Daniel Briscoe
L5R Events Manager

The 2012 Kotei Application PDF is available for download. As noted in the document, all applications need to be sent, duly completed, before November 21, 2011.

We are looking forward receiving your applications and working together on another great Kotei season for the L5R players around the world.

The Destroyer War, Part 18

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The Destroyers were everywhere. The settlement called Silent Village was in the midst of its death throes, with monstrosities of every conceivable size and shape rampaging through the streets. Once the front line of defense had been broken, as it had been after more than a week of assault by the enemy. Attrition and lack of resupply had exacerbated the situation, and now the forces of the Empress were in a full withdrawal from the village, which was being burned around them as they fell back.

Toku Koto staggered left as he ran down the street, recoiling from a sudden conflagration on the right. It was a tea house, as he recalled; he had taken dinner there one night roughly a week ago. No one would take dinner there ever again, for the fireball that consumed it seemed to reach the heavens themselves. Koto felt the side of his face singed, but he did not stop running. His horse was a short distance away, and he would make it no matter the cost.

There. Koto reached his horse. It was a good and loyal steed, but she was close to panicking, and Koto took precious seconds to calm her. It was during those few seconds that he heard the screaming. He looked over his shoulder to see a woman running, a baby in her arms and dragging a child along with her. One of the elephantine monstrosities was bearing down on them. The child stumbled and fell, as if in some dramatic reenactment of a great battle. The mother, refusing to leave her child, turned and with a wild look of savage panic, she drew a simple kitchen knife from her belt.

“No,” Koto muttered. He charged, drawing his blade as he ran. It was no mean feat, for he had always favored the larger and heavier no-dachi. Once the blade was loosed, however, its power was a significant factor in any combat. Koto stepped onto a watering trough for horses and used it to spring over the child’s head. He swung with all his might, cutting clearly through the beast’s trunk and hewing a large piece of meat from the thing’s upper arm. Its scream of pain was terrible, even for its enemies, and Koto quickly finished it with a sword thrust upward through its lower jaw and into its brain.

“I… I…” the woman stuttered.

“Take your children and go,” Koto commanded. “Take my horse and run.”

“Master samurai, I…”

“Go now,” Koto said. “No more talk.”

One of the tiger things rushed him, but he managed to throw himself under its charge and let it rip itself open on his blade. The pressure of it against the weapon nearly tore it from his grasp, but he held tight. As he picked himself up from the ground, he saw the woman and her children hurrying away, the child atop Mikka. She was a good horse. She would take them home, and the Monkey would care for them. Perhaps he would see them there.

That seemed unlikely.

A trio of other tiger beasts were pacing around him. They were focused only on him, and in the corner of his eye he saw others following the mother and her children. He smiled. If these were the packmates of the one he had killed, perhaps he could keep them distracted long enough that all the others could escape. That would be a truly worthwhile act. It was what his father would have done, and that was enough for Koto.

One of the tiger beasts screamed in fury. It coiled for the pounce.

“Fortune favors the mortal man,” Koto said with a smile. He readied his blade and jumped on the beast before it could jump on him.

* * * * *

Mirumoto Kalen finally killed the Destroyer that had been hounding him, rupturing its head with a tetsubo he had taken off a fallen Crab, something that seemed as if it must have been hours ago.  Two more were advancing slowly, almost cautiously. The first time he had faced them, the things acted without any sense of self-preservation, but now they seemed somewhat smarter. The thought set off an instinctual alarm in his chest, and Kalen threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid a strike from the third Destroyer that had circled around behind him. He let out a feral laugh, but he recognized that he was in a terrible situation and could well be dead in a matter of seconds.

“Kill me if you can,” Kalen snarled. “I will not make it easy.”

The first flurry of blows were easily avoided, but they shattered the already muddy ground beneath their feet, and Kalen began having difficulty keeping his footing during the acrobatic endeavors he was forced to adopt to evade his foes. He lashed out with the Crab weapon, but his attacks could not find critical areas with the speed at which he had to move. It would not be long now.

There was a strikingly cold wind as if from nowhere, lasting only a second, and then a phantom of blue and white moved behind the Destroyers. It raced up the length of one, and suddenly it erupted in a fountain of red, coruscating energy before dropping into the mud, its back cut from the base of its spine to the base of its skull. The culprit, a Crane samurai-ko that at first Kalen was certain was the Lady Domotai herself, paused for a moment to nod to him, then launched a storm of attacks on the second Destroyer. This one was more guarded, however, and her assault failed to penetrate its defenses. The third made as if to circle around the pair to attack the Crane, but Kalen, seemingly forgotten for a moment, punished the demon ruthlessly for its forgetfulness. He shattered the thing’s ribs with his tetsubo, although he heard the weapon groan as if near breaking from the stress of the combat.

The Crane maiden and the Destroyer pared off against one another, the demon’s brute force protecting it from the Crane’s lightning attacks, but her speed easily able to avoid its attacks. She seemed strangely tired, however, as if her sudden arrival had been extremely taxing, and Kalen felt concern that she might fall. With a robust bellow, he rushed the Destroyer’s rear and bent its right leg at an entirely unnatural angle with his tetsubo, following through with another strike to the head. The weapon was ruined, but so was his foe. It tipped forward and fell, but with the last second of life, it lashed out with its hand and struck the Crane across the temple

“No!” Kalen rushed to her side. The blood was already flowing freely down her face. “Can you hear me? Doji-sama, can you hear me?”

“Kaneka,” the woman muttered, clearly not in her right mind. “Never… never told you… need to tell you… important…”

Kalen hefted the woman over his shoulder, hoping that no Crane would take it as cause for a blood feud, then began running as fast as he could toward the army encampment somewhere behind him. He would not let her die, not if he could stop it.

* * * * *

After several weeks of preparation and the construction of trenches and barricades by the assembled forces stationed there, the unholy enemy appeared on the horizon. It was a vast force, larger than most of the units that had been seen in the past month. Clearly several sub-commanders had combined their forces in order to ensure victory, or so they hoped. Thousands of troops from all different clans were dug into the village that surrounded the castle, the landscape that had been churned into a fortified plain that would exact a terrible toll on anyone seeking to cross it. Despite the length of the war, despite the enormity of the threat facing the ancestral castle of the Tsuruchi family, loyal vassals of the Mantis Clan, spirits among the defenders were exceptionally high. The Tsuruchi were determined that the Destroyers would be defeated in such a demonstrative manner that it would turn the tide of the war itself, and their enthusiasm was infectious.

Not all shared the spirit of the day, however. There were many who felt a darkness growing in the distance, something besides the enemy that lurked on the horizon. Some whispered that Kali-ma herself was approaching, and that nothing could stop her advance. Several injuries had been reported, resulting from Crab warriors responding to such things violently. Magistrates from four different clans had been working feverishly to maintain the peace during the past few weeks, but every soldier knew that the worst part of any battle was the waiting.

Doji Okakura was among those who felt ill at ease. He had been plagued with dreams he could not understand. They did not feel like his dreams at all. They felt like something someone else had experienced, something that had been thrust into his mind like an unwelcome blade. Now he stood in the summer heat, his blood cold in his veins. This was the scene from his dream, the scene that he had seen over and over again every night for a week. It was as if he was seeing it again, and he prayed that he would awaken. But of course he did not. This was no dream. This was a dream made real.

One of the scouts in the trenches next to him squinted. “What is that?” the woman muttered to herself. On the horizon, the clouds were darkening rapidly. They went from gray to almost black in a matter of moments. And they began to spread, growing rapidly from a speck on the horizon to a vast blanket of black that covered a tenth of the sky, and it continued to grow. “What is that?’ the scout repeated.

As if from a great distance, Okakura heard himself murmur, “It is the storm that ends the world.”

“Demons take that,” the Tsuruchi scout scoffed. “No Mantis stronghold is going to be undone by a storm, of all things.”

“It ends the world,” Okakura repeated, his voice just above a whisper.

“Do not lose heart, friend,” someone else said. A young tattooed monk wound through the ranks and placed his hand upon Okakura’s shoulder in a borderline inappropriate demonstration of camaraderie. “My master always believed in the ability of men to change the face of destiny. Now he stands as the Oracle of Thunder. What could be greater validation of his belief?”

