This is a rough draft; respectfully, of a new line of work I will be starting. It's about a group of skilled warriors who fight for money and their own ideals. Each has their own specialization and story. The hope is that I will make this a group and look for people to join the cause. I will also need editors and mods for the group and that'll all come later. This is just to try to get my mind in the right place. No doubt I'll change a lot of this later. But please enjoy and leave a comment if this is something you'd want to be a part of. Muuuuuch much much more to come, both story and art.
It was winter, a harsh one at that. It was a type of cold that made stomachs retch and bodies shiver as if they'd never felt warmth. But lives could not be stopped by such a natural thing. One had to keep moving in this time of suffering. Old traditions must be held fast while change must be carefully considered. These were the thoughts of a much honored general Hiraku Nakano as he marched toward their next battle. He lead leagues of men who trusted and depended on his wisdom. He was the heir to a very influential family, a powerhouse of the nation. They controlled over half the trade system and had a long list of conquered territories and families who now paid homage to them. Each battle had been fought rigorously and without fail, so even in this dreadful cold, even through the frozen forest, they marched. They marched with pride. They marched with confidence. Confidently toward one of the worst mistakes they would ever make. One that would open the mouth of the Gods and spread terror, ripping apart everything the great general held dear.
The two families had been at war since the very beginning of time. They were like wild beasts that fought for land that they'd destroyed in the process. But the Nakano family was ultimately in charge of the direction this war would lead to. They outnumbered their enemy and had only fear the rouges the other side had picked up along the way. It was disgraceful and surely a last attempt on their enemy's part.
Very much true to the Nakano name, which respectively means 'central field', they reached their destination which was a large break in the forest. The grass was frozen over, a beauty that would soon become drunk and soggy with blood and hot bodies. The general rode forward on his steed and looked across the land, seeing their target, whose numbers were just as he had predicted. Puny and without much threat. He unsheathed his katana and turned to his men, his face sharp and unwavering.
"To war!" He bellowed, his men picking it up, their screams echoing through the dead forest. It was a strong sound, one that would frighten any opponent. But the other side was steadfast and seemed quite confident with their small numbers. Both generals rode out, their first line of soldiers running full force, their katana and yari glinting in the weak sun that cast it's rays through a thick barrier of dark nimbostratus clouds.
It was obvious at first that the Nakano family would surely win. Their Yari held off the enemy Katana with a precision of a thousand battles and kept Hiraku safe within his guard. Adrenaline surged through his body as he made his first mistake. He aimed to make this the fastest most humiliating defeat his enemy would ever experience. He held his sword to the sky, horns blaring behind him, his men hearing the signal and screaming their battle cries, pushing forward to completely demolish the line their enemy held. The battle had turned from defensive to offensive. Yet...the line didn't move. In fact, when the Yari lifted their poles to allow their fellow Katana through, the line had been pushed back.
Confusion settled uneasily in the general's stomach as the blood of his men bathed the frozen grass. The line was pushed back once again, the battle cries now turning into screams of terror. Suddenly, the general could see the mistake in his ways. The enemy lines had a nearly unbreakable wall of Yari. And between each man was a samurai, wielding a expertly handled Katana, blowing through his men like a scythe to wheat. He could feel his men's morale falling. The men were no longer charging to the front, but being pushed into their untimely deaths by the sheer amount of soldiers the general had ordered forward. And as if reading the general's thoughts, an enemy samurai cried out to advance, the other line surging forward, their Yari piercing through man after man, turning the tables in a matter of seconds. He'd have to do something quick to reverse this or it would surely put a dent in his force.
Hiraku knew that these rouges were the reason behind this turn. It was hard to believe that only a few men could create such a turn, but it was easy to the solution. He quickly sheathed his sword and pulled out his long Yari and charged forward, his aim at the rouge samurai who had been giving the orders and killing his men faster than any of the others. With sharp accuracy, he thrust the rod square toward the samurai's heart. His arm jerked with unsettling snap, the samurai looking up to him, grinning slowly. The general looked at the end of his Yari, his stomach growing cold with raw fury. The end was completely broken off. No one man should be able to break a solid weapon this easily. He crashed the rod to the ground and drew out his sword, his horse growing impatient and shifting around, rearing slightly, making the great general look even more dangerous. The Samurai took a step back, settling his foot deep into the blood soaked ground, taking a defensive stance where his hands were high and the sword's tip was pointed diagonally toward the ground. The General had never seen something so odd but attacked as he normally would, charging forward with undeniable strength his horse gave him. Their swords clashed, ringing and vibrating harshly.
Each strike was full of experience and aimed with deadly precision. But even with the overwhelming power the General had mounted on his steed, the samurai did not budge and actually looked like he was having a good time. If this had been a fair fight, the samurai would have won. But to the General's demise, his men came to his aid and soon the Samurai was battling over six men alone with only a small support of help from the Yari at his side. The General's men were bumping him around and his horse began to spook. Finally, it snapped altogether and reared, thrashing it's front legs, sending men falling back from the other line. And as the horse began to fall, the samurai tucked and rolled, falling away from the horse. With a pile of men on him, he felt the first blow in his ribs. A frantic Yari man was stabbing aimlessly at any and everyone that he could. The samurai fought through the pain and stood, bringing him down with ease. But before he knew it, the General was there, still mounted on his crazed horse.
This fight had begun to get messy and unorganized. It was more like a battle of animals than trained men. The samurai was stuck in a mass of friend and foe, and his wound was draining quickly, pounding with surprising fire heat in the frigid air. The general saw his chance. It was honorableness, and cowardly but he drove his sword deep into the samurai's chest, securing his victory with a violent twist, yanking it out at an angle to damage as much as possible.
In battle, the death of one man can easily be overlooked and unnoticed. Especially if you aren't a General or a Captain of some sort. But the death of this particular samurai would doom the entire Nakano family. A scream, very much like a beast, wailed across the battlefield as the samurai fell to his knees. The general looked around in confusion as a few more cries of fury were added to it. And before he knew it, his life was gone. His men watched in terror as three arrows shot into his chest, each with a resounding thump. Only a moment later his horse's legs were cut, the beast's cries stopping the fight altogether as it fell to the ground, their mighty general tumbling along with it, right into a series of katana. As if summoned by magic, the entire rouge force was there, cutting through the enemy like a raging bulls, their horrified and furious screams sending the entire Nakano force running for the forest. Even the enemy force seemed at a loss as the rouges practically filleted the General, spilling every drop of blood the man held.
One of the rouge samurai then went to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as he hugged his fallen companion, rocking him as his wails sent chills colder than the frozen air down every single spine near him. Tears and snot alike ran down his face as another samurai walked to his side, holding his shoulder hard as tears bathed his face as well. A yari wielder then walked up, his face completely red with rage. Screams escaped him hoarsely as he looked to the backs of their running opponents, his yari pole held tight in his shaking hand. Two other samurai then walked up, having completely destroyed every inch of the General and watched solemnly, looking like they were at a complete loss. Finally, a smaller man burst from the forest, his bow tight over his torso sprint over and went to a stop beside them, his panting fogged breath blocking his sight slightly.
This was the 'rouge force' Hiraku Nakano had scoffed at. This was the rouge force that had taken him down and sent his men running with fear. And the man he had killed...well that man happened to be their leader. One by one the rogue's faces turned to the forest where the Nakano forces had run. Each one was laced with a fury of a thousand suns. Without a word, it was agreed that the powerhouse family would fall. And they would be the ones to make it happen.
This would be the new age. All starting with the death of the old.
This is where it begins.