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PostPosted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 8:07 pm 

Apologies to my Partners. Life is a bit hectic.Thanks for being understanding.

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Five thousand year-old legends tell of Byakko or The White Tiger from China. When the tiger reached 500 years old, its tail turned white. Its great spirit, full of wisdom and strength, achieved a higher form and supernatural powers. It was said that the white tiger would only appear when the emperor ruled with absolute virtue, or if there was peace throughout the world. However, it was feared as soon as it was discovered. Locals began hunting Byakko despite its benevolent nature. Not wishing to harm or be harmed, Byakko assumed the form of a young man and boarded a ship from China to Japan. Once there, the legends say, he became a favored companion to Akemi, a daughter of Amaterasu. Taking pity on Byakko, who was alone, Akemi snipped a tuft of his fur. She used this to bring to life Torami, a mate for Byakko. Byakko was overjoyed and thanked his friend profusely. Byakko and Torami lived for a thousand years and had many children. This was the origin of the the Byakko no Ichizoku (White Tiger Clan). Upon his death, Akemi placed Byakko in the heavens to honor his strength, wisdom and prowess.

Three thousand years later, Saidai, descendant of Byakko, was praised as the greatest daiyōkai in all the northern lands and chief of the White Tiger Clan. However, he was aged and preparing to hand his title to his son, Osoroshīdesu. Osoroshīdesu was a renowned warrior and commander. He longed to surpass his father and even Byakko himself. This ambition led him to commission a demon smith known as Kajiya to forge him a mystic suit of armor known as Yōkai-ō no Yoroi or the Demon King Armor. The tale behind its forging is tragic and bloody. Osoroshīdesu gathered lesser demons who were bound to him. Once gathered, the commander slaughtered them and their emotional commitment to him seeped into their flesh and bones. The collected remains were then forged into the pieces of the armor, each endowed with a powerful emotional attachment. Osoroshīdesu’s own blood awakened the aura of each piece, instilling its emotion into any demon nearby.

Once his armor was forged, no demon could resist him. Osoroshīdesu led the White Tiger Clan to be the greatest clan in the region. He increased their lands tenfold. However, when enemies began to grow short, he became a danger to anyone around him. Drunk with power, he went mad. He no longer stopped at attacking the enemies to the White Tiger Clan. He began to see enemies within as well. Saidai knew he had to be stopped or he would wipe out the Clan. The only two people that Osoroshīdesu did not fear were Saidai and Haruko, his bride. Desperate, Saidai pleaded with Haruko to put a stop to Osoroshīdesu.

Now, Haruko was well-versed with herbs. Despite her father-in-law’s insistence that death was the only way to be sure Osoroshīdesu was stopped, she loved him and didn’t have the heart to kill him. She prepared her husband a meal and seasoned it with a paralyzing herb. Osoroshīdesu suspected nothing until the effects of the herb began to kick in. After he was rendered completely paralyzed, Haruko stripped him of Yōkai-ō no Yoroi and attempted to have it destroyed. The aura of the armor prevented this. Instead, she had it sealed and scattered to the winds. She prayed that it would never be discovered.


***


Young Lord Morimoto Ayumu smirked. He couldn’t believe it. It was laying on a altar surrounded by Seals and purifying candles. His fingers hovered over its iron-like surface. It was warm even from a distance. He could feel the demonic aura even as it lay untapped and repressed. This was it. Teishutsu no dō: the Chestplate of Submission. And it was his, forever. His smirk grew wider.

Morimoto turned to face the scene happening around him. His men were well underway in clearing out the monastery. No one would know he was here or even that he had possession of the chestplate. Not yet. It was too soon. He needed more of the Demon King Armor first. A monk escaped the clutches of one of his men and rushed at the purifying altar. He grabbed at Morimoto's robes.

“My lord! You can’t do this! You have no idea what you’re dealing with!”

Morimoto looked at him, disgusted. “Of course I do. It is you that is clueless.”

He pulled out a tanken and stabbed the old monk in the chest. The lord shoved him to one side. He wiped the blade on the monk’s robes. He turned his attention back to the chestplate. He reached for it. A sharp electric shock ran up his arm, leaving the smell of singed hair lingering despite the wax of candles. He scowled and shook his hand to relieve the pain. It was a good thing he’d come prepared. He turned to the only standing monk in the room. Even to the untrained, his spiritual powers were understood. He was a bald, dark-eyed man whose face was empty, too empty. He should feel something for the loss of life and defilement of this place of worship, but he was above those things. He was a strange being. His aura was simultaneously as pure as freshly fallen snow yet it was a dark as a moonless night. Whoever said that a monk’s spiritual power was connected to his purity should have specified that it had to be a purely good.

“Gorou, do your job.”

Ishii Gorou tipped his large bamboo hat slightly. He approached the altar. He laid his shakujō staff down on the floor and presented a large fan. Bowing his head in prayer, he focused his spiritual powers. He suddenly swept the fan sharply to the side, creating a great wind which filled the shrine and instantly put out the candles. The men started to panic a bit in the sudden darkness, though Morimoto stood there calmly. The aura-charged wind systematically stripped the chestplate of its seals. The instant the last seal left the chestplate there was a pulse of demonic power from it. Its aura was so mighty that it exuded an eerie, crimson glow. His smirked returning, Morimoto returned to standing over the Teishutsu no dō. He turned to his gaze to Ishii Gorou.

“Now all we need is the bloodline.”

