The State of the Empire

An Account of the Divine Empress’ Subjects’ Activities during This Time of War

The Second Week of the Month of the Tiger, year 1171

My most divine Empress,

At your request, I have spent considerable time over the past ten days compiling as many reports as have been received in an attempt to gain some measure of idea what the status of your loyal subjects is at this point in time. I know that reports come in to the Imperial City at a steady pace, but these are from a variety of sources and can often be in conflict with one another over even events of significant importance. Toward this end, to gain as impartial a measure of the Empire’s status as possible, I am depending solely upon the eyewitness accounts of my own Miya heralds. If this in any way displeases you, Divine One, I will of course use whatever means you prefer. I hope that you will agree this is likely our most accurate available information, however.

I suppose it goes without saying that the battles in the northern and southern reaches of the Empire are at present our most pressing concerns. The renewed Army of Fire presses in the north, but slowly. The Dragon and Phoenix are still recovering from the previous war last year, and we can but thank the Heavens that the toll your armies took upon the Army of Fire was so great that now our enemies must move carefully. It would seem they have can no longer spare forces for the insane suicide assaults that hurt the Dragon and Phoenix so badly before. At the insistence of the Dragon officers with whom my herald conferred during his time in the north, I am to report that the Badger and Ox clans have both contributed as much as possible to the effort to stymie the Army of Fire as well. The Ox emerged from the first war remarkably intact, but the Badger have suffered greatly, and are able to contribute very little. Still, what they have, they send, and they have not requested Imperial aid. They are a hardy people, and I think it is this trait that bonds them so with the Dragon Clan during this time of strife.

Notable incidents that have recently taken place in the north are largely related to the continued insertion of the Dark Oracle of Fire’s forces into the Empire. Two larger groups attempted to circumvent the northern clans’ blockade this week. One managed to slip past the sparse guards and reach the Dragon Heart Plain, but Ox scouts detected them and informed the Phoenix. My herald reports that the Champion herself removed the unit known as the Legion of Flame and risked leaving the Phoenix border weakened to intercept and destroy these gaijin before they could reach the Empire’s interior. I praise the Fortunes that Tsukimi-sama and her men were able to return to the Phoenix front before the Dark Oracle could capitalize upon their absence!

A large scouting force of the Army of Fire pushed forward into the central Dragon lands, but were successfully caught in pincer attack by two relatively young Mirumoto officers, Mirumoto Bokusui, and Mirumoto Hojatsu. Reports indicate that the southern half of the Dragon forces, led by Bokusui after his superior fell in battle, was aided by a number of sohei monks not of the Togashi order. In fact, my herald reports that Bokusui allowed the sohei to commandeer the supplies of the fallen gaijin for their own use, which appears to have been a point of contention between the two Dragon officers. Although not of superior rank, it seems that Hojatsu took great issue with Bokusui’s actions in this regard, and my herald feared for a moment that the victory might be spoiled by a duel. Thankfully, that did not occur. I currently have a herald dispatched to the Brotherhood of Shinsei to determine what exactly the purpose of this exchange of supplies was, but I will likely not hear back from Tanari for at least a few weeks.

The southern front continues to be some of the fiercest fighting that I have seen in my lifetime, despite the horrible conflicts I have already witnessed. Some among my younger heralds who have traveled to the southern front have been horribly traumatized by the sight of the war being waged, and while they remain dutiful, I am deeply troubled by how detrimental the war may be to the samurai fighting it, if my heralds could be so affected so quickly. Now that the Destroyers have pushed farther into the Empire, it seems that they are more willing to send splinter units in an attempt to penetrate the interior, rather than the unified assault that they have been waging up until this point. My agents returned with information concerning military units from the Destroyers that have attempted to gain entrance to as yet unoccupied regions. One was halted by a truly fearsome Crab detachment known as Amoro’s Legion, a group that my herald insisted was the only thing in the mortal realm that he fears more than the gajin demons he witnessed among the Destroyers. The other was intercepted by an elite unit of Tsuruchi archers led by Tsuruchi Nobumoto himself. I am told that Nobumoto-sama is advised by a vassal of the Imperial Treasurer, a man named Yoritomo Tatsuhiko. I do not know what interest your distinguished Treasurer has in such a conflict, but fortunately such matters are not for a simple herald such as myself.

I would be greatly comforted if I could but report that while these terrible battles are being waged, the central Empire is at peace. Unfortunately, my Empress, I cannot do so, for the Empire is troubled throughout. The continued spread of the plague that has vexed Rokugan so badly remains unchecked, and is of particular concern in the lands of the Crane and Scorpion clans. Both are taking extreme measures to control the spread within their lands, and it is my hope that, once they have done so, they will secure their borders to ensure the infection does not spread further.

It is possibly because of their actions in containing the disease, or perhaps because of the tragic but absolutely necessary fate of the Horiuchi family, that the Unicorn have been forced to deal with a small scale uprising of the lower castes within their own lands. From what my herald has told me, it seems that the people feared that the appearance of the plague in their village would result in the entire village being ruthlessly sacrificed, and they fought to prevent such a fate. Unfortunately in doing so it seems they brought such a fate to pass, as the Khan had not choice but to sanction the village for treason as well as disease. I fear it will not be the last such tragedy.

