Skull

Poem of the Bladed Nightingale [Skull & Mistress Dizzy]

Ishawari gently lifted the wheat basket, then strapped each cord over his shoulders.

"The Yomiyawa dynasty will live on." He said to the Emperor, bowing slightly. The gesture pulled the prince's weight forward and onto Ishawari's back, which made the bodyguard bow even lower.

"Sorry!" The prince whispered.

Ishawari couldn't help but smile at the boy's tender generosity, though in the back of his mind, he was concerned for the journey ahead. Be strong, young prince. You must be strong, for all of us.

***

Jin went off to scout the area, leaving the two in silence. Ishawari could hear the boy's breathing, which, given the situation, was surprisingly calm. And when the feint sound of sharp steel against wood echoed from the distance, Hotaru gasped, but even then, it was short and muffled.

"It's okay..." Ishawari refrained from using the boy's name. Things were different now. Aliases will be needed, but that will be for a later discussion. "Jin is clearing the way for us. Much like that time we got lost in the kami forest. Do you remember that?"

Hotaru said nothing. Just then, Jin's silhouette approached with a dagger in hand.

"The very first part of the way is safe. Let me lead for the rest."

"No arguments here," Ishawari grinned, "Though, please be careful."

He knew she would, but he said it anyways.

Ishawari adjusted himself to distribute the Prince's weight properly, then followed Jin's lead; spear held in both hands and pointed slightly off to the side. He glanced back at the secret door now sealed shut over head, then never looked back again.

"Off we go..." He whispered.

Poem of the Bladed Nightingale [Skull & Mistress Dizzy]

Double post

Poem of the Bladed Nightingale [Skull & Mistress Dizzy]

Ishawari let out a soft chuckle at her peach comment. In that moment, he thanked The Diamond-Eyed Dragon for her companionship. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone, so to hear Jin confirm her commitment to the cause was invigorating.

Emperor Mifune nodded to the bodyguards, then used whatever strength he still had to carry Prince Hotaru off of his lap, and stand him upright. The child’s cheeks were still wet with tears, but his eyes were now fiery and determined. Prince Hotaru walked toward the center of the room, then stopped in front of the wide brimmed wheat basket with corded straps. He looked back at his father one last time, who nodded to him sternly, then bowed to Jin and Ishawari.

“Thank you very much for your loyalty! I will try my best to make you proud!” Prince Hotaru said before crawling inside and securing the lid overhead.

“I ask a great deal from you both, this I know...” The Emperor said in between coughs. “...But for the sake of Majima, this must be done. We cannot allow the Court to end the Yomiyawa bloodline.” Emperor Mifune’s weary eyes glanced between Jin and Ishawari.

It hurt Ishawari to see him like this, a noble man in his 40s, looking as pale as an old phantom. His long black hair was rugged and soaked in sweat, with loose strands dangling in front of his angular face like docile serpents. It was hard to believe that this was the very same man that lead Majima into prosperity for many years. The only father figure Ishawari has ever known, and he was going to abandon him. He glanced at Jin, then back at the Emperor.

“My lord, you can still come with us!”

“I will only slow you down. Plus, I must keep the Court busy for as long as I can until you get the Prince to safety. This sickness will be my executioner, not their hidden blades. Now, go! Their assassins will be here soon. I sense it.” Emperor Mifune let out a ghastly cough.

Ishawari took in a deep breath, then stared his dark brown eyes into Jin’s.

“I’ll carry the Prince on my back. With my spear I can keep attackers at a distance.” Ishawari said, glancing at her short swords as he approached the wheat basket. “The question now is: Which way should we go?”

Emperor Mifune presented two options:

Decision

1. Behind the Emperor is a window that leads out to the roof tops of the palace. Scaling over to the far side and climbing down along the palace’s mountainside. Quicker escape, but higher chance of getting spotted/encountering guards & assassins.
2. In the center of the room, underneath the wheat basket is a secret door on the floor that leads to an underground passage. Less chance of getting spotted, but there are more traps that could make it equally dangerous.

ꇙ ꒤ ꋊ ꋪ ꒤ ꋊ ꋊ ꏂ ꋪ ꇙ

ANNOUNCEMENT

As requested by Stitches and Bazmund, I have opened a section in the OOC with a map of the local region we will be operating in for now. It isn't very detailed I am afraid BUT I will have the means to make a more detailed map next week. I also have a 3D version of the map if everyone wishes to see it

@LordOfTheNight

Glad you ended up making a map. Thanks for your efforts and hell yeah id like to see the 3D version!