***


Matsubara Aikiko hefted the clay jug of water. This was her final chore this morning. Then she could have a little personal time. Several woman of Kumishiri village walked by and greeted her. The priestess smiled and returned their greeting. She took the few steps from the village well to the start of the stone steps to the shrine. She sighed. There were a fair amount of them. This was the least fun part of the job. She plastered a smile on her face and started up the steps.

Aikiko paused halfway up the steps to take a breath. She looked around and sighed. You could see all of Kumishiri from here. There really wasn’t that much to see. Other than the shrine and its outbuildings, there were only maybe twenty small houses and shops gathered around the shrine and its well. There were fields of crops beyond that, but little else. Wiping her brow, Aikiko continued her journey home. The young priestess arrived at the top of the stairs to find her grandmother, Sayuri, impatiently sweeping the grounds. She was ever the perfectionist in search of self-improvement.

“Granddaughter! I could have had five jugs filled and emptied in the time it took you to do one!” She scolded, “Now, hurry up and take that to your mother!”

Aikiko sighed. “Yes, Grandmother.”

The young priestess entered the small home of her family. Her mother, Chou, was hard at work making wards and cooking dinner. Chou looked up at her daughter and smiled. She was a kind, tender soul who felt the call to nurture and heal strongly. Aikiko smiled back and poured the water into the large storage container next to the cooking pot.

“Thanks you, sweetheart. I hope Grandmother didn’t give you a hard time.”

Aikiko snorted and sat down. “She did but that’s Grandmother. Do you need help?”

Chou smiled and handed her some of the uncompleted wards. They sat quietly and worked.

If only Aikiko knew how her life would change. Soon, the lives of four heroes would collide in strange ways. Together they would decide the fate of thousands. To think it would all start in this tiny village

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Last edited by Teal88 on Fri Jan 22, 2016 5:07 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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PostThis post was deleted by Teal88 on Sun Jan 17, 2016 8:18 pm.
Reason: double post
PostPosted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 11:41 pm 

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A worn missionary path stretched far into the neighbouring forest of a small insignificant village. On either side the sun stretched it's tendrils through the ever shifting trees. A light northern wind touched them gently, and nature's everpresent song was playing for any who would listen. Three hundred meters down this very path, the shadow of a man crept along the stones and dirt, following him as any shadow does.

His eyes were not cast down upon it, but sighted ahead of him, as if fixed on a goal. He was tall, about 6'2", with blackened hair pulled into a warrior's wolf tail. His face gave away one of youth, maybe early twenties, but the hard lines upon it showed someone who was constantly deep in thought. His skin reminded someone of a charcoal maker's hands after a work day. Smooth and ashen white. His eyes were closed, and his expression suddenly seemed to flinch, his eyebrows furrowing for some unknown reason. Despite the only sound were his wooden sandals against the ground, his blue and black kimono's fabric shifting against his Katana, and the wind moving the trees, his eyes darted to the left in annoyance.

One might think an obvious warrior like himself had just spotted an ambush, but even the most advanced Demon's senses would see or hear nothing but the sounds of the forest. This is because what Moroa was responding to was a companion only he could see.

On his left was Moroa's "friend," Katako. A wraith whom shared ownership of Moroa's body. While Moroa was in control of his own faculties, Katako was part of his very mind. Katako, in his blue ghostly form, was currently speaking to Moroa for the fourth time since the Ronin had requested they travel in silence. Moroa rather enjoyed the sounds and feel of the forest. As of late he had gained a new appreciation for the life around him.

"I'm sorry, but i'm really bored. Couldn't we just, play eye spy or something?" Said Katako. He was dressed similarly to Moroa, as he too was once a samurai warrior. The difference between the two were Katako's longer and more expressive face. His own hair, a ghostly blue like the rest of his form, was tied into a long pony tail.

"I do not want to play eye spy, no." Replied Moroa.

"What about tag, we'll get there sooner."

"I cannot touch you, tag isn't even an option."

Katako gave a long "AGhhhhhhh" in reply, and threw his arms behind his head, continueing their walk. He could simply disappear into Moroa's mind at any time, but preferred to see the world out of his own eyes while they travelled.

By this time, Moroa had reached the treeline, and spotted the village he wished to reach through the foliage. He hefted his traveling pack upwards, adjusting it, and began to walk again. It was rather small, his bedroll doubling the pack's size. It seemed insufficient for travelling supplies, really. Moroa had decided upon this path because of the village ahead. It was rather famous for it's shrine, favorable for prayers.

"I don't know why you want to stop and pray anyways, Kami already did your favor--"

"Don't speak about it." Moroa cut him off, just before stepping within the boundaries of the village. He would avoid talking to Katako while in town, as it wasn't exactly favorable to see someone talking to themselves. Moroa rather disliked unneeded attention. This, however, had never stopped Katako from speaking to him. Noone else could hear him, so he had actually gained a habit of speaking the most when Moroa couldn't tell him to shut up. Moroa's eyes wandered around the shopping district he had arrived at. Several women were making their daily trips back from the river after drawing water, and people bustled about with their daily shopping. He caught the eye of a bored looking fruit vendor, a sleepy eyed old man. Moroa approached him and gave a kind smile, his eyes reciprocating the same attitude. His voice was a dramatic change from the flat tone he had used when he was annoyed with Katako.

"Excuse me, sir, which way is it to the shrine."