There appear to be those within the Empire who are attempting to exploit the current situation to their own advantage, as nauseating as such an act might be. With the Lion forces so heavily deployed in the south, a large force of bandits attempted to raid one of the clan’s storehouses along their western border. Unfortunately for the filth, a single Matsu samurai-ko named Mari, along with a dozen Ikoma guardsmen, proved more than equal to the task of eradicating more than two dozen bandits. What troubles me even more than such predation, however, is the indication Mari-san discovered that there was a much larger force of bandits preparing for a potential raid into the Crab villages near the front line, where they believed they could easily acquire large amounts of military supplies. Mari-san and one of my heralds took a force to intercept these individuals near the Shinomen, but discovered the entire force of bandits slaughtered to a man. The individual that the Lion believe was the bandit lord had a war banner driven through his chest and was left to die slowly on the field of battle. The banner bore the mon of the Spider Clan. I do not know what you wish to come of this information, but Matsu Mari has sworn her patrol to silence upon pain of death, and I have reassigned the herald involved into historical research so that he might not pass on the information, even if inadvertently. I await your command in this matter, my Empress.

This is the account of the Empire in the second year of the reign of Empress Iweko I, the Divine Child of Heaven, noted by her loyal and unworthy subject Miya Shoin, the Imperial Herald of Rokugan.

Battle On All Fronts

By Brian Yoon

Edited by Fred Wan

Part One: The Drums of War Pound On

            The noise rumbled with such intensity it seemed to be felt rather than heard. It echoed through Shiro Kuni, sounding like a thousand feet stamping in unison. Chunks of the broken fortification shattered down into the courtyard with lethal force. Immediately, soldiers broke formation to dodge them, and those who were slow to react were crushed without mercy. Seconds later, the sound began once more, and in the distance another inhuman mound of muscle and bone and cartilage hurtled into the air.

            Hida Otoya turned and gestured frantically to one of his companions. Horiuchi Nobane galloped across the yard and gave the old Crab a quick nod. Both commanders winced and covered their heads as the boulder crashed into the Shiro Kuni wall. They could see the army of Destroyers pressing toward the holes left in the building. “Otoya-san!” Nobane shouted. “We need to stop… whatever that is!”

            Otoya pointed through the hole in the wall of Shiro Kuni to the hills in the distance. Nobane squinted and could barely make out the sight of some gargantuan creature. “My scouts tell me that creature is expelling a part of itself through its back. Our retreat tunnels are prepared, but we can’t use them if that thing crushes them in his random strikes! We can’t survive if the creature continues that barrage!”

            Nobane’s gaze followed Otoya’s finger. Nobane paled when he saw exactly how many Destroyers and demons stood between them. “I have the greatest chance of getting that far alive. The Unicorn will destroy that abomination,” the Unicorn said.

            “We’ll try to hold our line as long as we can,” Otoya said grimly. “The Fortunes be with you, friend.”

            Nobane nodded and gave a shaky smile. “And if they are not, Otoya-san, we shall ride swifter than any trouble could ever follow!” He spurred his steed forward and returned to his troops.

            It was time for Otoya to make good on his word. The old warrior raised his fan and gestured the bulk of the Crab forces forward. He paused and looked to gain a measure of his troops’ morale before charging them into battle. They seemed resigned as they faced impossible numbers, yet Otoya could not spot fear in the eyes of any man standing in line.

            “Defenders!” Otoya called out. “The history of our people and the vast knowledge of the Kuni are at stake. Our allies the Unicorn will charge out onto the battlefield to strike at the heart of the enemy, if only they have a chance to leave this castle. Who shall carve out an opening?”

            Every Crab’s voice roared in unison and Otoya pointed at the closest unit. “The rest of you, defend the broken walls! Open the gates!”

            The lieutenant of the Third Legion whooped in delight and urged his men toward Shiro Kuni’s gates. The gates slowly creaked open and revealed the endless horde that waited to crack open the Rokugani defenses. The Third Legion charged, smashing into the front line of Destroyers with relish. Their reckless assault overwhelmed the foreign demons, who had expected an army cowed by the constant barrage. Unprepared for the unrestrained power of the Third Legion, the Destroyers faltered for a moment. In that time, Nobane and his men galloped out of the fortress.

            The sound of another of the creature’s deadly projectiles reached Otoya’s ears, and he whistled tunelessly.

            “This will be painful,” Otoya murmured to no one.

* * * * *

            “Did we not already fight this war,” Shiba Sotatsu said to himself.

            He stood on the hills above a minor fortification near Shiro Shiba, his Legion of Stone arrayed all around him. They stretched out as wide as they could and stared north at the approaching horde. The burning men were walking closer, and the flames of their bodies seemed to mimic another sun on the ground. He squinted.

            At least, he told himself silently, they were only facing the burning legion. The Phoenix healers had yet to find a cure for the plague that swept across the empire, but their efforts had blunted the worst of it so far. He didn’t know if he could fight the forces of the Dark Oracle and zombies at once without losing his life, his sanity, or both.

            “Sotatsu-san?” his aide asked him, interrupting his reveries. “Will you give the order to charge?”

            He turned to the warrior. Sotatsu was suddenly struck by how young the boy seemed to be. How had they recruited such a youth to the elite numbers of the Legion of Stone, he wondered? Had the stresses of war already forced them to dig into their reserves?

            He suddenly realized he was standing there, staring without answering. A slight flush reached his cheeks. “No,” he answered gruffly. “Send the order to dig in to our positions. We must hold them here long enough for our allies to get into position.”

            The boy bowed. Before he could turn and relay the order, Sotatsu quickly stopped him.

            “Send the order to show them the present,” Sotatsu said.

            Moments later, the standard bearer lifted the large Phoenix banner. It unfurled in the swift wind and brazenly displayed its contents to the entire battlefield. The reaction was slow but explosive. A few minutes passed, then a low guttural howl began to emanate from the opposing force. Sotatsu smiled joylessly. The banner had been created by those who trained in Yobanjin dialects and languages. He had been told the flag was a rather harsh indictment on the Yobanjin race, parentage, and their detestable leader. It had certainly provoked a response.

