Fantasy Land of the Rising Sun

[shadowz1995]

Once upon a time…. Or rather a long, long time ago a great darkness had consumed this land, an unspeakable evil who's overwhelming power brought only pain and sorrow to those who inhabited the landscape. The beings responsible for this corruption were known to all as demons, soulless creatures who fed off the spiritual energy of all living things, everything and everyone was slowly withering away into nothing, the peoples hope included. That was until a great warrior rose from the what the people claim to be the very ashes the beasts themselves had left in their path, this man, a lone samurai of which had no name to be called and carried with him only an old and dull blade was who would eventually banish these foul creatures back to where they once came.

They say he walked throughout the lands like the very wind itself, rumours told of his blade glowing with the light of the full moon, its light growing brighter with each struck down foe until it re-ignited the hope of all those who remained.

He eventually came across the strongest of all the demons, a monster said to have the stench of rotting flesh and be so full of hatred and darkness that merely setting eyes on it would stop any humans heart from beating. The samurai stood strong in front of this creature and with blade raised asked a single question, 'If you could be forgiven for all you have done, if you were able to seek redemption for all your sins…. Would you take that chance?….' The answer to his question was something never heard, for not a second later the beast was no more. All the other demons fled back to the place of which they'd came, cowering in fear of the man who they declared to be more of a demon than any of them could ever hope to be.

He sealed them away beneath a boulder where the mightiest of them had fallen to his blade using a symbol carved into the rock with his own sword, after of which the blade had become too blunt to cut even the grass beneath his feet. As to where this swordsman went after his final act of heroism is a mystery to this very day, some say that with his duties complete he disappeared like dust in the early morning breeze, others that he settled down in a nearby village and started a family of his own in which to carry on his legacy.

But that's the problem with tales like these-…. You never quite know what really happens in the end, do you?….

________________

That was 239 years ago now, the land has once again become full of life and since the demons defeat the spiritual energy flowing throughout has become stronger than ever resulting in a variety of creatures beyond many humans beliefs, animals who can don the disguise of townsfolk and fox-like beings who have power over mystical blue flames. In the darkness's absence civilisation has grown stronger, small towns now appearing amongst the spread out villages and areas of land ruled by those of so-called noble blood, travelling samurai and swordsman growing more common as law enforcement is needed within the settlements of people and the existence of these creatures who can use the spiritual energy of the land in their aid become known and feared, much like humans do when approached by something they don't understand...

________________________

But that isn't the only thing on peoples minds as ominous signs begin to appear throughout the landscape, crops giving poor harvests time and time again or forrests becoming eerily quiet and ever more dangerous to go through. Unknown to most the darkness is once again slowly gripping its way out of the shadows and back into our world, the boulder is crumbling and as the seal grows weaker it's up to those with both the knowledge of the mysterious changes and the power to defeat this returning evil that can save us all.

 

[shadowz1995]

As time went on, the seal deteriorated to the point that the demon realm had begun to freely leak into the world, bringing demons of old and deathly miasma. The fog came from large chasms that suddenly opened sporadically across the land. The demonic influence spreads from these "cracks" and many human armies have been sent to push the demon hordes back from whence they came. While the armies were usually successful in their attacks, they could never figure out a way to properly seal the cracks, for every time one was sealed, another would take its place somewhere else in the world. The one thing that everyone knew for sure was that it was linked to the boulder's erosion.

The problem had become so out of control that hidden species of the world could no longer stay hidden and ignore the corruption. Kitsune, Half-demons, and Spirit Users of all types have begun to crawl out of the wood works to assist mankind in pushing back against the armies of hell and in trying to find a way to seal away the threat for good.

As it stood, there was a town that had fallen prey to one of these cracks, tentatively called "Gehenna Gates" by the people. There were no known survivors within the town which was now infested by Yokai. The few that escaped before it was overrun have sought help from nearby lords only to be denied. Their own armies were spread too thin contributing to the local Daimyo's efforts. With no one to turn to, they began asking anyone and everyone to help them in their time of crisis. Monks and priests were contracted to assist the volunteers as they came, offering cleansing waters, talismans, and incense to ward off the miasma's corruptive properties and seal the gate. Hopefully, once some brave souls were able to clear the demons, the priests would move in to cleanse the area and purify the portal to hell.

