperor still be alive?”
“He must be,” Hachi said. “I cannot believe otherwise.” He turned to the Nezumi standing near the army’s fore, sniffing at the air carefully. “Krn’n,” he called. “Where do we stand?”
The scout’s whiskers twitched. “We stand here,” it said plaintively.
Hachi grimaced, clutching the reins so hard his knuckles were white. “What I mean to say,” he said slowly, “is that I would like to know if we are on the right trail.”
“Oh,” the Grasping Paw scout said. He turned and engaged in a short chattering with a Broken Shinbone scout, who pointed to the south. Krn’n then withdrew a battered scroll and glanced at it carefully. “Yes,” he finally said. “Scout say the human Chief-of-Chiefs come this way. Map say this the right path as well.”
Sekawa’s eyes widened. “May I see the map, please?”
The scout’s eyes narrowed. Sekawa smiled and pulled a decorative pin from the fold of his kimono. “I only wish to look for a moment, and then I will return it. As payment, you may keep this.” He tossed the pin to the scout, who examined it eagerly, then gingerly offered the scroll to the Jade Champion.
Hachi peered over Sekawa’s shoulder curiously. “I have wondered what he was looking at. What is it?”
Sekawa ran his hand across the ancient parchment delicately. “This… this is old,” he said breathlessly. “Very old.” He looked up to the scout. “Where did you find this?”
“Tribe find it in big-big forest, many yesterdays ago,” the scout shrugged. He placed Sekawa’s pin in his mouth and bit it carefully, as if testing the metal. “Old human warren.”
“Hachi,” Sekawa said, turning to let the Emerald Champion see. “Look at this.” He pointed to a large crow emblazoned in flawless, if a bit faded, inkwork on the bottom. “Do you recognize this?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hachi scoffed. “That cannot be genuine. It is a forgery.”
“This is the mark Shinsei used in his writings,” Sekawa insisted. “I have seen it in the oldest records the Brotherhood keeps. If this is a forgery, it is flawless. And the age of this scroll… I do not recall the last time I saw something so ancient.”
“You are suggesting that Shinsei created a map to the tomb, and that the Nezumi happened to have it handy just when we needed it? Do you not find that idea completely preposterous?”
“I would have once,” Sekawa agreed. “Not so any longer. Destiny is a powerful force. None of us can stand against it.”
“It is not destiny I fear,” Hachi said. He turned and waved his hand, signaling that the group was moving on. He turned and craned his head, frowning slightly. “We are close. I hope we can reach the tomb before the storm breaks. I do not wish to be caught in the rain in this place.”
“Storm?” Sekawa frowned.
“I hear thunder in the distance,” Hachi said, nodding toward the southest.
“That is no storm,” Chen said darkly. “Would that it was.”
Hachi braced himself and prepared for death. He whispered a quick prayer to both his ancestors and whatever Fortunes might still hold sway in this twisted, evil place. Many times in the past few years, he had been close to death. None had held the unwavering, absolute certainty of this moment. Hachi would die here. There would be no escape.
An army of oni raced across the plain toward the tomb. Hachi could see them, even at this distance, racing toward the enormous tomb that his army stood in defense of. He could see the writhing tentacles and the mal-shaped arms tearing at the ground. He could see the slavering maws and the dead, sightless eyes. He could see death approaching. It did not matter. All that mattered was that he die in service to his Emperor. It was better than he deserved.
“Hachi-sama!”
The Emerald Champion turned toward the sound, difficult though it was to tear his eyes away from the horror rampaging toward them. One of his men, a Phoenix, was pointing to the south. Hachi frowned and squinted, trying to see what it might be that could be of interest. And then he saw it.
Cavalry. A hundred, perhaps more. It was the Lost, racing toward them with even greater speed than the oni. Hachi frowned, but he felt little despair at the sight. He had resigned himself to death already. What did it matter from what quarter his death arrived. “Brace yourselves to receive the charge,” he ordered. He did not specify which charge.
The Lost cavalry grew closer by the second, and it soon became evident that they would reach the tomb considerably quicker than the oni. Hachi and Chen ordered their men to turn, placing their front rank to receive the Lost rather than the oni. Hachi knew once his forces were flanked the engagement would be over within seconds, but better to live those seconds free and fighting than to perish with a whimper. “Tonight we stand with our ancestors!” he screamed across his formation. “Will we be proud, or ashamed?”
The roar that rose up from his men betrayed no hint of fear. They lifted their swords and shouted to the heavens that they were coming, and in that moment Hachi had never been prouder. He knew it was a lie. They were afraid to die in this place, and that they would rise again as abominations. But if it must be here, in defense of the Emperor himself, then so be it. He lifted his blade as well, then stepped forward to stand on the front rank, his posture prepared as if facing a duel. The Lost were almost upon them. Hachi could make out the faces of their leaders.
Daigotsu Rekai, the traitor.
Moto Tsume, the abomination.
