Takeda BW XXX
The air is so cold that it stings Takeda’s exposed skin, forcing an involuntary shiver. His senses are heightened by the complete darkness which envelops him. Almost blind, he smells charcoal; indeed, the freezing, heavy air is dense with the acrid smell of smoke. Is it burning wood, or something less natural? From all around, he hears dripping – like water onto stone - which echoes to his front; in his mind, Takeda pictures the sound to be like drops of rain on a slow flowing river, where the ripples extend and collide creating a complex, distorted reflection carried downstream, away from him. Something is close by, lurking, watching, immobile. Takeda does not understand how he knows this for he is blind, there is no noise other than the incessant dripping, and there is no smell able to permeate the stench of smoke. He waits, occasionally shivering, expecting more than this. Suddenly, light shatters the darkness and he jumps. Brief though the flash of lightning is, it illuminates a long fissure in the massive, black rock, which extends high above his head and as far as he can perceive to either side. Behind him is a sheer drop into a void. Black, shiny droplets cascade in a myriad of tiny falls all around him, smashing onto the stone at his feet before joining others in streams, carved into the rock over many lifetimes. There is no smoke; the source of the smell seems to be the floor, which is covered with ash, except where the dark liquid runs into the cavern, like many long, lean, black snakes, or over the cliff edge on a journey into the void. Another flash emanates from further away behind him and reveals the enormity of the rock face in front.
The same brief light outlines a humanoid, on one knee to Takeda’s right, by the entrance to the cave. Half turned away from him, staring out of the massive cave mouth, he is motionless. Dishevelled blonde hair, lank from constant exposure to the liquid, partially covers the man’s face. Dressed in torn, weather-beaten furs, black in places where the wet ash has made its indelible impression, and clutching a bastard sword close to his chest, he seems unaware of the Samurai. Takeda believes him to be a Norseman
“Odin, if you are still with me, now is the time I need your help the most,” he whispers, eyes fixed on Takeda.
A pale blue light begins to fill the cavern, its origins centred just in front of the oriental. As the light becomes increasingly intense, Takeda sees the warrior haul a seemingly lifeless body from the cave - an Oriental, old, frail, with taught, waxy skin that reflects the blue light eerily. Despite being wrapped in an ash-stained fur cloak that once belonged to the Norseman, the body shivers uncontrollably.
Hoisting the oriental across his back, the warrior sets off slowly back up to the cavern’s entrance, muttering what sounds like the verbal component of a spell, “Through ash, earth, fire and snow; through limbo by the path only Gnomes know; through water to dwarrowdelf and valley low, to home this man and burden must go…”
Takeda lost the vision and consciousness...Before blacking out completely, he briefly saw the warrior helping the aged oriental to stand in front of two beautiful women: one oriental, who bore a slight resemblance to the old man (Takeda recognised her immediately as his queen); and the other a half elf, who wore a bright-silver crown, with a single point, on top of which was a glowing purple gem. The elderly man began to cry.
“Father!” cried Yishmay, Takeda’s beautiful Queen.
“My daughter, you live!” the old Samurai Lord whispered.
“As do you…” she embraced her father tenderly, bring his head to her shoulder. Takeda heard what no other seemed to in the whispered words of father to daughter, failing King to emerging Queen, “daughter, in the wars ahead you will need the Standard of Minawara; it would undo Malor’s hold on our family that mistakenly swore loyalty to him and cannot find a path back.”
“Yes my father, Yamagata has sent his first born to recover the Standard.”
Thinking that he was finally awake, Takeda stood; however, rather than looking across the open, water-logged deck of the galleon in which he travelled, he saw an open, undulating plane. On the plane were rank upon rank of Samurai-led bushido warriors, all heading away from where Takeda stood. Looking around, he was struck by the enormous cliff-top walls of a vast fortification behind him and the desolation of everything else. All seemed empty, lost. All seemed as much adrift as he felt on board the galleon. The air was dry and cold but the sky was overcast and threatening. The green planes rolled into the distance, darkened by the inability of the sun to penetrate the swirling black clouds. Takeda felt lonely – an alien. The wind whipped up across the planes blowing his families’ battle honours that had pride of place at the head of each of the long columns of Bushido. They marched in rank behind each Honour Flags: Minawara, Hirumatsu, Yagimato, Terumi, Toronaga and Kouyoto.