Poem of the Bladed Nightingale [Skull & Mistress Dizzy]

Ishawari

Age: 30
Info: Served as Emperor Mifune’s bodyguard until his son, Hotaru was born. He has no family or clan ties, save the Yomiyawa’s, but is not recognized as an actual affiliate with the royal family. He was a young warrior that Emperor Mifune met during one of his diplomatic travels across Majima, many years ago.

Hotaru

age: 8

Young Emperor Mifune & Empress Chigusa

A ten year old picture taken two years before Hotaru's birth.

Poem of the Bladed Nightingale [Skull & Mistress Dizzy]

PROLOGUE

They will not see your tears in the rain
They will not see your blood in the soot
That crown you wear is worn with pain
Your family tree, they'll uproot

On the one hundredth and twenty second year of the Yomiyawa Dynasty, during the fifteenth day of the Falling Leaf season, the future of the empire cries on his father's lap.

"Now, now." The Emperor's voice, though frail and weak, still flickers like a dying light. "You must be strong, my son."

The child forced his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. When that didn't work, he pressed his face against the Emperor's emaciated chest that rose and fell with every labored breath.

Ishawari shadowed the private chamber's sliding doors, keeping a close lookout.

"Master, please..." Ishawari's impatience was felt in the air. "We have to go!"

To speak to the Emperor in such a way would've been a grave offense under normal circumstances. Tonight was anything but.

"Now, Hotaru, repeat it again." The Emperor said, ignoring the bodyguard.

The son sniffled, trying his best to stare at the gaunt face of his father. He took in a deep breath, then said:

H-head to The Wilting Blossoms and offer the ferryman our...talisman
Keep The Smiling Monk h-happy so he can take you to the mountain men
Do not scare the... Tengu, but be sure to take the silver feather
And let it guide you to the east, to the islands of... The Mentor!

In the fading light of a single candle placed behind the Emperor, Hotaru could see his father's smile of approval.

"Good, my son...now, listen closely..."

Ishawari frowned, then glanced at his soon-to-be partner in crime, hands white knuckling the grips of his spear.

"Are you sure about this?" It almost felt like he was asking himself that question. The two bodyguards had been at Hotaru's side since Mother Isai gave birth to him many moons ago. Ishawari still couldn't grasp the magnitude of the situation, the consequences they will surely face.

"If you walk away...I won't hold it against you. Though, don't be mad if I come haunting you from the afterlife!" Ishawari joked, trying to lighten the mood like he always did, back when life as a bodyguard was less...complicated.

pls delete

They will not see your tears in the rain
They will not see your blood in the soot
That crown you wear is worn with pain
Your family tree, they'll uproot

On the one hundredth and twenty second year of the Yomiyawa Dynasty, during the fifteenth day of the Falling Leaf season, the future of the empire cries on his father's lap.

"Now, now." The Emperor's voice, though frail and weak, still flickers like a dying light. "You must be strong, my son."

The child forced his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. When that didn't work, he pressed his face against the Emperor's emaciated chest that rose and fell with every labored breath.

Ishiwari shadowed the private chamber's sliding doors, keeping a close lookout.

"Master, please..." Ishiwari's impatience was felt in the air. "We have to go!"

To speak to the Emperor in such a way would've been a grave offense under normal circumstances. Tonight was anything but.

"Now, Hotaru, repeat it again." The Emperor said, ignoring the bodyguard.

The son sniffled, trying his best to stare at the gaunt face of his father. He took in a deep breath, then said:

H-head to The Wilting Blossoms and offer the ferryman our...talisman
Keep The Smiling Monk h-happy so he can take you to the mountain men
Do not scare the... Tengu, but be sure to take the silver feather
And let it guide you to the east, to the islands of... The Mentor!

In the fading light of a single candle placed behind the Emperor, Hotaru could see his father's smile of approval.

"Good, my son...now, listen closely..."

Ishiwari frowned, then glanced at his soon-to-be partner in crime, hands white knuckling the grips of his spear.

"Are you sure about this?" It almost felt like he was asking himself that question. The two bodyguards had been at Hotaru's side since Mother Isai gave birth to him many moons ago. Ishiwari still couldn't grasp the magnitude of the situation, the consequences they will surely face.

"If you walk away...I won't hold it against you. Though, don't be mad if I come haunting you from the afterlife!" Ishiwari joked, trying to lighten the mood like he always did, back when life as a bodyguard was less...complicated.