“From what I understand, the Thunder Dragon isn’t even in the Heavens these days,” a burly Crab observed. “Rather like being the oracle of a great sea serpent, isn’t it?”

The Mantis scout scowled in open contempt, and even the monk threw an irritable glance in his direction. “Mitsu-sama may be diminished somewhat,” he admitted, “but lesser power means lesser restrictions. My sensei was at the battle of Zokujin Mura a short time ago. He walks among us to inspire heroism.”

The Crab chuckled. “I hardly find babbling nonsense inspiring,” he scoffed. He nodded toward the line. “If I wanted to be inspired on the battle line, I reckon something like that would be more effective.”

Okakura followed the Crab’s gaze and drew back in shock as a massive lion warcat padded past him. Its eyes were the most brilliant green that Okakura could ever remembering seeing. The cat had barding, a strange sort of customized armor, that protected it in many places. Its paws in particular bore protective plating, completely with massive steel talons that fit over its own. Okakura had no doubt whatsoever that the artificial claws could rend the metal hides of the Destroyers. He looked along the front line and realized that there were other lions, many others, scattered once every five hundred feet or so. Additionally, not too far away, the lines parted wider, and a lone woman walked to the front. She stood, her radiant green hand clasping her trident-like weapon, and regarded the distant enemy and growing clouds for some time. “The demon goddess has come to a greater understanding of us,” she said. Her voice was soft but steely, and could be heard all across the battlefield. “She and her creatures seek to strike fear in our hearts by playing upon our loves and fears. We must not dismiss the threat she poses, for while the god-beast was the greatest of her weapons, she has many more at her disposal. But the truth remains: she seeks to break us, because she now has no choice but to doubt that Rokugan can be felled by military might alone.” Matsu Benika turned and faced the lines, panning slowly to see everyone. Okakura noticed she nodded briefly to Togashi Matsuo at his side. “Know that, samurai. Know that you have given pause to a goddess, and put doubt in her hellish heart.”

The samurai of the front line roared. It was not a battlecry or a pronouncement of heraldry, but rather a raw, primal sound of triumph. It was the sound of a soldier defeating an enemy and casting his body aside before charging to the next. It was the sound of battle, the sound of victory, the sound of war. Okakura felt the weight of the dreams slipping away, and he joined in.

The Destroyers marched ever closer to Kyuden Ashinagabachi, growing larger and larger in the distance.

* * * * *

“I hated you for a very long time, you know!” Kakita Matabei shouted over the din of battle.

“What?” demanded Kakita Korihime.

“You heard me!” Matabei shouted back. “You were the only one to ever defeat me, at least for a long time. For years, avenging myself by defeating you was my only true motivation.”

Korihime struck a Destroyer and killed it instantly, her blade slipping neatly into the seam beneath its shoulders. “And now?”

Despite the fighting, Matabei laughed bitterly. “I have much greater shames to mark my path than the one afforded me by you,” he said. “You were the only one who defeated me for a long time, but Chagatai defeated me more completely than you ever could. No offense intended to you or the skill of your sword arm.”

“None taken, I suppose,” Korihime said. She glanced around for another opponent, but the few Destroyers that remained were fully engaged with other combatants. “It seems our work is done for the moment.”

“Hardly,” Matabei said darkly. “Even if the war is over, there is much that demands our attention.”

Korihime sighed. “You mean Jimen, I suppose. And lord Noritoshi.”

“Am I so transparent?”

“You mention it often,” Korihime said irritably. “And my response is the same. I would assume you have it memorized by now.”

“Whatever has happened before, the situation is critical,” Matabei insisted. “Jimen’s manipulations are an enormous threat, but Noritoshi-sama’s behavior has only exacerbated the situation. When this war is at an end, there will be some sort of reckoning. How much will you allow it to damage our family?”

“I am loyal to Noritoshi,” Korihime countered.

“Of course you are. So am I. But ask yourself this question: if, when this conflict is finished, our family suffers because of what Noritoshi has done, what manner of misery will it cause him? When his blood stops screaming for vengeance, what will he have left?”

“It is not my place to ask such questions.”

“I understand your position,” Matabei said. “You are doing that which Noritoshi has asked of you. But ask yourself this: is what he wants the same as what he needs, and what manner of vassal will you be?”

Matabei left the field of battle, but Korihiime remained behind for some time.

* * * * *

Moto Paisei awoke to the acrid stench of fire. The air was thick with smoke, so much so that it was difficult for him to see more than a few feet away. The battle was over, it seemed, and the castle had been lost. There were occasional noises from the gloom around him, the sound of tortured metal on metal. Paisei knew that a great many Destroyers had been lost to wreak this destruction, but this brought him little comfort. If the beasts died accomplishing that which they wished, were they not still the victors? They had lost their lives today, such as they were, but it would take months or even years for this place to be rebuilt. Paisei tried to remember what it was, but the name escaped him for the moment. Something about actors, he thought.

Paisei was lying in such a way as to make it difficult for him to look down at his body, and he felt that was probably best. He remembered a few moments of searing pain before he lost consciousness during the battle, but now everything was cold and numb. He had been in enough battles to know what that meant. The urge to cough welled up in his chest, but he crushed it; that would be a terrible mistake, he was quite certain of it. So he simply remained still and waited to see what happened.

Something moved in the gloom near him. He waited quietly, breathing as slowly as he could to avoid making any noise. After a handful of moments, a thankfully human figure appeared next to him, although its features were indistinct in the smoke. “Friend Unicorn!” the voice said, relieved. “You live!”

“For… for the moment,” Paisei said with a smile. “Not for long, I suspect.”

The newcomer knelt next to him. “What can I do?”

“Find the bottle… on my belt,” Paisei said. “I desperately… need a drink.”

The newcomer nodded, and a moment later, a bottle was lifted to Paisei’s lips. He sipped at it, savoring the rich texture and flavor. It was his favorite blend of sake and spice, and it pained him to think that he might never enjoy it again. To think that his recipe would disappear from the world forever was an even greater tragedy. “I saw your valor in battle,” the stranger said. “Your courage was inspiring. I shall seek to live by your example the rest of my life. I am forever in your debt.”

            “Well that is very nice,” Paisei said. He felt very detached. “I wonder… I wonder if you could see to it that something returns to my family for me.”

            “Your blades,” the stranger said. “Of course, I would be honored.”

            “Oh, yes, those too,” Paisei said. “I was… was thinking of my sake recipe. I keep it with my tsuba.”

            “I will do that,” the other man said. “I give you my word.”

            “Thank you,” Paisei said. He smiled, and died.

            The stranger took Paisei’s blades, as well as several other items. He would see to it that fire claimed Paisei’s remains, and in a matter of weeks, Moto Paisei would miraculously report to his superiors, having narrowly survived terrible wounds in the battle for the Shosuro Actor Academy. It was the best of a bad situation, in the estimation of the Scorpion Clan, but he had meant what he said: Paisei’s valor had inspired him, and at that moment, standing over the body, he vowed that he would honor Paisei’s memory for as long as he retained his identity.

The Destroyer War, Part 17

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The village of Zokujin Mura was protected by the most unusual of defenses that Kakita Yosuga had ever seen: a massive wall of stone and earth that had been created by a supernaturally powerful earthquake high in the mountains. The strength that would have been required to create such a thing was almost beyond the ability for the mind to grasp, and the notion that the wall had been created with no damage inflicted to the village only a short distance away was utterly baffling. Almost as baffling, really, as Yosuga’s presence here on the front.

The idea made sense from a certain perspective, she supposed. Her position as the clan’s master of ceremonies in Tsuma and various other important holdings mandated a certain status, and it had long been the custom of her particular family branch to maintain a military rank appropriate to their status. Ostensibly, she was a taisa within the Crane military, but she had never truly served in a military capacity. In her younger years, only a short time ago really, she had been a noted duelist who had been in high demand in certain circles, but for the better part of a decade now her sole responsibility for the clan had been to oversee various contests and tournaments. So despite her rank and the requirement that she take her place with her assigned units, she had been assigned an ‘advisor’ who essentially made all command decisions, which she then parroted. All in all it was a ridiculous arrangement, but one that was necessary to maintain her family’s status and reputation. It was the only reason she had not pursued an exclusion from higher ranking authorities within the clan.

