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Kakihara
Moon
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2020
The noble man stood. And the people looked to him. For he was a beacon - hope given form, yet still only a man. And within that truth there was a great promise. If one man could stand against the night, then so too could anyone - everyone.
In his strong hand the man held a Rose. And his aura burned bright.
When the man journeyed on, the people remembered. In his wake hope spread. But the man had a secret fear. His thoughts were dark. A sadness crept from the depths of his being. He had been a hero for so long, but pride had led him down sorrow's road.
Slowly, the shadows' whisper became a voice, a dark call, offering glories enough to make even the brightest Light wander. He knew he was fading, yet he still yearned.
On his last day, he sat and watched the sun fall. His final thoughts, pure of mind, if not body, held to a fleeting hope - though they would suffer for the man he would become, the people would remember him as he had been.
And so the noble man hid himself beneath a darkness no flesh should touch, and gave up his mortal self to claim a new birthright. Whether this was choice, or destiny, is a truth known only to fate.
In that cool evening air, as dusk was devoured by night, the noble man ceased to exist. In his place another stood.
Same meat. Same bone. But so very different.
- Destiny Volume One: Dark Mirror (Thorn, The Rose)
Hello. Thank you for visiting my one on one role playing idea’s page.
Who am I?
I consider myself a fairly literate writer though I know I'm not perfect. I mess up tenses sometimes and miss things in my spellcheck. I do try but it's a continuing process. I'm pretty laid back about things and just enjoy the processes of creating a story with another person. I love the give and take of brainstorming and writing, new things coming up and being thrown out. And, of course, all the planning in the world can go out the window a little when the characters start thriving on the page where I find they can change and take on a mind of their own.
Since I want the RP to be a collaborative process I never had any preconceived notion of my partner's character or look preference. I prefer when my writing partners write and play the character they want to, use what face claims they want. I will write with anybody, from Lords, Ladies, Lieges and Legates. To me, it doesn't matter what your gender and sexuality are, as long as our writing harmonize well and that you are very willing to write wonderful stories with me as a writing partner.
Storywise, I write traditional third person fiction and can get fairly lengthy in my post depending on the scene and what I might be working with from my partner. I can get pretty long in the words for my opening post, so be warned, I know some don't like that much. I also understand this is my prerogative, I don't expect as much length from my partner. I do expect to average at least three to four paragraphs though and usually move to match my partner's post length.
Long term Role Plays
I usually aim for long term RPs which can be quite a commitment and a few years ago I had some personal issues that killed my muse and I couldn't write for a while. I know we all suffer some muse issues but I want to reiterate that I will try to keep any partner up to day either personally or via my Absence thread if my posting should be delayed. Communication is essential for good games to continue on I believe. (Note: I will always check a partner's A/A for any updates but if there is no updates done there to indicate a possible absence, if a month passes without any word I'm going to assume you are not committed to the story and consider it dropped. I do not need the personal details but a simple 'I'm unable to write currently but I do wish to continue the RP when I can' is sufficient.)
Face Claims
I'm open on this one though I do lean towards using Face claims. I have written more descriptions in the past but I've gotten more used to using face claims. If we do use face claims though I am open to both using real life face claims as well as artistic ones, though I normally default and lean towards RL ones.
Collaboration
(or What I'm looking for in a writing partner.)
For me, RPing is a collaboration between two writers looking to create a great story. So, I'm more than glad to hear your ideas on one of the ideas I've posted, even if it's a rift off of what I created. Since I understand life happens, I can deal with one or two post a week or once a day, heck I'm ok with it being weeks in between for good RPs. I have no specific need on length, but I do get a little perturbed if I write a long, detailed post and I get a one line answer. I understand that some post will be short, especially if the action is getting built up or for sex scenes.
I will say a very important thing to me is that both writers contribute to the idea of a story, brainstorming both in the beginning plotting and new scenes as things progress, as I've found many collaborations can become one sided. I am always briming with ideas and will often toss ideas out but I love when my partner throws out ideas and I can add to it, both of us contributing to a great scene or arc. While I don't think the whole story needs to be plotted out, we should have the end goal set up and good start at least planned out before jumping in. Another important part of collaboration, and contributing equally, is that both writers push the story, as I've run into many instances where one writer just wants to be along for the ride. Even if a story includes D/s elements, both parties should be pushing the actual story along. As part of this, replies that push the story forward is necessary and not just responding to what was given is paramount. Of course, how far you can push things will vary scene to scene but not having anything has been a problem in the past.