(You may begin. Players will each be given 3 bottles of purified water and 3 cleansing talismans. Purified water can be used to bless weapons and do more damage to powerful demons. Cleansing talismans weaken a demon's capabilities for a limited time. The purified water can also be used to combat some of the Miasma's negative effects should the incense run out. You wont have to worry about that this time around. I will be in control of the demons that are thrown at the players. So good luck adventurers.

Edit: Half-Demons are immune to the effects of the Miasma but they also cannot use cleansing talismans and must be very careful using purified water as it can harm them.)​

 

[Croaker]

Susurrus, Kin of Susurro and Fraus of the Glittering Plain, Beast Ambassador of the Stars, Minstrel of the Wailing Night.
​

Kissed gently by evening sunlight, a mass of horns and ragged, pale fur tread silently over field and woodland, escorted only by a parade of moths, and the whispers they carried.
The wandering demon and his choir of murmurs dipped in and out of shadows, lurked behind trees and danced around the saber like pools of orange sunlight cutting through the canopy. In their line of work, light was an enemy greater than most, and so it was avoided as all enemies should be.
Susurrus was no fool as to challenge the sun. He sank into shadows as smoke and starlight, and reappeared yards ahead in the lumbering shape of a demon. No prints were left in the soft soil bellow, no claw marks upon the brittle bark of the trees, and not a single wildflower disturbed in their wake. All that was left to remember them by were the sovereign cries of the occasional sparrowhawk, which quickly faded into the background as Susurrus steadily approached his destination.
There had been death. The air was rank with copper, and the sky was brimming and clouding with crows and buzzards. They squabbled and bickered with one another, but for all the guts they showed, not a single one of them dared to approach the village cast in their shadow.

Susurrus came to the tree line, and focused his energy. The light within his head dimmed as he turned his gaze inward, and sucked in stale air. He felt the many strings that pulled at his essence, all connected to those devoted to he, and he felt the soft whispers of moths brush against his cold flesh. Susurrus concealed his presence until it was undetectable, and then turned his gaze outward once more. He stared grimly at the sun hanging on the horizon, it’s detestable glow lighting the sky on fire and bringing a sickly illumination to the scene before him.
It was picturesque.
Mangled corpses cut and gutted like fish, arms reaching upward in protest, fingers curled with rigor mortis, all the while mocked by the sun, like a malignant god basking the sins of it’s creations in light for all to see.
Hovels and homes were nothing more but burning husks, holding the echoes of screams and prayers. The air was thick with death, and the sound of a clash. Susurrus turned his attention, finally coming to find what he had been searching for.
Two figures danced madly in the evening light, awash in the hellish orange hues of the sun. This was why the birds would not land. There were artists at work.

Susurrus focused on the figures as they clashed in the ruin, and felt his blackened heart quicken pace. This was what he had come for, and so he watched.

 

[Longhead]

Gehanna Gates


A demon was smiled on with good luck for the entire evening. The raid that had begun earlier that day was a huge success. Many were killed, many fled. Most died running, fewer died fighting. Though few remained in the village, as the orange sun cast its light on the carnage that the demons had brought about, they were slowly found in their hiding places and put down like sick animals in the most inhumane ways imaginable. None of them ever stood a chance. No human could ever hope to kill a demon without the finest of training. Even then, pristine training and vigorous practice could only do you so much against many demons. Destroying the village was too easy.

The people called the town 'Gehanna Gates' by the people, so it seemed. While looking for any untouched humans to feed on was probably in Kumo's better interests, he hadn't been in outside of Hell in a long while. It was okay for him to take interests in other things besides killing. But Kumo was taking interests in things he had already seen before. He took the liberty in sitting down on someone else's floor, flames dwindling and dying out around him, he was examining a tea cup. It was a small, cylindrical ocean blue cup. It had happened to be just almost unscathed despite the destruction of the small home that Kumo was in, the only characteristic that indicated that the cup had been harmed was a small chip missing from the top of the cup, where one would drink. The break resulting in a sharp, triangle shaped edge. The missing piece itself had fallen into the cup, broken into two pieces with jagged edges, equally as sharp as the break in the rest of the actual cup.

Kumo picked it up in has hand. It was heavier than he expected and it was empty, and he had gazed into it for long enough. He reluctantly, but gently places it back down on the table that he found it on before standing. The rest of the house he was in might have been a nice and cozy little place before, emphasis on little. He wasn't the first demon to get into the house unfortunately, but he isn't and certainly will not be the last one to step foot here. The door was completely broken down, but beyond that, the entire wall where the door used to be was gone, as if an entire stampede of angry cattle had came through. The roof had collapsed on one end, the bamboo grass and wood that had been used for the roof had piled on one end of the house, and it had gotten wedged between the walls. The only thing keeping it from being broken is was the tensile strength bamboo had, and the weight of the wood.