            The Yobanjin broke any resemblance of formation and charged across the field. They screamed and howled like animals as they sprinted, waving flaming weapons and hands in front of them. The incensed Yobanjin stampeded each other in their eagerness to rip Sotatsu from limb to limb. Sotatsu was glad to see the plan was working, but a stampeding herd held a great deal of force behind it. Could the Phoenix stop them in their tracks, he wondered?

            “Yes,” Sotatsu said. A few of the bushi around looked at him in surprise.

            “YES!” he roared. “We are the Legion of Stone! Their lives will end here!”

            His men cheered. The next instant, the Yobanjin crashed into them and there was no more time for thought. The fighting stretched on, vicious and brutal. Men burnt to their bones and crumbled down the line. Another bushi would quickly take his place. They were too well trained to break, but the Yobanjin horde was slowly grinding them under the weight of their numbers.

            Sotatsu held despair in his heart when he looked up and saw them across the hills. The wind picked up into a howling gust, and the Firestorm Legion crashed into the Yobanjin rear forces.

Part Two: The Trap is Sprung

            A cold wind blew over the village, wafting forth a swirl of dust and what seemed to be an aura of despair to the approaching band. Mirumoto Satobe squinted and raised his hands to protect his eyes from the wind. It looked like any other village but he wasn’t so sure it was the case.

            “Satobe-sama, do you think we’ll find another empty village?” Kitsuki Ketto asked hesitantly.

            Satobe’s face remained smooth and clear of emotion, but the man frowned inwardly. His actions in the War of Dark Fire had earned him another measure of respect among the Mirumoto, not to mention a rise in station. He now had several dozen soldiers under his command to patrol the border between the Mirumoto provinces and the Lion lands. Of late, he found he was more often dealing with the plague problems that had sprung up within the lands than any illegal incursions into the land.

            “I hope not, Ketto, but we must be prepared for whatever we may find,” Satobe responded. His solemn answer elicited determined nods around his band of young bushi, and Satobe felt a spark of pride deep within him. His men, as he had grown to think of them in recent months, had been young warriors barely out of their gempukku ceremony when they had joined his squad. Each man and woman had seen horrors and dangers beyond imagining under Satobe’s command, yet none broke under the pressure. Instead, they had grown into hardened veterans.

            “Where do you think the villagers have fled?” Mirumoto Tannomiru asked. The young man bit his lip and began to chew. It was a bad habit the young man had yet to fix.

            “Three villages, all desolate,” Mirumoto Yukari mused quietly, running her fingers nervously over the silken bindings on the hilt of her katana. “There’s something wrong, of course-”

            “Something that’s likely to get us all killed,” Tannomiru muttered under his breath.

            “-but there’s no sign of any conspiracy or greater power,” Yukari continued without pause. “We should remain optimistic until we hear something that tells us otherwise.”

            “Perhaps you are right, Yukari-san,” Satobe said, “but we must be ready for anything. Fall in.”

            At the finality in his voice, the young bushi immediately cut off their banter. Satobe took lead without comment and the rest fell in behind him. There was nothing that would suggest danger for his men. This town was completely devoid of people, though the village had once held sixty peasants among its borders. There was nothing that hinted at their fate.

            Still, despite the tranquility, something intangible seemed to tug at the corner of his mind. Over the past few weeks, he had learned to trust his instincts. He stopped in the middle of the village square and slowly scanned the area. He could see nothing that would have roused his suspicions. There were small mounds of dirt that looked as if they had not been disturbed for weeks. There was nothing, yet…

            Satobe drew his blades in one smooth motion. The sound was echoed tenfold as his squad followed suit.

            “Stand ready,” Satobe whispered.

            Everything fell into chaos as soon as the words left his lips. Dozens of gray, lifeless hands clawed out of the ground everywhere around the Dragon. The ground shook and erupted as countless bodies rose out of their hiding places. The undead held no expressions on their rotten faces, but Satobe could swear they looked… hungry.

            “A trap!” Tannomiru shrieked.

            “Focus!” Satobe bellowed. He took a moment to turn back to face his young troops. They were all scared. “Trust your schooling and do not lose your center. Nothing can defeat you if you remain true samurai!”

            “You do not stand alone, brave warriors!” a voice shouted from across the village. Satobe and his squadron looked in the direction to see two bare-chested men on the other side of the zombie horde. Judging by the bizarre inscriptions upon their flesh, Satobe hoped that they were ise zumi. Satobe had heard that Togashi Chunoken and Togashi Wirro were in the area. He had no idea why, nor did he care.

            The young warriors took heart and strengthened their resolve, but the moans of their countless enemies would soon drown out the memory of his speech from their minds.

* * * * *

            Shiba Raiden ran as fast as he could and quickly scanned the battlefield. The Destroyers had penetrated the defenses and pressed relentlessly forward. They now fought at the courtyard of the castle itself, but the Crab forces seemed to have no intent to give another inch. He desperately wanted to join the battle, but his orders were more important. Finally, he spotted Otoya and his retinue as they smashed all who dared approach the armory. Raiden nimbly made his way through the chaos to the Crab commander.

            “The forces are overwhelming, Otoya-sama,” he shouted over the din. “My leader Rae-sama is prepared to cut the ritual short and begin evacuation procedures!”

            Otoya swept a forearm over his shoulder, brushing blood and sweat away from his eyes. He stepped back from the front lines, and the Hida Elite Guard pushed forward to cover his absence. “Have you finished transporting the Kuni documents?” he demanded.

            “Only half,” Raiden replied morosely. “The Kuni library is smaller than that of most shugenja families I have seen, but still large enough to prove problematic. The loss of so much knowledge is regrettable but unavoidable! We will lose more than thirty shugenja in one strike if we are caught undefended by the enemy horde!”
            Otoya grimaced. “We will hold them at bay, Raiden. Tell Rae to stand his ground and finish the ritual.”