Takeda was close to the head of Yagimato’s personal column – his was the honour and birth right to lead all of the Samurai, he was Shogun. Many people, of all races entered and left his circle of friends, allies and confidents as the huge column wounds its way across Amorsland.
“My Lord, there is yet time, we need your wise counsel and strength in the forthcoming engagements with Malor,” called a young half-elf from horseback as he approached the left of Yagimato’s senior leadership group of Samurai.
“I know your case Senforn, I have heard it repeatedly,” replied the Shogun who wore incredible ancestral armour and carried weapons know to be made by those of the greatest skill.
“That is because I believe it, Sama. She lives and he knows where she is,” pressed the half elf joining the procession.
“That is unlikely, friend. I know you care for my daughter deeply, but do not think your love for her matches my own. No, she is lost and I will no longer have a part to play in this war – safe is our home in Nega,” the samurai said calmly casting his eye down to the path his horse strode sedately along.
“You are mistaken Lord; I humbly ask you to reconsider. Whilst I know she feels nothing for me, I have the strongest conviction that she lives and that she is vital to the existence of all realms on the Prime. She is a Bloom my Lord! She is the human Bloom of which the learned speak with hush voice. It is only she, in council with the other blooms, that can unite the races and ensure the Prime removes those alien to it. I speak not of good or ill, I speak of those of the Prime and those not. Your God, Lei Kung, knows of the Norse fear of Ragnorak, he knows that his influence on the Prime would dwindle if it were occupied by those of the lowest Planes.”
“A fine speech, Senofrn, worthy of your Father. But I have heard it day after day since the disappearance of my beloved Yishmay. No, it is a false hope. Why would my daughter be this ‘chosen one’ you speak of? Why not just a loving daughter, worthy of a great Lord to which my house needs to be bonded? No! Senforn, I will hear no more. You should return to your duties at Voraykarai – are you not captain of the guard?”
“Well Sama, it is the interest of all the Prime, not just my command that ensures I am free to pursue her and that I will do for the greater good of the Prime. I cannot believe that you, above everyone else, has lost faith.”
“It was taken from me the day Yishmay was lost. No, I am to return and defend our ancestral home from the abominations that threaten us all. I leave some of my house here at Oshika – a place that I had come to love, before she…”
“She is not dead! I will make you understand soon enough…” The words had barely left the elf’s lips before he had turned his horse north…
“Wait! Senforn, you have been trusted with the keep of the Temple you must not abandon your position and leave the castle to fall!”
“I will, in search of someone far more important than a place – no matter how grand you have made it. You must understand that your daughter is more than just…”
“Listen, Senforn, there is much you do not understand of that sacred place. You must not abandon it. The Gods use it to channel their power between Planes. Look, I do not expect you to understand the oriental Gods, but believe me when I say that the Vorsay Temple should not fall to the enemy.”
“Then why not stay and protect it yourself?”
“Because there are other places that need guarding too – I cannot be everywhere! Please Senforn, do as your father bid and do not leave your post on a fool’s errand.”
“You have left your post and on an errand that none understand.”
“I know you cannot understand me, but please trust what I do now is for the greater good; at least take some of my men to help defend the Temple.
“Of course I’ll take all the help I can get, but I am not promising that I will not search for Yishmay.”
“Fine…fine, but take Tokugawa and his Bushi, they are valiant fighters who have won the honour of carrying the ancestral banner of the Minawara House. The banner is renowned and will guarantee the loyalty of all Samurai who see it.”
“Then this is the parting of the great house of Minawara from Amorsland. I am sorry my Lord, that we have failed you.” Rearing his horse, Senforn shouted over his shoulder, “I wish you luck!”