While I do have Discord, I prefer to do my planning in PMs on BMR just because it's easier to organize and I'm on it more than Discord, as well as it lets me think on replies as I always feel pressured to reply quickly to Discord message if on, and I prefer to give plotting some thought.
- I don’t enter any story with a smut ratio but most of my ideas are more slow burn, not that I’m against a getting to the smut sooner.
- I love OCC talk. Just because we have finished the brainstorming we can keep in communication about future of the story or just to chat.
- If you reach out with more than a ‘I want to do this’ I will always respond to you even if it’s to say I’m not interested or that I’m full up on RPs right now. I hate reaching out and getting no response so I won’t do that to anyone that puts in effort.
- I don’t have any specific metric as far as how much you write though I find it difficult to go below three paragraphs with a partner
- I’m fine with new writers or those who’s English is not their first language. I am patient and not a grammar stickler, English is my first language and I still mess up.
- If you are getting bored or just not feeling something feel free to let me know you are having issues. We can see if there is anything we can do or maybe need to drop this specific RP.
- I need a co-writer that will move the story forward and share the use of NPCs. While how far things move forward fluctuates in a story it should be a joint effort to move the story onward, not just respond to what has happened.
The airport was condensed chaos stuffed into drab walls and ugly carpet, and, sadly, Cade Rhodes was getting used to the whole process. He was ruffled from being on back to back flights from South Africa into Atlanta and then having to rush from the International terminal to domestic. Picking up and checking his luggage had delayed him exponentially longer but he’d learned it was better than relying on the ground crew to correctly transfer all of his stuff with only internal checks. Normally, he was used to flying with a lot of expensive equipment and insurance couldn’t replace the wear and feel of all of his worn in pieces.
Luckily, he’d sent on most of his equipment via freight to his studio in New York City but he was still protective of the two trunks he’d pulled along to check in. He didn’t envy having to close shop in Las Vegas but at least they were replaceable, his most precious and expensive things had been shoved into the padded custom leather carry on. It was made the same craftsman who made some of his special items and it had proved durable as hell.
He wore the standard gear of the photographer on the go with black cargo pants and crimson t-shirt with a military style grey shirt thrown over top. Sharp lines defined a handsome face, high cheek bones giving his brown eyes an intense look, and a natural tan touched his skin to give it just a hint of color to his face and arms. He wasn’t one to go out of his way to tan but outside work had it’s benefits and it’s debits. A pair of comfortable hiking boots covered his feet having learned it was better to be durable than fashionable, leaving the expensive suits and shoes for client meetings. A shock of black hair was kept short enough to stay out of his eyes but long enough to flop down over his forehead from the right part. The hint of a beard had started to creep along his chin and cheeks having been run too ragged to get a chance to shave.
Leather carry on patting against his side, he left security and everything else behind him, trying to turn his mind back to Russell and Ava, smiling at the thought. They’d been through a lot and deserved this extravagant wedding to celebrate their love. He could still remember the first time Russ had some to him about Ava, seeing the deep love for her despite the issues they were having. He knew what it was to have trust issues so when his buddy first started asking about Cade’s lifestyle, he was hesitant to encourage him. It was not for everyone and could make things worse depending on the people involved. But, he took the chance based on that look, talked him through things and even had Ava come over to chat. He gave them all the info he could and tempered everything with caution before giving them some things to start with, happy it moved them past their trust issues and they bloomed.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said, nodding to the attendant outside the walkway to the plane. “Is this where you ask business or pleasure,” he asked with a smirk, handing her his boarding pass. The world could be a shitty place and he refused to contribute any more to it than he had too.
“I think that’s only in movies,” the young blonde giggled. She scanned him in and handed it back so he could stuff it inside his overshirt pocket.
