Sengoku Horizon

Look towards the Horizon

The Warring States Period: Fierce warlords fought for control of Japan, and many would perish. When a warrior falls, where does the passion they once held go? Possibly into something dear such as a favorite weapon or heirloom. These heirlooms have been labeled as “relics”, and those that carry them are labeled as “Scions." Recently more and more of these special relics have been activating, signaling the start of a great change as ancient power meets the modern world!

Now For The Local News, 11/01/2017 The dust has cleared after a fierce clash against the rebel Ikko Ikki monks. Now, as a tense period of calm spread over the island nation of Japan the students of Edo Bugei must figure out how to proceed in life after experience such intense conflicts and such deep loss.

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Location: Colorado, US
Born: 2 December 1989
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Aideen

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Jan 8 2018, 05:24 PM
Bu had been having a good day, it wasn't fantastic, but it was a significant improvement on Sunday where she had spent a lot of money on a waste of time. Bu was nothing if not outspoken so she'd been simmering about Sunday all morning and then it was finally afternoon and her combat training class had started. Nothing like a few drills and some heavy sparring to improve your mood. It was cathartic really, you could just let all that emotion out, Bu, not being the sort to keep it in, split the time between sparring complaining about her day to her partner.

She had spent the evening before looking to get herself a tattoo. After all, what would be cooler than that. A real finger to the Man. And she had the perfect design too. The fight with the ninja had left its mark, mostly in the form of faded burn scars from wrist to elbow. He'd burned her favorite jacket, her iconic jacket in fact. Also her but she wasn't so much bothered about that. So her tattoo idea was a dragon head coming down from the shoulders and her lower arm would be coming out of its mouth. How cool was that? That'd make the burns almost decorative.

It hadn't turned out. In fact, she'd had to pay for damages. The artist had broken his machine on her shoulder. Like, in seconds it was smoking, the needle was bent, and it was oozing ink everywhere. So maybe she'd forgotten about her artifact. But it hadn't been a problem before. She'd had shots before with it on, she'd cut herself with her razor blades before. She couldn't be blamed. She had been and she'd had to leave without the tattoo or her down payment.

She had been complaining and somebody ratted her out, or maybe the teacher had overheard her. She'd had to listen to a lecture, joy, and been sent to the office to get another one. What a drag. If she heard another lecture on upholding traditional standards of the nobility or whatever she might puke. Stuck up twits. Only one of them was worth a damn.

So there she was, sitting in a chair outside the headmasters office while he did something or other. Could be ages, could be short, she didn't know or care. She slouched down, bare arms, inkless, crossed under her breasts. She was in her workout clothes still too. A tight grey sleeveless tank and just as grey cloth shorts. At least they were a step up from bloomers.
Jan 2 2018, 04:43 PM
A rather long letter delivered to some NPC or other to pass along to those who can see change done. It's all wrapped up officially and given the seal of the Hokkaido Matsudaira.

I request a dispensation granted from the Emperor towards a group of people whose job it will be to go to the forest and document the passing of as well as deal with the bodies of those who have lost their lives in the forest. Blah blah blah, details of the suffering of those who felt they had nothing left, their honor in choosing to no longer be a drain on society. Presentations on society's duty to those who live in it. Honor is spoken of again at length. There's a rather significant focus on how there may be considered honor lost in the single person's contact with the dead but far greater is the honor lost by all who accept the deaths and do nothing about them. Sweeping it under the rug but more Japanese metaphors, you know. Intermingled with it are references to the duty of the ruling types to those who serve. Mostly it deals with clan leaders to the peasant workers and it is primarily anecdotes from Hokkaido but it's obviously a bit of metaphor for the Emperor to all of Japan.

There is some focus on personal experience from Junko's time in the forest on mission, as well as his visits there afterwards. His discovery of another student and his attempts to discover what led to such a sorry state for what could and should have been somebody who could be a great boon to the country. He discusses how many people were thought to be lost in the earthquakes and attacks that might have simply lost everything and disappeared into the forest as they had nothing left.

There is subtle rebuking of the Metsuke who go out only once a year and do only the bare minimum while accepting that this is not their job most of the time. There is mention of some, obviously hinting at rebels, who might use the forest as a dumping ground, as nobody gives much attention to those who lie forgotten among the trees. More passionate statements are made about the crab barrel of people holding others back by challenging their honor when they try and do good. It goes on a bit longer about how a blessing, or even acceptance without rebuke from the Emperor would be enough to allow the poor people who thought they were abandoned in life rest in peace, not abandoned in death.

It goes on a bit longer before wrapping up with more flowery language and then, on extra sheets of paper, lists the more nitty gritty bits of the idea. What it takes to get started, proposals for the sizes of the search parties. Training requirements for volunteers to go out into the forest, both physical and religious. And also a detailed map and scouting plan for the entirety of the forest over several years with assumptions that the campaign will draw in more volunteers and hopefully some funding from donations so as not to burden the government.