            Raiden hesitated. “It will likely take another hour of complete concentration to finish transporting all of the scrolls, Otoya-sama. We must retreat.”

            “An hour? You shall have it,” Otoya replied.

            Raiden still did not move from his place. “You can’t stand another fifteen minutes against this horde, let alone an hour. I do not mean to disparage your troops, Otoya-sama, and I have utmost respect for Crab tenacity—”

            “You shall have your hour!” Otoya thundered. He pushed forward past Raiden, nearly bowling him over. “If you have such respect for our skills,” Otoya shouted over his shoulder, “then do me the courtesy of showing me some! We will buy you the time!”

            Otoya charged into the heart of battle without waiting for a response and disappeared into the press of bodies. Raiden winced, turned, and ran toward the inner sanctum of the fortress.

            He wondered if he would ever see the old man alive again.

Part Three: Death in Service is its Own Reward

            Isawa Kokuten, commander of the Firestorm Legion, walked through the remnants of battle, his steps as serene as the ringing tones of the monastery bell. His cloak fluttered in the wind and Sotatsu could swear he could see the kami blinking and dancing on the edges of the cloth. He bowed deeply to the shugenja as soon as he was near. Kokuten only nodded.

            “Your unorthodox plan seems to have worked, Sotatsu,” Kokuten said. “To a degree.”

            “It is one of the principles written in Akodo’s great work, Kokuten-sama,” Sotatsu answered. “I believe the Crab Clan is well versed in the technique. I believe they refer to it as hammer and anvil.”

            “How fitting,” Kokuten mused. “A fire hammer forging on an earthen anvil.”

            “Yes, Kokuten-sama,” Sotatsu said.

            “Of course, I referred to our working together, Sotatsu,” Kokuten continued. He sniffed. “A great portion of the Legion of Flame went south to aid the Crab, so we could hardly have defeated the Befouled Fire Oracle’s men on our own.”

            “The Legion of Stone was available to lend our strength,” Sotatsu said. “We shattered them, Kokuten-sama. It was an unmitigated success.”

            “Perhaps in your eyes,” Kokuten said sharply. “I lost nearly seven members of the Firestorm Legion. Perhaps you are satisfied with your losses, but the Legion of Flame would have died to a man before they would let a priest of the fire kami perish in battle.”

            “Their forces stretched beyond the horizon,” Sotatsu protested. “I myself suffered great casualties. You-”

            Kokuten waved the complaint off without listening. “No matter. The Phoenix has earned another victory. That is all that matters. Of course, we must press onward with our victories.”

            “We must bring an end to this threat,” he continued, his eyes taking a predatory gleam. “The Dark Oracle of Fire must die.”

* * * * *

            Satobe’s fingers unclenched of their own accord and his katana dropped to the ground with a clatter. A large trail of blood flowed down his arm, trickled down his fingers and slowly dripped to the ground. Satobe coughed and squatted down to his haunches. The mystery of the missing villagers seemed to have been solved, he mused, and his exhausted thoughts seemed to crawl by his consciousness. A shadow crossed his vision, and Satobe looked up. Tannomiru’s arm hung crookedly below his armor and he was missing his helm.

            Tannomiru bowed deeply. “The… creatures have been contained, Satobe-sama,” he said, his voice choked with pain.

            Satobe surveyed the aftermaths of the battle. “At what cost?” he murmured. Fourteen of the sixteen warriors in his unit lay dead around him, with dozens of mutilated corpses around them. The survivors Tannomiru and Yukai were barely in better shape; their eyes were glassy with pain and shock at the sheer horror of the day’s events. Wirro leaned over with his hands on his knees and breathed deeply, bleeding the exertion of the day out from him. His former frenzy of energy seemed to have disappeared. Chunoken clutched his arm and stood motionless, his head cocked in a perpetual gesture of puzzlement.

            Satobe rose to his feet and brushed the dust off his armor with his left hand. “Thank you for your assistance, Wirro-san, Chunoken-san,” he called out. “We would have been overwhelmed without your presence.”

            Wirro turned to Satobe and slowly smiled. Chunoken did not seem to move or respond in any way. Satobe thought he could see the man shiver, ever so slightly.

            “Perhaps it has been of use to you, Satobe-san, but I must wonder. I cannot seem to leave my life of blood and death behind. Is my soul unable to find tranquility, even among these pristine peaks? Am I doomed to live a life of war and battle for the rest of my lives, however often the kharmic wheel turns?”

            Satobe blinked and could not come to any answer. Wirro turned to the other ise zumi. “Chunoken tells me that I worry too much. He tells me Fire burns within my soul and I must find ways for me to release that energy back in to the world. Some days, he tells me that I will give to those around me until-”

            Wirro’s speech was cut off by the sound of Tannomiru’s scream. The younger samurai was on his knees, writhing in pain, as Chunoken pulled on his shattered arm. Desperately, Tannomiru cried out as he finally pulled free from the ise zumi’s grasp, shock and fatigue combining to leave him helpless on the ground. Chunoken turned to face Satobe and opened his eyes. Satobe could see that Chunoken shared the same blank look he had seen in the plague zombies. Absently, he realized that there was little difference from calm ise zumi’s normal face.

            “Chunoken-san,” Satobe said. His fingers clenched the hilt of his wakizashi, and yet he hesitated.

            “No,” Wirro said quietly. He rose to his feet and spat blood out of his mouth. His hands balled into fists, and he stood lightly on the balls of his feet. “That is no longer Togashi Chunoken.”