An alarm sounded throughout the village. It was a painfully familiar sound, even though Yosuga had not been there very long. It was the alarm raised when an attack by the Destroyers upon the barrier that had, thus far, prevented them from taking the village. It was the third time the alarm had sounded so far today, and it was scarcely past the midday meal. Despite the recentness of her arrival, Yosuga felt quite weary of the sound and the chaos and death that inevitably followed in its wake. She felt worn in her very soul, and she saw worse in the men around her. This village had been under siege for nearly three weeks, and despite that the forces of the Empress had vowed to defend it at all costs, they were exhausted from protecting it against an inexhaustible enemy.

“We will not stand against another attack,” she muttered under her breath. The others around he could not hear it, but if they had, they would not have objected. She knew that truth in her very bones.

“You will.”

The voice came as a surprise, and addressed the hidden thoughts of all in attendance. A man walked among their ranks, his expression perfectly serene, his demeanor absolutely unconcerned. He wore conservative robes, but everywhere that his flesh was visible, the ink of tattoos peeked out at observers. “The end of this war draws near,” he said, looking at them each in the eyes. “This is a time for mortal men to seize the reins of destiny. This is a time for mortals to turn back the machinations of gods and assert their role in the universe.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Who among you will stand forward and claim your birthright? Who among you will tell your children and grandchildren that you stood tall on the twilight of Kali-ma’s invasion and refused to allow any loss of ground without a fight so fierce that it would shake the pillars of the Heavens themselves?”

Yosuga felt the spirits of the men around her surge, and felt her own soul answer in kind.

“Zokujin Mura may fall,” Togashi Mitsu, the Oracle of Thunder, said, “but it will not fall today, and it will not fall easily.” He looked carefully around the assembled men. “Who will stand in its defense?”

Despite herself, Yosuga felt her courage rising, and she drew her blade along with the others, lifting it above her head and shouting with valor. “To the wall!” she shouted to the Crane around her. “Assume the third defensive position! Today the enemy is turned away!”

* * * * *

The name Silent Village was remarkably apt, Tsuruchi Nobumoto reflected, but the quiet did little to assuage his foul temper. His affiliation with the assembled forces of the Empire had resulted in his placement here, several days’ ride away from Kyuden Ashinagabachi. The ancestral estate of his family was directly in the path of a major Destroyer offensive, as he understood it, and he was trapped here, cut off by enemy forces and the chaos of war, unable to aid his brothers and sisters in defense of his home. It was beyond infuriating. A Mantis lord should not find himself in such circumstances!

The fierce scowl on Nobumoto’s face ensured that others gave him a wide berth, which was just fine with him. Even if his mood were not dark enough as a result of the situation, his sleep had been greatly troubled of late. Three nights in a row, he had been cursed with terrible nightmares about the impending arrival of their enemies. Normally, Nobumoto had little difficulty putting such things aside and enjoying life despite the possibility of impending doom; during the events of Rokugan in his lifetime, such a skill was absolutely necessary to ensure survival. It troubled him greatly, perhaps more than anything else, that this had changed.

Today, as the past two days, Nobumoto sat in front of a small shop and regarded a simple abandoned building near the village’s edge. He had seen it in his dreams. In his dreams, the building collapsed suddenly, and the Destroyer’s beasts emerged from the ruins. The tigers that walked like men. The things that might be elephants. Others that he had never seen or heard of. They overran the village. They killed everything in their path.

They killed him.

Nobumoto had never considered himself particularly wise or superstitious, but he had lived a long time and seen many terrible things, but he had never died in a dream before. He was unsure what manner of omen it was, but he did not care for it. The dream last night had been particularly intense, somehow almost real. He had awakened in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and a scream lodged in his throat. He had been unable to return to sleep. As he had for two days, he simply sat and stared at the building, waiting each minute for his dream to become real. After more than an hour, one of the shop’s occupants politely inquired if he could assist Nobumoto with anything. Without really thinking about, Nobumoto answered him without taking his eyes from the building. “I would like you to go immediately and purchase as much lantern oil as you can find, and place it in front of that building there,” he said, his tone entirely conversational.

The shopkeeper was clearly horrified. “My lord… I… I do not think…”

Nobumoto sat down a pouch that was heavy with koku. “As much oil as you can find,” he repeated. “Immediately.”

The shopkeeper disappeared dutifully, and Nobumoto was alone with his thoughts for a few moments. At least until the diminutive priest appeared at the edge of his vision. “Pardon me, my lord,” the Kitsune said softly. “The officers of the detachment have requested your presence at the command tent. There are tactics to be discussed, or so they say.”

“It can wait,” Nobumoto said, watching as the shopkeeper returned and placed a small barrel at the empty house’s doorway. He looked up at the Mantis lord with a fearful expression. Nobumoto smiled and waved him away. The man looked enormously relieved.

The Kitsune shifted uncomfortably. “I am sorry, my lord, but I was rather given the impression that it could not wait, and…”

“You Kitsune are particularly fond of the earth kami, or vice versa, or what have you. Is that correct?”

The priest frowned. “Yes, but…”

“Sit,” Nobumoto said.

The priest did as commanded, although clearly troubled by it. He sat beside Nobumoto for nearly an hour, during which he sipped lightly at a tea provided by the grateful shopkeeper. He began to ask a question several times, but never finished it, each time instead choosing discretion over valor.

Nobumoto never took his eyes from the house. So it was when there was a tremor through the earth and the house began to shake and tremble, he did not hesitate. He drew an arrow in a flawless motion, spearing the table’s low candle on its tip, and fired. He compensated for the candle’s weight without even thinking of it, so supreme was his skill. The arrow struck the barrel, and in the seconds that it took the lantern oil to catch fire in a rush of heat, fire, and air, Nobumoto had placed an arrow neatly into each of the beast’s eyes. Then the flame took it, and he could hear the screams of the other beasts behind it.

Beside him, the Kitsune was on his feet and had managed to keep from screaming, although his face clearly betrayed his terror at the inexplicable events in front of him. “There’s a tunnel!” Nobumoto heard himself saying, and of course it made perfect sense. “Collapse it! Bury them!”

“At once, my lord,” the priest said, and threw up his hands. His voice, formerly so meek and soft, now spoke with a presence that distracted even Nobumoto from the events he was witnessing. The earth shook and then sank down as the priest collapsed whatever underground conduit the beasts had used to reach the village undetected. The master archer privately hoped that whatever had dug the tunnel was still within it, for he did not wish to see such a thing repeated. Regardless, some of the things survived and began digging themselves out at once. Nobumoto raised his bow, but lowered it again when he saw the dozens of soldiers rushing from the village to deal with the threat.

“How?” the priest demanded. “How did you know, my lord?”

Nobumoto had no answer for him.

* * * * *

The cave was not a natural thing. In fact, the term cave was grossly inaccurate. It might be better to say that it was a primitive hut carved from an enormous boulder, which was in turn the only thing on a tiny island sitting at the end of a peninsula that jutted out into the sea. The ocean waves licked up at the rocks that made up the little area, sometimes stealing away the fragments of glass and clay that appeared to be colorful stones. They were the only thing that made the little island truly remarkable. Without them, the cave itself would likely go unnoticed. Unless, of course, one was looking for it specifically, as Tsuruchi Arishia was.

Arishia grimaced at the sight of the stone spires on which she would have to step to reach the cave. It was exceptionally dangerous, but the bag she carried weighed upon her. She had an obligation, and to abandon it simply because it was difficult to do otherwise was not something she found acceptable. She sighed lightly and steeled herself, then stepped out onto the first of the spire steps. She almost slipped and fell when moving from the third to the fourth, something that would likely have killed her outright, but then she was standing outside the cave. The archer hesitated for just another moment, then stepped into the dim interior.

The smell assailed her nostrils at once, and almost made her gag. It was a thick, tangy odor, like unwashed flesh and matted hair. She struggled to contain her nausea, but it passed after a few seconds. Arishia stepped carefully, and heard the clinking of empty bottles at her feet. Something shifted in the darkness, something large, and Arishia was filled with fear for a moment despite her knowledge of what awaited her. “You bring good-water?” a stilted voice in the shadows asked.

“I did,” Arishia said, hefting the bag. With her other hand she reached in and withdrew a small clay bottle, one of four within it. She tossed it toward the voice, and heard the meaty slap of a hand catching it. “I have more, but…”

“You not sure, hmm?” the voice said. “You not think En’you speak real? Think En’you speak story, like humans tell?”

