Shutai, Scorpion Lands

Shutai was a small city, far from any holdings of any significance, even in the Scorpion lands, when such things were found in the most unlikely locations. The city, barely more than a village in even the most generous of estimates, had a reputation throughout the Empire as a haven for bandits, disreputable ronin, and all manner of scum. Shutai was avoided by anyone possessing even the slightest shred of common sense, and even the Emperor’s magistrates gave the city a wide berth. After all, there was nothing of importance nearby save for a few distant Scorpion villages, and the Scorpion had not requested intervention.

All of this, of course, made the village an ideal location for the Bloodspeakers. A cell had existed within Shutai for nearly two hundred years, and were among Iuchiban’s most powerful and zealous supporters. When their master’s command had come, when they had been ordered to kill them all, the Sons of Blood had responded without hesitation. Many had died that day.

After only a short time, the killing fever stopped. Tsukihime, leader of the cell, had ushered her remaining cultists back into hiding, and worked powerful spells to cloud the memories of those who had survived the incident. She had hoped that the cell could remain, as she did not wish to sacrifice all they had worked to achieve. But that had been a wishful delusion. Now, the Legions would be upon Shutai in a matter of hours, and she had little time to gather her flock.

“Leave those!” she snarled, gesturing to one of the less competent of her followers. “We can replace those components easily, idiot! Help the others with the scrolls!” She turned back to gathering her personal materials. She was busily shoving scrolls into her travel sack when she realized one of the cultists was standing and watching her. She grimaced in anger and began to shout, then stopped. “Who are you?” she demanded, gathering power for a spell.

“Are you Tsukihime, the one who calls herself the Daughter of Blood?” Tsukihime’s eyes narrowed. “I am. Who are you?”

The woman chuckled. “How very clever of you,” she said with an air of condescension. “And you lead this rabble?”

“I do,” Tsukihime said, more forcefully. “Now tell me who you are before…”

The Bloodspeaker died with a sickening gurgle as the newcomer’s fist came alive with black energy that coursed across the room and enveloped the cultist. She screamed once, then fell to the floor, nothing more than ash. “No one leads the Bloodspeakers now, save for Daigotsu,” the stranger said, pulling back her hood to reveal her long, raven-black hair.

“Shahai,” one cultist whispered.

“Follow me to the Shadowlands, and join Daigotsu’s armies,” the Lady of Blood said with a disinterested air, “or the Legions will find only your ashes.”

There was the sound of someone drawing a blade, and another cultist screamed as Shahai incinerated him casually. “I will not ask you again,” she said.

There was no need for further questions.