Eisenhorn

Fire Emblem: Binding Light

Niya silently heard the healer out as he spoke on doing just what he could do in the given situation. His rational that people always needed help and his thinking for not remaining idle in the war was respectable, if nothing else. The troubadour nodded briefly in agreement with the man, her own actions being driven by a similar idea, though her oath currently bound her to a single cause vice her manouverings around the world to aid any who were injured and left destitute from the oncoming storm. But the healer, Konrad as he introduced himself, requested her name and she nodded briefly, resting her staff across her lap as she remained sitting upright on the horse, which seemed to emulate the troubadour's own posture, head held high and formal. "Niya, of Regna Ferox. A pleasure, brother. We should not let the Champion get too far ahead of us." She turned her head briefly to the champion as he asked any of them willing to fight and stand with him to do so and she nodded briefly and made her support known, without mention of the oath over her head right now, however and would move the horse to follow, giving Konrad chance to keep up. "I will aid you, Champion. Lead the way."

Jerod didn't pay his rather cold companion any mind while she was conversing with the unmounted healer. The champion's blanket offer to take them on got a shrug and nod out of the mercenary, having gotten his attention further for now. "Ah wouldn' 'ave gutted all yer enemies 'ere already if ah wasn' intendin' on 'elpin ye lad. Ye got my blade, fer it's worth." Jerod was looking over the wyvern rider and her mount, Pearly, as they responded as well. The approving roar didn't shake the mercenary as one might expect, implying he had seen such beasts before, or was good at bluffing. Jerod wasn't a fan of mounted combat period, but he could never argue their effectiveness upon the field of battle, whether on horseback such as his Feroxian ally Niya, or a pegasus rider or this lady and her wyvern Pearly. Her comment on loving to be the center of attention got an amused snort out of the mercenary as the woman finished with a boastful jest. "Ach, 'owever ye see fit lass, kickin' arse an' takin' names is all part o' the job. And ye'll be gettin' plenty o' attention in parts 'round 'ere, savvy? Call m' Jerod, mercenary fer 'ire, at yer service."

Warhammer 40,000 - Chasing Chaos

The moment the doors to the gallery were open by the Inquisitor's power sword, the armsman was through them with his shotgun ready and sweeping the immediate room he had just gained access to. No immediate sight of traitors, daemons, curators, or even any security to prevent theft or show guests around. That didn't sit well with Stukov, one would think someone would be here to protect or look over such rare relics and pieces of lore and history at all times of the day. But no, there were no alarms, no one trying to find out why an armed band had just forced the lock on the door, with a power weapon no less, but his instincts were screaming bloody murder right now. There was something wrong, in a familiar sense, with this place. He was no psyker, but past exposure was leaving him more sensitive to the apparent corruption in this place. He could not put a finger on it, not formally, but he could feel something wrong with this gallery. Smiles confirmed it with her blunt statement on corruption, and the quiet click as he unloaded the regular buckshot from his shotgun and grabbed a handful of shells with blessings inscribed upon them and loaded those instead.

"I would bet money that whatever the hell is in here knows we are here now, if it didn't know we were coming before. Cultists or Daemons. I'm not sure about this anomaly within a nest of corruption, to be frank, but burn that bridge once we get there...." The armsman was wary and on edge, even more so than one would typically be when told of lurking daemons and heretics. He had been in this situation before, close quarters with traitors, heretics, and any other amalgamation of warp spawned horrors. Changing over to blessed buckshot was a small preventative measure, and about all Stukov had on him that might do more damage than standard ammunition load outs. He never trusted unchecked warp, in essence any non friendly Psyker, in its attempts to pervert and corrupt any and all within its boundaries and reach. An apparently uncorrupted anomaly within the den of evil, was it possible? Yes, Stukov supposed, it was possible. Did he think it likely, absolutely not. But he would err on the side of caution until proven otherwise. Until then, he was not so much looking at the artwork and relics as art and history, but scanning for anything wrong and a potential threat to their small party.