“No, I believe you,” Arishia said quickly. From her conversations with the locals, she understood two things: the shojo were wrathful sea spirits that should not under any circumstances be angered, and that En’you had a powerful gift for prophecy, as well as other ill-defined abilities. “But… I do not understand how you can have warned my cousin. When I came to you the first time…”

“Humans not understand the world,” En’you said, as if it explained everything. “World all one. Seas all together. Whisper in ear of one, all hear. All whisper to human, even human not so stupid that can’t hear.”

Arishia frowned. The thing made no sense, but for some reason she believed that it spoke the truth. It was all she could do, and if her bargain with the thing had in any way prevented harm from coming to Nobumoto, then a few bottles of sake were a small price to pay. “Well… I thank you,” she finally said, peering into the gloom for a glimpse of the creature. The shadows in the cave’s interior were so deep that she suspected the spirit had somehow created them; normally darkness did not trouble her keen eyesight. “Please enjoy the… the good-water with my enormous gratitude.”

En’you said nothing, but hooted to itself excitedly and Arishia heard the bottle she had thrown it being opened. With nothing more to say, she turned and left, hoping she did not have to speak with the sea spirit again.

            From within the supernatural shadows of En’you’s cave, Yoritomo Aranai said quietly and watched the Tsuruchi leave. “She did not see me.”

            The spirit made a strange hooting noise that Aranai realized was laughter. “Other human speak real,” it said. “You-human speak only stories. Nothing about you real.”

            “Be that as it may, I do not think it matters,” Aranai said. “You had your arrangement with the Tsuruchi, and you have an arrangement with me.”

            “Why you care?” En’you inquired. “You want send dreams of defending other human’s home?”

            “Do I need to tell you for your magic to work?”

            Again, the hooting laughter. “No. Story not matter, as long as you real with your part.”

            “You have my word, prophet. You will get that which you desire. I will see to it. You can tell that I speak the truth, can you not?”

            “You speak real,” En’you confirmed. “Hope you live long enough.”

* * * * *

Doji Okakura awoke from his restless sleep with a start. He sat up quickly and ran to the window, glancing at the sun to see what time of day it was. He shook his head to try and tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind, but without success. “Relax, cousin,” one of the other men barracked in his room said. “Your shift does not begin for another hour. You can sleep a while longer, if you like.”

Okakura shook his head. “No, they are coming.”

The scout looked at him askance. “Reports indicate that the front line of the enemy force is at least…”

“They will be here soon,” Okakura said vehemently. “We need to be ready.”

Why had he dreamed of his niece, so many years gone? Why was he so sure that the Destroyers were arriving imminently? And why did he have a terrible feeling that the battle here was going to be something completely unlike anything seen in the war up until this point?

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

Kotei Auckland, New Zealand – Silent Village (SC19) – This small village was the only one in the region blighted by Bishamon that managed to continue producing food even during the height of the curse.
The industrious people here did so because of their piety: they took a vow of silence for one year after the blight, and no living soul within the village broke it

Kotei San José, CA – Kyuden Ashinagabachi (M5) – Former home to the Wasp Clan and present home to the Tsuruchi family, Kyuden Ashinagabachi was a former Scorpion castle, and the Scorpion have never forgiven the insult. It is placed high in the mountains, however, and siege is virtually impossible.

Kotei Sao Paulo, Brazil – Kagoki (SC17) – This village has the distinction of being the most fertile food-producing settlement in all of Scorpion holdings. The surrounding rice paddies are some of the best in all of Rokugan.

Kotei Kansas City, KS – Bishamon’s Curse (SC18) - This small area is generally regarded as the site where Bishamon, the Fortune of Strength, set foot in the mortal realm before cursing the most fertile plains of the Scorpion Clan some years ago. The region has partially recovered, but many wonder if it will ever fully recover.

Kotei Madrid, Spain – Shosuro Actor Academy (SC24) – This is the training facility for the legendary Shosuro Actors, widely regarded as the finest practitioners of their craft in Rokugan. The training is more intense than outsiders know, however, and involves lengthy deceptions that can last months or even years.

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The Destroyer War, Part 16

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The soon sat sooner in Zokujin Mura these days, as the horizon had been artificially raised by a massive avalanche only a week earlier. The avalanche, alleged to have been the work of a Kuni lord and his zokujin allies, had eradicated a large group of the Destroyers’ beast troops, and cut off all avenue of escape for another, larger force of ironclads. The ironclads had been wiped out by the village’s defenders, a small but elite detachment under the expert command of Kakita Idzuki, a member of the Empress’ Guard and a celebrated magistrate. In the hours and days that followed, the defenders had moved their front line to the avalanche itself, a massive barrier that the Destroyers had great difficulty overcoming. The disadvantage, of course, was that the ground was very unsteady and in the evening darkness, treacherous to the point that it was almost impossible to fight atop. Of course, they did anyway.

Bayushi Shigeru nearly lost his footing as the rock on which he was standing shuddered uncomfortably and began to slide. He leapt away to a more stable perch, inwardly thanking the Fortunes while simultaneously delighting in the sight of the boulder crushing a Destroyer as it gained speed and bounced down the barrier. Still, his kimono was torn in half a dozen places and he was reasonably sure that at least one of his ribs had been broken in a previous skirmish. “I should have stayed in court,” he muttered to himself.

But of course that would not do. Courtier or not, he was trained in the arts of war, and every capable swordsman was needed on the front line of the war with the Destroyers. What constituted competent he was not entirely sure, but the decision was ultimately not his to make. And so Bayushi Shigeru, a man who considered himself more of a diplomat than a swordsman, stood atop a shifting mountain of stone and waged a desperate war against metallic monsters out of some child’s nightmare. It would either prove a legendary confrontation, the stuff of myth itself, or a tragic cautionary tale. He had not yet decided which.

A cloud crossed the moon, temporarily plunging the area of the blockade where Shigeru fought into almost absolute darkness. He swore to himself, assuming a defensive stance, and waited for the cloud to pass. It did not. At first Shigeru was relieved when he realized he could no longer hear the Destroyers moving around him, but then he very quickly wondered why such a thing should be. It was then that he realized the moon was still in the sky, it simply seemed to cast no light where he was. “Oh, Fortunes,” he muttered to himself.

There was something in the darkness with him. He had just long enough for his mind to register the presence of something that seemed like a man wearing strange metal armor and wielding a long, curved blade, and then something struck him at the base of his spine with such force that the only thing more frightening than the intensity of the fleeting moment of pain he suffered was the sudden numbness that replaced it.

Something lifted him from the ground by the throat. He could scarcely breathe. He felt his vision swimming as black tendrils flickered around the edges. “Another of you Scorpion,” a sinister voice said in his ear. “Your hedonistic ways have made you weak. You deserve the death I bring you.”

The pressure at his throat was incredible, but amazingly, Shigeru heard a strange voice from a great distance and realized it was his own. “Hedonistic ways? You must have me confused with the Crane!”

“The Crane, hmm?” the voice mused. “Interesting.”

Something else moved in the darkness, and a Phoenix appeared from nowhere. She leapt at the thing holding Shigeru, the thing that wore a man’s guise but clearly was no longer a man. She struck, and from the sound of the blade cutting the air, Shigeru knew that the strike was true. There was a grunt of pain, and then the sensation of falling. Shigeru was almost relieved at how excruciating it was to be dropped onto the rocks, because at least he realized he could still feel everything.

“Flesh is weak, woman,” the thing said. “Did you think you could stop me so simply?”

Shiba Miiko flicked her head so that a lock of hair would be moved from her face. “I do not know what you are, but I know you will not kill another samurai while I am still alive.”

The laughter was terrible, and Shigeru knew he would hear it again in nightmares. “I will let you live, then,” it said cheerily to Miiko. “I will let you live, so that I can avenge this insult on your children when you are too old to do anything save be consumed by guilt and regret. Your anguish will be an exquisite pleasure.”

Miiko lunged forward with her blade, but the moonlight had returned again. She was at his side in an instant. “What was that thing?” she demanded.

“I could not say,” Shigeru managed. “Do you suppose you could call a shugenja?”