At the last moment, the Lost veered suddenly and darted toward the east, leaving Hachi and his forces to cough as the dust cloud they had raised washed over them like a wave. Hachi stepped forward, enraged at such disrespect from his enemies, then watched in awe as the Lost cavalry rushed headfirst into the oni horde. The screams and roars as the two forces met were almost overwhelming, but Hachi knew he had but one chance for his men to earn any measure of victory today.
“Charge!” he screamed. “Charge! Death to the demons! Send them back to the pit!”
For the first time since he had passed beneath the Great Wall, Hachi felt a stirring of hope.
The oni was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. It was gigantic, nearly twenty feet tall, but spindly thin all across its body. As it moved across the battlefield, it killed everything it touched. Mirumoto Hirohisa watched as the beast tore a Crab warrior in half, then stared in awe as the arm the thing had used to destroy its foe shifted and changed, adopting the familiar colors of the Crab’s armor and the thick, lacquered spikes that had adorned it. With another arm it cut down a Scorpion, and that arm became streaked with black and red, thinner and faster. It was a perfect killing machine, drinking in the essence of everything it touched and using that to kill again. Hirohisa wondered how such a beast could be killed or even slowed.
A shadow flitted across the battlefield, darting up the beast’s arm and across what passed for a neck, although there was no head to speak of atop it at the moment. There was a flash of bright steel from the shadow and then it was gone, leapt down and disappeared into the chaotic battle once more. Thick, black ichor pumped from the wound the shadow had inflicted, and the beast’s flesh rippled with the forms of the dozens it had killed already. It cast about for its foe, but found nothing.
The shadow appeared again, the bright flash of steel cutting deeply once more, but this time the beast had absorbed enough speed to lash out and cut its attacker. The lithe Scorpion warrior was sent cartwheeling, finally slow enough for Hirohisa to make out her form. Even from here he could see the deep cut along her side. The woman’s hand flickered insider her obi once, twice, three times. Each time a knife sprouted from the demon’s hide near its neck. The wretched thing roared in outrage, although how it did so with no mouth Hirohisa did not know, and lunged forward to crush the Scorpion with its tree-like legs.
Hirohisa was moving at once. He darted between the corpses and the jagged rocks, trying to think of nothing but his task. The certainty of death was shoved ruthlessly aside. The only fleeting thought was his hope that he might survive this battle, and the war with the Crane, and see his watchtower again. Hirohisa had hated his post there for much of his command, but he longed for the quiet serenity now. Life was not without irony.
“Shun!” he shouted, leaping nimbly over a low, slavering oni that reached up ineffectively toward him with ribbon-like tentacles. “Shun, grab hold!” He threw himself into the rapidly decreasing divide between the Scorpion and the lumbering death above her, grabbing her arm and twisting to avoid the oni’s leg. He felt Shun’s hand close around his, and he rolled, wondering idly if the stone bits biting into his back and shoulders would infect him with the Taint.
He was on his feet in an instant, grinning triumphantly as he looked back to the oni. His smile died when he say the blood pooling around the thing’s foot. He glanced over at Shun, only to grimace as he realized he had not been fast enough. He dropped the grisly trophy and drew his blades again. “You die today, beast,” he snarled under his breath.
Only a short distance away, the Nezumi shaman Chitik watched with distaste as the Dragon warrior darted in and out, trying to kill the much larger beast. Anyone with any sense could see that the thing was too big. Did one warrior try to kill a bear? Of course not. Ridiculous.
“Aid me, creature!” a human hissed. The man did not look familiar, and his robes were smeared with all manner of things humans normally tried to avoid. “We must fell the demon!”
Chitik’s eyes narrowed, but he had been paid to aid the humans. Paid quite well, actually. “What you want Chitik to do?” he asked cautiously.
“The demon’s name is powerful!” the human said, pointing to the creature. “But it is its weakness as well! Together we can fell it!”
The shaman’s whiskers twitched involuntarily. This was the sort of thing that could make one’s Name quite powerful indeed. “What I do?”
“Its name!” the human shouted. “Its name is Yojireru no Oni! Try to take it!”
Chitik frowned. That manner of magic was beyond his power, although he had often convinced humans otherwise. Even under these circumstances, he could hardly reveal his secret; he might never be paid! “Chitik will!” he proclaimed proudly, wondering what he would do.
The shaman reached out through the power of Name and assessed his enemy. It was so powerful! Chitik had never felt anything like it before. The demon had an incredibly strong Name, and many other smaller Names besides! It was as if it devoured them, stealing bits and pieces of others as it defeated them. Chitik scowled at the sacrilege of it. There were limits to what a Nezumi could endure, even one such as himself!
“Can you do it?” the human demanded.
“Chitik will!” the shaman roared. He seized the beast’s Name and began fraying it around the edges, trying to unravel the patchwork fabric that only he and his magic could see. He could no longer see the world normally, but he could hear the monster screaming in pain. He attacked it with the savagery of a Crippled Bone berserker, hurling his own Name against the much more powerful foe’s.
“What is happening?” the human hissed. “Is it working?”
“Too strong!” Chitik wailed after several moments. “Chitik can’t hold it!”
“Are you still linked?” the human said, grabbing the shaman by the fur on his shoulder. “Are you connected to it?”