Avenging Honor: A Story of Bushido

Name: Sonoda Hattori

Age: 19

Race: Human

Appearance

Equipment: The only weapon that Sonoda carries is his personally forged blade, the last remaining piece of the Hattori legacy that is currently still in the hands of their rightful bloodline, not even having time to reclaim his or his father's armor. The blade bears no name or honorifics, but is a masterpiece forged by the retained forgemaster of the Hattori clan, many moons of effort and time put into making the finest blade possible for the young man. Since he could not reclaim any armor, he is wearing the same robes he was forced to fight in, lacking a sleeve to cover his possessed arm and shackles and offering practically no defense against any sort of aggression or weather, for that matter.

The only other notable piece of equipment are the two large shackles attached to his sickly white arm. These are blessed by a monk to prevent the spread of the Oni that was cursed into the arm of Sonoda, which are equal parts spirit blessed and special forgework. They help prevent the influence of the Oni upon Sonoda, however, they are only as strong as the will of their wearer, and Sonoda can always simply choose to release the Oni, although, for now, there is certainly no reason why he would dare lose himself over to such a beast of questionable loyalty.

Skills: Daimyo Hattori saw fit to see his son trained in the arts of war first, due to the perceived danger he saw from the Southern part of the province, over political manoeuvrings to ensure his protection should the worst happen. Constant wargames with his father and senior advisers in tactics honed the young man's tactical thinking while resident blademasters trained him in the art of Kenjutsu (Method of the Sword), specifically focusing on Battōjutsu (The craft of drawing out the Sword).

Beyond this, he has cursory training in most traditional weapons, enough to be able to safely handle them but not enough to be overly effective in combat. The one exception would be his introduction to the Tanegashima (Matchlock), a weapon his family and most their retainers did not approve of but Sonoda found an odd fascination with, part of him convinced they would change the face of warfare forever, and has studied the weapon construction when able.

Sonoda is fairly reliant on his surviving retainers and guards for most other things beyond rudimentary survival and dealings with others in a formal sense, his training in the wider arts cut tragically short with the attack upon Hattori Castle and the death of his family.

History: When Sonoda Hattori was born, his father and mother prayed that he would be able to see a diplomatic solution to the increasing tension between North and South. However, while his mother was optimistic, Daimyo Hattori was realistic and knew that he would have to raise a warrior as much as a son to survive the coming times. He spoke of his concerns to no one except his own son, in the rare moments of privacy they were able to have, of the Southern Daimyo Shimazuma Sadayu and his cruelties and increasingly clear determination to take the Hattori land by force. With no allies outside the province willing to aid them openly, out of fear of the newly christened Oni Daiymyo Sadayu, the two quietly knew they were almost completely alone.

Sonoda was raised with warfare in mind, the usual times that would be spent in relaxation, jest, and peaceful pursuits were put to use in training and preperation. Daimyo Hattori secretly confided in his personal guards his shame in forging his own son into a vengeance weapon, a last fail safe to protect the Hattori lineage against the oncoming storm should their walls fail. For most his life Sonoda would know very little of the peaceful world, and grew to see a fatalistic outlook of the world, that it was far darker than it really was. Upon his 18th birthday, an Oni was summoned upon the unsuspecting young man during his coming of age celebration, and shortly after being gifted his sword, blood red flames sprouted from his left hand and left inhuman white flesh behind as they traveled up his arm. Only the fast actions of the retained monk were able to save him, but he was condemned to bear heavy shackles to prevent the Oni's influence spreading further. This was the tipping point that would eventually bring ruin to the Hattori clan.

When the siege upon Hattori castle came, starting upon the young man's 19th birthday, he defied his father's wishes and stood upon the castle ramparts, rallying loyal men and women to the defense of the walls. The sight of the young lord was inspiring, and between Sonoda's on the fly tactics and the carefully planned contingencies, the castle held for far longer than anticipated. But as the assassin's blade claimed his father's life, ranks upon ranks of archers let fly from hidden screens, arrows of flame igniting much of the castle and the gate was forced as it was confirmed Daimyo Hattori was dead. Last stands were made against the Oni and soldiers of Daimyo Sadayu, buying the last heir of the Hattori line, Sonoda, time to flee into the castle.