Only one person must've lived here. There was only one cot laid down, one cushion to sit on at the table, and one body, oddly missing his left arm up all the way up to his shoulder, and his left leg up to his knee. Those were only the amputations. At his waist, his body was ripped almost torn in half like a piece of paper, the dead man's insides long coming outside of his body. He looked like a dry husk. His skin was brown and wrinkled, and his body felt like it was made of paper, and for how much he weighed, it was nearly comparable to paper too. He could only wonder what kind of unique way a demon somewhere had used to drain his spirit. He was used to demons just plain out eating them. This was new.

He was more near the center of town, and that's where the fun was. Though next to no one was alive, and even if they were, there's no chance in hell that they'd be getting out, one human managed to go 1 on 1 with another demon. Kumo was familiar with this demon. His name was Khaoul. He was largely animalistic in every sense. Attacked what he could and ate what he could kill, dangerously strong, not particularly smart, but most certainly not as fast as yours truly. With Khaoul around, Kumo wasn't even sure that he wanted to be as close to the fight as he was. Khaoul wasn't a great fighter, wielding two blades and only knowing a bit on how to use them, he was clearly being out-skilled.

He himself wasn't even sure how long they had been fighting.

He spent too much time looking at a tea cup.

 

[Kazehana]

Hinata ambulated through the trees and around the thickets, her eyes mostly focused on the map she held in front of her. While the map itself was good, there weren't too many distinguishable landmarks to guide her. For a moment, she considered that she was looking at the wrong portion of the map, considering the possibility that she had lost her place and was in fact using the wrong part of the map. However, as she came to a fork in the path not predicted by either scenario, she decided it might be best to get a better view.

With a bit of an effort, she was able to climb on top of a nearby tree, taking a moment to collect herself before scanning the area. The sun gave her a preliminary understanding of her orientation, but the destination was far more obvious. Reluctantly, she scrambled back down onto the path that may or may not be the one she located on the map and began walking in the right direction once more.

To her, this took entirely too long and was so unnecessarily slow that she might as well dig a tunnel the entire way there. But she wouldn't like that any more than walking, and there would be far less to look at. Even still, there was little more than a few colors here and there to give her any sense of excitement. This might possibly not be worth it in the long run, but the risk of being caught out in such a conspicuous form was enough to coax her into moving forward on foot.

When she was quite nearly there, she found a small body of water and decided to rest beside it. Now that it was getting late, she noted to herself that this seemed a fair distance from the town, though the trees were already thinning enough to expose her and make her feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, it was a good landmark and may serve as a good source of water should she need to stay the night in the wild.

Given the events that had apparently occurred recently in the town, she found it peculiar that the the bugs were already beginning their return for their evening sonata. Perhaps it was a sign of the peace that may still be present in the world, but Hinata just took it as further conformation that this area was safe. A few ripples in the water that followed the rustling of the trees, bringing cool air to her calm visage.

For now, all was as it should be. But when she left, she knew that this would be only a memory. With that, she continued forward.

 

[Kazehana]

As Hinata approached the village because everyone complained, she quickly surveyed the damage. There appeared to be a few moving forms among the wreckage, but this was not a very populated area. Nevertheless, she was interested to see if anyone was left standing, possibly in hiding. She managed to reach a destroyed building, running her hand along its blistering frame. A sound snapped around the corner, prompting her to whisk around a standing wall in instinct. Her muscles twitching in anticipation, she listened carefully.

 

[archur]

The wind rustled the waving branches of the cherry blossom above, sending a few pink petals into the winding breeze. The stray petals soared across the forest air, dancing, and flitting about before landing softly at the shoulder of a single man, meditating under the sanctum of the blossom. The man was in his full battle garb, helm on his head and body encased in armor, eyes closed, fully upright in lotus posture. With a soft breath, he inhaled the sweet smell of the blossom, holding the fragrant scent inside himself, before releasing the loveliness back into the air.

"Akechi."

The man opened his eyes, brown, dark eyes peering out of their sockets. Intense, focused, peerless, the eyes found who called their name.

"What is it?"

