[Checkpoint] The Main Gate

The woman finally made her way down the road and to the gates. Dusk was beginning to set, and the chill of the Northern-Tawakoshi air had made the end of her nose and her cheeks sting pink. She had with her only the things that she carried on her body, her daisho tucked against her frame at her back, her sack somewhat obscuring them from view.

If unhindered, she planned to make her way through.

Nodding once to the guards, she went right on inside. [Exit]

The mists of Tokhung were a veil over the hills, clinging heavily to the ice and the stone that was scattered around this hellish province. The guards upon the rampart of Mutsonobe’s wall watched the wall of white, even as it swirled around them. The mornings were always quiet in Tokhung, always still, but this morning….

…. This morning seemed to be holding its breath, as if waiting for something. The hairs on the back of the guard’s neck stood on end, and the blue gates of its main entrance did not open. That’s when they heard it from the ghostly corpse that surrounded the capital-- the tattoo of horse hooves over the smooth stone that laid the main path to the gate.

Out of the pale shroud came a single rider, slumped over his horse. The men on the ramparts gasped and wondered amongst themselves as they moved to the wall, peering over its edge at the rider. In his back was a spear, and the blue gates opened as the Omaharu guards rushed to bring him in. Within the entrance they pulled the man from his horse, and the captain gripped the material that was wrapped around the end of the spear.

An emblem of cranes – three of them, forever linked in a circle.

As the wounded rider died in the arms of the guards, there were more calls, more points to the mists. Something glowed from behind the mist, bright and effervescent, seeming to float in the air. The Captain squinted, and realized what it was before his men did.

“CLOSE THE GATES!!” he yelled as the glowing points in the mist became larger, redder, BOLDER—

AND FIRE OF HAY AND TAR AND OIL CRASHED INTO THE WALLS OF MUTSONOBE, SPRAYING OVER MEN AND WALLS ALIKE. Screams rattled off as bells and alarms began to ring. The blue gates began to close, but it was too late--

-- they could hear the DRUMS.


The drums beat a quick tattoo as the feet of a thousand men came surging like wraiths from the mist, their yells a symphony to add to the bells that chimed the warning. Another surge of men behind those who carried ladders to the walls, but they stopped at the mist’s edge, morning dew clinging to their leather-steel-and-lacquer armor as they released their arrows at the men on the walls, claiming as many lives as they could while they still had surprise on their side.

The line of archers rotated back into the mist, using it for as long as it lasted as foot soldiers rushed to the wall – they were fodder in this battle, a distraction at best as more pinpricks of lights in the mist became larger and larger--

FIRE RAINED ON MUTSONOBE, catching the paper of screens and walls, the wood of beams, the thatching of rooftops, licking at stone, black smoke rising and causing a panic.

How many more waited in the mist surrounding Mutsonobe?

A rush of foot soldiers came next, carrying a battering ram between them. They were targeted by Mutsonobe’s archers, but when one man fell, another replaced it. The rotating archers at the edge of the mist seemed to keep coming, and coming, arrows FLYING as if given some supernatural force.

Men fell, men bled, fires raced, the large orbs kept CRASHING into the walls and the drums kept playing so every citizen in Mutsonobe would know--

-- the fall of the Omaharu was at hand.

The assaulting army swarmed on Mutsonobe like starlings, clattering up the walls. Ropes were cut, ladders were pushed, destroyed – arrows were fired from the walls, rocks thrown, oil poured to the screaming and lamentation of the men trying to conquer the fortress, but it all blended together with the terrified screams of the people within Mutsonobe’s walls as well.

SLAM! SLAM!

The battering ram had made it to the blue gate, and the sun crept higher and higher into the sky, the mist beginning to dissipate. Steam was rolling off from around Mutsonobe’s walls now from the heat of blood clashing with the cold of Tokhung.

The misty wall crept backward as the heat of the day took away its power, and more wraiths could be seen, looking as if they were DEMONS come to claim the lives of the Omaharu clan. There was one figure atop a horse, however, one who pushed its steed forward.


-- the trebuchet with their fires, the sconces that the archers were now using to fling their arrows over the wall and BURN EVERYTHING… the lines and lines of men willing to rush forward and replace the men that the Mutsonobe soldiers had thought they were defeating.

Beside the warrior in the white winged helmet, a little behind and to her left, a woman sat on a chestnut horse, a rosary of prayer beads wound around her wrist and clasped in her hands. Jishu looked out over the destruction and fire, mouthing a prayer. The white of her nun's headdress an appropriate colour for mourning so many deaths. Although she was armed, a large naginata slung across her back, and armoured beneath her robes, the nun did not seem to be taking part in the battle. Such wholesale death was necessary to sweep away the evil of the Omaharu. Those warriors who died with only honour in their heart, she prayed for the goddess of mercy to see them reborn into a life where they would serve a better lord. For those civilians within, she could only hope not too many would die carelessly at the Iron Crane's forces' hands. This life was cruel, but heaven had mercy, and heaven appreciated justice too. Jishu had pledged her assistance to the woman known as Iron Crane, lending her advice and wisdom, succour and friendship, but the true lord she served was that in heaven. It had been a long time since she concerned herself with earthly conflicts, but with the destruction of the Omaharu at hand, Jishu felt that her revenge brought heaven's wrath, and all this carnage was not unjust.