            It snarled. Its cheeks stretched and split as its jaw extended beyond human limits. The creature’s ruined mouth stretched in a gesture that resembled a grotesque smile. Satobe drew his wakizashi with his left hand and limped forward, holding the blade in front of him in a defensive stance. The fatigue in his mind burned away as he prepared to finish the job in front of him.

            The warrior and the monk stood side to side as Chunoken’s plague-ridden corpse lumbered forward. Its gaze turned from one man to the next. It could find no pity in their eyes.

* * * * *

            Nobane leaned in close to Lobai and hugged his neck. Faster, Nobane urged, and relayed the thought to his horse with familiar caresses on his neck. His faithful steed seemed to answer by increasing his already breakneck speed. It seemed almost miraculous that his troops kept up with his pace. The small Unicorn band of veteran warriors sped across the edges of the battlefield, skirting large Destroyer troops that attempted to catch up to Nobane’s men with no success. The hectic gallop seemed to take forever, but soon the Unicorn evaded their followers and began to approach their target monstrosity at a slower pace. Nobane knew that time was of the essence, but he could ask no more of his noble horse without killing him and leaving himself stranded in enemy territory.

            Nobane could see the creature in detail as they approached. It was even more disgusting at close range. The creature squatted on massive hind legs, its forelimbs small and atrophied. The creature constantly snarled, its drool dripping out in front of it in a wide stream of thick, viscous fluid.

            Suddenly, the creature lifted from its reclined position and leaned close to the ground. With one awkward stance, the monster swiped his claws in the drool and flung it into the air. Its skeletal back opened up and launched forth another grotesque ball of flesh and bone. The ball, now covered in the drool, passed over the group and flew toward the castle. As it spun through the air, it began to catch on fire.

            Nobane turned to his closest companion with wide eyes. “Kota-”

            Iuchi Kota nodded. “I see it,” he said abruptly. “I can ask the kami to light that fluid, but I need to get closer. And I need time – there are few kami in the lands of the Kuni.”

            Nobane gestured to the rest of his men and spurred his horse forward. Lobai immediately answered with another burst of speed. “We shall give you the time!” he shouted back, raised his spear, and shouted a battle cry at the top of his lungs.

            The creature turned its head to its side, as if perplexed by the Unicorn charge. However, it certainly seemed to understand danger. It flung its forelimb toward the approaching cavalry, and its claws seemed to break off toward them at a dangerous speed. The Unicorn scattered to avoid the projectiles, then wheeled back toward the creature. Nobane screamed insults at the top of his lungs, though he certainly knew the creature could not understand. All that mattered was that the monster would not spot the danger before it was too late.

            They continued to dart in and out of the demon’s reach, provoking its attacks only to dodge back to safety. It would have almost be considered sport, yet Nobane’s feelings were muted by the many riders dying to its surprise assaults. Sweat glistened on his forehead as time stretched on and on. The creature swung out with its long tail, sweeping both man and rider under its powerful strike. Two Unicorn died in an instant, before they could even recognize they had failed.

            Green flames erupted at the creature’s feet. The flames, infused with the power of jade caught on the inflammatory fluid and erupted into an inferno. The monster screamed in rage, then exploded in flames. Nobane ducked, and when he looked up it was gone.

            Nobane breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and turned back to face his shugenja. The sigh caught in his throat and the smile froze.

            The walls were crushed in. The central spire was burning. An unholy light glowed from the courtyard, and the sound of human wails reached his ears.

            Shiro Kuni was dying.

            They were too late.

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

Starting with The Plague War expansion (and previewed in CE 15 with the Strongholds), cards will use explicit performing. Until then, you can follow these simple guidelines to tell if a Personality or Follower performs an action.

1) If the action is printed on the Personality or Follower, they perform it, respectively
2) If the action is printed on a Spell or Item, it is performed by the attached Personality
3) If the action targets the Personality or Follower in the constraints block (that is the part between the two colons), they perform it, respectively

So the next time you wonder “Does this Personality (or Follower) perform the action”, just remember these three easy steps.

Three

By Lucas Twyman

Edited by Fred Wan

The North

            The priest taught us that death is not a thing to be feared.

            I am afraid to die.

            Every year, at harvest time, he would visit our village and bless the fields. All things live and all things have a spirit, he taught us. The stones themselves are alive, he would tell us, then convince us of his words. He would whisper to them, and they would move, of their own will. The ground would shift and crumble, and fresh soil would rise from deep within the earth and crawling worms and insects would thrust their heads for the first time to the sky. The elder of the village told us this is how it always was; the same ritual happened in his childhood, and in his grandfather’s childhood.

            The priest would then follow us to the shrine at the bottom of the foothill, where the ashes of our village’s ancestors were interred. He would thank the spirits of our fathers and grandfathers, and their fathers and grandfathers, for watching over our small village, for providing us with food and strength, despite the harsh conditions of our mountain home. Then he would tell us not to fear death, for we would join our ancestors in watching over us, until it was time for us to be born anew.

            He would tell us that our lives would be judged by the Heavens, and we would be born again one day. We should not fear death, we should live to die nobly, for doing so made the Heavens happy. He said that if we lived for our duties and died for our Empire, that we would be raised from our station in the next life. We would be ashigaru, or monks, after many noble deaths, even samurai. Perhaps even priests.

            We should not encourage death, he said, but we should not fear welcoming it.

            I’m sorry, Lord Priest. I am so scared.

            I don’t want to die.