The enclosed gangway to the plan always felt flimsy under his muscular frame though he didn’t let himself get bulky with his training. He realized the flight would probably be the toughest part of the trip as he’d stuffed his camera and other items in the carry on which hadn’t left room for his tablet. That meant he’d have a few hours with his head and trying not to think about Lilly and how she’d ripped his heart out. It had been months but it still stung as getting betrayed by someone you trusted and trusted you hurt so much more.
Checking his ticket, he counted down the seat numbers until he arrived at his, letting out a low exhale that sounded vaguely like, “Damn.” He’d always had a weakness for red heads and here was a gorgeous one sitting next to him. His eyes gave her the once over trying hard not to be too rude despite the quiet want to drink her in more. Smiling down at her, he reached up and popped open the overhead storage, sliding his bag into it before motioning to the seat next to her.
“Well, it looks like you are stuck with me for the next few hours,” he said, sliding into his seat. His dark eyes looked over at her carefully, moving across the lines of her face and into her eyes as if trying to find something there. “Seeing as we are forced companions for the next few hours it seems rude to sit here in silence. The name’s Cade.” He reached a hand over to her and held it in front of her, a bright smile on his face.
He remembered his first few flights and how nerve wracking it was, sure man was not meant to fly and that mother nature would prove that true. But he’d gotten used to it that it was old hat but his stomach still dipped on take offs. “First rule, though,” he said, his smile belaying the authoritative voice. “Always close the blind on takeoff. Airports are ugly places; it offends my artistic sensibilities. And second… I forget… I’m sorry, I had this all worked out that I was going to be suave to the gorgeous woman next to me when I saw you. But, I’m just not very good at suave or being ‘rico suave’ either. But I am immensely entertaining and on a plane without a movie that is very important.”
Luckily, he’d sent on most of his equipment via freight to his studio in New York City but he was still protective of the two trunks he’d pulled along to check in. He didn’t envy having to close shop in Las Vegas but at least they were replaceable, his most precious and expensive things had been shoved into the padded custom leather carry on. It was made the same craftsman who made some of his special items and it had proved durable as hell.
He wore the standard gear of the photographer on the go with black cargo pants and crimson t-shirt with a military style grey shirt thrown over top. Sharp lines defined a handsome face, high cheek bones giving his brown eyes an intense look, and a natural tan touched his skin to give it just a hint of color to his face and arms. He wasn’t one to go out of his way to tan but outside work had it’s benefits and it’s debits. A pair of comfortable hiking boots covered his feet having learned it was better to be durable than fashionable, leaving the expensive suits and shoes for client meetings. A shock of black hair was kept short enough to stay out of his eyes but long enough to flop down over his forehead from the right part. The hint of a beard had started to creep along his chin and cheeks having been run too ragged to get a chance to shave.
Leather carry on patting against his side, he left security and everything else behind him, trying to turn his mind back to Russell and Ava, smiling at the thought. They’d been through a lot and deserved this extravagant wedding to celebrate their love. He could still remember the first time Russ had some to him about Ava, seeing the deep love for her despite the issues they were having. He knew what it was to have trust issues so when his buddy first started asking about Cade’s lifestyle, he was hesitant to encourage him. It was not for everyone and could make things worse depending on the people involved. But, he took the chance based on that look, talked him through things and even had Ava come over to chat. He gave them all the info he could and tempered everything with caution before giving them some things to start with, happy it moved them past their trust issues and they bloomed.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said, nodding to the attendant outside the walkway to the plane. “Is this where you ask business or pleasure,” he asked with a smirk, handing her his boarding pass. The world could be a shitty place and he refused to contribute any more to it than he had too.
“I think that’s only in movies,” the young blonde giggled. She scanned him in and handed it back so he could stuff it inside his overshirt pocket.
The enclosed gangway to the plan always felt flimsy under his muscular frame though he didn’t let himself get bulky with his training. He realized the flight would probably be the toughest part of the trip as he’d stuffed his camera and other items in the carry on which hadn’t left room for his tablet. That meant he’d have a few hours with his head and trying not to think about Lilly and how she’d ripped his heart out. It had been months but it still stung as getting betrayed by someone you trusted and trusted you hurt so much more.