“Yes!” Chitik snarled through clenched teeth.
“Good.” There was a sudden stinging and pressure in Chitik’s back. He felt woozy, and there was the sensation of liquid running down his back. “Then this will hurt the demon as well.”
True to the human’s words, the demon roared even louder, quaking and slumping onto the ground where it spasmed uncontrollably Chitik felt weakness washing over him, passing through him into the oni, then slowly slid to the ground.
“Our orders were to aid the samurai,” Chuda Isoruko said with a twisted smile. “You hardly count, I think. Sacrifices must be made, regardless.”
As he lay on the ground, his life slipping away, Chitik wondered if perhaps the humans would at least send his payment to his tribe.
Hiruma Sakimi grunted with satisfaction as she pried her tetsubo loose from the skull of another demon. She heard a shout of alarm from behind her, even among the chaos surrounding her. The scout turned and saw a small group of Hachi’s forces split off from the main force. One, a Miya by his markings, was valiantly fending off a pack of podlings with one hand while holding a banner aloft. Sakimi scowled at the idea, certain the herald was throwing his life away for a banner, until she saw the insignia: a brilliant mid-day sun shining down on the Imperial chrysanthemum.
It was the Emperor’s personal standard, borne aloft by his servants among the Imperial families.
Sakimi shouted, trying to distract the creatures assailing the herald, but to no avail. Even as she ran toward him, she saw the creatures cut deeply into his legs and back again and again, but he did not falter. He swung his blade again and again, hacking his way free of them. Just when it seemed that he might emerge victorious, a shadow fell over him. Sakimi cried out a warning, but it was too late. A winged sanru no oni swept down and tore his head off with a single blow of its powerful claws.
“Filth!” Sakimi shrieked. She leapt atop a boulder and hurled herself into the air with every bit of strength remaining in her legs. She sailed through the short distance between the two, severing the sanru no oni’s arm and leg on its left side with her katana as she did so. She landed with a graceless thud in the thick, reddish mud and released her tetsubo, reaching out with her free hand to grab the standard before it fell to the ground. It was a crime for one not of Imperial blood to touch so sacred an artifact, but Sakimi did not care. Better that she be punished for her crime than the Emperor’s standard to fall in the bloodied, tainted earth so far from the palace. Sakimi shouted a war cry and raced back to the army’s main force, her blade in one hand and the standard in another.
“Hachi!” Chen roared. “We cannot hold them forever!”
“We do not have to!” Hachi shouted. “Gather the officers! We are going in after the Emperor!”
“What?” Chen demanded. “What will that accomplish?”
“We must know what is taking place within the Tomb!” Sekawa answered. “If he will be within it for too long, we can withdraw inside and collapse the entrance! If not, we must be ready to run at a moment’s notice! Regardless, he could be injured or require assistance!”
“Fine!” Chen bellowed. “Officers, to me! Matsu Takuya, hold the line!”
The young Lion officer saluted briefly, then turned and cut another oni down. He glanced at Benika. “Go!” he shouted. “I will watch your pride!”
“They will not obey you!” the beastmaster returned.
“They need not!” Takuya answered. “They need only follow!” With that, the young Lion leapt atop a demon nearly three times his size and began plunging his blade into its back repeatedly, all the while screaming an ancient Matsu war cry. The lions, already half-drunk on the scent of blood, followed suit and leapt at the beast, tearing at it with their claws and teeth. Benika shouted in delight, then turned and followed Chen, Hachi, and Sekawa into the tomb.
Slowly, the other Emperor’s defenders broke away as well, entering the tomb in twos and threes, until all were lost within its depths, seeking the Emperor amid shadows that had not been disturbed in a thousand years.
The battle raged on.
They found the Emperor deep within the tomb, in a shadowed chamber filled with strange, ancient artifacts covered in varying layers of thick dust. “My Emperor,” Hachi said breathlessly, dropping to one knee. “Are you all right?”
The Emperor gave no sign that he had heard his Emerald Champion. “These are the signs he left for us,” he muttered. Under his arm he held a thick scroll, discolored and wrinkled by age. “These are the paths we must choose.”
“Emperor-chief!” a Broken Shinbone warchief chirped loudly. It gestured to the battlefield above them even as a thunderous roar shook dust from the ceiling down upon them. “Listen!”
Naseru tilted his head and listened. Even from these depths, he could hear the roaring of oni, and the screams of dying samurai. Men and women that were giving their lives for him at this very moment, only a short distance away. “The demons have come for me,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes,” Chen confirmed, his expression grim.
“Is there time to escape?” Naseru asked.
“No,” Chen said darkly. “They are too many, and too close. They will pursue us and kill us all. Still, we must try.”
“No,” the Emperor said sharply. He gestured to the artifacts scattered around the chamber. “Take these. Return them to the Empire. Study them, and keep them safe. They are our salvation. They are the key to Rokugan’s very survival.”
“Forgive me, my Emperor, but perhaps you misunderstand,” Chen said cautiously. “There is a legion of demons above us. Their number is without measure. We cannot escape.”
