[color=708090][hider=Drumroll please..]
[h3][i][b]And, here we go... Introducing...[/b][/i][/h3]
[h3][i][b][u][center]Stepping Stones Along A Silk Road[/center][/u][/b][/i][/h3]
[h3][i][b][right]Story Arc... [u]BEGIN[/u][/right][/b][/i][/h3]

	“[i][b][u]Tanaka Kozo, Head of Marketing[/u][/b][/i],” read the placard on the side of the door, and the title plaque upon his desk. Behind the grandiose desk of cherry wood, carved along the sides with Sakura petals, embossed and lightened to gentle shade of red, as if to emulate pink, sat a man with slicked back hair of coal that looked as greasy as his heart. Long gone where the sad story days of the Osakan orphan; a meager street urchin that scraped a living off scraps and cons. If he could be bothered, on the odd night out, he could recount the hard lessons launched him off the street, and into marketing -- black and white.

Today... wasn't such an occasion.

No, today was a momentous occasion, to be sure. Draped in a ceremonial gown, as if he were royalty, Kozo thought back on the moment that he rose to the position he held -- not the position of labor, but of uncontested divinity and royalty. It was through the might of a mere playing card that he’d had been gifted the world in part at nearly no cost; all that the spectre that he wore like a regal suit asked was to establish his dominion, anew.

[i]A mutual goal.[/i]

	Standing, Kozo looked over at a woman that had be brought in by two expressionless soldiers; both men that she recognized from accounting, and made of a material that she recognized as terracotta. In the back of her mind, she had a fairly good idea of the situation that she was in, but, she couldn't believe it -- who could, really? ”[color=a2d39c][b]Ayanami-san,[/b][/color]” Kozo says, drawing on a short dagger that was made of the same terracotta material as the soldiers, “[color=a2d39c][b]I won't mince words. I own your soul and fealty,[/b][/color]” he strode up to his, almost like a phantom, “[color=a2d39c][b]so, do not struggle. [i]Serve your Emperor.[/i][/b][/color]”

Kozo, suddenly, jammed the dagger into the pit of her stomach, and ignored the sudden, fearful release of her bladder in favor of the stone that was growing from the wound. It was growing, clothing her, and changing her into one of the soldiers that held her. A wave of his hand, and said soldiers drop her to her stone knees. “[color=a2d39c][b]Rise,[/b][/color]” Kozo ordered, and the soldier that was once a woman stood. “[color=a2d39c][b]Take to your regiment, and assist in expanding my territory,[/b][/color]” he dismissed her, and with a deep bow, she left without a word, “[color=a2d39c][b]Bring me the next one.[/b][/color]”

As the trio of soldiers left, Kozo turned and walked to window, and looked out to his empire. So far, he owned dominion on the first ten blocks, and his soldiers were all that hadn't fled beyond. That was soon to change, however; as the fires rose, the cars crashed, and the city fell to him, block by block, Kozo smiled. He'd much left to conquer along the Silk Road.

[hr]
	Unbeknownst to two people of different walks of life, one an Irishman, the other a Japanese woman; both parents with love and loss scarring them, but children to succeed them, sat across each other without a single acknowledgement to the army that marched upon them.

Feverishly, the man spoke while the woman texted, and upon hanging in, he sighed, and looked up with an apologetic smiles. “[color=808080]My daughter,[/color]” he says, with a syrup-thick Irish accent, “[color=808080]I was letting her know about the train,[/color]” he was trying to make small talk, “[color=808080]I'm guessing you were doing the same? Judging from the fitful rush of your thumbs.[/color]”

Before the woman could offer an answer, be it polite refusal to answer, or the expected answer, there was a distinct, distance, and yet rapidly approaching screech of metal on metal from the south end train tunnel. Looking over, the Irishman saw the bullet train barreling down the track without a hint of control, and whip off the tracks. It would be over in an instant, if he weren’t quicker of thought, and more so of motion.

	Pouncing forward, he shielded the woman with his form, and shouted, “[color=808080][i]Cosaint![/i][/color]” causing a bubble to form around them. It was all her had to tank the clash of metal against magic, as the train whipped against his shield, as he covered the screaming woman beneath him. He couldn't do anything for the others around him, or anyone on the train, but, if he could save one person -- even one... Suddenly, he gasped, as a sword was slammed through his back, straight though his shield, and -- straight into the woman below. He looked back, as he saw the train was being deboarded... by stone statues given some form of enchanted life.

Immediately, he could feel the cursed magic rushing into him. Internally, he could move himself miles, and yet, external, he couldn’t move himself an inch. All he could do was will himself to cast a spell, “[color=808080][i]Teagmháil. Dearg.[/i][/color]” and, unseen, a small stone turned crimson, and shattered in a small pouch on his hip. Looking down, her looked at the woman. “[color=808080]I called for help...[/color]” he says, “[color=808080]Sorry I couldn’t do a little better.[/color]”

[hr]
	“[color=808080]Hana-chan~![/color]” cried out an American girl with platinum blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes, as she glomped the younger of the Suzuki family sisters, and would have took her to the floor of the mall, if not for a rather ornate cane with a bone-white topper. “[color=808080]I can’t believe it![/color]” she gasped, in rather broken Japanese, as she was pulled into very awkward (everyone, but her) piggyback. “[color=808080]I can’t believe it! I’m so happy to see you![/color]” Before the American could get another word in edgewise, Suzuki Hana interrupted her with a strained tap-tap of her cane.