The elder was a wizened old man, whose quivering lip hinted at the warning to come. Akechi raised his eyebrow at him, in confusion, but also a tint of concern. The elder panted as he climbed up the stairs, resting on his cane as he reached the young warrior. He raised his head, eyes shaking with fear.

"Gehanna Gates. It's been taken by demons."

Akechi sharply stood at this. Demons? Destroying a town? Impossible. Demons are but a fairy tale, a legend to keep children in their beds at night, nothing more, surely! He warily rested his hand on his blade, giving a sideways glance to the elder.

"Demons, you say."

"Yes! Demons! The people of Gehanna need your help Akechi!"

"Then so be it." He calmly began to walk past the elder, to the stables, when he was stopped.

"You should take this." The elder pressed a pouch into the samurai's breast, earning a confused look from the samurai. Akechi almost opened his mouth to question the contents of the pouch, the clinking and clattering only furthering his confusion. Akechi reached a gauntleted hand into the pouch, to come out with a strong smelling bundle of incense. Akechi was taken aback almost immediately by the overpowering smell. "It's for the miasma. You'll be glad to have that when you get there."

Akechi merely nodded, and bagged everything he pulled out again. He briskly walked to the stables, leading his horse out to the road, where he met the elder once more. The elder put his gnarled hand on Akechi's shoulder pad.

"Be careful. May the Kami favor you this day." Akechi nodded to the elder before mounting his horse and tearing off to the nearby village.

-x-
​

An hour later, and the samurai had made his way to the desolated village, only to be greeted by a small concession of priests and monks, offering further aid, to which he choose not to take. He already had the incense and whatever other trinkets he was given, and didn't want his senses to be assaulted any further. However, he felt like he would need those stifling smells to keep that black stench out of his lungs.

Dismounting his horse, the armour clad samurai planted the incense on his belt, the strong smell wafting upwards and over his form. He took no time to pass under the desolated gate of the village, stepping over the flaming remnants of what was left. He scanned the remains, a few crumpled houses of paper and bamboo struggling to still remain identifiable as a former abode rather than a heap of debris. He unsheathed his blade. Whomever caused such wreckage must've been truly sadistic to salt the land like this. But, he was here to simply clean what lingered, to what the villagers and others reported as 'demons'. He still didn't believe that, but what he did see was evil brushing the land in broad strokes, and he stood firmly against that devious artist.

He took a few more tentative steps into the village, striding past more burnt out houses, his eyes briefly passing by forms that skittered out of sight. He prepared to battle what might lunge out of the shadows, growing a little scared at the thought of whatever came through here leaping at him. He held a talisman in between his fingers, hearing of the power the symbols hold over demons. He was prepared for anything.

 

[shadowz1995]

The samurai known as Akechi certainly had not been hallucinating when he noticed the quick movements in the shadows of the ruined village. The very "non-existent" creatures that the samurai so vehemently refused to believe stalked his movements as he approached the village. The smell of burning incense causing their sense of smell to become obsolete . Still, that did not deter them any as he got closer and closer to the blood-soaked soil that marked the end for many brave souls much like the armored samurai himself. There were no bodies for... obvious reasons, unbeknownst to the human male.

The samurai did well to be cautious of his surroundings and to give in to his superstitions. A total of 6 lesser demons known as imps appeared from the ruined woodwork, charging fiercely only to stop abruptly upon seeing the talisman Akechi held betwixt his finger tips. They were grotesque creatures. They were roughly 3 feet high with sickly, pale skin reminiscent of a dry salamander. 12 Lidless, unblinking yellow eyes stared at the appetizing mortal that foolishly wandered into their midst, alone. They wielded the weapons of their previous victims. Arms ranging from tantos to katanas. Their initial attempted vigorous assault now turned into a cautious approach. They slowly surrounded the human man, chittering and high-pitched barks sounding off between them as they planned among themselves the best course of action. However, it became clear that thinking was not the strong suit of the imps as one who was armed with nothing but a bloodied kabuto helmet rushed headlong at the samurai, squealing bloody murder and swinging the piece of armor wildly at him. The sudden attack seemed to stir the others, evident by the drool that started to drip to the rusted dirt as the ambush officially began.

archur
______________________________________________________________________________


At the heart of the town, no living beings dared approach the unhinged carnage of a duel that was taking place. Havel Maewha had long since lost himself. His goal... his mission.... his reasoning for being here.... even his own name. He had long since forgotten himself in the bloodied battle, unable to retain his humanity against such a powerful infernal creature. His last thoughts just before he lost himself to the Oni Ittö-Ryū's trance was that this was a true demon. This was what his late master and woman were aspiring to become. In a strange way, it was a relief.