"The shrine? Yes it's just down the road, and within the walls. You can't miss it." The man nodded curtly, raising his finger and pointing towards the north end of the village.

Moroa thanked him and headed in that direction, knowing nothing of the events about to transpire which would effect him deeply.

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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2016 3:23 am 

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Since there may have been some distant relation of Hoshoku Mushiba that lived in China, he figured that he might very well have been related to the White Tiger clan at times. It would have made sense, considering the fact that he looked something like a tiger to some mild degree. Should he ever have found out something like that it would have answered a number of questions that he had. These were questions, of course, that he had held onto for a long time.

Nevertheless, Mushiba had of course lived nothing like a member of a storied clan. He'd instead been a longtime traveler. He was a monk who had sworn away all of his earthly possessions, considering even his blessed firearm to be the property of the holy order that he served. With each step he took, he meditated on the sacred sutras that continued to give him strength even when the failings of the material world were unable to do so.

For a monk, though, he didn't exactly dress like one. The somewhat vaguely feline half-demon wore a garment made of red plates of polished wood reinforced with metal. He served, perhaps, as one of the drafted soldiers that served as warriors far beneath the samurai class. It was yet another admission of incredible humility when it came to his status.

Those like Moroa were proud warriors. The Samurai, of course, were a class of professional soldiers. Mushiba was something quite different. He was someone who had a task to perform, and hoped for the absolute best when performing said task. Often a victim of circumstance, he had worked well to ensure that he could have at least made the best out of a rather bad situation that had seemed to befall the entire country of Japan in many ways.

Eventually he too arrived at the shrine currently occupied by Matsubara Aikiko, and once he was there immediately removed the large conical hat that he had worn around his head. He unlatched the strap that held it in place, and allowed it to rest comfortably between his two gauntlet-wearing hands.

Removing a portion of his footwear as he recognized that he was on holy ground, Mushiba continued to step forward. He looked about, hoping that one of the priests or priestesses that attended to this shrine would have come to him shortly.

Had they not, though, he would have more than likely started to speak anyway. Without anyone there to listen, he would certainly have looked extremely foolish to say the very least. People in these small towns seldom liked unusual spectacles like that. They would have often assumed that someone was crazy very quickly.

"I know all too well that our orders are not in communion. Perhaps, though, we could both put aside our theological differences and share with me some news. I serve under a local samurai, and have come on an inspection tour."

Naturally he was referring to the fact that this was a presumably Shinto shrine. His particular school was rather exacting in its instruction of the Buddha's teachings, and therefore there was some concern when he had phrased that before. There were some in the Shinto sect who were uncharitable toward Buddhists. He had met Buddhists who were uncharitable toward followers of a Shinto path. Religious differences, to him, were a sad state of affairs. He had no use for them, and had become increasingly idealistic in that sense.

"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Brother Hoshoku Mushiba." He didn't mention the particular order of monks that he was a member of, but it would have been easy enough to figure out considering that he were outfitted as a regular enlisted soldier. There was only one order famous for having members amongst the military in Japan serving in any capacity other than army chaplains.

While this could have ended badly, he sincerely hoped it wouldn't have. He was clearly displaying the fact that he was a half-demon in order to ensure that they wouldn't have insisted that anything were being hidden from them. More notable was the fact that his weapon was currently unloaded. Naturally he couldn't have brought himself to kill anyone on sacred ground.

That being said, something inside Mushiba told him that the priest and priestesses here probably had little idea how to spot a loaded Tanegashima rifle and distinguish it from one that wasn't loaded. More than likely they would have had little experience in that respect.


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2016 11:09 am 

SHE'S DEAD!

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The sun was blaring brightly today; pleasantly warm and unobstructed by clouds. A calm breeze sent ripples across the grass and tickled at Junji's sides and legs.The sound of overhead chirping birds made Junji's ears twitch in irritation. Just a little bit longer he thought as he placed an arm over his face to block out the sunlight and mute the animal songs around him. Regardless of his efforts, the birds seemed hellbent on getting on his nerves. Junji let out an annoyed groan before sitting up and glaring at the shade tree. With a quick hop, Junji swiped the creature out of the tree and into his hands. The bird tried in futility to flap away but it only managed to get a single black wing free.

"You know, If I didn't have something to do today I'd be cooking you right now, ya pest," Junji weakly tossed the bird out of his hand and it fluttered away in a panic.

"You think about what you did!" he shouted after it before turning back to the tree and retrieving his clothes. Junji dressed carefully, trying to remember what exactly would look out of place in a town. Junji raised his arms over his head and pressed his hands against his ears. The fuzzy appendages disappeared like a slight of hand magic trick. Still holding his hands on his head, he slid them down and lifted them away. A pair of old-fashioned human ears adorned the side of his face making Junji grin in satisfaction. The action wasn't necessary, but why not add a little flair?

Junji gathered the rest of his supplies and clothing up before heading towards the small village. Get in there, find a map of the area and get out, Junji. Simple enough, nothing else, His stomach grumbled noisily in protest Maybe snag some food... Shoulda ate that bird,

The village was far from spectacular or significant but there was still quite a bustle. Stores were open and people attended to their daily duties with great purpose. Children ran about excitedly and a few visitors perused curiously among the wares and food... FOOD! Junji quickly scrambled toward a fruit vendor who was preoccupied with a question from a rather pale man. Within an instant the fruit was slipped into his sleeve and Junji was out of sight. Junji smirked at his own ability as he rolled the peach in his hand before taking a ravenous bite. That old man knows his stuff because this is incredible! he thought to himself as he bit hard into the fruit once more.