He's been working on this for ages, nearly a year, I think the mission that spawned it in his head was shortly after the Earthquake but a fair ways before the rebellion, and so I'm not particularly interested in doing that much work but, you know, this is what it boils down to. Let's call it a club for laying souls to rest. Probably shan't be doing anything with it but it's a good bit for character building, fleshing out characters, etc.
Dec 22 2017, 09:03 PM
I think it'd be fun to push more relationship stuff on her. She's far too independent right now and really needs that grounding influence. Trouble is, there is an element of pickiness here. Bu tends to freak out when it comes to actual romance stuff with girls and when she freaks out, she lashes out. Easily played for comedy or drama, but I'm a big fan of comedy so there's that. In any case, if you think you've got an idea or a pitch, message me on pm or discord or whatever and let's have a chat.
Nov 6 2017, 07:52 PM
There was so much Junko didn't understand about his place in the world. If he were to inherit the clan, he didn't know if he would be able to lead it properly. Certainly, a good amount of his upbringing wasn't exactly noble, disgraceful probably. His life was full of missteps and odd occurrences. No amount of lion slaying was going to make up for the tea ceremonies, dances, and dresses. So honor was already a tricky subject even before he took his first steps on the new path he saw ahead of him. A path of social work.


His time after the war and his missions into the so called suicide forest had opened his eyes to something truly shameful. It greatly affected him to see people left in such a state, forgotten and alone. Surely somebody cared for them somewhere. Surely there was some respite for the lost souls. He had been told that there were expeditions that went out once a year. From personal experience, he knew that it wasn't enough. The strings weren't enough. The number of people they sent out, the skills they carried with them, none of it was enough to really make a difference. Every lost soul in that forest was a stain on his country's honor. A stain he wanted to erase.

Trouble was, dealing with the dead wasn't very honorable either, especially with the taboo of suicide being a taint that stained everything hit touched. Likely that was why efforts in the forest were so pathetic, nobody wanted to be tainted and likely some families would rather never know than have the stain of dishonor touch their name. Disgusting and selfish, it made him sick. They had failed the family once and now failed them after they had died. He desperately wanted to do something about it all but, perhaps with good reason, he wanted to avoid the taint himself. Junko didn't want his behavior to bring any shame to his family name, especially since he would be doing good works, maybe even holy works.

Then Junko had an idea, he would go straight to the nearly top. Not the emperor, he had better things to do than give any attention to some kid, even if it was an Edo student. But the Shogun might be able to grant a special dispensation. Something that said that Junko could do this good and charitable work without loss of honor, maybe even gaining honor for his clan. But he had to frame his arguments right, he had to be passionate without sounding desperate. He had to present his argument with points and counterpoints. He needed examples from history to support him.

For this reason, Junko was in the library. He planned to spend all weekend there. So he'd not really bothered dressing up, or at all. He'd arrived bright and early in his pink and sea foam patterned silk pajamas, a blanket, and lots of notepaper. And since the library opened, he had been there in a corner on a soft chair skimming texts and making notes.
Nov 6 2017, 07:18 PM
Kire was sitting outside the smithy building and staring up at the sky. Or he might have been, it was hard to tell since he was wearing his sunglasses again. What was assured was that most anyone who approached him to ask for help with a project or fixing a weapon or sharpening a chipped blade was rudely dismissed before they could even finish speaking. Kire had decided that today he was going to relax. He had been given an assignment to make a tool from a broken blade. A pointless test of his abilities, something far more suited to somebody who needed testing on the differences of metal and the alteration of said metal.

It was insulting, Kire was easily insulted lately. He was a master now. Surely that meant something? He felt that there really should have been a big ceremony but he'd just filled out some paperwork, had his name added to a registry, and got some certificates and licenses. It felt, almost, like he had wasted his time. A license of mastery was not an automatic graduation, it wasn't even an automatic pass. All it seemed to be was an automatic sign that he could help other students with every little minor crafting issue. It was awful.

So it felt good to tell them no. To stare at the sky, uniform unkempt, long coat splayed out underneath him, and just outright deny his skills. That wasn't to say he'd done nothing. The special Aztec weapon had come even further, even if he was growing more distressed by it every day. Distressed might be the wrong word, afraid was better. He was afraid of his creation. It was nasty. It had tried to take his fingers several times already. If the reports he'd read were true, it could take off the head of a horse in a casual swing. He had, at first, believed that this was an exaggeration but his mind was slowly changing as it came closer to being.

It'd probably be done in a few more weeks, days if he bothered to devote himself to it. Then he'd have to decide on a new project. Kire closed his eyes. Maybe he'd find a globe or a map and throw a dart at it randomly. He probably still had a few left from his ill fated club attempt. Then he'd build a traditional legendary weapon from that country. Though knowing his luck, he'd end up somewhere stupid, like here. A sigh escaped his lips. That was what he needed, a new project to keep him occupied and his mind sharp. Not turning a knife into a screwdriver.
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