* * * * *

Bayushi Himaru gently placed the tessen and the oilcloth he had been working with back onto the desk and then looked at the only other man present in the small house he had claimed as his command center. “I am very sorry, my lord, but I need you to repeat those orders, please.”

Shosuro Toson might have been a statue for the impassiveness of his response. “Did I misspeak, perhaps? Or has battle damaged your hearing? Your orders are quite clear, commander. You will fall back from this location, leaving only a token force to defend it in order to ensure that our enemies to do not find the situation unusual.”

Himaru cleaned his hands carefully, then stood and placed them behind his back. “No,” he said quietly.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the soft metallic click as Toson loosened his blade from its saya at the guard. “I think I misunderstood you, commander,” the ninja lord said simply.

“No,” Himaru repeated. “I will not do this thing without clarification.”

Like a flash of lightning, Toson drew his blade and swung it at the lower-ranking officer. The blade stopped perfectly, it edge resting against Himaru’s exposed cheek. Himaru’s eyes never left Toson’s. There was a moment of absolute stillness, then a single drop of blood rand down Himaru’s cheek. “Are you thinking clearly, Himaru?” Toson demanded.

“Perfectly, my lord,” Himaru replied. “My men have fortified the whole of Karandetsu Market. We have ample supplies. We can defend this location against vastly superior numbers almost indefinitely. Yet you wish to see it burned, as so many other of our holdings have been burned. Worse yet, you wish to see some of my men die in the process. I will not give that order unless I understand why.”

            “You will give it,” Toson hissed. “I promise you that.”

            “If you like, I will speak to the men,” Himaru said. “I will ask for volunteers to remain behind for the defense, which I of course will be leading myself.” He paused for a moment. “I suspect all the men will volunteer.”

            “This is treason!” Toson shouted, pulling his blade away.

            “Treason is a failure of loyalty!” Himaru answered, finally raising his voice in return. “Every Scorpion is loyal to his superior, but if that superior is not loyal to his vassals, then what does any of it mean? Nothing!” He pointed outside the house, toward the barracks. “I would do anything you asked of me without question, but that you want me to kill those men who have proven themselves to me in battle over and over again. I have demanded of them time and time again and they have never once disappointed me. They follow my commands, they serve the Scorpion, and they excel. And if I am to kill them then I will know the reason for it!”

            Toson sat down heavily. “I find this entire war utterly exhausting,” he said wearily. “And amid all the chaos of war, a man of principle.” He shook his head in disgust. “What has our clan come to?”

            “I am no junshin,” Himaru said. “I have done many terrible things, and will do so again. But my loyalty is absolute, and extends below as well as above.”

            “You are a ridiculous anomaly.” The ninja master rubbed his eyes. “The end of this conflict is near,” he finally said. “You know as well as I do that the demon goddess’ ranks are at last growing to a manageable level, at least by comparison. Her commanders have begun to reveal themselves because sheer attrition now requires them to win their battles. They cannot endure more costly defeats.”

            “A manageable level?” Himaru said incredulously. “That is a questionable definition, if you will pardon my saying so.”

            “As I said, it is a comparable description,” Toson said irritably. “The Destroyers are as yet more vast than our entire army, but not by a significant margin. The notion of victory now is not as alien as it once was. But we must be careful, and we must follow the plan without question.”

            “What is the plan, my lord?” Himaru asked.

            “Your impertinence is astonishing,” Toson said, waving his hand. “We have assets secreted behind enemy lines. We have reason to believe that the Crab do as well, although they are as yet not even aware of it. We need to draw the Destroyers as far north as possible. We must eliminate as many of their commanders as possible and strike from as many sides as possible. It is the only way that the enemy can be defeated.”

            Himaru nodded. “Do you wish us to set a trap for a commander here? I can secret some of my finest men to strike from behind enemy lines.”

            “A wise plan, and one we have attempted, but one that is exceptionally risky.” Toson gestured toward the distant horizon. “We lost an agent to some manner of man or creature we have not yet identified, one of the Destroyer’s commanders. I know that the Crab are preparing some manner of gambit in hopes of drawing out the rakshasa, but that will be a disaster, I am quite certain. We have confirmed reports that the Shogun’s forces killed a female commander, some manner of Ra’shari sorcerer, from what we have been able to determine. You have doubtless heard that the Daidoji daimyo faced and crippled another.” Toson’s expression was suddenly bemused. “A Dragon monk claims to have encountered and possibly wounded an Ashalan, but quite frankly the man is a reeking drunk and I have great difficulty placing any confidence in his words. Who can tell, with the Togashi?”

            Himaru looked toward the house’s small window, to the streets beyond. “It seems so simple, at this level. Stand your ground, defeat the enemy. The reality is of course completely different, isn’t it?”

            “Of course,” Toson said disparagingly. “Do not be naïve. You will follow your orders, commander. I am sorry that your men must die, but the enemy must not suspect.”

            “As you command, Shosuro-sama,” Himaru said with a bow. “It will be done.”

            “Your notion of loyalty is dangerously disturbed. I need you alive today, but this war will be over soon. If you ever question my orders again,” Toson said, rising and preparing for departure, “I will not hesitate to kill you.”

            Himaru held his bow. “I understand, my lord.”

* * * * *

The column of horses stopped short at their commander’s signal. Under different circumstances, such a thing would be difficult if not impossible. Such a maneuver done on the parade grounds would doubtless impress an observing general, because it bespoke unity. It was the mark of a force that had waged war together and survived. Matsu Fumiyo was enormously proud to serve with each and every samurai under her command. They had fought against the Yobanjin incursions in the north for many months, and when the Shogun had placed her in command after a skulking assassin’s arrow had taken one of his previous commanders, she had been humbled. She was a warrior, not an officer, but she would not leave these men and women, brothers and sisters one and all, in need. Not if it was the Shogun’s wish for her to do otherwise.

            Fumiyo turned to the Tsuruchi riding at her side. “What is it, Ohashi?”

            The scout’s brow furrowed. “Someone is ahead, my lady.”

            Fumiyo squinted at the horizon, but could make out nothing. “Are you certain?”

            “I know every inch of this pass, my lady,” Ohashi replied. “I have traveled it since I was a child. There is nothing in our path that could be mistaken for a person. Someone is sitting in the middle of the pass ahead.” He loosed his bow. “Shall I deal with it?”

            “Not yet,” she cautioned. “We have lost too many already to lose another to an impatient mistake.” She glanced at the man. “No offense intended, Ohashi.”

            “None taken, commander,” he replied immediately. “Do you wish me to investigate?”

            “We shall do so together,” Fumiyo said. “Futaro, keep the men ready. You have command.”

            The thin Crab bowed deeply at the waist. “Only for a moment, my lady. You will return and lead us to victory.”

            Fumiyo smiled. “Thank you, my friend.” She nodded to Ohashi and the two spurred their horses forward to a gallop. It was a full minute at a fast pace before Fumiyo could even make out the form Ohashi had detected. It was not the first time she marveled at his keen sight. At a nod from her, the scout pulled up short and prepared an arrow while she continued forward at a trot. “Konichi-wa,” she called out. “You are in the path of my unit, I am afraid. I must ask you to move.”

            “When Shinsei stood before the mountain, he asked the mountain to move instead.”

            Fumiyo arched an eyebrow. “I suspect the Crab would take issue with such a request. As for myself, I merely find it impractical.”

            The woman sitting in the lotus position in the path rose quickly to her feet in one flowing motion. “I am kidding, of course. My apologies. I fear the recent solitude has had an unusual effect on my sense of humor.”

            “Speaking for myself, I find little humor in war,” Fumiyo replied. She glanced at the insignias on the stranger’s clothing. “You bear both the Crane mon and the symbol of the Brotherhood of Shinsei. I find that rather unusual.”

            The woman glanced down to the Brotherhood symbol. “It is more a sign of respect and loose affiliation than anything else,” she said. “I am still samurai despite my monastic associations. My name is Doji Jun’ai, and I…”

            “The Keeper of Water, of course,” Fumiyo said instantly. “I was unaware you were in the area.”

            “I have a formal assignment to a Crane detachment, but I also have the freedom to explore the battlefront if I so choose. I have struggled to find a way to bring hope and strength to those fighting on behalf of the Empress and the Empire.” She frowned. “It has proven more difficult than even I imagined.”