Junji hadn't been paying attention to where he was walking, his senses had been occupied but now that his stomach was calmed a bit, he realized he'd wandered straight into the confines of a shrine. A visible frown colored his expression as he stopped his approach and prepared to do an about-face. Junji wasn't a big fan of priests; they were prideful and believed they understood things they didn't. "Tanuki like you are a bad omen!" he said mocking the warbly voice of an old priest before scoffing "tch, old men with hippo teeth should be the bad omen, at least we look good," he grumbled to himself as he found a path back to the main village. He was about to head down the path when he spotted the man that had been his cover. The man was outfitted like a high-class samurai and he had a funny smell, at least he didn't smell like the other humans in the village... which meant he must be a traveler? It makes sense that he would travel to a shrine; most human warriors would travel to them to give themselves some mythical boon or another. Junji thought to himself A traveler like that could have a map! his face became a mix of determination and excitement as he walked perpendicular to the path of the swordsman and focused in on a large pack he was carrying. With a slight increase to his pace, the boy gently brushed against the man. In that instant, he had managed to feel about the pack. Unfortunately, a bedroll had been covering anything else in his pack. The boy let out an audible huff in agitation before continuing on his way, making sure to give the man a brisk "sorry," as he moved. Of course it would've seemed rude, but Junji didn't care right now. He was focused on getting that map.

At that very moment, a voice interrupted Junji's train of thought and made him visibly jolt. "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Brother Hoshoku Mushiba." the man had proclaimed in a raised voice. Junji was almost amused at the spectacle he was looking at... almost; A demon in a cannon fodder's clothing proclaiming himself as a missionary of some faith? Someone in hell was losing their ****. The demon was standing at a shinto shrine, blindly proclaiming in the hopes that people would gather about him and not try to chase him off or skewer him. Maybe he was hoping that people would be captivated by his looks and would take it as some great symbolism; that there were spirits protecting this village or some other nonsense. Why are the pretty ones always crazy? Junji thought as he walked towards the man.

Once he was close enough, he took a chomp of his peach. Making considerable noise when the man had taken a pause. He took a moment to chew before speaking again "Soooo..... A demon priest..... that fights in wars?" he took another bite of his peach and made a humming noise "Is that even, I dunno, allowed? Seems like a conflict of interests," Junji just realized he'd spoken his mind with the candor of a child but the observational awareness of someone a deal older. Luckily, Junji was pretty sure this guy was crazy so he'd probably pay no heed to it.

"Seems like you were supposed to find this place," he said casually "and a village this small isn't something people find by heart or memory," Junji looked up at the man with a barely contained grin spreading across his face. Good Job, we just found ourselves a backup plan.


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PostPosted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 6:49 pm 

Apologies to my Partners. Life is a bit hectic.Thanks for being understanding.

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Sayuri was finishing up her sweeping when the monk approached. She looked up at him. She raised her eyebrow. Well, he clearly wasn't human but he didn't seem to be threatening. Despite the fact that he carried a weapon, he was not wielding it. Also, she could tell he was a monk. However, why would a Buddhist monk be at a Shinto shrine? This was very odd. Sayuri approached and bowed nonetheless. She was head priestess here, after all. No use in lowering ourselves to petty squabbling.

"Good day, sir monk. Welcome to Kumishiri shrine. What brings you to a Shinto shrine?" She listened patiently while he explained his reasoning. "An inspection? This is unexpected. Is your lord samurai a Shinto follower?"

The situation become even stranger when a tanuki appeared and started looking the monk up and down. She was a little nervous having two non-humans around. While neither had made a move to be threatening, you can never know with demons and she was outnumbered. Plus, something about the way the young tanuki moved made her think that his intentions were not honorable. The fact that she was almost surely being ignored was interesting. He seemed to chat away without care that anyone could hear him. He did have a point though about finding this village.

Sayuri thought she heard footsteps on stone. She glanced toward the path up to see a man in samurai apparel coming up the steps. Ah, could this be the monk's lord samurai? She was unsure what to do exactly. Turning towards the house, she called out for her granddaughter.

"Aikiko! We have guests. Come see to them!"


Aikiko appeared from the house and walked over to where her grandmother was standing. Akiko, being young and inexperienced in her dealing with non-humans, she flinched slightly at the sight of Mushiba and Junji. She recovered as quickly as she could and bowed to them.

"Hello."

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PostPosted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 10:03 pm 

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Moroa continued his path uninhibited after the passing demon attempted to pickpocket him. It was not at all that he hadn't noticed. Of course he noticed. He, however, knew he had absolutely nothing to steal. He also figured that if someone had reason enough to steal from him, they needed it more than he.

"HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING TO THAT THIEF?!" Shouted Katako directly into Moroa's mind, materializing next to him.

"He took nothing." Said the samurai, completely unaffected by the rebellion his body-partner was attempting to rise.

"That's not the point..." he said with the same reverence as a pouting child. After a short passage of moments he noticed the demon had stopped at the same spot which was Moroa's destination with another of his kind, and the samurai grinned at the thought. They were both in the company of the head priestess, and Moroa could not help but be a tad suspicious.

He was behind them at the same time Akiko had come to greet them at her grandmother's request.