Checking his ticket, he counted down the seat numbers until he arrived at his, letting out a low exhale that sounded vaguely like, “Damn.” He’d always had a weakness for red heads and here was a gorgeous one sitting next to him. His eyes gave her the once over trying hard not to be too rude despite the quiet want to drink her in more. Smiling down at her, he reached up and popped open the overhead storage, sliding his bag into it before motioning to the seat next to her.
“Well, it looks like you are stuck with me for the next few hours,” he said, sliding into his seat. His dark eyes looked over at her carefully, moving across the lines of her face and into her eyes as if trying to find something there. “Seeing as we are forced companions for the next few hours it seems rude to sit here in silence. The name’s Cade.” He reached a hand over to her and held it in front of her, a bright smile on his face.
He remembered his first few flights and how nerve wracking it was, sure man was not meant to fly and that mother nature would prove that true. But he’d gotten used to it that it was old hat but his stomach still dipped on take offs. “First rule, though,” he said, his smile belaying the authoritative voice. “Always close the blind on takeoff. Airports are ugly places; it offends my artistic sensibilities. And second… I forget… I’m sorry, I had this all worked out that I was going to be suave to the gorgeous woman next to me when I saw you. But, I’m just not very good at suave or being ‘rico suave’ either. But I am immensely entertaining and on a plane without a movie that is very important.”
A cool breeze blew though the small mountaintop temple, furins filling the night with a subtle chiming buzz. The day had been a hard one for Kyosuke and his bones ached as he laid down on his simple futon, pulling the covers tight to his chin. His long face was sharp and delicate as if carefully chiseled from white marble, the edges of his jaw and cheeks rivaling a tanto. A sadness hung to his emerald eyes set deep under a smooth brow and hair the color of the night sky. Despite the elegance of his features, his body was tight cords of lithe muscles wrapped around a tall frame, a testament to years of hard training.
His sleep was restless despite his exhaustion but he’d fallen out finally into a fitful sleep. But the sorrowful cry of a fox in the night brough his eyes fluttering open, long lashes brushing at sleep. It all happened so fast then as men emerged from the shadows to grab at him, a shout rising from his lips as his sense sharpened, realizing this was no dream. His hands began to move and ripples of power started to form in the air, the young man drawing upon the pools of magic that was his heritage. And then, suddenly, it all dissipated as silver arm cuffs were clasped over his forearm, the metal closing so it was like they had been forged around his flesh.
Kyosuke shrieked at them as the dragged him from the bed and threw him to the floor, tossing clothing at his feet. Rage boiled inside of him but the points of katana’s in his face settled taking the lid off that pot, shaking with the held back anger. Carefully, he put on the grey kosode offered to him, wrapping it tightly around him and securing it in place before pulling on the black haori. Hands grabbed at him then and pushed him out of the room and down the hall until he was out in the court yard. A number of men were gathered there along with the bodies of the priest and men who maintained the temple. A twinge of sadness pulled at his heart as they were the only family he’d really ever known, though it was tempered by the methods they had used to mold him.
“What is the meaning of this,” he bellowed, cold eyes looking over those around him. “I demand to know why you have done this.”
“Be quite, descendant of Abe no Seimei,” spoke a woman wearing a Noh mask. It was a black and red with small horns.
“Don’t you dare…,” he started to spit. The fist hit him hard in the side of the face and he felt his head swim with the effort to just stay standing, blinking hard at the ground. For a brief moment he was not sure his legs would hold him but hands grabbed at him with a tight grip as the woman nodded to the men surrounding him. A quiet spell, a simple one he’d learned as a child, moved on his lips for a short moment and he felt the spark die. Looking down at the long bracelets that encircled his forearms he saw they were like a smooth expanse of silver but in the torchlight around them he could see filaments of gold that seemed to form kanji in them, but it was so brief his mind could not grasp them.
“I will see you killed for that,” he muttered. He did not see the blow from the grip of the katana on the back of his head. Simply, his eyes rolled up and darkness engulfed him, swallowing him fully up.