            Fumiyo nodded. “Is your detachment in the area? I have orders from the Shogun to commandeer any currently unassigned units and consolidate at Kyuden Ashinagabachi. He wishes to establish a major defensive stronghold there.”

            Jun’ai smiled sadly. “My detachment no longer exists. I returned from conducting a message to a legion commander in the neighboring province to discover that they had been set upon by a larger force of Destroyers and wiped out. If any survived, I could find no indication of it.”

            “I am sorry for your loss,” Fumiyo said, remembering to wave Ohashi to stand down. “I am certain they died bravely, and that their ancestors welcomed them home with open arms and great celebration.”

            “Thank you. It is my greatest hope. And I plan to pray for each of them in the Temple of the Keepers when this conflict is at an end.”

            Fumiyo smiled. “I would be honored if you would consider joining my men, at least until we reach Kyuden Ashinagabachi.” She thought for a moment. “However, I understand there’s nothing else to be found at the end of this pass, so I must assume you were either already there, or on the way?”

            “On the way,” Jun’ai confirmed. She glanced at Ohashi in the distance. “Your man is a Tsuruchi?”

            “He is.”

            Jun’ai nodded. “I must speak to you in absolute confidence, commander. This is a matter of grave importance.”

            Fumiyo drew back in surprise. “What do you mean?”

            “In searching for survivors, I came across personal correspondence, which unfortunately lacked any means of identifying either the writer or the recipient. The important part, however, was that the letter spoke of a conspiracy to allow Kyuden Ashinagabachi to fall as a message to the Mantis for their impertinence.”

            Fumiyo was instantly filled with fury. “There are those among the Empire’s defenders who find it more important to pursue petty vendettas?” she demanded, keeping her voice low. “Who would dare such scandalous disgrace?”

            “Anyone who bears the Mantis ill will, of course,” Jun’ai said.

            “Then it could be… it could be…” Fumiyo paused.

            “Almost anyone,” Jun’ai finished.

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

The Destroyer War, Part 15

By Shawn Carman

Only a short time ago, the lands around the River of Gold had been beautiful, worthy of being depicted in a hundred paintings, mentioned in a thousand poems. That was before the Destroyers had come. The battle for possession of the river had persisted for weeks now, begun by the valiant Fourth Imperial Legion and continued by all manner of forces loyal to the Empress. At present there were detachments from three Imperial Legions, the second Lion army, and the coalition of Dragon and Phoenix forces that had arrived in the area after the Imperial proclamation formally declaring the northern war with the Yobanjin tribes a victory. That so many samurai could come together and put aside petty squabbles and issues of command in order to embrace their common purpose in pushing the Destroyers back from the region once and for all. That the land over which they fought had long ago been trod into mud and filth no longer mattered. It would be beautiful again one day, once the Destroyers were gone. That was all that mattered to the honorable samurai of Rokugan. Or that was what Mirumoto Meisetsu told himself in those quiet moments when he wondered if there was any hope of victory.

Meisetsu’s blade rang out as it struck the cold, dull metal of his opponent. His shoulders were numb from the repeated impacts of his duels so far this battle. He was fast, and he found avoiding the blows of his larger, slower opponents relatively easy, but he had difficulty singling out the weak spots in the things’ armor. It seemed to require a particular flair that was absent in his style, and Meisetsu has absolutely no doubt in his mind that this shortcoming would one day end his life, probably in the very near future. “Perhaps today,” the Dragon warrior muttered to himself as he narrowly avoided a strike that would have surely cut him in half.

Meisetsu rolled underneath the blow and came up behind his opponent, focusing on one of the identified weak spots where the base of the thing’s spine would be if it were a man. Even has he began his swing, however, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He was faster than the Destroyers, but now it was as if the monstrosity was standing still. In fact, it was as if the entire battlefield was moving with all the speed of a lava field from his home province. “What… what is this?” he whispered.

The battlefield grew as dim as twilight. Maisetsu turned about, looking for anything that might help him determine what was going on. He saw the general’s command staff on a distant rise, like statues in the failing light. But one of them was different. Somehow Maisetsu could see her perfectly despite the distance. He remembered her from when he had passed near the command staff earlier. She was elegantly beautiful, almost breathtakingly so, but it was not her physical beauty that had caused him to notice her. There was something else about her, something he could not identify, that was captivating. Now he knew that somehow she was involved in this oddity. “What is this?” he repeated.

The Void has touched you, Isawa Kumai’s voice whispered in his mind. I can sense it within you, yearning to know the world.

“What does that even mean?” the Dragon warrior demanded. “You make no sense!”

The Void is all and nothing, Kumai replied. It is as the tapestries my mother created as a child. So simple and yet so brilliantly complex, all the threads woven together to make a flawless whole. Can you see it?

Maisetsu looked about and realized that he could. In the dimness, he could perceive the subtle strengths and flaws of the Destroyers. He could see perfectly where he needed to strike in order to disable them. The world began to speed up around him, but his elevated perception remained. He crippled the Destroyer looking for him, then two more in the time it ok him to take a single breath. “Thank you, my lady,” he said.

Show me, her voice whispered in his mind.

* * * * *

Kakita Idzuki stood tall atop his horse and surveyed the fighting. “The right flank needs to be reinforced or it may break,” he observed. “Signal the reserves to take their place there.”

“Hai, Guardsman-commander Idzuki-sama!” his attendant virtually shouted.

The older Crane rolled his eyes. “Call me commander, I said. I do no want men to die because you were busy calling me by some ten word title.”

“Hai, commander!”

Idzuki was certain that as a child he must have been as ridiculously enthusiastic and overbearing as the young men and women under his command, but he honestly could not recall it. Perhaps that was a luxury that came with age. Or perhaps he was just senile. Was there any difference? “Once the reserves are in place, signal for a push. If that flank is shored up, the enemy will have no chance of advancing, and we can break them.”

Idzuki was eager for a victory. His detachment was smaller than those assigned to many of the other Empress’ Guard operating on the front, and they had been relegated to largely insignificant support roles thus far. This, their first major duty, was in defense of some tiny, largely unknown village called Zokujin Mura. It was supposedly named for the creatures that were alleged to live in the nearby mountains. Personally, Idzuki had never seen a zokujin in all his years, nor met anyone who had. Peasant superstition, most likely, but ultimately unimportant. Thinking of them reminded him, however.

“What became of the Crab who was in the village yesterday?” he asked.

“He left this morning for the mountains, commander,” one of his adjutants said.

“Hmm.” Idzuki frowned. The man had been seen interviewing several of the villagers. Idzuki had sent a summons to speak with the man, but other business had come up and he had not thought about it until now. “Does anyone know his name?”

“I am not aware of it if so, my lord,” the adjutant replied.

“It was Kuni Kiyoshi,” the scout officer said suddenly.

“Kuni Kiyoshi? The Kuni daimyo?” Idzuki turned to look at the young Daidoji officer. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I was unaware that it was important, commander,” the boy replied frankly. “There were more pressing issues at hand, after all.”

“I suppose,” Idzuki said grudgingly. Something about the entire affair concerned him, however. Why would a Crab lord be in such a remote location? It caused his magistrate’s instincts to flare up. Unfortunately, now was hardly the time.

“Sir,” the scout officer said again. “I believe another one of those pressing matters is about to come up.”

“What do you mean?” Idzuki followed the scout’s gaze to the south and immediately grimaced. “Assessment?”

One of the other officers looked at the massive dust cloud to the south. “It could be dozens of those large beasts that the Destroyers use as shock troops,” she offered. “That would be roughly in keeping with our intelligence on those forces.”

“Yes, or it could be a smaller number of much larger beasts,” Idzuki said. He thought back to the battle with the god-beast outside Ryoko Owari Toshi and grew chilled at the thought. “Suggestions?”

“Our line cannot stand against a charge of that magnitude,” his chief officer stated flatly. “We need to retreat. The village will be lost.”

“Unacceptable!” Idzuki insisted. “Our morale will never recover from such a blow. This detachment will be utterly spent.”

“Sir,” the scout said again. “I think… I think something is happening.”

“What?” Idzuki said, a little too sharply. He scanned the horizon, looking for whatever the scout might mean, and then he saw it. The mountains on either side of the pass leading to Zokujin Mura seemed to be… moving. Yes, moving. There was no other way to describe it. It was as if they were shifting, ever so slightly, and then… they simply gave way.