Now Havel... no... now "the swordsman" was little more than guide hatred and fury. The smell of spilled blood, rotting flesh, and ashes giving fuel to the human muscles that so desperately needed it. It seemed like the swordsman relished in the brutality and ferocity, accented by the dull orange hues of the setting sun as much as his demonic dancing partner. Again and again, blade met blade. The swordsman's skill had been carving ruinous rivers of gore into the demon's unarmored skin but as the fight went on, his own mortal body tired and slowed. This gave the demon known as Khaoul crucial openings to rend the swordsman's flesh with his own malicious armaments.

Still, the fight continued, the true demon of the two now clearly winning the battle. Khaoul's vastly superior strength, tenacity, and variety wearing the mortal man down. Havel roared his faltering opposition as he cleaved two more of Khaoul's flesh marionettes, his step faltering over one of the many he had reduced to mere lumps of flesh once again. The ronin slipped in crimson-slicked earth, falling to one knee. His chest heaved, desperately trying to finding oxygen but only taking in the hellish miasma. The man was dyed from head to toe, as if someone had dumped a bucket of scarlet paint over his body. He couldn't tell how much was his and how much belonged to his foe any longer.

A gravelly, malefic chuckle caused the vagrant's head to shakily rise and meet the demon's. Even through the sticky, blood-soaked raven black mess that was his hair, Havel fully understood what that look was.

Victory

Khaoul looked down on the shamed foreigner through a twisted grin. This was not the samurai that had sealed him away all those years ago but nonetheless, it was a battle worth remembering. A true compliment coming from him. The human had narrowly avoided certain death an unbelievable amount of times during their battle and had nearly struck Khaoul a death blow multiple times. His regeneration was taxed, his blood magic exhausted in the fight, and he was actually exhausted. A mere human had exhausted him. But, all good things had to end and the millennia old demon was truly going to savor devouring this particular mortal, assimilating him into his flesh.

The large demon looked into the icy eyes of the swordsman, raising his blades to deliver the final blow. To equally rend flesh from bone and the soul from the body. Despite how desperately he fought, Havel's eyes widened. The "demonic" ronin understood that he could do no more. The realization cut through the demonic trance of the Oni Ittö-Ryū and Havel was fully conscious of the death blow. The mortal's irises shrunk to a grain of sand, truly making his eyes appear like blue crystals surrounded in a sea of red.

The reaper's blades came down like a stroke of lightning. Havel only had enough time to recoil away, his form falling into the reddened mud, just barely missing the death stroke. The vagrant dropped his blade, his hands desperately clawed through the wet dirt in a futile attempt to crawl away from his fate. His pitiful escape halted by the demon slowly pressing his armored foot into Havel's leg, halting his movement. The ronin dug his bloodied fingers into the mud, still trying to drag himself away, much to the demon's pleasure. Evident by the howling laughter that echoed through the still air of a victorious battle.

All seemed lost. All was lost until the vagrant's finger came into contact with something solid. Assuming it was a rock, Havel gripped it and hurled it at the massive demon behind him in some useless attempt to delay the inevitable. It came as a surprise to both Havel and every demon that was spectating the battle when Khaoul recoiled with an agonizing screech of pain.

The shattered pieces of ceramic fell and sunk into the brown-crimson mud. What Havel had gripped was not a rock but the vial of holy water that was provided for him before he even entered the village. The lesser demons on the outskirts did not prove to be much of a threat, so he had forgotten about it. Followed by his encounter with Khaoul and his descent into demonic madness, the ceramic vial filled with his liquid sanctuary had fallen out of his clothing and was soon buried underneath the blood-soaked earth.

The finality of his own death turned into frenzied determination. A final, desperate, hail mary attempt at life. Havel's hand found the second blade at his hip, the engraving LH glinting in the scarlet that dyed it. In a flash of steel and fury, the ronin's former lover's blade found itself a new sheath, buried deep Khaoul's still steaming flesh. Of course, that would not be enough to finish the demon..... no.

Havel ripped the blade free from Khaoul's chest and poured whatever pitiful reserves of strength he had into raining death upon the demon. Again and again and again, Havel brought the weapon down into demon's body. The fact that his own body was wounded beyond what any man should be able to take was beyond irrelevant to the former samurai.