Screams were all around her, the clash of swords rang through her ears. This was not how she imagined it, this was not how she should feel. Her hands started to be slightly shakey as she felt fear take a hold of her. No! This was not how her father had taught her. She took two deep breaths and her steadied along with her nerves.

She took her sword in both hands, the blade clearly sharp and ready to cut anyone. She didn't have a plan, she just wanted to defend the people around her. Pushing the fear deep inside of herself she took steps towards the place where she heard the clang of metal and stepped around the corner. She was not prepared for what she saw there. She might have been trained a samurai, but she was still just a girl of 15 years old. Blood and bodies were everywhere, intestines were spread over the ground, grunt and screams were plenty around her. Again she felt herself freeze.

During the time that she frooze a men suddenly turned her attention towards her. She did not recognize his face, neither did she recognize his clothes... He must be the enemy, she knew, but still she could not bring herself to move. Only when he tried to disarm her and grab her she suddenly swung her swords out of instinct. It his the man right in the hip and belly, ripping him open. Blood sprayed over her clothes and into her face. The man grunted and fell to his knees in front of her in agony, but along with him a loud scream came from Miyoko as well.

She killed someone, she had sliced him over and killed him. She dropped her blood covered sword and fall to her knees looking at the blood that was on her hands. She killed him, she really did. She looked around her, hoping to see the face of her father, even hoping to find her brother among the chaos even though she knew he was no longer alive. When she didn't find them she got up to her feet fast and found a place to hide.

Only there she calmed down. This was not how father had meant it to be, she was going to become a strong samurai, but still, her hands were shaking rapidly as the blood was starting to dry up. She hugged herself. "You are Miyoko Omaharu. You are to be a samurai. You are not afraid to die. You will die with honor in a battle or of old age..." she started to whisper quietly to herself, hoping she would eventually believe it herself again.

Sayaka's head turned with Jishu's soft voice. Her pale blue eyes looked to the nun, then down the length of her arm to the fan that was pointed toward the fleeing figure. One of the guards that was near Sayaka and Jishu moved to deal with Miyoko, but Sayaka put her hand out -- and that gesture alone brought the man to a stand still.

"Secure the palace, and guard the wells and the grain stores," Sayaka said, knowing well that stewards and loyalists might try to poison supplies and food if only to bring their conquerors to a painful and dwindling end. "I'll deal with the girl."

The white-helmed figure made her way after Miyoko. Smoke and screams were still heavy in the air as the Samurai moved quietly through the halls. She paused, and listened for a moment...

... before drawing her katana with swift and striking grace. A wind blew just as the blade cleared the sheathe, blowing open an entire line of doors and cabinets that made a "wall" of a walk way, their wooden shutters clattering against each other.

Miyoko was revealed, and Sayaka was quick to turn and level her sword tip at the child's face. "Stand," the quiet and feminine voice said, a woman's eyes above the monstrous face mask and beneath the white wings of the helm the warrior war.

Jishu followed Sayaka as she made her way towards where the girl had fled. The Iron Crane quickly made short work of the girl's hiding place using her holy blade. She stood by Sayaka's side, with no weapons in her hand, and looked down at the girl, then as she stood, straight into her eyes. “Don't be afraid,” she said, with a kindness in her voice and her dark eyes, setting off the rather threatening aspect of the two women's armour and Sayaka's mask with its deliberately terrifying face. “We don't kill children. Even children with swords.” The nun bent down to pick up Miyoko's discarded katana, then reached forward and pulled out the scabbard from Miyoko's belt. She sheathed the sword, and quietly held it in her hand. “Who are you, girl?” she asked.

She could feel her hands and legs shivering and shaking, feeling like a minor gust of wind could blow her off her feet. But a different part of her was still whispering that she should remain strong and not show her weakness. She would listen to them talk, looking them both in the eye turn after turn as her chest was rising up and down, her breath becoming more unsteady with the second.

"Then kill me! Give me an honorable death! Let me die knowing that I was here to defend my people!" she suddenly shouted, taking a small step into the blade that was being held towards her, letting it pierce her skin just slightly. She didn't even feel the pain, she seemed numb. Numb by fear, numb by anger, numb by the weight she felt on her shoulders from being an Ohamaru. Maybe this was better, she would die as her father had always wanted her to die. Yes, maybe it was.

The girl was shouting, defiant to her core. The Iron Crane's blue eyes blazed like icy fire behind the horrific angles of her facemask, but her hand was steady, holding that blade to Miyoko Omaharu's throat even as she stepped forward and made blood run.

Jishu spoke first, calm and even, but before the girl could respond to the nun, the Samurai stepped forward, and a chilly breeze seemed to move with her as she decreased the distance between herself and Miyoko.

Her voice was quiet. ". . . how did you defend your people from inside a closet?" the Samurai woman asked, a question meant to humiliate the girl... especially when the Samurai woman took her blade away. "I do not execute cowards. A rope would be fit for you."

The Yukimoto men had swept through the palace by then, and two guards and a runner came over to where the white-washed nun and Samurai lord.

"We have found what remains of the Omaharu family, My Lady," they said from bowed head and bent knee. "Mutsonobe is secured. It is ours."

"This is Miyoko Omaharu. Tie her and gag her, then bring Nobuhide to me." The men were quick to obey her orders to the exact letter.