            Our village was small and remote, but we were not immune to the world’s changes. During my great-grandfather’s time, the demons came, and he hid his wife and my grandfather in a cave until the magistrates arrived and declared the Empire to be safe and new, with a new Emperor chosen by the Mandate of Heaven. Heaven was soon torn open, and my great-grandfather lost his name. In the shrine at the base of the foothill, his urn remains unmarked, for we never remembered it. During my grandfather’s day, it was said that the honored ancestors themselves came back to visit – not ours, whom the priest said are reborn soon after they die, but the ancestors of the samurai lords. A spirit visited our village, glowing with the light of Heaven. It walked painfully, like a dying animal. It was separated from its army and its leg was broken. It had been attacked by one of the demons we call “mountain goblins,” which were common in the time of my grandfather but are now rarely seen. It lay in my grandfather’s home, feverish and speaking with an ancient accent of the distant past. When the tax-collector came and told us that the children of our masters had been kidnapped by an agent of the spirits, my grandfather himself slit the spirit’s throat.

            My father told me the story, and said that the traitorous ancestor cried out a wordless gurgle as his blood fell into the dirt.

            Then, during my youth, the Children of Heaven warred to gain Heaven’s Mandate. My older brother left to join their armies, and as the eldest of my village’s defenders, I was trained with the spear to defend the village. A new Emperor was crowned, but things did not change. Every year, a priest would come to the village and bless the crops, and tell us not to fear death –  we should only fear failure in the Eyes of the Heavens. It made me fear the Heavens themselves.

            I thought that I feared the Heavens as much as I feared Jigoku.

            I was wrong.

            The Emperor died, and our life did not change. I visited Old Oak Village, three days from my own, and met the young woman chosen to be my wife. She was strong, and did not complain about having to till the fields at my side, unlike the wife of Ichi, my brother, whom he met in a great city during his time in the army. A new Empress was chosen by the Heavens. The tax collector told us of her strength and wisdom. He said no mortal could look at her, or the radiant light of her beauty would blind them as if they looked into the sun. We felt safe.

            Then the burning men came. The tax collector arrived and moved our families south. Since I was trained in the spear, he put me into the armies of our lord. I saw the burning men only once – at the battle of Morning Glory Castle – but the smell of scalded flesh remained in my nostrils for days. If death is what I saw in the faces of the men who fell that day, I don’t want to die.

            When the war ended, it was supposed to be the beginning of a new age of peace. The Empire had passed the test. We would now be rewarded for bowing before the Will of Heaven and accepting their chosen one as our Divine Leader. But it was not to be – the burning men came again. I was working the fields when they struck. I saw the smoke and ran, but by the time I returned, my village burned, and the invaders had left. I do not believe that if I faced them, I would have survived. I would have at least died with my family.

            I am forced to wonder: was that why I did not return in time?

            I do not want to die.

            But I do not want to hurt any longer.

            I was pressed into the forces of my lord, sent to the south, near the lands of the Lion. I have never seen fields so fertile: plants grow here without the aid of priests, and the here farmers do not fear death. They tell me of the realms of the dead and stories of their ancestors. They have been raised with them. The monks and priests have visited them often, and they believe. They know where they will go when they die.

            I am not so certain I believe.

            We move ever south, and we are told that we must face the armies of the invaders: beasts that walk like men, creatures of nightmare. The men from these villages hope to die to save their families, hope to die so that they may be one day reborn as samurai. I fear that death is the end. I fear that death is not the worst thing that may happen to us.

            Many have become sick. We marched past a village, quarantined by the local lords. Some of our men have developed symptoms: the cough, the black mucus, red eyes. In the mountains, we know what herbs to pick for cough, what flowers can be made into a compress to ease breathing. None of these remedies have helped.

            Last night, I saw a man die, and rise again, biting and tearing at the herbalist examining him only moments before.

            They say we should die for the Empire.

            At dawn we fight. At dawn, I might die.

            I’m afraid to die.

            I am so very, very afraid.

* * * * *

The Center

            Five days.

            For five days, Hitofu had followed the man and the boy through the coastal provinces of the Crane. He had watched his targets closely: both walked with the practiced grace of a dancer, never expending more energy than required. The man had a hungry edge to him, but, unlike Hitofu, he was no wolf, used to fighting for his meals. Despite his plain clothing, the man demanded attention. He and the boy slept in cheap inns and ate at small noodle-houses, but he spoke with clearly and with authority, as if he expected his words to be obeyed without exception. Hitofu had met men like him before – usually unwise samurai of great clans stripped of their titles or on musha shugy?, expecting to be treated as if they were members of their traditional station rather than their present one. In Hitofu’s experience, it meant the new ronin was soft, no matter how extensive their training.

            The contract said otherwise. One hundred koku, the contract said, one hundred koku and a position in the Emerald Magistrates. The price was an extravagant one for a criminal’s head, but the position offered was incredible – if Hitofu succeeded, he would never have to fight for a meal again. With his skill, Hitofu could obtain any number of local magistrate positions, but he would likely be tied down to a dreary town on the edge of the Empire. As an Emerald Magistrate, Hitofu could wander to his heart’s content. Answering only to the land’s highest authority, he would never be harassed by samurai on the road, never forced to bribe an official to use the Empress’s road.

            But to be worth such a prize, the man would have to be dangerous indeed.

            The pair did not look so troublesome – the man was missing an eye, which likely meant he had lost at least one battle in the past, and the boy looked weedy and thin. Both had surprisingly pale features for men on the road. Still, it was no reason to treat them lightly, Hitofu mused as he sat on the cliffside. He had tracked them to Three Fish Village, and he could follow them as long as he needed, until he had their measure. He smiled as he watched the the boy skip gracefully from stone to stone near the cliffside, then turned his gaze back to the man, who…

            …who was looking right at him.

            “You.”

            Hitofu blinked and slowly rose to his feet.

            The man threw his straw coat to the ground, stretched his neck, and pointed to the ronin. “You, wave-man. You have followed us for at least the last seventy li. Will you not make your move?”