"Excuse me gentlemen, are you here to pray as well? I enjoy company. My girl, could you lead us all to the shrine's sanctuary?" He smiled warmly, his voice having the sound of a wise older brother. He hand attempted to find it's way onto the thief's shoulder, in a friendly sort of way from behind. This was partially to make him uncomfortable, and let him know silently Moroa was fully aware of his intentions. It was only then, however, Moroa fully discerned that the other man was a Buddhist. He certainly had the presence of a monk. "Of course, it seems this one has other gods on his mind."

He raised his eyebrows in question, but in no way wanted to intrude. He was simply fully surprised. Katako then gave his own input into the situation, which obviously the others could not hear. "Hey hey she's kinda cute. Wouldn't mind praying with her. A little young for you though, eh Moroa? And what the hell's an armed demon Buddhist priest doing at a famous shinto shrine, and talking to a thief? I don't like this. Be vigilant." Moroa's smile stayed on his face, giving no indication that he had heard his companion. He was, however, having much the same thoughts as his ghostly friend.

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PostPosted: Fri Jan 29, 2016 5:32 pm 

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Well, there was at least one thing that day that was pleasant. The sun's warmth was certainly much different from what he had received in terms of a reception from some of the others. While they might have been a bit cold, perhaps due to some prominent and rather obvious differences, he did at least take some warmth in the sun that had been beating down on them.

Without a cloud in the sky, the sun could certainly shine down on them unobstructed, which was a nice switch from before. As an Ashigaru, there had been plenty of times he had been forced through rain and mud. On hot humid days his uniform and hat were unbearably warm, but on cold ones it was nearly useless. This was a lovely change of pace, and it certainly made him offer them a pleasant and peaceful smile.

In some ways that had certainly made him appear to be quite different from Junji, considering the fact that he didn't offer any sort of smirk, and he looked genuine by comparison. His look was genuine, which made it all the worse considering that Junji had already nonverbally declared him to be dressed like cannon fodder and to be of demonic heritage. To be honest, Mushiba preferred the term otherworldly to demonic when people addressed him. The term demon sounded so unholy to him.

To some degree, Junji was right since he was a spirit, in a manner of speaking, and he would have willingly fought to protect the village. It just wasn't nearly in as much of a fairy tale fashion as some would have thought. After all, most fairy tale spirits didn't come in the form of armed gunmen.

"I would prefer it you call me a man of otherworldly heritage, really, even if I have so often used the word demon myself. As a member of the Souhei Order, I am reluctant to kill but realize I often have to for defensive reasons. Have you heard of me, by the way? My name is spelled with the kanji for predation and the kanji for tooth decay." The comment wasn't intended to make him seem crazier, but rather to encourage recognition if he'd seen the name in print and been unsure of how it was pronounced.

It was a common occurrence with classical Japanese calligraphy, after all. "Perhaps there was a reason I was supposed to find this village. Would you be so kind as to fill me in as to what is going on?"

Once Sayuri started to speak to him, he offered another smile, though plenty of his fangs were shown in the process of course. "My Lord Samurai is at least nominally Shinto." Mushiba had wanted to say that the individual in question didn't respect the Kami much, and only attended festivals for the political benefits, but he would never have been so uncharitable. "I am under orders to inspect individual villages, and have stumbled across this one. I am ensuring no one is under any threats. Should there be any, then I am here to take care of them."

Still it was odd even to him, even after saying it, that he would have found a place like this one. Villages like these were generally too small to be on most tactical maps that members of the Samurai class provided to him.

While his feline ears twitched underneath his conical hat, he tried to avoid showing too much emotion while considering the other questions and comments that have been directed toward him. "Prayer could be quite praiseworthy at the moment. While our confessions are not in perfect communion, perhaps my presence could lead us all to a deeper form of brotherhood."


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PostPosted: Fri Jan 29, 2016 7:24 pm 

Apologies to my Partners. Life is a bit hectic.Thanks for being understanding.

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Aikiko was intrigued by the strange assortment of guests and all at once, too. She bowed and swept her hand towards the shine.

"The shrine is right this way if you'd follow me."

She led them the 20 or so feet down the paved path towards the shrine. The first stop was at the purification station. A stone basin full of sanctified water sat on the left while to the right, directly across the path, sat the scared fire. She stooped to pick up the water scoop. She poured it over her hands and then dipped it back into the basin to bring to her mouth for a rinse, careful not to touch her lips to the purified scoop. Gargling, she spit the water into the clay container beside the basin. She moved to the sacred fire and wafted her hands through the smoke. As she did so, she wondered who else would as only most devout Shinto followers do that. It always intrigued her who followed this practice. She paused after purifying to allow the others to finish.

Once everyone was finished, she led them down the final few feet to the shrine. Two stone Shishi (lion-dog) sat on either side of the door, guarding the entrance to the shrine. Entering the open wooden room, it was immediately apparent that this was indeed a special shrine. It may not have been the largest but it did have a special feel. The room was rather smokey and smelled rather sweet from the incense burning around the altar. The altar sat at the far end of the shrine, opposite the door. A scroll sat on a stand in addition to the traditional sacred mirror, sword, and jewel. The altar was roped off with shimenawa with shime (special pleated rope with paper wards hanging from it) and surrounded by standing torches. The donation box sat on the floor outside the ropes on the side closest to the door.