ꇙ ꒤ ꋊ ꋪ ꒤ ꋊ ꋊ ꏂ ꋪ ꇙ

Vardi Zaitsev

s p e c i e s: Human

a g e: 32

h e i g h t / w e i g h t: 5’10”/ 193 lbs

g e n d e r: Male

Attributes

s t a t s

• Strength - 14
• Agility - 14
• Endurance - 20
• Will - 10
• Intelligence - 10
• Charisma - 6

s k i l l s

• Battle Instincts: Vardi is well-versed in weaponry and martial combat, an earned skill from his Battlerage days. He can grasp the strengths and weaknesses of an individual soldier, or an entire army’s stratagem, but he doesn’t have the tact, or the patience, to detail it to others.
• Basic Magic: Most Battleragers are trained in the basic principles of learned magic. Vardi, while a natural in physical combat, needs enchanted armor pieces to amplify his efforts on this front. Vardi can summon basic fire, ice, and wind spells, all of which can only ignite from the clawed-tips of his magic gauntlets.
• Superior Stamina: I know not what devices spur his relentless savagery, but pray he never holds a grudge against you.
• Basic Enchanted Armor Smithing: Vardi is a pragmatist that only smiths to maintain his armor—especially the gauntlets—and his alone. This skill was birthed by necessity, for he grew tired of being at the whim of an unreliable blacksmith whenever his armor broke down. Vardi’s smithing is uninspired, crude, and often inconsistent, but it works well enough for his standards. On the rare occasion he needs the expertise of a Master Blacksmith, it will be, without a doubt, an unpleasant business transaction for all parties involved.

Inventory

w e a p o n s

• Devil's Teeth: These Battlerage mementoes are an ambitious design, the result of a tumultuous collaboration between fae and dwarven inventors. While these items can’t produce magic independently, it can amplify its user’s abilities. In order to maintain elemental influxes, the gauntlet’s durability also increases when magic is activated via alchemical reaction. The gauntlet’s clawed-finger tips are the primary emission sources; Vardi can activate these claws when summoning magic or for melee purposes. Even with these enchanted gloves, Vardi can’t summon elemental projectiles; he can only supercharge the gauntlet’s claws with whatever element he uses. Therefore, whatever he touches will be effected by the magic currently activated.

a r m o r

• Head - None
• Chest - Hepatizon Cuirass
• Left Arm - Devil's Fang Gauntlet
• Right Arm - Devil's Fang Gauntlet
• Left Leg - Leather Boot
• Right Leg - Leather Boot

e q u i p m e n t
Note: These items are kept in pouches strewn along his utility belt.

• Painkiller Vials: Sure, it dulls the pain, but it mainly prevents him from succumbing to rage, especially when in the thick of battle.
• Mana Vials: This is used to cool down his gauntlets at the end of battle, or when he’s rapidly switching elements without delay. These prevent combustive overreactions between its special metals and magic-boosting properties.
• Dwarven Armor Repair Kit: Uncommon smithing tools meant for on-the-go repairs. Their imbued metal properties allow for mending of slight indentations, cracks, and breaks.
• Currency: 10 silver and 10 copper.

Info

a p p e a r a n c e
This man is not a towering beast, but a dangerous one nonetheless. The cold grey in his eyes, the left, slightly mangled by a tragically healed scar, are portals to savagery. His rugged, dark brown hair is kept at neck length; Strands that grow any further are cut with the sharp ends of his gauntlets. Facial grooming is based on however he feels, shaving only when growing a thick beard becomes a nuisance. His long-sleeved brown tunic is made with the same breathable leathers as his slacks and boots, but it also has a fur-capped hood for colder climates. The Hepatizon cuirass and gauntlets, vestiges of his past life, look beaten and weathered down.

p e r s o n a l i t y
Vardi was always a crude vagrant. He was a menace then, before The Night Twins branded the left side of his face with fire acid, and he is a menace now, perhaps more than ever, because of it. What stands before you is a man subdued by vengeance and anger. It is permanently creased into his demeanor, constantly brewing, waiting to be unearthed. Whatever goodness is left in his ashen heart is kept, sparingly, for a select few. This comes as no surprise, what with having been burned (figuratively & literally) by those who were once close to him. Vardi’s softer side is usually exclusive towards people who remind him of the good from his past. His accent has a southern drawl. It reverberates with his deep voice like the hull of a wooden ship, groaning in turbulent seas.

l i k e s

• Fighting
• Any thrill-seeking situation that involves physical risk.
• Destroying things
• Drinking
• Gleekons
• Hunting Gleekons for sport
• Sand sledding

d i s l i k e s

• The Night Twins, Zephrot & Icom
• Authority - more so being told what to do
• Formalities
• Snooty personalities
• Fixing his equipment

ꇙ ꒤ ꋊ ꋪ ꒤ ꋊ ꋊ ꏂ ꋪ ꇙ

Thanks @Yankee. Should be working now.

ꇙ ꒤ ꋊ ꋪ ꒤ ꋊ ꋊ ꏂ ꋪ ꇙ

@stone I know... total reader’s fluff that I got carried away with.

Edit: @Lmpkio Just a bloody font meme of his name. Thanks for pointing this out. Can no one else see it?