“There is a way,” Naseru said. “One way, the only way remaining.” He handed the scroll beneath his arm to Sekawa and whispered something to the Jade Champion. Sekawa stared back at him in confusion. “We will buy the time needed to take these items back to the Empire by giving the demons that which they desire.”
Hachi frowned. “What is that, Toturi-sama?”
Toturi Naseru drew his blade. “My death.”
On the battlefield above, the sky grew dark as a black shadow crept across the sun.
TO BE CONCLUDED
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
The Great Carpenter Wall
Duty atop the Kaiu Wall was considered at once among the most sacred assignments a Crab warrior could receive, and among the most dreaded. The survival expectation of those serving varied considerably depending upon which length of the Wall one served, but there was no section, not so much as a single mile, that could be considered safe. At any point, a sentry might hear the distant rumbling from deep within the Shadowlands, and the alarm would be sounded. So many times over the centuries, the sinister forces of Fu Leng had ridden forth and crashed against the Wall, and so many times the Crab had pushed them back. Losses were inevitable, of course, but the sons of Hida had never shirked from the terrible sound that emanated from the south.
Today, however, the thunder came from the north. The sentries braced at the sound of it, and prepared to signal their brothers along the Wall that another attack had come. Even as they stood ready to light the signal fires and send runners, however, the Crab warriors looked up in confusion, scanning the southern horizon for any sign of an enemy. Then, slowly, they turned to the north.
The thunder was cavalry, somewhere between two and three hundred. The sentries tensed, glancing from one to another and preparing for an attack. It was not until the army grew closer and the Emperor’s banner was seen that a cheer went up from the Wall. The Emperor’s defenders had arrived at last.
One man did not cheer. Yasuki Jinn-Kuen grimaced at the approach, then glanced across the Wall into the Shadowlands. His was the expression of a man weighing cost and benefit, and after a moment he merely shook his head in resignation. He turned back toward the advancing army and raised a hand in greeting as they pulled up short. “Hail, Yasuki Hachi-sama, Emerald Champion.”
An exhausted looking Hachi leapt down from his mount, wiping the dirt and perspiration from his face. “Jinn-Kuen,” he nodded. “We will need new horses. These have been riding almost non-stop since the Scorpion lands. They need rest and water or they will die.”
“I expected as much,” Jinn-Kuen said, glancing over his shoulder at the other Crab as Hachi mentioned the Scorpion. “I have made the necessary arrangements.” He waved to a group of youths, who advanced and began taking the obviously exhausted horses away. “The jade I promised is ready. We will leave as soon as you are ready.”
“We are ready now,” Hachi insisted.
“No.” A burly Unicorn samurai leapt down and somewhat reluctantly relinquished his steed to a Crab child. “The men are too tired, Hachi. They need rest.”
“There is no time,” Hachi said flatly. “The Emperor needs us now. It may already be too late.”
“Very well,” Moto Chen said. “And when we reach the Emperor, assuming those great rats can even take us to him as they claim, we will all be too weak from hunger and exhaustion to lift our weapons in his defense.”
Hachi scowled. “There is no time, Chen,” he repeated.
“If we leave now, every man and woman in this force will perish, possibly before we reach the Tomb and certainly within moments of our arrival.” Chen stared at the Champion unabashedly. “What is more important to you, success or punctuality?”
Hachi’s features twisted up in irritation, then crumbled into an expression of almost complete despair. “Three hours,” he croaked. “Tell them.”
Chen nodded. “You will not regret this decision,” he said, and turned to arrange it.
“Hachi-sama,” Jinn-Kuen said quietly as the Champion turned away. “We may have a problem.”
Hachi smiled wanly. “What might that be?”
Jinn-Kuen gestured discreetly to the dozen or so armored Scorpion warriors among Hachi’s forces. “Those men will not be allowed to barrack anywhere in the Crab lands. I suggest you keep them under guard to avoid… unpleasantness.”
“Lord Kuon has given orders,” Hachi began.
“Yes,” Jinn-Kuen interrupted. “He has given orders that your forces be given free travel throughout our lands and that you are to be given any supplies you require. They do not mention anything regarding hospitality, and I assure you that there is none to be had for the Scorpion. We have had a bit of a… shall we call it an infestation, of assassins in recent months.”
“These men are warriors,” Hachi said, gesturing to their heavy armor and weapons. “They are soldiers, not assassins. One can hardly go leaping from rooftop to rooftop with a poisoned blade in one hand and ill will in the other when one is clad in nearly fifty pounds of lacquered armor.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Jinn-Kuen said.
“See to it they are fed and housed,” Hachi snapped. “Anyone who so much as speaks an ill word to them will be executed for treason.”
Jinn-Kuen bowed demurely. “As you wish,” he said.
True to plan, three hours later Hachi’s forces, joined by those of the Crab and bearing an adequate amount of jade to protect the entire force, passed through the rarely opened gate in the Great Wall and began the arduous ride south. And if the Crab sentries that discovered the Scorpion had left their armor behind found the matter odd, it was not of concern to any among Hachi’s forces.