Sonoda found his father dead, and barely was able to survive the attempt on his life by the very same assassin who fled rather than die to the enraged young man. His mother was missing and his father, dying in his arms. Daimyo Hattori's last breath was charging his son with avenging their clan and stopping the mad reign of the Oni Daimyo, and forced him away into the escape tunnels prepared for this occassion. Mustering the last of his strength, Daimyo Hattori fell protecting his son's retreat, dying in combat as the life blood poured from an assassin made wound. This left the 19 year old Sonoda Hattori apparently alone, but unaware was he of the few retainers and guards, loyal to his cause, pursuing him to aid and protect the orphaned and sole survivor of the lineage.

Warhammer 40,000 - Chasing Chaos

<Snipped quote by Rithy>

A very long time

Don't underestimate the steps

@Skyrte

Respect the steps, fear the steps.

Fire Emblem: Binding Light

Jerod wiped the blood casually off his blade as the fighting ended with the archer apparently fleeing and everyone consolidated their positions around the Champion and immediate fighting ground. The lad approached him and personally thanked him for his intervention, which got a good natured shrug out of the mercenary and an amused snort when he was told to thank the horseback healer for her intervention since he had to aid the others. Well, wasn't that just dandy? He nodded towards the lad as he turned to do the rounds and help out and turned to Niya, who fixed him with a rather icy glare and spoke before he could get a word in edgewise. "I do this not for thanks, but for my oath. So save your breath, mercenary." And Niya angled her horse over to the other healer who had thankfully intervened and took care of the soldiers while she had focused most of her efforts upon the Champion and spoke briefly to him from her perch on horseback, though her gaze was not nearly as cold as it was towards Jerod, a much more analytical and calm look vice icy disdain, as if she was analyzing his response. "Your intervention was timed well, brother."

Jerod heard the champion doing his rounds, and watched as he took in the situation. Another healer, without a horse, some mounted cavalry had arrived too late to do any real good, and some dark mage that just was outright strange, but hell, long as there was no hexing going on, all the better. The out loud thinking prompted Jerod to rest a hand on his sword hilt as he looked skyward, spotting the sight of a Wyvern. Not a good sign, probably, but he didn't just produce arms and attack as soon as it came into range. When the rider and her comrade, the Wyvern itself, dropped the body off and directed her attention right onto the now no doubt flustered champion, he stood silent for a moment before bursting out into a healthy, loud laugh, before bringing it down with an easy grin appearing as he left his arms at his sides. "Ach, talk about makin' an entrance, eh lass? Ah 'avent seen a Wyvern and 'er rider in quite a few years, rare sight these days."

Fire Emblem: Binding Light

Ahh, good old Marianne back to her usual, completely friendly and in no way, shape, or form unstable ways of becoming friends with one and all.

Avenging Honor: A Story of Bushido

Alright, besides the Son I am creating, I am talking with one other person who is planning to make a character, so with that we would have five. So it shouldn't be much longer before we get this started.

Avenging Honor: A Story of Bushido

Good to go @dndragons, move her over to the character tab. I'll try to have the son posted up tonight or tomorrow, schedule willing.

Fire Emblem: Binding Light

Fredrick and that Silver Lance carried so hard early on, and I refused to let him get relegated to the back line after more people who, arguably, could be considered straight better came along. He deserves better than to be forgotten at the bottom of the unit roster, sure as sure.

Avenging Honor: A Story of Bushido

@Tsar Gatto Alright, feel free to move our honorable honor guard over to the character tab, he is approved.

@dndragons Good stuff, and considering the situation a personal servant might have to be shifted to more a retainer role, due to the fact that the very limited resources of the surviving loyalists to Hattori. Just a thought I had on my end of things.