Thousands of tons of rocks fell from the mountains like a tidal wave descending upon the shore. The dust cloud created by the avalanches dwarfed the one the approaching beasts produced, and the enemy’s reinforcements were consumed utterly by it. They were wiped away as if they had never existed in the first place. The pass was completely blocked, which of course meant that the ironclads that Idzuki’s men were facing had no way to retreat.

“I believe Kiyoshi-sama just brought a rather significant contribution to the field,” Idzuki observed. “Now let us prove that we are worth his consideration. Ready your weapons and follow me, men. Sound a full charge. Today we lead from the front!”

With a zesty roar, the command staff of Idzuki’s detachment charged into battle.

* * * * *

The Karandetsu Market was a thriving hub of commercial activity during ever season. Merchants from all across the Empire came to conduct their business amid the extensive web of contacts and resources created by the Scorpion to foster exactly that sort of environment. In times of war, such activities were more important than ever, but given the enormity of the threat facing the market, and indeed all of Scorpion lands, the city would obviously be evacuated. Or so Bayushi Keirei had expected when he arrived. To his great surprise, he discovered that the market was open for business. Although the total population of the city appeared to have been reduced by roughly a fourth, the remaining three quarters of the city was making up for the change with a frantic level of activity that Keirei had never seen. To watch the merchants going about their business, apparently more consumed with the nature of their economic duties than with fear for the impending arrival of a nigh-unstoppable enemy, was somehow more disturbing than the horrors of war that Keirei had yet witnessed.

The assassin, for that was what he had come to accept was his duty now, flexed his leg muscles systematically to prevent any cramping or sluggishness from them. It was an ingrained habit, one he scarcely noticed, that kept him from losing the edge in the unlikely event that he was surprised. In all honesty, Keirei could not remember the last time an opponent had managed to catch him unawares, but arrogance had been the death of men more skilled than he.

The men and women scurried in the streets below, obsessed with their own business. Keirei crouched atop a rooftop, concealed in the shadow of an adjacent building created by the late afternoon sun. They would not see him, even if they looked. One in particular had attracted his attention, however. It was a lone man, standing against a wall and watching the streets even as Keirei was watching. The man’s posture suggested that he was a formidable warrior, and his careful assessment of those passing him suggested that his presence was not simply one of convenience. As Keirei watched, the man continued his surveillance, then suddenly, unexpectedly, looked up and stared directly at him.

Keirei silently drew one of his small knives, testing its weight. The stranger knew he was there, but it was impossible for the warrior to see him. He could only sense his presence. Such a thing was possible with enough training or practice… or if he possessed some manner of supernatural ability with which Keirei was unfamiliar. He could kill the man easily with a thrown blade, but he needed more information first. He stepped ever so slightly out from the deepest recesses of the shadow, enough so that the stranger would be able to make out his outline. And then he gestured. Come up, he signaled to the other man. Come up.

A handful of moments later, the hatch that allowed access to the roof from the shop below opened cautiously, and the warrior from the street stuck his head up. He glanced around once, surveying the entire roof in search of someone, but he could see nothing. Slowly, carefully, he crept up onto the roof.

Keirei was at his side in an instant, his knife held to the man’s throat, his other hand holding the wrist of the hand that held the warrior’s weapon. “Drop your steel,” he said quietly. “Drop it or I will kill you. I will not take a chance.”

“You aren’t her,” the warrior said. His tone was one of supreme disappointment and fatigue. He dropped his blade. “Just as well. I would rather anyone but her kill me, if it comes to that.”

“Be quiet,” Keirei ordered. “I will ask you one question. Your response is irrelevant, because I will know if you lie. Tell me now… are you an agent of the Destroyers?”

“What?” the man said, genuinely surprised. “No! Who would do such a thing?”

Keirei frowned and pushed the man away, sending him staggering across the roof, several yards away from his weapon. “There are rumors that the Destroyer has agents moving among provinces, sowing the seeds of conquest.”
            “Metal demons do not blend in well, I understand,” the ronin said.

“What is your name?” Keirei demanded.

“Yoshe.”

“You are an idiot, Yoshe,” the assassin replied. “There are many living creatures, man and beast, that serve the Destroyers.” He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “We have identified gaijin agents of several different nationalities, and we know that the Yobanjin served the Dark Oracle. It is possible that there are disguised Yobanjin or even blasphemers working for the Destroyer.”

Yoshe frowned. “And it is your duty to seek these potential traitors out?”

“I was diverted from… from another duty,” Keirei said. “But yes, if such traitors are within the market, I will find them.” He paused. “Who are you, and how did you find me? Only one man in ten thousand can do such a thing.”

It was Yoshe’s turn to shrug. “I have spent many years hunting an enemy with similar talents. You might say I have picked up a few talents of my own.”

“Good,” Keirei said. “Then you can assist me for a time. I am convinced that there is an advance agent of the Destroyers in this city. You will help me find that person and get whatever information we can from them.”

He expected Yoshe to protest, but the ronin did not. “My trail has gone cold, the least I can do is offer what assistance I can to the forces of the Empress.” He regarded Keirei with disdain. “Such as they are.”

The acrobat actually laughed, something he had not done in a long time. “Such as they are,” he repeated. “Yes, I think that will do.”

* * * * *

The Doji general smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, my friend,” he said. “I always find that a momentary indulgence of the arts can clear the head when difficult decisions need to be made.”

Shosuro Takuma, Scorpion actor extraordinaire, smiled and bowed. “The poet was a member of your honored family, Nakaru-sama. I am but the messenger.”

“I have rarely heard Shizue’s work performed with such vibrancy,” the Crane commander insisted. “Thank you. I think a few moments of respite was just what I needed to clear my head.”

Takuma’s mask did not smile, but his eyes twinkled brightly at the compliment. “You have finalized your plan for the defense of the shrine, my lord?”

“So to speak!” the general said, rubbing his hands together briskly. “I intend to employ a strategy developed by Shiba Danjuro of the Shogunate. We will evacuate all personnel and assets, leaving just enough of a token defense to attract the Destroyers as they pass through this region. We will then use archers to set fire to the shrine and capture them in an inferno that will end them.”

Takuma maintained his expression despite the ludicrously derivative plan. It was increasingly clear to him why this particular Crane had such a lowly position in the army and why he was relegated to such minor engagements. It seemed the cream had risen to the top and found a place elsewhere in the Crane armies. After so much warfare, though, he supposed they were desperate for officers. “A masterful strategy, my lord.”

“Thank you!” Nakaru said briskly. “Honestly I am quite surprised that your people did not evacuate upon our arrival.”

“Your arrival was unexpected,” Takuma explained. “We could hardly abandon our new defenders, now could we?”

“Quite right, quite right,” Nakaru said. “I have men currently removing the contents of the shrine’s library to the military command outpost some miles north.”

Takuma grew very still. “The library was already removed, my lord. Your men did that early on, as you recall.”

“Yes, well, we found a secondary cache of scrolls in one of the shrine’s lower levels. I suppose the monks did not think it important! Still, someone should have told me.”

“I see,” Takuma said. “Why to the military command, my lord?”

“Oh,” he replied, “I am going to have them catalogued and evaluated before being sent on. No sense in allowing disorganization to take hold, after all.”

Takuma smiled. This useless buffoon had just compromised the most secret results of the shrine’s research, documents that Takuma had hoped to have removed the following evening under cover of darkness. “Are you certain that is wise, my lord?”

“It is the only way!” Nakaru said. “I am sure your family will be quite grateful, but of course I am only doing my duty.”

“As am I, my lord,” Takuma said with a bow.

            Some time later, a junior officer rapped on the chamber door and entered. “Commander, we have the first shipment of scrolls ready as per your instructions. Shall we send a patrol to move them north?”

            The Crane commander looked up from his desk. “I think I have changed my mind. Please remand them to the custody of the Scorpion. Carrying scrolls is beneath a Crane warrior, don’t you think?”

            The officer looked surprised. “Uh… yes, my lord. I do, actually.” He looked around. “Was the Scorpion actor not here?”

            “What? He left almost an hour ago. Have you been getting enough rest, officer? If you are too fatigued to notice simple things like that then you will not be much help when the battle comes.”