Turning to her right, Aikiko rang the bell hanging by the door. She approached the altar and stopped in front of it. She followed the standard procedure, of course. After bowing twice, she clapped twice. Bowing once more, she opened the offering box and dropped a few coins in. After the ritual, she bowed her head and placed her hand together in front of her. She prayed silently for the Great Spirit of Byakko to protect Kumishiri, the shrine, the sacred objects, her family and, most importantly, the scroll. Not that these folks would realize the important of the scroll. In fact, it was rather strange to have an additional artifact. They might pray for its safety, simply out of respect for it being on Byakko-kami's shrine, but most outsiders would not give it the special consideration Aikiko and her family did. Its content was a secret to all but her family. She smiled and stepped aside to allow the others to have their prayers.

*****


Ishii Gorou paused a moment. He smirked. The small village was exactly where the unfortunate man had said it was. He felt better in having given him a quick death. He had been honest, after all. He adjusted his shakujō staff and its rings rattled slightly. He pulled down his large bamboo hat a little. He smiled the warmest, friendliest smile he could and walked into town. It was enough to follow the villagers unfortunately.

His clearly religious attire served its useful function again. The villagers were sure to get our of him way, smiling and bowing. He made his way to the first shop stall he saw. The young woman tending the stall bowed her head reverently.

"Greeting, sir monk. Can I interest you in a fresh batch of carrots?"

"No, thank you, my daughter. I am seeking your shrine?"

"Oh yes, my lord. Its that way." She pointed in its direction.

He smiled and thanked her. She bowed. Ishii kept his warm composure until he was on the steps of the shrine and sure that no one else could see him. His face returned to its dark, empty countenance. Chou was coming out of the house, carrying her newly made charms to the storage shed. She sensed his presence and turned to greet him, a smile spreading across her face. She froze when she saw his face. She didn't even need her spiritual powers to know that this man was evil. The priestess knew immediately that this was about the scroll. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. The monk smirked wider. He tapped his staff on the ground.

"Good day, Lady Priestess. I see you have already discerned my intentions." He took a menacing step towards her. "Let's see this through the easy way, yes?"

Chou scowled. "Never!"

She threw the charms to the ground. She'd have to make more as they were no longer pure, but more important matters where at hand right now. Chou drew a wakizashi. She had learned some defensive techniques from her late husband, though nothing near her daughter's skill. She was far too peaceful a soul for that. She turned to her mother who was still in the house.

"Mother! Its happening!"

Sayuri wasted no time. She rushed out of the back of the house and to the left towards the shrine. The monk clicked his tongue.

"Have you no sense, old woman? I see you there."

Ishii reached into his robes and drew a knife. He threw the knife and it pierced Sayuri through the back of the left shoulder. For a brief moment, Chou's heart stopped. That was far to close to the heart! Sayuri fell forward onto the ground. Chou's glance shifted back and forth bewteen her mother's limp form and their attacker.

"Mother? Mother?! Are you alright?"

Sayuri moved subtly. She slowly started to crawl forward towards the shrine. Chou sighed in relief. She was still alive! If she hurried, she could still get to her. Chou grit her teeth. She had to distract him from her mother. She couldn't last too long against him, but if she could buy enough time...

"You fiend!" She shouted as she charged him.

*****

The entire scene unfolded with anyone in the shrine being aware. Ten minutes later, a bloody Sayuri crawled to a stop under the gaze of the Shishi, breathing shallowly.

"Aikiko! Under...attack...Scroll!"

The last of her strength spent, she collapsed unconscious.

_________________
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Strange Lands & Stranger Company IC OOC
InuYasha: The Demon Army of the Daimyo IC OOC


Last edited by Teal88 on Sun Jan 31, 2016 5:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Sat Jan 30, 2016 7:26 pm 

SHE'S DEAD!

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"I would prefer it you call me a man of otherworldly heritage, really, even if I have so often used the word demon myself." The demon stated formally. It took all Junji had not to laugh in his face, he was almost entirely sure he was talking to an insane man.
"There's no use putting on airs. You're a demon," he said amusedly "No matter what you call yourself, a ward will stop you, purifying water will burn you, and some religion will hate you," he took a final chomp of his peach before tossing the pit away and crossing his hands over his head

"Besides, demon rolls off the tongue a lot better than 'a man of otherworldly heritage'. Don't you think?" like a switch clicking in his head, Junji realized the man's affiliation. A belief that doesn't have gods, demons or idolatry. A religion that would bring someone to say something along the lines of 'otherworldly influence'. The thought of a Buddhist demon was the cutest thing to Junji; A demon that felt sorry each time he stepped on the grass. Still, it was one of the more agreeable belief systems and, unlike the Shintos, Buddhists were actually delighted to interact with nature. Fond memories made him soften his harsh critical thoughts about the man, even if just a little.

"Hey, what did you say your name was again?" Junji asked curiously as he wiped his hands through his hair.

The demon responded proudly "Have you heard of me, by the way? My name is spelled with the kanji for predation and the kanji for tooth decay."

"Sorry Mushiba-san, but news about foot soldiers is rare and never good,"

Junji's expression turned curious as an old woman began to call for someone to greet them. Her demeanor, attire, and advanced age probably meant she was running things around here. At the command, a young girl with hair like moonlight shuffled out from the nearby home. The girl, Aikiko he was assuming, looked as if she were a younger clone of the old woman. She wasn't as practiced at hiding her discomfort with the situation. Junji couldn't help but pull a fang-baring grin; Almost as if teasing her for her reaction. She gave a tiny, formal greeting. Junji was so tempted to mess with her but at that very moment, a strong scent pervaded his senses and a familiar voice caught him unaware.