“[color=808080]Lauren, if you could...[/color]” Hana offered a polite allusion, “[color=808080]I cannot stand much longer.[/color]” Contrarian, to the stereotype, Hana was neither a bubbly schoolgirl nor a cautious blind girl; she merely kept herself studious but easygoing. Everything that Lauren wasn’t; she was, refreshingly, stereotypical, and meant to be. That didn’t mean she was oblivious, “[color=808080]Gomanasai,[/color]” Lauren says, notes a shaky, but practiced Japanese accent bleeding out from underneath her born, homegrown Kansan accent. “[color=808080]I totally spaced! I didn’t break anything, did I?[/color]”

Chuckling, Hana rapped her cane against the ground, and tilting her snowed-over eyes to the ground, then up. Lauren stood at grand apex of 6’ 2”; a generous two-inches added by her snazzy heels. Her entire outfit was designed to stand out, and be flashy -- she seemed more like a pop idol than a country bumpkin. Although, Hana couldn’t complete the image as clearly as she would like, but the rapping of her cane -- and a little light magic -- allowed her details that were normally denied in full. 

“[color=808080]I think, I check out,[/color]” Hana says, smirking, “[color=808080]So, let’s go shopping, ne?[/color]” Hana swept her cane forward, and offered her to lead; after she knew the mall like the back of her hand, but Lauren didn’t, and that would make the exploration all the more valuable --  as if seeing the mall anew, herself.

	However, today was simply not a day of exploration.

It was heralded by the sudden shatter of glass, the screams of ordinary folk, and the crushing march of stone against tile that Lauren saw the Terracotta Army descending upon the mall; soldiers of stone, as emotionless, stormed upon them in abject silence, and with swords drawn. Effortlessly, they slashed through everyone they passed; stone swords drawing no blood nor life, but taking their will and freedom, instead.

‘[color=808080][i]M-Magic? N-No,[/i][/color]’ Hana thought, as she tried to sense the mana, while Lauren saw how victims were slowly covered in stone from the slash wounds. ‘[color=808080][i]It’s a curse.[/i][/color]’ Trembling, as she saw something impossible, Lauren turned back to Hana, hoping to escape -- only to scream soundlessly, as a soldier’s sword trust cleanly through Hana’s chest. “[color=808080]Suzuki-chan!?[/color]” she screamed, finding her voice, before a sudden impact turned her shoulder, and a stone arrow rested in it... stone spreading from it. “[color=808080]...ill... help...[/color]”
[hr]
	A bored sigh escaped the disinterested brunet that had been, for lack of a better word, shanghaied, into his next-door neighbor’s escape to He-couldn’t-care-less, Japan. For twelve years, Bill Cumberland been keeping Lauren out of trouble in Kansas City, but, now, he had to babysit her throughout Japan. Sometimes, being a good friend was frankly annoying. In an attempt to alleviate his boredom, he’d been staring at the ceiling. “[color=808080]Suzuki-chan~![/color]” he heard from a floor below him. Lazily, he observed the scene, and shook his head.

“[color=808080]Jeez, you Amazon,[/color]” he lamented, as he saw Lauren nearly smush some poor Asian girl. “[color=808080]She’s, like, two-feet shorter than you. And, blind, too?[/color]” Sighing again, Bill turned and leaned his back on the railing. Staring at the ceiling, he tuned things out -- suddenly, Bill was brought back into reality, as people started screaming. There were many reasons for screaming at a mall, but, he didn’t expect it to be due a to freaking walking statues!

“[color=808080]The hell is this!?[/color]” Bill asks, as Lauren screamed. “[color=808080]Ren![/color]” he shouted, looking back down to see her penpal being shanked in the back, before an arrow shot her in the shoulder. “[color=808080]What the hell!?[/color]” Bill looked at the advance of soldiers, before registering the stomping behind himself. “[color=808080]Sh-Shit![/color]” he stumbled backward, as soldiers were advancing on him, and hit the rail. “[color=808080]I don’t know what’s going on here, but,[/color]” he saddled over the rail, and looked at Lauren, as she was speaking to him, “[color=808080]Sorry, Ren...[/color]”

	Bill booked it for the entrances/exits. However, he fleeing wasn’t as grand a success as he hoped it to be, as he felt his leg give out; from his shin an arrowhead thrust. Looking back, he saw Lauren aiming a longbow at him, as her face disappeared behind the expressionless stone mask of the one he'd known since he was four-years-old. “[color=808080]Awesome,[/color]” he grunted, as he started to hobble-run.