It could have been seconds...minutes...or hours. The mortal didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure.... was that when his body collapsed, he fell into dirt that as strangely warmer than the surrounding bloody mud. It also felt softer for some reason.

The black of exhaustion immediately began to close in on his vision, threatening to send him into endless slumber. Whether it be due to inhuman willpower or the will of the Gods themselves, Havel clung to the vestiges of consciousness within his mind. He teetered precariously between life and death, in limbo as the weaker demons began to emerge from their metaphorical theater seats to approach the "victor" of this battle.​

 

[Croaker]

Susurrus, Kin of Susurro and Fraus of the Glittering Plain, Beast Ambassador of the Stars, Minstrel of the Wailing Night.
​

The dance raged on; a furry of swinging blades, a choir of biting metal.
It was passion and detachment. It was acceptance and fate untold. Like lovers consummating a marriage of death and destruction. Two creatures, both known in the courts of hell, valiantly practiced their art on a stage wreathed with the blood of the innocent. Only one would be victorious, only one would walk away from the battle, though they would not come away unscathed or unchanged from the encounter. This was a war after all, though not the kind fought with clashing armies controlled by bitter lords. This was a war fought by two artists that breathed violence and uncreation.
One would be hard-pressed to find a better example of poetry in motion.

Looking on from the gossamer shadows of the woods, Susurrus analyzed the bloody fight, as a hundred moths fluttered about his head, relaying information and whispering sweet infernal secrets. Nothing that the demon did not already know had been said, and so his spies were momentarily dismissed. Without hesitation, the moths fell away into shadows and relaxed their pale wings in pools of evening light, though they never strayed too far from their master.
Pleased that he was no longer being disturbed, Susurrus brought his attention back to the performance.
The sun continued to descend, it’s diminishing glow foretelling the end of the deadly dance.

When the climax finally split the miasmic air with the violent flaying and rending of demon flesh, Susurrus found himself having to refrain from clapping. The Whispering King was pleased with the outcome of the evening’s events. Khaoul was a fool, and a dangerous fool at that. Now he was gone, hacked and slaughtered like the pitiful beast he was. Having him out of the equation was of great relief.
Without another moment wasted, Susurrus turned from the town called Gehenna Gates, though he admittedly wanted to stay so that he might witness the victor’s fate. If Havel survived, then the man would be worth the demon’s time. Until then, there were other matters the beast had to attend to.

Susurrus once again summoned forth his court of moths, and once again his ears were filled with whispers and secrets. He strode into shadow, and when the sun finally fell away and the sky bloomed into twilight, the Demon glided through the woods like smoke.
A moth fluttered towards the demon, its wings laden with the murmurs of a place that would be of great interest. Susurrus had been looking for something as of recently, and finally it had been found. All other business could wait.
Quickly, Susurrus diverted his path amongst the thicket, headed now to a new destination. He would need to be quick, as there were only a few precious moments of twilight that yielded absolute darkness before the moon and stars came to rape away the shadows. The night would be a long one, as there was much to be done. The threads of fate were intertwined now, and the sun had set on the land of the rising sun.

 

[Longhead]

The battle was raged on. The fight had picked up long before Kumo had noticed it was even happening, and he could practically feel the end creeping it's way into the fight at a steady, quick pace. Even Kumo couldn't peel his eyes away from the fight even for a moment. They were glued on, and he was taking in everything that was happening at once. Every sound of metal against metal, every grunt and shout, every motion was a sound that stuck with him. The human who fought, absolutely covered in blood, making it hard to distinguish if he was winning or not, seemed beat. He was tired, and his motions only becoming a little more sluggish with each strike, yet each of them finding its mark. The human fought like a demon, perhaps even better than one. It was apparent. Had Khaoul not been able to heal himself so quickly, this fight would have more than likely been decided ages ago.

Had the human been born anything other than a human, he might've actually fared much better. After carving two more gashes into Khaoul, he slipped. Even Kumo couldn't hold himself from letting out an long groan from the clumsy mistake, completely ignoring the fact that his feet had better traction on any surface than any footwear.

"You were this close. So very close to winning - good effort." he mumbled to himself quietly, his shoulders slumping as the fight reached it's apparent end, Khaoul raising his blades to finish the human off. Kumo stood in preparation to leave. Khaoul could eat anything, and he didn't want to be around when he was done with this guy.