"Excuse me gentlemen, are you here to pray as well? I enjoy company," he said as he placed his hand on Junji's shoulder. Junji quickly and deftly brushed the man's hand away; as if he were swatting away a bug. It wasn't meant to be rude but now that this man was extra close, he smelled like death to an unsettling degree. Was he fatally ill and coming here to make some desperate pleas for his life or was he some serial killer looking to pray for forgiveness or some other nonsense? Either way, letting the man have a grip on him, no matter how "friendly" seemed like a bad idea. As the thoughts ran through Junji's head, a small pang of.... something suddenly struck him; he'd either tried to rob a gravely ill man or a mass murderer.He fidgeted a bit closer to the young priestess. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

Toughen up Junji. If he's dying, he can't take the stuff with him. he thought.

My girl, could you lead us all to the shrine's sanctuary?" he continued. Junji visibly frowned. This was not how he'd planned this would go. In fact, it was taking a worst-case scenario turn if he ever saw one, but he'd go along with it for now in the hopes that something good would come out of all of this. The girl gave a carefully rehearsed bow before gesturing gracefully "The shrine is right this way if you'd follow me." she said as she turned to walk along the path. The odd group followed closely behind.

The walk to the shrine was short and quiet, save for the clacking of shoes against stone. The young girl stopped to perform some ritual cleaning with water and fire. Junji held back from poking fun at the ritual but he refused to do it himself; he'd probably burst into flames if he tried anyhow. Junji's nose twitched in displeasure at the overbearing smell that assaulted his nose as he walked sheepishly through the wooden entrance. The inside was nothing spectacular but it was nicely kept at the very least. Junji's eyes twinkled at all the ornate and pristine items within the building. Maybe there was a reason he'd never been allowed into a shrine before.

You have a mission! YOU HAVE A MISSION! Don't forget the mission! he internally screamed.

The sound of a bell gave Junji a start and jolted him out of his thoughts. The girl slowly walked forward and performed another strange ritual; she tossed money in the box Junji had been death-staring before praying before a scroll. She rose and motioned for the group to follow her lead. Junji was almost tempted to step forward, but instead, he stood at the front of the shrine, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he watched curiously. The next few moments seemed to take an eternity as if he were being punished for being a realist.

"Jeez, I didn't know praying was such a-" the sound of wheezing cut Junji short and made his hair raise. "Aikiko! Under...attack...Scroll!" the old woman managed to say before flopping motionless onto the ground. Junji quickly ran towards the woman to ensure she was still breathing. He quickly rolled her over and put his ear to her chest "She's alive... for now," Junji said flatly as he pulled what looked like a soft dark green mass of smashed leaves in a wide jar and a roll of bandaging from his sleeve.

His hands worked quickly to compact the wound which had managed to pierce clean through her. Junji's mind was racing "The entry and exit are different," he remarked "this was a projectile and it was thrown with enough power to go clean through her. A few centimeters down and to the right and she'd have been dead on the spot," he turned towards the others with an unsure look on his face. He for sure wasn't going to greet whatever did this. In fact, after he patched up granny here, he was prepared to bolt, but right now he wasn't in a position to gun it out of here. He needed some cannon-fodder to get him an opening.

"You guys can take care of this right?" he said as his gaze shifted between the armed strangers.

_________________
Son of the Beast and the Leech | +
-King of the men that you truly fear most
-Quite a greedy guest, and not a gracious host
-Claiming souls for my father's land
-Preparing for war is my father's plan
-Revealing desires; dirty and unique
-Committing horrors mortals can't speak
-Ire to the man with a life full of hatred
-Blood from your veins, what you held most sacred.

-Sustain. Empower what you find unholy.
-Bleed. Feed who really needs you wholly.
-Salvation turned her back,
~Even when I sought her
- But Life is my wife and Death is her daughter
- Time goes by but I never grow old
- Happily,
-I watch your Skin. Turn. To Mold.
- Every time around another fleeting time of pleasure
-"Together.... we'll be-
Together-
Forever"
- but then you die, life fallen like a tiny feather
- just a bout of rain from a bad day of weather.
- Every time I feed I concede to my need............ -Unfinished

~Son of the Beast and the Leech


Everything stays
Right where you left it
Everything stays
but it still changes
Ever so Slightly
Daily and Nightly
In little ways
Everything Stays


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 31, 2016 2:46 pm 

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Moroa smiled so faintly after the demon had swatted his hand away it could scarcely had been noticed. Katako remarked on it as well.

"Ah, someone's a little testy," with which he chuckled. He was glad the priestess had lead them all to the shrine together, as was his plan. He wanted to keep the thief in his sights. The Buddhist, however, reacted differently than the Samurai would have imagined. He almost seemed accepting toward praying together.

At the cleansing pool Moroa followed their guide's lead. He, however, did not clense his mouth. Why, one could only guess. Katako had seen him skip this many times when they had stopped to pray. He knew all to well why Moroa did not require it. Moroa then did something else rather different. He drew his sword, and poored the holy water over it's blade. At the fire he cleansed his hands as well. He then held the sword over it until it's soot covered it's sharp side in a thin black coat. He replaced it within it's sheathe at his waste, and continued on to the shrine after awaiting his companions.

He watched as the girl took her own prayer, waiting respectively out of her space. When she arose, Moroa removed his katana and placed it before the altar sideways. Turning to Mushibo he spoke solemnly and respectfully.