            Hitofu blinked. “I… I am sorry, my friend. I do not know what you are –”
            “Do not try to deceive me, ronin,” the man said coldly, “I do not take well to deception.”

            Hitofu nodded. He rather liked this man’s approach – far too often, samurai of the clans tried to do whatever they could to avoid saying what they meant. “I am here to collect a bounty, my friend. I regret to tell you that you are my target.”

            The man nodded, slowly. “I expected as much. But I would ask that you refrain from considering me your friend.”

            “If you wish,” Hitofu replied, rolling his shoulders back. “If we must dispense of all pretense, then we will. Now, should we get to it?”

            The man inclined his head slightly, then nodded again.

            “Blade of Nanashi’s Eyes,” Hitofu said, saluting his opponent before falling back into his stance, “Sensei Kyome.”

            The man acknowledged Hitofu’s salute and fell back into a tight stance. He placed his right hand on his obi and opened his left, as if making an offering to the ronin. “Sensei Kaiten.”

            Hitofu’s eyes grew wide. There was no weakness in this man’s stance. It had to be him! Hitofu fought desperately to keep the growing panic from affecting him. He glanced from his opponent to the boy, who was watching his father dispassionately.

            “Lord Noritoshi,” Hitofu said, as bluntly as he could manage, “Your stance is impeccable.”

            Noritoshi did not deign to give the ronin a response.

            Hitofu stared into the steel blue of the Crane’s eye. He believed he would die this day, but the opportunity it would give him – he would take the chance. Both men stood silent and still, waiting for their adversary to move.

            There was movement on the horizon. Hitofu blinked – it was there, a cloud of dust, moving slowly towards the small coastal village. The Crane tensed for a second, as if readying a strike, then noticed that his opponent was not readying his move, but was responding to something over his shoulder.

            “Father,” the boy whispered, looking past the village as well, “something is out there.”

            Hitofu relaxed, and the Crane tilted his body, allowing himself to look back with his one good eye. “Not riders. Men?”

            “They are walking slowly, father. There are many, and they are not in formation.”

            “Beasts,” Hitofu said, and his blood ran cold. “Zombies. I have heard rumors… how many live in that village?”

            Noritoshi returned his attention to the ronin, falling back into his iai stance.

            “Do you not see them?” Hitofu cried. “Do you not care?”

            “They are not my concern,” the Crane replied. “The villagers belong to the Empress, yes, and those beasts are a threat to her property, but the Daidoji will arrive soon enough to protect the village. I have a higher calling.”

            Hitofu slowly raised his hand from his daisho. “What could be a greater calling for a clan samurai than defending his family and his Empire?”

            The Crane stood still and unmoving. “Do not presume to judge me, wave-man. My son and I – we are my family, and by living through this day I can defend the Empire from a greater threat.” His eyes were cold. “What is the greater threat to the Empress – the viper in her field, or the one coiled around her feet?”

            Hitofu’s thoughts reeled. “You… you and the Emerald Champion.” He cupped his hand over his eyes and looked from the Kakita to the village behind them. “Are you mad, Crane? I had my doubts when I realized who my target truly is, but what you say is treason. He is justified in hunting you.”

            “My family and I will oppose him and his kind, even if it costs us all we have. The Empire is worth that much.”

            “But… they say the Crab fight daily with demons, and that the northern mountains again burn. Would you truly thrust your family into a conflict knowing that the Empire may need your strength to survive?”

            “I should expect as much from you, ronin. You and your kind fight to gather scraps, to survive to your next meal. That is why, no matter what skill you may have, you will never be a true samurai. The Kakita never fight merely to survive, ronin.” Noritoshi glanced back at his son. “We fight to preserve the culture of the Empire itself. Surviving without our culture, our laws, our tradition – that is no survival at all. An Empire that defeats its foes but has a creature like Jimen as its heart is no longer Rokugan.”

            “You can’t think you’ll succeed – even if you kill me, I am not the only one hunting you. And if we fail, how do you know Jimen won’t send him all he can after you? The magistrates, the Shosuro – forces that should be defending the Empire in time of war.”

            “I would expect him to,” Noritoshi replied, “as he is unfit for his position.”

            Hitofu blinked. “But…”

            Noritoshi tightened his grip on his obi. “Do you not wish for this duel, ronin?”

            Hitofu clenched his fists. “I…” He looked to the village again, at the forces approaching it. “..  No. Not today.”

            Noritoshi relaxed his stance and looked at his son. The boy nodded at his father, who looked back at Hitofu. “I will pay you ten koku if you defend my people, ronin. Hold those creatures off until reinforcements arrive, and return to this spot. You will find payment in the basket my son carries.”

             Hitofu nodded. “This will not be the last you see of me, Lord Noritoshi.”

            Noritoshi opened his arm, and his son ran to his side. A slight smile crossed his face. “A pity, that.”

            The two Crane walked past the ronin, following the coast to the south. Hitofu watched them for a moment, then shook his head, then began running towards Three Fish Village. He knew that today he had seen his own death – but if it came at the hands of the creatures advancing on Three Fish Village or the man who had employed him to defend it, he did not know.

* * * * *

The South

It is almost dusk, and my unit disengages from the rest of the forces marching south. It is a duty we do gladly; it is part of tradition that some of our units rest separately from the main force. It means that any ambushes in the night will attack the outside units first, so the central force will have time to mobilize, but that is only the practical reason. The true reason is simple: as the sky goes red, we know that the sun will never set on the united armies of the Lion.