He almost felt sad. The human barely dodged Khaoul's last strike and weakly tried to crawl away. He wanted to reassure the human that he was going to die anyways. There was no chance at winning now that he had lost. He would've, had Khaoul not been a danger to him. It was another one of the reasons why he didn't want to help as well. He placed a wall on what use to be a corner of a home, ready to jump away. He was only staying until the final blow was dealt. If he was fast enough, he could swoop in and steal the spirit energy before Khaoul could do it. Khaoul was fast, but Kumo was faster.

He always will be, now.

He blinked, and in that moment, he heard a scream. Assuming this was his chance, he dashed forward only a foot before digging his toes into the dirt. It wasn't over. Something happened in literally the blink of an eye. Whatever it was, it put Khaoul in enough pain for this human to find a good enough opening to absolutely brutalize him. Judging from the steam coming in waves off of Khaoul, it was probably holy water. Just the thought of what Khaoul could be going through made Kumo's skin crawl. He shuddered. The human drove a blade home into Khaoul's body many times. Too many times. Khaoul had to have been dead after the first few. He collapsed only moments after finishing his series of stabs.

It was understandable. A hard fought victory deserves good rest. It's not everday you beat a greater demon, and it's not everyday you beat Khaoul. Uneasily shifting his weight between feet, he debated killing him or letting him go. Surely he would die from his wounds if he was left here, in this demon infested city. Then again, why should they have him if Kumo could easily take him now? He killed Khaoul. Something he was probably going to at least attempt at some point. He was fresh out of hell, and weak. This human couldn't have had a better chance at killing Khaoul than he.

Could he?

"I'll help. Just this once."

He left his spot, having his own lane between the other demons that had come to look at who could have killed such a demon. The closer he got, the slower he walked. He felt hesitant, but he didn't restrain himself. He now stood over the human. He was breathing. He was barely holding on. He flexed the dorsal spike on his right shoulder, the appendage growing and raising to strike. He held it there, as if trying to pretend that he didn't say he'd help. The most he'd do was get him away from the village, more so the cracks to hell itself. He felt his dorsal spike retract and rest and fold inwards. He got down on one knee, carefully swallowing the saliva built in his mouth, lest it drip on the man. With how far gone he looked, Kumo doubted he'd be able to respond to him if he asked his name. Instead, he grabbed him by the forearm and simply began walking, dragging the exhausted form in the dirt behind him, only slightly lifting his back off the ground. The lesser demons wouldn't touch him so long as Kumo kept a firm grip on him.

Hopefully.

Spoiler

shadowz1995

 

[Kazehana]

When Hinata discerned the sound's distance, she assumed it safe to scope out the area. Nothing here seemed to be of any note, but then again it sounded like most of the commotion was happening on another part of the village. Somewhat cautiously but not really, she darted from rubble to rubble, pretending like she might be stealthy if she weren't so impatient. Not that it mattered, as no one seemed to be here. As the sounds became louder, it became more apparent that this was a violent get together and likely a good explanation as to what was going on here.

Lifting herself so she could see over the edge of what appeared to be a sturdy piece of wall still leftover, she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a rather close fight. The man seemed to be extremely violent, still slashing at the whatever-it-was long after it had died. The intentions of such a battle were unclear to her, but the recently deceased bore an incredibly dark aura that she immediately associated with magic. Given that this wasn't a common encounter, she couldn't help but wonder...

Regardless, this moment of reverie was soon interrupted when some random demon decided to move the possibly-still-alive man that had slaughtered the darkness. This one seemed quite different from the dead not because its intentions were any different, but because it didn't seem as potent. Given that it came in after everything was all said and done, she assumed it was some vulture like tree that scavenged for leftovers instead of doing any of the hunting itself.

As much as she wasn't inclined to speak to the man who seemed excessively belligerent and violent, it was somehow worse that someone else was taking him instead - almost like a challenge that was never issued. This didn't bother her, as she simply decided that she wanted to be the one to retrieve him because the demon wanted him too. She wasn't about to be beaten to it by another magic user - exploration was her thing.

So the next logical thing for her to do was snap her finger and ignite the demon's hand with almost no regard for the demon's potential power. After all, what is is it gonna do? She was fine, right? Even still, she ducked down and considered her next move, something she probably should have done before instigating a metaphorical tug of war over some random man.