            The man flushed and bowed. “I am sorry, my lord. I must be more fatigued than I realized, and…”

            The Crane waved it away. “He is a Scorpion after all, and they slink like shadows. Think nothing of it.” He held out a scroll. “See to it the scribes reproduce enough copies of this tactical plan to distribute to all my officers. I want everyone to understand their duties when the time comes.”

            “At once, commander!”

            Takuma smiled.

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Kotei Salt Lake City, UT – Zokujin Mura (MC15) – This village is named for its founding, when a traveling ronin saw a zokujin in the nearby mountains and followed it, discovering a valuable vein of copper there.

Kotei Thunder Bay, Canada – Silent Village (SC19) – This small village was the only one in the region blighted by Bishamon that managed to continue producing food even during the height of the curse.
The industrious people here did so because of their piety: they took a vow of silence for one year after the blight, and no living soul within the village broke it

Kotei Grenoble, France – Kyuden Ashinagabachi (M5) – Former home to the Wasp Clan and present home to the Tsuruchi family, Kyuden Ashinagabachi was a former Scorpion castle, and the Scorpion have never forgiven the insult. It is placed high in the mountains, however, and siege is virtually impossible.

Kotei Reykjavik, Iceland – Karandetsu Market (SC 25)– This large town is home to the clan’s robust trade with other clans. Given the cutthroat nature of Scorpion mercantile concerns, it is regarded as one of the clan’s most dangerous locations. It is situation amid gentle, rolling hills.

Kotei Grove City, PA – Kyuden Ashinagabachi (M5) – Former home to the Wasp Clan and present home to the Tsuruchi family, Kyuden Ashinagabachi was a former Scorpion castle, and the Scorpion have never forgiven the insult. It is placed high in the mountains, however, and siege is virtually impossible.

The Destroyer War, Part 14

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The battle for the Fortress of Blackened Sight raged out of control. It was a chaotic fury, a maddened struggle between the dug-in Scorpion forces and a massive force of Destroyers that had returned more than three times larger than they had been at their last defeat here. As the Destroyers always did. They were perhaps the perfect enemy, the only thing that could overcome the tenacity and brilliance of the Empress’ forces in the southern front. The only front now, really, Togashi Sakata reminded himself. The battle against the Dark Oracle of Fire in the north seemed at an end, with no sign of significant enemy forces for many months now.

Sakata sat atop the highest tower of the fortress, well out of sight of any but the most keen-eyed participants in the battle far below. His fingers drummed against his large, custom-made clay sake bottle, which he regarded with a furrowed brow. He had enjoyed sake his entire adult life, long before he had joined the Togashi order and certainly since then. He had long since stopped listening to those who claimed he drank too much. His natural gifts, increased by his mystical tattoos, allowed him to overcome the negative effects of the drink, and the things that he thought and saw when in the throes of the sake were, he felt quite certain, his personal path to enlightenment. It meant nothing what others thought. Or at least it never had before, not until the woman had appeared to him.

She had come to him last night while he had been well and truly inebriated. She was beautiful, he knew that much. Her features had been soft, but her eyes were piercing, and her hand was the most brilliant, lustrous black, just like her hair. She had whispered such sweetness, praising his ability to overcome his weakness for drink, delighting in the strength it gave him. Was he capable of more, she wondered? What was the true limit of his strength? The idea was like a plague, like a sickness that infected his mind. What was he truly capable of?

Well, enough wondering. He lifted the bottle and drained a third of it, feeling its warmth and glorious numbness filling his body from his legs to the crown of his head. He smiled, and hurled himself off the tower. The wind tore at his flesh, but he only laughed. As the stone raced by, he mentally reached out for the power of the hummingbird, and he felt the skin where a tattoo of that same bird tingle as it came to life. His fall slowed dramatically, and by the time Sakata reached the ground, he bounded from the top of one Destroyer to the next, far too fast for their clumsy weapons to reach him. He moved rapidly over the vast legions of the Destroyers, and found himself at their rear rank. He allowed the spirit of the bird leave him, lamenting somewhat that the flurry of rapid movement had robbed him of some of the sake’s warmth.

At the end of the Destroyers’ ranks, far from the fortress, there was a cloaked figure. Sakata recognized the pattern of tattoos on the man’s flesh, but they were not the same as those of an ise zumi. They still thrummed with power, which he could sense even at this distance. “Thou are the first to lay eyes upon me in this land, monk,” the commander said. “For that, thou should be commended. Thou shall not live to tell others what thy have seen, however.”

Sakata shrugged. “Drink with me?” he asked, holding the flask outward.

“What?” the enemy said, balking.

“Drink with me!” Sakata returned. “It is a delightful blend!” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took an enormous drought.

“Imbecile,” the commander dismissed. “Farewell.” He lifted an arm wreathed in tattoos that crackled with some unholy power.

Sakata belched forth a massive gout of fire, both the breath of the dragon tattoo he bore and sake rejected by his body for being consumed too quickly. The sake saturated the commander’s cloak even as it burned, and he began shouting in an unfamiliar, inhuman sounding language. To Sakata it sounded a great deal like profanity, but he could not be sure.

Laughing, the monk drew upon the power of the hummingbird once more and fled.

* * * * *

The battle for the River of Gold continued unabated into its second hour. The battle went well for the forces of the Empress, as they had the advantage of superior positioning, superior knowledge of the terrain, and the advantage of surprise. Numerous companies dispatched from the Imperial Legions, under the command of a young but competent captain named Akodo Raemon, held the line and punished the Destroyers terribly for their desire to take the river. If the battle had been fought between two human armies, then perhaps the river would have become the River of Blood by now. But no, the Destroyers did not bleed.

Isawa Mizuhiko watched from a hill overlooking the battle that was taking place on the opposite side of the river. He was grateful for the din of the battle, for it gave him reprieve from the occasional whisper that surfaced in his mind. He had not spoken to another person for days, perhaps more than a week. It was difficult to tell the progression of days at times. Mizuhiko avoided others because the blade found all unworthy, and called out for their demise at his hands. None were fit.

“It’s true.”

Mizuhiko turned in surprise to see a young woman standing a short distance away. She was clearly a participant from the battle, but bore no mon. She was a beautiful woman, but something about her rapturous expression immediately filled him with alarm. She was not looking at him, but at the cursed sword he carried. “What did you say?” he snapped at her.

“You carry it,” she said, her voice a reverent whisper. “So beautiful. So… perfect.”

“This?” Mizuhiko said, gesturing the Judgment. “You think this… is perfect?”

“It sings to me,” she said. “It calls out for me to serve it.” She finally looked up at him. “You hear it too, do you not?”

He looked at her carefully. “I hear it from time to time,” he admitted. There was something significantly wrong with this young woman, he had decided. “Who are you?”

“I am Setsuko,” she said simply.

He placed his hand on the sword. “Do you wish to carry it?” he asked her. The measure of her response would determine if she lived or died, he had already decided.

The longing in Setsuko’s face was evident, but finally she broke her gaze from the blade and looked down. “I am not worthy,” she said with a sigh. “I seek perfection, but have not attained it. Perhaps one day…”

Mizuhiko frowned in disgust at her words, but the blade was mysteriously silent. It did not judge her, it seemed. Why? It was maddening! “What is your purpose here?”

“War,” she said at once. “When I heard the sword’s song, I had to see it. But I should return. I have… obligations.” She looked back at him. “You should unleash the sword upon the enemy.”

“What?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea what you are saying?”

She shrugged. “I know it exhorts you to violence. I know it cries out to be used, and that denying it drains your very soul.” She turned and pointed to the enemy. “Give them to it. Quench its thirst and feel no guilt. They are not human. What harm can there be?”

He considered it for a moment. “I do not know,” he admitted, “and that frightens me more than thought of what would happen otherwise.”

“Do not be a slave to fear,” Setsuko admonished. “Give it to drink.”

“What?” Mizuhiko demanded. “What did you say?”

Setsuko seemed confused. “I said, use it. What did you think I said?”

“Go away,” Mizuhiko whispered. “Please.” Setsuko did as he asked, leaving him alone on the hill with the weapon. Sweat had broken out on the Phoenix priest’s brow, and he stared at the sword in his hand, a sword he did not remember drawing.

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