A little more than a day’s ride inside the Shadowlands, the army stopped briefly for a moment in order to let the horses catch their breath. Despite the hardy stock that the Crab insisted upon, the beasts were covered in perspiration and their breath came ragged. Chen dismounted and walked the line, looking for any that were in poor enough condition to change out for the limited number of relief horses the group had brought.
Hachi watched him quietly, shaking his head. The man’s intentions were noble, but ultimately futile. The Emerald Champion knew well enough the steeds would not survive the trip. Indeed, he wondered if any of the riders would survive either.
Sekawa rode up alongside Hachi and glanced along the horizon. “This place is worse that even my darkest imaginings,” he said quietly. “How can anything survive here? How can the Emperor still be alive?”
“He must be,” Hachi said. “I cannot believe otherwise.” He turned to the Nezumi standing near the army’s fore, sniffing at the air carefully. “Krn’n,” he called. “Where do we stand?”
The scout’s whiskers twitched. “We stand here,” it said plaintively.
Hachi grimaced, clutching the reins so hard his knuckles were white. “What I mean to say,” he said slowly, “is that I would like to know if we are on the right trail.”
“Oh,” the Grasping Paw scout said. He turned and engaged in a short chattering with a Broken Shinbone scout, who pointed to the south. Krn’n then withdrew a battered scroll and glanced at it carefully. “Yes,” he finally said. “Scout say the human Chief-of-Chiefs come this way. Map say this the right path as well.”
Sekawa’s eyes widened. “May I see the map, please?”
The scout’s eyes narrowed. Sekawa smiled and pulled a decorative pin from the fold of his kimono. “I only wish to look for a moment, and then I will return it. As payment, you may keep this.” He tossed the pin to the scout, who examined it eagerly, then gingerly offered the scroll to the Jade Champion.
Hachi peered over Sekawa’s shoulder curiously. “I have wondered what he was looking at. What is it?”
Sekawa ran his hand across the ancient parchment delicately. “This… this is old,” he said breathlessly. “Very old.” He looked up to the scout. “Where did you find this?”
“Tribe find it in big-big forest, many yesterdays ago,” the scout shrugged. He placed Sekawa’s pin in his mouth and bit it carefully, as if testing the metal. “Old human warren.”
“Hachi,” Sekawa said, turning to let the Emerald Champion see. “Look at this.” He pointed to a large crow emblazoned in flawless, if a bit faded, inkwork on the bottom. “Do you recognize this?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hachi scoffed. “That cannot be genuine. It is a forgery.”
“This is the mark Shinsei used in his writings,” Sekawa insisted. “I have seen it in the oldest records the Brotherhood keeps. If this is a forgery, it is flawless. And the age of this scroll… I do not recall the last time I saw something so ancient.”
“You are suggesting that Shinsei created a map to the tomb, and that the Nezumi happened to have it handy just when we needed it? Do you not find that idea completely preposterous?”
“I would have once,” Sekawa agreed. “Not so any longer. Destiny is a powerful force. None of us can stand against it.”
“It is not destiny I fear,” Hachi said. He turned and waved his hand, signaling that the group was moving on. He turned and craned his head, frowning slightly. “We are close. I hope we can reach the tomb before the storm breaks. I do not wish to be caught in the rain in this place.”
“Storm?” Sekawa frowned.
“I hear thunder in the distance,” Hachi said, nodding toward the southest.
“That is no storm,” Chen said darkly. “Would that it was.”
Hachi braced himself and prepared for death. He whispered a quick prayer to both his ancestors and whatever Fortunes might still hold sway in this twisted, evil place. Many times in the past few years, he had been close to death. None had held the unwavering, absolute certainty of this moment. Hachi would die here. There would be no escape.
An army of oni raced across the plain toward the tomb. Hachi could see them, even at this distance, racing toward the enormous tomb that his army stood in defense of. He could see the writhing tentacles and the mal-shaped arms tearing at the ground. He could see the slavering maws and the dead, sightless eyes. He could see death approaching. It did not matter. All that mattered was that he die in service to his Emperor. It was better than he deserved.
“Hachi-sama!”
The Emerald Champion turned toward the sound, difficult though it was to tear his eyes away from the horror rampaging toward them. One of his men, a Phoenix, was pointing to the south. Hachi frowned and squinted, trying to see what it might be that could be of interest. And then he saw it.
Cavalry. A hundred, perhaps more. It was the Lost, racing toward them with even greater speed than the oni. Hachi frowned, but he felt little despair at the sight. He had resigned himself to death already. What did it matter from what quarter his death arrived. “Brace yourselves to receive the charge,” he ordered. He did not specify which charge.
The Lost cavalry grew closer by the second, and it soon became evident that they would reach the tomb considerably quicker than the oni. Hachi and Chen ordered their men to turn, placing their front rank to receive the Lost rather than the oni. Hachi knew once his forces were flanked the engagement would be over within seconds, but better to live those seconds free and fighting than to perish with a whimper. “Tonight we stand with our ancestors!” he screamed across his formation. “Will we be proud, or ashamed?”