He woke laying in some moss with the sound of laughter around him, poking his head up too quickly so the world spun. Biting back bile, his face scrunched up as he lay his forehead against the ground, sucking in breath. His legs and arms were bound with simple twine he found with a little struggle, trying to stay quiet. A taiko pounded a steady rhythm in his head and he made a mental note remember to roll with a punch the next time, it had been way too solid. It appears his subtle movements were not so subtle as he heard the men moving.
“The princess is awake,” one of the men snickered.
Hands grabbed him and drew him up to set his back against a tree. Five men sat around a fire burning with some game that had been caught, rabbit he thought. It made him realize how hungry he was and his stomach growled. Glancing up at the treetop, he saw the sun poking though, knowing it had to be out a while as it was well past morning.
“Pretty boy sounds hungry,” laughed the man who’d placed him back against the tree.
“You can have some,” a large man said whose girth seemed to be threatening to split his clothes. “Just ask nicely.”
Kyosuke spat on the ground and glowered at the man, at all of them, his lips trembling. They were pink and full though now they were pulled into thin lines, anger swimming in his pools of jade. The look only seemed to increase their laughter but the young man didn’t care, his eyes were moving over the small camp. He took stock of everything, noting the walking staff the big man had set against the near by cart and the field mouse moving through the grass waiting for scraps.
Eventually, their attention moved to other things and he saw a chance, leaning over to whisper to the kami. His words were soft so they barely carried but they didn’t need to be for his purposes. Soon, the mouse came to begin gnawing on the twine, breaking the fibers enough he knew he could do the rest. Then the wind came, it blew their hats and rustled the cart so it started to roll, all of the men moving in one direction or the next to grab gear.
With a grunt, he pulled at the ropes and they snapped as he’d hoped, rising to his feet with a huff of air. He ran towards the cart as the big man grabbed the cart, putting a bare foot to his rotund ass to send him sprawling down, the cart dragging him along as he held on for a brief moment. It was enough for him to grab the wooden staff, wrapping his fingers tightly around the wooden shaft, before taking off into the forest. Bare feet padded on the soft grass and leaf cover but the occasional twig or berry would bite into the sensitive skin or smear across the flesh so his traction slipped. Branches and bushes swatted at his jacket and robes, frantically trying to get ahead of the men.
He could hear the heavy breath of one pursuer close behind him as he could smell the scent of food in the distance, clear sign a town or village was nearby. Suddenly, he stopped and turned with his whole body into a fighting stance, the heavy wood of the staff hitting with a soft thwack into the side of one of the men’s head. The subtle crack of bone was loud in the air as his blow sent the man head first into a tree trunk, blood oozing down the side of his head. He dropped like a bag of bricks to the ground, flopping like a puppet with their strings cut.
The others were slow close behind that he had no chance of running, bring the staff up into a defensive posture. It was a kata that had been drilled into him. He struck out at one man but the drew their blade and one end of the length of wood was lopped off. Another feigns and they cut the piece of wood in half, rendering it useless. Another came at him with an overhead slash, Kyosuke knowing his death was fast approaching. With little to lose, he brought his arm up to catch the blade on the metal bracelet, the steel coming to a stop with a loud clang.
A few more blades were caught on the silver devices but he knew he didn’t have long to live; he was growing weary from the effort. And then, suddenly there was another and he knew for certain he was dead with no magic to call on. But then a strange thing happened as one of the men moved towards this stranger, his eyes widening as her blade flashed and the man fell. Seeing a greater threat, the other men began to move towards this new figure with blades ready. He sighed wishing the figure had been anything more than a distraction as the numbers said she was dead, but it would give him a chance to escape.
Kyosuke was slowly backing up when she began to cut though the men like they were bamboo, his mouth falling agape. He had heard tales of swordsman before and how precise and deadly they could be but it was like watching a natural storm of steel flow though his attackers. The blood though brought the taste of bile to the back of his throat, turning away, his chest heaving at the coppery smell in the air. Swallowing hard, he waited for his death to come knowing there was no escape if she could cut though these men like that, but he grew curios as he pressed against a tree and nothing came.