"Would you care to join me? Pray to whom you like, we both pray for guidance I trust." He then dropped to his knees silently, leaving room at his left and right, and bowed his head in a warrior's prayer. He knew the thief would not accompany them in prayer, but left this place for another. After a moment he opened his eyes, much too quick for a prayer. His eyes rose to his right, where Katako still stood. Katako flinched at the daggers Moroa stared through him.

"But why do I have to pray? No less with him," he said motioning to the buddhist demon. "I'm dead darnit! Oh for the love of..." And he reluctantly dropped to his ghostly knees as well. Moroa prayed for just what he spoke about. Guidance, a swift sword, and the watchful eyes of the gods. When he finished he placed no coins in the offering box, for he had none. Not that he would have had time reguardless, for just as he finished a woman crawled bloody and grasping for life. His eyes widened, but he was not quick enough to get to her before one of the demons did. He pulled healing items from his sleeve, and Moroa watched him carefully.

"You two can handle this, can't you?" were his words he directed at the soldier and the Samurai. Moroa cast a questioning glance at the gunman.

"You feel it too, don't you Moroa?" Katako's tone was stunningly serious. He was right, Moroa did feel a presence. An evil one. Whomever had done this was unmistakably here for nothing good, as would be obvious to a child at this point.

"Well. I believe we must." Were Moroa's only words before he took off out of the smoky room. He broke into a run, nothing the demon priest couldn't keep up with. Within moments the villain was in his sights. He drew his sword and prepared for battle, it's blade bisecting his stone-blank face. Katako disappeared into Moroa's mind, able to aid his help better there.

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 01, 2016 3:10 pm 

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For what it was worth, Junji was most certainly not speaking to someone who was insane, but rather someone who actually held his own personal convictions indeed in high regard. Internally, though, Junji was completely right. Mushiba felt guilt when we stepped on the grass, and hoped that it could recover even from his footfalls.

All of the food that he ate was scraps that would otherwise have been wasted or issued to him by the military unit that he had served with. He aimed to make as small a negative impact as possible. It was interesting, considering the particular branch of monks that he had worked with.

"I take no offense; few people ever want to see a soldier."

Ironically, Mushiba actually followed Aikiko's practice. Due to reasons of his heritage as he had put it, his hands could only remain in the sacred fire and through that smoke for a split second. For the same reason, he could barely come into contact with the purifying water. Nevertheless, still he did these things, hoping at least that perhaps the fact that they caused him pain would be an act of penance for some sin against the universe committed in a previous lifetime.

Fortunately he wasn't going to have to cross the shimenawa line or come into contact with the shime. Even looking at those shime were painful, though occasionally he had actually gazed upon the paper wards. Once more, these actions accompanied prayers begging for forgiveness, considering that he viewed such painful actions as acts that could express sorrow for sins of the past. This was all drastically different from Junji's belief that he would have burst into flames if he touched any of the purification material.

Rather than say anything, he merely bowed his head and acted quite politely in the shrine. His only words were those that he had internally spoken to himself. Constantly he internally repeated the phrase Namu Amida Butsu over and over again, though he allowed not even his lips to mouth the words.

Apparently one of them seemed a little more respectful, and he of course located himself next to the individual in question who said that they had both prayed for guidance. It was a nice change of pace. However, it also looked like a certain ghostly individual wasn't nearly as happy about this promise of cooperation as he was.

Naturally this moment of solace provided him with insulation from what was going on. As with everyone else, he had no idea what was going on elsewhere. Certainly he would have been able to provide assistance had he been made so aware.

In fact, it would have indeed been a requirement of his.

It didn't take long for him to get thrust into the action all over again though. There was a need for some cannon fodder, and Mushiba had a need to be of service. Removing his gun, he started the laborious process of loading it with a carefully placed nod. "We can certainly take care of anything put before us." Ironically he had already started to speak for the team.

Still, he had been asked as well as the samurai so it would have been best to speak this way he felt. As he took out a match, he placed it in the position on the rifle after having filled it with black powder as well as a rather heavy caliber lead ordinance. Though there were of course some houjutsu experts that could take the recoil of such shots easily, it was especially simple for him considering his demonic or perhaps more properly stated otherworldly heritage.

Interestingly he had used the shot paper to ensure that he didn't touch the actual lead piece at all. Each of his bullets was individually blessed, and he didn't want to upset this fact in the least bit. Once it was loaded he made a quick gesture over it and now vocally repeated the phrase " Namu Amida Butsu."

Moroa seemed quite ready for battle with that sword, and he was going to be right there with him to back him up. Once he got into the proper position, he would have taken a shot. For a moment or two an eerie glow would play out across his face, considering that he had to light a slow burning match in order to power his weapon of choice. Gritting his teeth, which once more had the after effect of showing off his fangs again, he turned around to remain focused on the battle that looked like it was going to soon escalate quite quickly.

These sorts of conflicts naturally had quite a tendency to do that, and he wasn't overly concerned by that, but instead stayed relatively still and pensive throughout all of it. The combination of his monk's training coupled with his military experience meant that he had been through this before and always called on said training before in order to prevent an overly emotional response.

Such a response in this sort of a situation could, of course, be quite a problem all things considered. It could have seriously thrown him off his game, and he didn't want that at all. After all, if he was going to be of some help, then he needed to be performing as best as he could. Emotions could get in the way, and that was something he knew he had to control even if his demonic half threatened to interrupt.


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