As your hand takes hold of the wakizashi's hilt, an image flashes before your eyes.
You see Tsutamu as he once was, his armour & kabuto polished and shining. His tanned, weathered skin is free of scars, and a twinkle is in his brown eyes. He smiles at you.
His voice sounds in your ear.
Use it well. The Whispering Shrike is a blade worthy of any dai-sho.
Tsutamu does not release his grip on his sword yet.
"生活型に固執する人は、ライブ死を無視する人たち。" He intones. "Those who cling to life die, and those who defy death live."
As he speaks, the skeletons surrounding the party begin to crumble, their eyelights winking out.
Tsutamu releases his grip on the blade and steps back.
"I am glad to leave this place... at last."
He slumps against the wall, and his eyelights fade.
As your hand takes hold of the wakizashi's hilt, an image flashes before your eyes.
You see Tsutamu as he once was, his armour & kabuto polished and shining. His tanned, weathered skin is free of scars, and a twinkle is in his brown eyes. He smiles at you.
His voice sounds in your ear.
Use it well. The Whispering Shrike is a blade worthy of any dai-sho.
Tsutamu does not release his grip on his sword yet.
"生活型に固執する人は、ライブ死を無視する人たち。" He intones. "Those who cling to life die, and those who defy death live."
As he speaks, the skeletons surrounding the party begin to crumble, their eyelights winking out.
Tsutamu releases his grip on the blade and steps back.
"I am glad to leave this place... at last."
He slumps against the wall, and his eyelights fade.
Tsutamu gestures to his sword. "In the hilt of my blade is a letter, penned by my Master. It was intended for his son should he fall in battle, but... well, I never saw either of them again."
The samurai raises a bony hand to his collarbone and pulls out a rusted key hanging from a rotting leather lanyard. "This key will open the chest containing Master Rokuro's treasures. It's in the cavern behind me."
He looks at the party, his eyelights lit with a spark of hope. "I wish for you to take them. Deliver them to Rokuro's descendant... Ameiko..." The name sounds very foreign to his tongue, and it shows. "...and give her the letter. She deserves to know of her lineage."
"No, no... nothing like that." Tsutamu shakes his head and gestures to his sword. "In the hilt of my blade is a letter, penned by my Master. He intended for it to reach his son should he fall in battle, but I never saw him again." He also raises a bony hand to his collarbone and pulls out a rusted-looking key on a rotting leather lanyard.
"This key will open the chest to what remains of Master Rokuro's treasures. They are in the cavern behind me."
He looks up at Ikoma, his eyelights still burning, but with a spark of hope. "I wish for you to take them. Bring the letter to Ameiko..." The name sounds very foreign to his tongue, and it shows. "...she deserves to learn of her lineage."
"Wise of you, mortal." Tsutamu nods at Gryf. "Perhaps you would have made for a better guard than I."
"My ship and the ship with the riches came to rest in this swamp." The undead samurai looks back at Haru and continues. "My men found this cave you see around you, and we sought to use it until we could find a village or somewhere else to call home. I took some of us and sought out the other ship to retrieve Master Rokuro's possessions. When we returned..."
His voice trails off as a chill wind blows through the cavern. "...perhaps it would be best if you witnessed it for yourself."
The sounds of battle start to ring throughout the cavern, with cries of pain and the *ripping* of claws and blades through flesh echoing off the walls. Staggering between the party is a ghostly apparition of a Tian man, clad in four-mirror armour and kabuto. His face is wrinkled and weathered from years of hard living, with several scars and teeth marks on his face. His wakizashi is coated in ghostly ichor as it flashes from its scabbard time and again, felling formless masses of flesh all around him. The ethereal monsters lunging at him look much like the monster the party slew at Walthus' home--faceless stalkers.
"When I returned from the Blossom with what possessions that weren't claimed by the sea, I made a most tragic discovery." Tsutamu's voice booms over the ghostly tableau. "This cave... it was the home of a tribe of monsters who could take the form of men. They slaughtered the men who remained behind, and began to butcher the survivors I took with me." His words are punctuated by several precise slashes from his ghostly counterpart, felling the stalkers with a single stroke each.
"I slew the tribe, but only then did I truly know the weight of my failure." The ghostly Tsutamu staggers to the far wall behind the skeleton warrior. He stops and leans against the wall, turning to the party with a look of complete, utter despair on his face. He draws his wakizashi once more, looking at the blade.
"Forgive me, men... Forgive me, Empress..."
He takes the blade in both hands and aims it at his heart.
"I am Ikoma Gohei, from the Clan of Gohei. We are no plunderers, but I think we are here on the wish of the fates to relieve you of your duty, so that you can join your ancestors! I bow to your dedication to giri!"
The undead samurai shakes his head. "If you knew the magnitude of my failures, I doubt you'd be so quick to bow, Ikoma-san. You look upon a broken shell of a samurai, once a man of great conviction and skill. Now, I am cast from Empress Shizuru's sight, a ronin unable to save his master or his line. I was once Tsutamu. I will not be again."
Nestasha wrote:
"There have been attackss by golinbss using fireworkss on local caravanss. We've been invesstigating and dealing with the threat. While the goblinss have been dealt with we found evidence of various shipss and sseveral chesstss that belong to the Kaijitsu family..."