Blinking, he turned back around to watch the figure bend down to touch the dead men, plucking coins from their waist. Pressing his hand to his mouth, he bit back the queasiness, his eyes going wide as his eyes traveled over the person who’d rescued him. A woman. “Oh, great,” Kyosuke spat, shaking his head. “A thief. A brigand. My luck couldn’t get any better could it.” As he spoke, he reached out to remove the remnants of the cords around his wrist, glaring at the woman. Looking down, he saw some blood had splattered on the hem of his kosode, reaching down to grab some leaves, wiping at the spots.
“Great,” he muttered. “Wonderful technique.” The leaves had smeared the blood off but the stain remained much to his annoyance. “Still, while I had things under control, I do appreciate your assistance thief. I’m afraid I have no coin on me but they had a camp up the hill a little so you may find some odds and ends. Perhaps a more fitting kimono or such.” He sighed looking around the forest for a moment trying to get his bearings, still breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Is there a stream near by to get this blood out. Or a village? I thought I smelled food.”
His sleep was restless despite his exhaustion but he’d fallen out finally into a fitful sleep. But the sorrowful cry of a fox in the night brough his eyes fluttering open, long lashes brushing at sleep. It all happened so fast then as men emerged from the shadows to grab at him, a shout rising from his lips as his sense sharpened, realizing this was no dream. His hands began to move and ripples of power started to form in the air, the young man drawing upon the pools of magic that was his heritage. And then, suddenly, it all dissipated as silver arm cuffs were clasped over his forearm, the metal closing so it was like they had been forged around his flesh.
Kyosuke shrieked at them as the dragged him from the bed and threw him to the floor, tossing clothing at his feet. Rage boiled inside of him but the points of katana’s in his face settled taking the lid off that pot, shaking with the held back anger. Carefully, he put on the grey kosode offered to him, wrapping it tightly around him and securing it in place before pulling on the black haori. Hands grabbed at him then and pushed him out of the room and down the hall until he was out in the court yard. A number of men were gathered there along with the bodies of the priest and men who maintained the temple. A twinge of sadness pulled at his heart as they were the only family he’d really ever known, though it was tempered by the methods they had used to mold him.
“What is the meaning of this,” he bellowed, cold eyes looking over those around him. “I demand to know why you have done this.”
“Be quite, descendant of Abe no Seimei,” spoke a woman wearing a Noh mask. It was a black and red with small horns.
“Don’t you dare…,” he started to spit. The fist hit him hard in the side of the face and he felt his head swim with the effort to just stay standing, blinking hard at the ground. For a brief moment he was not sure his legs would hold him but hands grabbed at him with a tight grip as the woman nodded to the men surrounding him. A quiet spell, a simple one he’d learned as a child, moved on his lips for a short moment and he felt the spark die. Looking down at the long bracelets that encircled his forearms he saw they were like a smooth expanse of silver but in the torchlight around them he could see filaments of gold that seemed to form kanji in them, but it was so brief his mind could not grasp them.
“I will see you killed for that,” he muttered. He did not see the blow from the grip of the katana on the back of his head. Simply, his eyes rolled up and darkness engulfed him, swallowing him fully up.
He woke laying in some moss with the sound of laughter around him, poking his head up too quickly so the world spun. Biting back bile, his face scrunched up as he lay his forehead against the ground, sucking in breath. His legs and arms were bound with simple twine he found with a little struggle, trying to stay quiet. A taiko pounded a steady rhythm in his head and he made a mental note remember to roll with a punch the next time, it had been way too solid. It appears his subtle movements were not so subtle as he heard the men moving.
“The princess is awake,” one of the men snickered.
Hands grabbed him and drew him up to set his back against a tree. Five men sat around a fire burning with some game that had been caught, rabbit he thought. It made him realize how hungry he was and his stomach growled. Glancing up at the treetop, he saw the sun poking though, knowing it had to be out a while as it was well past morning.
“Pretty boy sounds hungry,” laughed the man who’d placed him back against the tree.
“You can have some,” a large man said whose girth seemed to be threatening to split his clothes. “Just ask nicely.”
Kyosuke spat on the ground and glowered at the man, at all of them, his lips trembling. They were pink and full though now they were pulled into thin lines, anger swimming in his pools of jade. The look only seemed to increase their laughter but the young man didn’t care, his eyes were moving over the small camp. He took stock of everything, noting the walking staff the big man had set against the near by cart and the field mouse moving through the grass waiting for scraps.