Flipping open his cellphone, he keyed in a number of one of the few people he had as a contact on this side of the globe, and keyed the pad feverishly, {[color=808080][b]Yo, Pope! Shot @ mall! Stone soldiers! WTF!? Coming 2 ur school![/b][/color]} before he shoved on the exit door. However, he didn’t end up any different than any other, once cursed to stone, and his will broke; becoming a part of the hive, part of the empire.. 

As did his last thought....
[hr]
	As Kurokage Kiriya hung up on his granddaughter, he’d passed through the gate of Fudomine Academy without anyone to check him in, or anyone even loitering around between classes. Perhaps, he was just a touch too early; judging from the sun, it was only late morning, after all. Still, a nice hot round of mochi was a good thing at any time of the day -- especially, if they were shaped and styled like 500-yen coins. [i]No matter the time nor place, you can always eat as richly as you please with mochi[/i], Kiriya fondly touted to his granddaughter.

And, with her current stress of Student Council presidency, he knew she needed a little unwinding, and a bit of richness in her life and belly. Unfortunately, he could fathom the depths of stress that was about to plague her, as he set foot into the school; even at a glance, he could tell there was something wrong inside the school. It didn’t hurt that the walls were lined with deep, jagged cuts and the floors were damaged by deep, impact craters.

Fortunately, or, perhaps, unfortunately, Kiriya didn’t see a soul, as he ascended the stairs slowly. As he reached the top, he saw the damage had spread like a fire, and treaded even more cautiously. As he move, he didn’t see anything that would have caused such destruction; but, he concerns were mounting. A bit of extra pep in his step, Kiriya started for the classroom that Kuremi had told him Student Council meeting were held in. 

	Suddenly, there was a crackle of wood, and shifting of stone, before a windowed door burst down with the swing of a sword. Kiriya gave a strangled cry, as he caught the brunt of it with his chest to waist. Stumbling back, he held his chest for a moment. ‘[color=808080][i]No blood.[/i][/color]’ he realized. His fingers found foreign purchase, however. ‘[color=808080][i]Stone?[/i][/color]’ Kiriya looked up at his attacker, who seemed to go dormant. ‘[color=808080][i]A Terracotta Soldier... here... but, how...[/i][/color]’ Behind the wall, several more stood in perfect stillness. They seemed to react to the moment he passed the window, and, as soon as he was stuck, they fell back into stillness. ‘[color=808080][i]Kuremi... I have to...[/i][/color]’

Stumbling, Kiriya moved with a desperate will to see his granddaughter, and as his body was being wrapped in stone, he staggered into the door she was behind; sliding it open, he dropped to the floor. “[color=808080]Kuremi-chan! Run![/color]” he cried out, forcing himself to stay lying, as the stone crept over the rest of his from.

His last act of defiance, before his will was taken in full.
[/hider]

	Maggie had ran the numbers, as Kuremi took her phone call, and looked up once she finished. “[color=f26522]A musical... would work...[/color]” she offered, almost in silence, as if trying not to be heard. “[color=f26522]If we pool resources from the Music Club, Drama Club, and Athletics Club,[/color]” she pressed her abacus forward, “[color=f26522]we can run a production of something...[/color]” Maggie shrank back, as she hid her face behind her hair; long, crimson waves cascading to her hips. Suddenly, her attention was taken from the scene, as she felt a messenger stone rattling in her stone pouch. Opening it, she saw the crimson glow, and her heart mounted in abject fear.

Red meant Danger.

Her father wouldn't have sent her such a message, unless his very life was under threat of imminent death. Jumping to her feet, she started to the door, before it burst down. An influx of noises assaulted her ears, as the Student Council room was a repurposed old Theater Classroom; the soundproofing had been kept up, due to being built into the walls. As such, the sudden introduction to the outside sounds and the crash of the door, followed by the slam of stone against carpeted wood, was as disorienting as the action itself.

	However, it wasn't nearly as disorienting as it was terrifying. Maggie barely registered what the intruder that had fell screamed, as he fell, before she listened to the “flight” option of the two responses. Fear rooted her in place, however as she didn't think about anything but reaching her father, and being saved by him. That would solve everything, as it always did.

Unfortunately, assumptions where the bane of better thinking, and instinct were the downfall of intellect, as Maggie suddenly bolted; deftly, she leapt over the fallen form of the man that had inspired her fear, and flew out of the room. Eyes all but shut, she ran through the hallways, and passed by a windowed door; attracting all the attention of the sentries in the room -- statues of stone that looked like students and teachers she knew drew swords and bows against her, and marched upon her.

Maggie stumbled, and looked back, as a hail of arrows came soaring at her; also to be suddenly rerouted into the walls. “[color=f26522]H-Huh...[/color]” she stammered. Before her eyes, a faint hand of small, yellow particles faded into the ether, and she didn’t think on it another moment, as she forced herself to turn and run.

She needed to find her father.

She had to escape.
[/color]