            As usual, we receive our orders from an ashigaru courier. It is the same man who has dealt with us these past few weeks, and if he survives, he will likely be our liaison for the entire campaign. He is young and eager, but he never looks our nikutai in the eye – deftly maintaining propriety. We are technically above his station, but our shame makes us below his place on the order. It is not a noble duty he bears. I pray to the ancestors that he outlives us, but I am certain they do not listen.

            Despite his position, the nikutai still receives maps of the battle, planned from our advance scouts. I pay them little notice – I can make neither heads nor tails of the complexities of our new war. I know only that I have waited a long time for this chance. I am among the oldest members of our unit, both generally – through the seasons I have seen — and specifically — through seniority.

            “The enemy continues pulling north, Senichi,” the nikutai says. I am the only one whom he addresses by the name of a dead man – perhaps because I am the only one who has been with the unit longer than he. Perhaps it is to rankle me. My rage has won more than one battle under his command – but even that might be what angers him. He taps the map, plays with it, spread out in the dirt like a tattered bird. “Do they plan to escape to the mountains, do you think?”

            I grunt and shake my head. “I know not, commander. The mountains will not save them from our talons.”

            The nikutai smirks and rubs his chin. “Courage in the face of unfathomable horror. Were you leading our forces, Senichi, the Empire would not have any enemies left to trouble us.”

            A fire burns in my chest. I can hear my wife crying. “Were I leading our forces, commander, I would be dead by now, and my family would finally be free of my shame.”

            “Is that what you want, Senichi? Your family to be free of the shame you represent?” The nikutai scowls as he asks me the same question he asks before every battle. “Or do you want to finally be free of your own shame?”

            I cannot help myself – I can feel my lip curling into a sneer. “Are they not one and the same, commander?”

            “I suppose it is close enough not to matter,” the nikutai says, sternly. “You will be third watch.”

            I bow to the nikutai – protocol must be obeyed, even among those like we – and search for a place to rest. I can feel the eyes of the other men in the unit follow me. They fear me, perhaps rightfully. I am no Setai, but I am a Deathseeker who has survived more than one battle. All the softness in me is gone.

            If they had seen the man who once bore my name, they may have feared me, but only in the manner that one fears a bonfire: stay away until it burns out, or it may catch you with its hunger. Certainly, the man who bore my name was strong once, but he was not a physically formidable man near the end. The man who once stood at the gates of Toshi Ranbo as Lord Nimuro claimed his prize died years before his second death, drowned by the drink and his own fears. And it was his wife and child that paid that price.

            After I joined our unit of walking dead, the weakness of my old form was sloughed away, replaced by the harsh muscles and sinew born by the endless march towards war. Now, I know that I will die soon. What I must constantly wonder is if it will be enough.

            My sleep is difficult, as always. My wife’s spirit speaks to me in the night, screaming of the monster that took our son from us, not fully understanding that the monster is me. I tremble, like I trembled when I died the second time – without the drink, I trembled for days.

            But tonight is different. A rider appears, and my wife grows silent at his approach. He leads me away from my wife. He walks beside his steed, a noble creature that watches me silently.

            He tells me he once lived as I do. I tell him that I am already dead.

            “If only it was that easy,” he says, and he smiles.

            The mists seem endless, but I feel as if the horse knows the way. It is guiding us, not the horseman guiding her. I ask him where we are going.

            “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he replies. “I don’t think we can know until we get there.”

            I ask him where we are.

            “You’re the Lion,” he replies. “You’re the one who knows about what happens after we die.”

            I tell him I already am dead.

            “You’re lively for a dead man. Your heart may feel dead, Lion, but your body is waiting to catch up.”

            I ask him why he is here, and he replies that it is his job to be here.

            I ask him why I am here.

            “Usually,” he says, a strange smile still playing on his lips, “It means that they’re not done with you yet.”

            “What do you mean? Who are you talking about?”

            “What I mean,” he replies, “is that your story isn’t quite over yet.” He shrugs. “Just because you are forgotten, it doesn’t mean you’re gone. You may still have more to do.”

            The night is silent and still. I look to the guard posted on the hill.

            He is not there.

            I cry out. A demon rises out of the darkness, a creature twice the height of a man, with the head of a strange, long-nosed beast.

            I grab my blade and charge. As I run, I pray.

            I pray I can die a third time.

            I pray that this death is a good one.

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

The Plague War – the Kotei portion of the Empire’s Glory MegaGame - has started.
Now is the time to look ahead at the rest of the MegaGame and especially at the ways for non CCG players to earn Points for their Clans and the Empire.

Starting July 2010, and until the end of the MegaGame, the community as a whole will be able to affect the course of the MegaGame through longstanding efforts. Individual performance of players will not matter, Clan performance will.
As such, all Clans will be rewarded in Honor points, in descending order of their performance in that effort. For instance, the Clan that performed the best would get 9 points, and the Clan that performed theworst would get 1 point.

Individual player performance will also be rewarded through 6 1-month long contests. Much like the previous MegaGame, those contests will reward creativity, knowledge, spirit and dedication.
Rewards in Honor points will go to the players individually, regardless of their Clan Affiliation, so there is no guarantee all Clans will receive points over the course of those events.

Additional information on each of those, and possibly other non-CCG contests will be unveiled at a later time.

United, the Empire will prevail. Divided, it will crumble.
The L5R MegaGame Team

Over the course of the MegaGame, the Clans of Rokugan and the Empire itself have the opportunity to earn Honor and Glory points through a wide array of events in order to cure the Plague that affects the land and fend off the armies of Kali-Ma.

Glory Points are earned through Tournament play, barring rare exceptions.
Honor Points are earned through Winter Court, the Kotei MegaGame, and the various events that will happen in the after Kotei season (an annoucement will be forthcoming regarding those).

Discuss the announcement of the Points targets in our Forums