The roar that rose up from his men betrayed no hint of fear. They lifted their swords and shouted to the heavens that they were coming, and in that moment Hachi had never been prouder. He knew it was a lie. They were afraid to die in this place, and that they would rise again as abominations. But if it must be here, in defense of the Emperor himself, then so be it. He lifted his blade as well, then stepped forward to stand on the front rank, his posture prepared as if facing a duel. The Lost were almost upon them. Hachi could make out the faces of their leaders.
Daigotsu Rekai, the traitor.
Moto Tsume, the abomination.
At the last moment, the Lost veered suddenly and darted toward the east, leaving Hachi and his forces to cough as the dust cloud they had raised washed over them like a wave. Hachi stepped forward, enraged at such disrespect from his enemies, then watched in awe as the Lost cavalry rushed headfirst into the oni horde. The screams and roars as the two forces met were almost overwhelming, but Hachi knew he had but one chance for his men to earn any measure of victory today.
“Charge!” he screamed. “Charge! Death to the demons! Send them back to the pit!”
For the first time since he had passed beneath the Great Wall, Hachi felt a stirring of hope.
The oni was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. It was gigantic, nearly twenty feet tall, but spindly thin all across its body. As it moved across the battlefield, it killed everything it touched. Mirumoto Hirohisa watched as the beast tore a Crab warrior in half, then stared in awe as the arm the thing had used to destroy its foe shifted and changed, adopting the familiar colors of the Crab’s armor and the thick, lacquered spikes that had adorned it. With another arm it cut down a Scorpion, and that arm became streaked with black and red, thinner and faster. It was a perfect killing machine, drinking in the essence of everything it touched and using that to kill again. Hirohisa wondered how such a beast could be killed or even slowed.
A shadow flitted across the battlefield, darting up the beast’s arm and across what passed for a neck, although there was no head to speak of atop it at the moment. There was a flash of bright steel from the shadow and then it was gone, leapt down and disappeared into the chaotic battle once more. Thick, black ichor pumped from the wound the shadow had inflicted, and the beast’s flesh rippled with the forms of the dozens it had killed already. It cast about for its foe, but found nothing.
The shadow appeared again, the bright flash of steel cutting deeply once more, but this time the beast had absorbed enough speed to lash out and cut its attacker. The lithe Scorpion warrior was sent cartwheeling, finally slow enough for Hirohisa to make out her form. Even from here he could see the deep cut along her side. The woman’s hand flickered insider her obi once, twice, three times. Each time a knife sprouted from the demon’s hide near its neck. The wretched thing roared in outrage, although how it did so with no mouth Hirohisa did not know, and lunged forward to crush the Scorpion with its tree-like legs.
Hirohisa was moving at once. He darted between the corpses and the jagged rocks, trying to think of nothing but his task. The certainty of death was shoved ruthlessly aside. The only fleeting thought was his hope that he might survive this battle, and the war with the Crane, and see his watchtower again. Hirohisa had hated his post there for much of his command, but he longed for the quiet serenity now. Life was not without irony.
“Shun!” he shouted, leaping nimbly over a low, slavering oni that reached up ineffectively toward him with ribbon-like tentacles. “Shun, grab hold!” He threw himself into the rapidly decreasing divide between the Scorpion and the lumbering death above her, grabbing her arm and twisting to avoid the oni’s leg. He felt Shun’s hand close around his, and he rolled, wondering idly if the stone bits biting into his back and shoulders would infect him with the Taint.
He was on his feet in an instant, grinning triumphantly as he looked back to the oni. His smile died when he say the blood pooling around the thing’s foot. He glanced over at Shun, only to grimace as he realized he had not been fast enough. He dropped the grisly trophy and drew his blades again. “You die today, beast,” he snarled under his breath.
Only a short distance away, the Nezumi shaman Chitik watched with distaste as the Dragon warrior darted in and out, trying to kill the much larger beast. Anyone with any sense could see that the thing was too big. Did one warrior try to kill a bear? Of course not. Ridiculous.
“Aid me, creature!” a human hissed. The man did not look familiar, and his robes were smeared with all manner of things humans normally tried to avoid. “We must fell the demon!”
Chitik’s eyes narrowed, but he had been paid to aid the humans. Paid quite well, actually. “What you want Chitik to do?” he asked cautiously.
“The demon’s name is powerful!” the human said, pointing to the creature. “But it is its weakness as well! Together we can fell it!”
The shaman’s whiskers twitched involuntarily. This was the sort of thing that could make one’s Name quite powerful indeed. “What I do?”
“Its name!” the human shouted. “Its name is Yojireru no Oni! Try to take it!”
Chitik frowned. That manner of magic was beyond his power, although he had often convinced humans otherwise. Even under these circumstances, he could hardly reveal his secret; he might never be paid! “Chitik will!” he proclaimed proudly, wondering what he would do.
The shaman reached out through the power of Name and assessed his enemy. It was so powerful! Chitik had never felt anything like it before. The demon had an incredibly strong Name, and many other smaller Names besides! It was as if it devoured them, stealing bits and pieces of others as it defeated them. Chitik scowled at the sacrilege of it. There were limits to what a Nezumi could endure, even one such as himself!