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

Sumire​

A white blur in the green, her snowy fur smoothed back along her lithe feline form by the wind as her dirt covered paws pressed hard against the roots of trees and springy moss covered ground while she dashed through the forest with her ears folded back against her skull. Her large blue eyes were uncharacteristically narrowed as her gaze stayed steady with determination on the path ahead of her, determined to remain undeterred by any obstacles that may otherwise impede her because any impediment would be unquestionably detrimental to her wellbeing – and her ability to remain well was already in question.

It had not been her intention. Her intention had been to simply enjoy the afternoon sun after a well-deserved though perhaps not very well-earned meal provided by her caregiver. A nice nap in the forest away from the idle prattle of the villagers, in particular, the generally unfounded gossip of the old ladies that visited her O bachan. She had found Humans to be a rather superstitious lot and the older they were, the more superstitious they seemed to be. So rather than expose herself to the endless rumor mongering over some nonsense concerning the village to the east, she had vacated the premises nearly immediately following the consumption of her smoked fish.

Nothing had disturbed her slumber and she awoke with a yawn, rising to her feet, her back curving with her rear in the air as her front feet pawed at the mossy forest floor before she lazily made her way to the pool only steps in front of her and took a slow drink. The water would have been cool and refreshing, but instead it caught in her throat. It was nothing to do with the water itself, though something she spied on the surface of the water. It was only a moment before she heard the low throaty rumble coming from the figure whose reflection was shown in the small oasis, the sound soon echoing as it slipped from other creatures of the same breed that lurked within the trees.

Where she had thought herself to be safe, an area of the forest that had never been home to many predators because it was so close to a Human village that when the wind blew the right way, anything very carnivorous could smell and hear the goings on of the villagers and steered especially clear, only venturing closer if they were chasing prey or scavenging and even then they didn't stay long and Sumire could usually await their departure within the walls of the village or by climbing up a tree. However, this day she had not been so lucky.

The yips and howls of the wolf pack coalesced behind her as she ran full speed through the trees. They were unrelenting, they were ridden with the smell of fear and something dark that she couldn't quite place. Their growls were enough to match the sounds their stomachs would make if she could hear them, but she had no intention of letting them get that close.

She felt like she had been running for miles and the reality is that she had been. The pack had been more careful than she had generally found wolves to be when she had come across them, although why they would see fit to focus all their attention and energy on a single cat was beyond her but the fact of the matter is that they were focused on her to the point that they had blocked off her path back to the village leading her to turn and flee to the east instead. Maybe if she got close enough to the next village they would sense the Humans there and give up their chase.

That was her hope at least, that something greater than her would inadvertently come to her aid. And while it wasn’t in the form she had expected, something greater did indeed come to her aid.

The gnashing of the wolves’ jaws, their growls, howls, and the sound of their feet pounding the ground as they charged along behind her - some mimicking her path and some trying to flank her - was violently halted as from out of the trees a swarm of dark creatures bearing an increased air of the same ominous scent she had detected on the wolves came stampeding out and converging on the wolves. Their claws and teeth gnashing as they pounced on the pack and turned howls and calls of the hunt into whines and yelps of panic and pain.

The cat’s steps faltered for only a moment as she glanced back over her shoulder, the carnage reflected in her large blue eyes that widened in terror. There was no way back towards the safety of the village she knew, her only option was to continue on towards the next village. The village of the rumors, the ones that it only now occurred to her may be true.

The fear of the rumors being true was only solidified as she drew closer to the village. The dark air she had sensed before was only growing stronger and her formerly flattened fur stood on end as the feeling of foreboding she was gaining was only heightened by the raucous cries of victory and mayhem she heard echoing from the village. She stopped and hunkered close to the ground, the fear in her expressive eyes now joined by worry. She was a basically defenseless feline with no means of remaining hidden, her white fur being a dead giveaway of her presence. She still had her wits though and realized the best thing she could do now was find a way to remain hidden, some sort of camouflage. This she determined when she spied the fallen remains of some poor soul that could only have been said to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She crawled on her belly over to it and rolled in the already congealing blood pooled beside the body, matting her silken white fur with blood, and mud alike.

When she was satisfied that she had hidden herself as well as possible and that her scent would be hidden from whatever monstrosities lurked within the fallen settlement, she continued her low crawl to a portion of rubble that had once been the wall and roof of someone’s house and finding a suitable crevice, she crawled beneath.

coded by Roleplay Skittle