The undead warrior's eyes light up at the mention of the chests. "Yes, the chests bearing my master's riches. You have found them, then?"
His eye-motes blink, then he quickly nods. "My apologies. Please, continue."
Nestasha wrote:
"...We know the lasst member of the family alive and intend to bring these thingss back to her thuss restoring them to their proper owner."
"...what?"
The skeletons suddenly murmur as their jaws drop open.
Nestasha wrote:
"We know your skeletons can leave here. If you would help uss return these things to the last Kaijitsu then she may be able to release you from your eternal vigil to cross to your well your well earned place in the afterlife."
"Master Rokuro's son survived? And continued his line?" Tsutamu's voice is low and disbelieving. He looks down at the sandy floor, then up at Nestasha. "Who... who is she? What is her name?"
"And how is it you came to be here of all places, so far from home?"
"It is a tale long in the telling, living one. I am here at the behest of my fallen master... a man of great honour and mercy." The undead warrior's eyes dim slightly as he addresses Marten.
Before he can continue, Haru interrupts.
Haru wrote:
"あなたはみんかいからです?"
Minkaian:
"You are from Minkai?"
The undead warrior seems to relax a bit as Haru addresses him in her mother tongue.
He offers a bow. "確かに。"
Minkaian:
"Indeed."
As Haru asks her questions, something seems to change in the skeleton's eyes. "The questions you ask me, young one, all tie together in the telling. For me to tell you truly, then you must know who I am... or, rather, who I once was."
"You see before you a broken husk of a samurai, once a man of great conviction and skill. Now, I am cast from Empress Shizuru's sight, a ronin unable to save his master or his line. I was once Tsutamu. I will not be again."
Haru wrote:
"Why are you in Varisia? How did you become an undying warrior?"
Tsutamu pauses. "The answers to such questions stretch back many years. My master was a righteous man, beloved by his people for his efforts in protecting and nurturing them... his reforms brought much joy and prosperity to their fields and cities." His tone turns wistful, then bitter.
"Alas, such mercies drew the attention of powerful enemies... in the span of years, his great line was winnowed to but himself and a scant few descendants. We fled across the Crown of the World, shedding many of our worldly possessions for even the slightest hope of survival." The samurai growls, his mote-eyes blinking. "In the foreign city of Kalsgard, we were able to secure a ship, and sailed south across the waters. For many more years, we found some measure of peace..."
The skeleton falls silent.
"...but it was not to be. One day, my master put his son and retainers on one ship, myself and his servants on another, and his riches on a third. He told us to flee his side, for he feared his enemies had found him again. He commanded me to sail his family south, to the city of Magnimar, to begin anew." The skeletal samurai begins pacing, tapping his wakizashi against his femur. "Our ships were caught in terrible storms that tore us asunder. I do not know what became of Master Rokuro's son, but I was forced to watch his ship die as my own shattered around me."
He pauses.
DC 15 Knowledge (Nobility)/DC 20 Knowledge (Local):
Rokuro... the name sounds familiar.
Did he mean Rokuro Kaijitsu? Ameiko's grandfather?
The word echoes throughout the large cavern. A deep, commanding voice speaks, as if in response to the name. "That is a name I have not heard in many years."
The armoured skeleton's skull rises, its eye sockets burning with red motes. "More living ones? Then stand, and BE JUDGED!" It booms, rising from its slump against the far wall. In perfect unison, the skeletons around the party rise, sand and mud cascading through their yellowed bones, their eye sockets burning with red motes. The ones not in reach of the party's blades draw rusted, flimsy-looking short swords.
"If you have come to plunder, then prepare yourselves." The armoured skeleton says, gripping the hilt of its wakizashi with both hands and drawing it from his ribs. It twirls the blade and points it at Ikoma as it glints in what little light is in the cavern. "'Tis our sworn duty to defend what little remains to take."
The undead warrior glares at Friday as he steps forward to Haru's side, but doesn't strike. In fact, he lowers his blade slightly, but not his guard.
"For many years, my spirit has lingered in these damnable caves. I was roused from torpor by the arrival of a band of goblins... foolish, insipid beasts who saw the glitter of my master's treasure and little else. They stole it, and in doing so gave me purpose once more." The skeletons around their leader open their mouths, and a silent *hiss* of air escapes from them, as if echoing his disgust.
"I will admit, I am quite surprised the newest crop of intruders to our final resting place are not goblins. Even more so to see one of my countrymen far from my home." His red mote eyes rest on Haru, and they seem to soften for a second before he refocuses on Friday.
As Friday drives his spear through a skeleton's skull and shatters it, and as Haru approaches the impaled, armoured skeleton, its eyes flare to life as deep, red motes!
"HOLD, LIVING ONES, AND BE JUDGED!" It bellows in a deep, commanding voice, rising to its feet and ripping its wakizashi from its chest. The skeletons in the room begin to rise up, the lights in their eyes mirroring the ones in their armoured leader. It points its blade at the party and twirls it, its oddly-untarnished blade glinting in what little light is in the cavern.
Those skeletons who are still intact and not in reach of the party begin to draw short blades of their own. All of them are rusted and decayed from years of exposure to the elements. "If you have come to plunder, ready your weapons. 'Tis our sworn duty to defend what little remains to take."
The skeletons, despite one of their number having been slain, make no move to attack you... yet.