“Can you do it?” the human demanded.
“Chitik will!” the shaman roared. He seized the beast’s Name and began fraying it around the edges, trying to unravel the patchwork fabric that only he and his magic could see. He could no longer see the world normally, but he could hear the monster screaming in pain. He attacked it with the savagery of a Crippled Bone berserker, hurling his own Name against the much more powerful foe’s.
“What is happening?” the human hissed. “Is it working?”
“Too strong!” Chitik wailed after several moments. “Chitik can’t hold it!”
“Are you still linked?” the human said, grabbing the shaman by the fur on his shoulder. “Are you connected to it?”
“Yes!” Chitik snarled through clenched teeth.
“Good.” There was a sudden stinging and pressure in Chitik’s back. He felt woozy, and there was the sensation of liquid running down his back. “Then this will hurt the demon as well.”
True to the human’s words, the demon roared even louder, quaking and slumping onto the ground where it spasmed uncontrollably Chitik felt weakness washing over him, passing through him into the oni, then slowly slid to the ground.
“Our orders were to aid the samurai,” Chuda Isoruko said with a twisted smile. “You hardly count, I think. Sacrifices must be made, regardless.”
As he lay on the ground, his life slipping away, Chitik wondered if perhaps the humans would at least send his payment to his tribe.
Hiruma Sakimi grunted with satisfaction as she pried her tetsubo loose from the skull of another demon. She heard a shout of alarm from behind her, even among the chaos surrounding her. The scout turned and saw a small group of Hachi’s forces split off from the main force. One, a Miya by his markings, was valiantly fending off a pack of podlings with one hand while holding a banner aloft. Sakimi scowled at the idea, certain the herald was throwing his life away for a banner, until she saw the insignia: a brilliant mid-day sun shining down on the Imperial chrysanthemum.
It was the Emperor’s personal standard, borne aloft by his servants among the Imperial families.
Sakimi shouted, trying to distract the creatures assailing the herald, but to no avail. Even as she ran toward him, she saw the creatures cut deeply into his legs and back again and again, but he did not falter. He swung his blade again and again, hacking his way free of them. Just when it seemed that he might emerge victorious, a shadow fell over him. Sakimi cried out a warning, but it was too late. A winged sanru no oni swept down and tore his head off with a single blow of its powerful claws.
“Filth!” Sakimi shrieked. She leapt atop a boulder and hurled herself into the air with every bit of strength remaining in her legs. She sailed through the short distance between the two, severing the sanru no oni’s arm and leg on its left side with her katana as she did so. She landed with a graceless thud in the thick, reddish mud and released her tetsubo, reaching out with her free hand to grab the standard before it fell to the ground. It was a crime for one not of Imperial blood to touch so sacred an artifact, but Sakimi did not care. Better that she be punished for her crime than the Emperor’s standard to fall in the bloodied, tainted earth so far from the palace. Sakimi shouted a war cry and raced back to the army’s main force, her blade in one hand and the standard in another.
“Hachi!” Chen roared. “We cannot hold them forever!”
“We do not have to!” Hachi shouted. “Gather the officers! We are going in after the Emperor!”
“What?” Chen demanded. “What will that accomplish?”
“We must know what is taking place within the Tomb!” Sekawa answered. “If he will be within it for too long, we can withdraw inside and collapse the entrance! If not, we must be ready to run at a moment’s notice! Regardless, he could be injured or require assistance!”
“Fine!” Chen bellowed. “Officers, to me! Matsu Takuya, hold the line!”
The young Lion officer saluted briefly, then turned and cut another oni down. He glanced at Benika. “Go!” he shouted. “I will watch your pride!”
“They will not obey you!” the beastmaster returned.
“They need not!” Takuya answered. “They need only follow!” With that, the young Lion leapt atop a demon nearly three times his size and began plunging his blade into its back repeatedly, all the while screaming an ancient Matsu war cry. The lions, already half-drunk on the scent of blood, followed suit and leapt at the beast, tearing at it with their claws and teeth. Benika shouted in delight, then turned and followed Chen, Hachi, and Sekawa into the tomb.
Slowly, the other Emperor’s defenders broke away as well, entering the tomb in twos and threes, until all were lost within its depths, seeking the Emperor amid shadows that had not been disturbed in a thousand years.
The battle raged on.
They found the Emperor deep within the tomb, in a shadowed chamber filled with strange, ancient artifacts covered in varying layers of thick dust. “My Emperor,” Hachi said breathlessly, dropping to one knee. “Are you all right?”
The Emperor gave no sign that he had heard his Emerald Champion. “These are the signs he left for us,” he muttered. Under his arm he held a thick scroll, discolored and wrinkled by age. “These are the paths we must choose.”
“Emperor-chief!” a Broken Shinbone warchief chirped loudly. It gestured to the battlefield above them even as a thunderous roar shook dust from the ceiling down upon them. “Listen!”