Eventually, their attention moved to other things and he saw a chance, leaning over to whisper to the kami. His words were soft so they barely carried but they didn’t need to be for his purposes. Soon, the mouse came to begin gnawing on the twine, breaking the fibers enough he knew he could do the rest. Then the wind came, it blew their hats and rustled the cart so it started to roll, all of the men moving in one direction or the next to grab gear.
With a grunt, he pulled at the ropes and they snapped as he’d hoped, rising to his feet with a huff of air. He ran towards the cart as the big man grabbed the cart, putting a bare foot to his rotund ass to send him sprawling down, the cart dragging him along as he held on for a brief moment. It was enough for him to grab the wooden staff, wrapping his fingers tightly around the wooden shaft, before taking off into the forest. Bare feet padded on the soft grass and leaf cover but the occasional twig or berry would bite into the sensitive skin or smear across the flesh so his traction slipped. Branches and bushes swatted at his jacket and robes, frantically trying to get ahead of the men.
He could hear the heavy breath of one pursuer close behind him as he could smell the scent of food in the distance, clear sign a town or village was nearby. Suddenly, he stopped and turned with his whole body into a fighting stance, the heavy wood of the staff hitting with a soft thwack into the side of one of the men’s head. The subtle crack of bone was loud in the air as his blow sent the man head first into a tree trunk, blood oozing down the side of his head. He dropped like a bag of bricks to the ground, flopping like a puppet with their strings cut.
The others were slow close behind that he had no chance of running, bring the staff up into a defensive posture. It was a kata that had been drilled into him. He struck out at one man but the drew their blade and one end of the length of wood was lopped off. Another feigns and they cut the piece of wood in half, rendering it useless. Another came at him with an overhead slash, Kyosuke knowing his death was fast approaching. With little to lose, he brought his arm up to catch the blade on the metal bracelet, the steel coming to a stop with a loud clang.
A few more blades were caught on the silver devices but he knew he didn’t have long to live; he was growing weary from the effort. And then, suddenly there was another and he knew for certain he was dead with no magic to call on. But then a strange thing happened as one of the men moved towards this stranger, his eyes widening as her blade flashed and the man fell. Seeing a greater threat, the other men began to move towards this new figure with blades ready. He sighed wishing the figure had been anything more than a distraction as the numbers said she was dead, but it would give him a chance to escape.
Kyosuke was slowly backing up when she began to cut though the men like they were bamboo, his mouth falling agape. He had heard tales of swordsman before and how precise and deadly they could be but it was like watching a natural storm of steel flow though his attackers. The blood though brought the taste of bile to the back of his throat, turning away, his chest heaving at the coppery smell in the air. Swallowing hard, he waited for his death to come knowing there was no escape if she could cut though these men like that, but he grew curios as he pressed against a tree and nothing came.
Blinking, he turned back around to watch the figure bend down to touch the dead men, plucking coins from their waist. Pressing his hand to his mouth, he bit back the queasiness, his eyes going wide as his eyes traveled over the person who’d rescued him. A woman. “Oh, great,” Kyosuke spat, shaking his head. “A thief. A brigand. My luck couldn’t get any better could it.” As he spoke, he reached out to remove the remnants of the cords around his wrist, glaring at the woman. Looking down, he saw some blood had splattered on the hem of his kosode, reaching down to grab some leaves, wiping at the spots.
“Great,” he muttered. “Wonderful technique.” The leaves had smeared the blood off but the stain remained much to his annoyance. “Still, while I had things under control, I do appreciate your assistance thief. I’m afraid I have no coin on me but they had a camp up the hill a little so you may find some odds and ends. Perhaps a more fitting kimono or such.” He sighed looking around the forest for a moment trying to get his bearings, still breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Is there a stream near by to get this blood out. Or a village? I thought I smelled food.”
Posting Rate/Posting Location
I try to reply often but things get hectic and the muse sometimes doesn't cooperate so I would say a few times a week but more like once a or twice a week right now. I would favor either posting in the forums or via PM though I may be convinced to post via email. I don't use Discord or any chat programs.
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