Tomes of Arcana and Divinity :: Wolfe's Journal

[Wolfe Whitehorn]

You'll see half-baked posts and scribbles in here from time to time.

Were you expecting something poetic?  

[Wolfe Whitehorn]

[ Wulfram Temp Post Workbox ]

Wulfram sat beneath one of the many trees in Gurinbarē-to, the light which shone down between the leaves of the tree danced along his face and drew some measure of consciousness out of him. He had fallen asleep, fallen victim to a terrible nightmare. His hand grasped the intricate b*****d sword that leaned up against him as he rested. No. Something far worse than a nightmare. A terrible memory.

His left hand rose to the cross guard of the blade, simple and inscribed with the same filigree that marked his chakra flow and rested upon the breast of his armor, circular knot design rested at its centre. He cradled the blade to his chest and rested his forehead upon the quillions, he cried openly with a sorrow only he could muster for his twin sister.

"I couldn't save you... Ganymede." He bawled into the heart of the blade, as the memories washed over him once more.

Ganymede's soul shifted within the blade, unable to comfort her brother.

:: Memories Abound ::

The far reaches of Skyeveil, the Western Lands, where chakra was seen as magic and a far rarer gift by trade than the seat of the Shinobi Nations. A younger Wulfram had returned from the East a scant year prior with a white-haired shinobi in tow and the pair had set to journey across the land. One sought knowledge, the other, Wulfram, journeyed to find Ganymede, his twin-sister from which he had been long since separated. The white-haired man with which she had been taken was not the Eastern "Hero" Masahiro Hatake, but a man from the Eastern Regions of their own continent, from Ternes, Arris Orleaux the Azurean.

Their reunion ignited a chain of events that burnt the foundations of man and heavens. Wulfram's very sanity crumbled, as he coped with the aftermath. Ganymede, dear Ganymede, suffered a fate worse than anyone deserved.

:: Seven Years Ago ::

The boat swayed and rocked with the tide, a nervous Wulfram stood upon the ship's deck and stared out from atop the forecastle to see the lighthouse of Lothrin as they rounded the peninsula. He had left his only friends, Masahiro and Cervantes zu Pferd, behind at Norhaven as he took the vessel to follow news of his sister's arrival at Innis. The journey, scant days, compared to the weeks worth of physical travel, ate away at the Knight. Hope derided in the absence of truth and percieved experience.

"Mayhap this time it really will be her." The man had whispered as he adjusted the new blade at his side.  

[Wolfe Whitehorn]

[ Masahiro Temp Post Workbox ]

The Emperor of Fire relished in the over-dramatized reactions that Chahito embellished upon, it meant that the Tea Daimyo wasn't oblivious to the world around him. He was annoyed at the way he had treated the women at his beck and call, but perhaps there was some hope. He had garnered the man's attention, and this was reflected in his sudden change in demeanor. But Masahiro felt something shift. There was derision in the man's voice that hadn't been there before, a vicious mockery and contemptuousness. His voice lowered as he focused on Lillian and brought his hands up to clap, upon the third clap the concubines drew their fans to reveal they were bladed weapons, and guards filled the room from beneath the throne.

The other shoe had fallen.

Masahiro's otherwise apathetic expression had not changed. He felt the aggression in the air, watched as the forces prepared themselves, and he began to channel chakra down into his arm towards his wrist as he placed his wrist upon the hilt of his katana. Eyes narrowed and prepared for the first movement from any of them.

Snap As Chahito snapped his fingers at one of his retainers, a blue flare went skyward, musicians entered the room, and a swell of music filled the area and Masahiro turned his gaze to Lillian and the rest of their procession.

They had begun a musical number, at least the retainer could sing. Chahito's aggression had faded into pomp, and Masahiro watched, with chakra still primed into his wrist, his crimson eyes danced between the forces of his 'host'.

When the battle-boats arrived, Masahiro held his stance and turned his view keeping Chahito and the guards in his peripheral, but the boats at the forefront. An oddity in the manner was that was still no more heightened aggression. Just what was this man's game? When suddenly the cannons fired and the Kanji for Chahito burst into the sky, Masahiro cocked his head to the side, his expression still unbothered. Internally he was confused.

As the retinue which surrounded the Emperor balked and watched the spectacle with varied reactions, some reached for weapons, others pressed for caution. Masahiro sighed. His left hand crossed his chest and brushed debris from shoulders, before he adjusted the waist of his longvest. His crimson eyes locked on those of the Tea Daimyo as the song ended. Such a spectacle, prepared to summon on a whim, resources pumped directly into his virtue of self-importance, and rampant abuse of the women who served to titillate (and act as his immediate defense). Guards stationed on his personal vessel in case of such a meeting. Battle Barges, their artillery cannons loaded with an impressive firework display, self-centered as everything else, but obviously meant to showcase his wealth and active flexibility in this situation.

Masahiro couldn't bring himself to laugh at the obvious complex the man had, himself at the centre, and everyone else after, if at all.

"Were talent and not heredity the key issue, I'd daresay your retainer should be Daimyo. Though as I now understand, your father was correct about your propensity and general disposition of the people. He had hoped to formalize treaties with Fire, before his unfortunate passing, I'm guessing to course correct Tea from..." The Flame Emperor turned his back on his host and motioned to the extreme levels of excess "this madness, the madness you've wrought in such short time Chahito."

"The armies that 'encroach' on your territory, are stationed in the wooded borderland of our nations and in the Hanguri bay. Detachments of your own, albeit much smaller, armed forces, are training with mine already in both locations. As they have for years, as our militaries have done in joint venture. Were anyone actively across borders, it would be the Tea soldiers we actively invite yearly." Masahiro spoke, his voice clear as his voice commanded over the room.

"You did only surround yourself with courtesans, I have a distaste for the word whore but if your kunoichi would accept that from their lord, so be it. I give you credit on a good feint, guarded in plain sight, as a lecher, with a few dozen more guards all stowed below deck." The Hatake chuckled and stared at Lillian. "Perhaps I'll utilize that concept better.

"But you failed to account for the largest issue here. Yes, I only brought a known entourage of 8, and you've seen a few are no better than Genin level in some arts. The greater half of my known retinue are ranked A and Above, capable of greater devastation whereas I only pushed these soldiers into using a fraction of their abilities." Masahiro's red glares instigated the whole of the situation.

"You've spent this much money on yourself. How much did you put into the importance of the villages, into securing proper fund for your city? How much of what you have made as Daimyo has gone into repairs and construction efforts?"