Naseru tilted his head and listened. Even from these depths, he could hear the roaring of oni, and the screams of dying samurai. Men and women that were giving their lives for him at this very moment, only a short distance away. “The demons have come for me,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes,” Chen confirmed, his expression grim.
“Is there time to escape?” Naseru asked.
“No,” Chen said darkly. “They are too many, and too close. They will pursue us and kill us all. Still, we must try.”
“No,” the Emperor said sharply. He gestured to the artifacts scattered around the chamber. “Take these. Return them to the Empire. Study them, and keep them safe. They are our salvation. They are the key to Rokugan’s very survival.”
“Forgive me, my Emperor, but perhaps you misunderstand,” Chen said cautiously. “There is a legion of demons above us. Their number is without measure. We cannot escape.”
“There is a way,” Naseru said. “One way, the only way remaining.” He handed the scroll beneath his arm to Sekawa and whispered something to the Jade Champion. Sekawa stared back at him in confusion. “We will buy the time needed to take these items back to the Empire by giving the demons that which they desire.”
Hachi frowned. “What is that, Toturi-sama?”
Toturi Naseru drew his blade. “My death.”
On the battlefield above, the sky grew dark as a black shadow crept across the sun.
TO BE CONCLUDED
The only way to keep a secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
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Goju Kaze
- Shinri Historien
- Messages : 5959
- Inscription : 07 mai 2002, 23:00
- Localisation : Honor's Lesson Dojo - Kyuden Bayushi
Ce n'était pas l'enjeuTaka a écrit :Hirohisa n'a pas tué Shun.
Ben faudra attendre, on ne sait même pas si Yojireru est mortTaka a écrit :Yojireru no Oni a peut-être mangé Shusui, on n'en sait rien.
Ben popurquoi ça aurait du être mishakene?Taka a écrit :Chitik ne s'est pas fait tué par Mishakene.
Ah ben dans le texte elle dit qu'elle mourra peut être pour avoir oser toucher l'étendart, wet and sea.Taka a écrit :Sakimi ne s'est aucunement sacrifié pour sauver l'étendard.
The only way to keep a secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
D'après ce qui avait été annoncé sur plusieurs sites, si.Ce n'était pas l'enjeu
Y a déjà eu tout un chapitre consacré à Yojireru. Ca m'étonnerait franchement que Shawn revienne encore dessus dans la 4éme partie.Ben faudra attendre, on ne sait même pas si Yojireru est mort
Parce que c'est ce qui avait été annoncé?Ben popurquoi ça aurait du être mishakene?
Si c'est ça, c'est assez minable comme sacrifice.Ah ben dans le texte elle dit qu'elle mourra peut être pour avoir oser toucher l'étendart
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Goju Kaze
- Shinri Historien
- Messages : 5959
- Inscription : 07 mai 2002, 23:00
- Localisation : Honor's Lesson Dojo - Kyuden Bayushi
1&3 - Ben les sites ont eu tord, l'enjeu n'était pas ça.
2 - Shawn a dit "Qui vous dit que Yojireru est mort?" ce qui me semble assez explicite. Maintenant je ne sais pas si il reviendra de suite dessus.
4 - Oui, aussi, mais il ne me semble pas qu'elle devaient mourrir, mais là je n'ai pas entendu l'annonce donc je ne peux rien affirmer.
2 - Shawn a dit "Qui vous dit que Yojireru est mort?" ce qui me semble assez explicite. Maintenant je ne sais pas si il reviendra de suite dessus.
4 - Oui, aussi, mais il ne me semble pas qu'elle devaient mourrir, mais là je n'ai pas entendu l'annonce donc je ne peux rien affirmer.
The only way to keep a secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
1 & 3- Sans doute les sites ont-ils eu leurs informations de joueurs scorpions alors... 
2- Peu importe qu'il soit mort ou non, y a très peu de chance que ce soit mentionné dans la 4éme partie.
4- Il a été dit qu'elle se sacrifierai pour sauver l'étendard. A moins que là encore, l'information, pourtant communiqué par des joueurs présents, soit fausse. Mais ça commencerai à faire franchement beaucoup d'informations fausses sur les sites.
2- Peu importe qu'il soit mort ou non, y a très peu de chance que ce soit mentionné dans la 4éme partie.
4- Il a été dit qu'elle se sacrifierai pour sauver l'étendard. A moins que là encore, l'information, pourtant communiqué par des joueurs présents, soit fausse. Mais ça commencerai à faire franchement beaucoup d'informations fausses sur les sites.
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Goju Kaze
- Shinri Historien
- Messages : 5959
- Inscription : 07 mai 2002, 23:00
- Localisation : Honor's Lesson Dojo - Kyuden Bayushi
Honnetement, vu les annonces au mégaphone du premier jour et le fait qu'il y avait 300 trucs à faire. Voir le site de la Jade Hand, ils ont du recroiser leurs sources.
The only way to keep a secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Ben Franklin : "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
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Hiruma Vizzo
- Chasseur de prime
- Messages : 225
- Inscription : 09 avr. 2003, 23:00
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