Shinden Osano-Wo, Imperial Lands

The Fortune of Fire and Thunder was unlike most gods, and perhaps as a result those who worshipped him were unlike most men. Osano-Wo had lived as a mortal, once, though he was no typical mortal. The son of a Kami and an elemental dragon, power had always echoed in his every action. Upon his death, he ascended to Tengoku where his anger would shake the skies forever more.

Osano-Wo was a fickle, violent, and wrathful god. At times he was moody and distant, abandoning those who prayed for his aid merely because they did not have the strength to stand on their own. The holy men who dedicated themselves to the Fortune were well accustomed to his moods. Osano-Wo's order was thus not composed of typical monks, peaceful and ascetic. They were warriors, sohei, fiercely independent men and women prepared to defend their land and beliefs by force when required. Those who knew them feared them, respected them for their piety, but feared them for their strength. Even samurai did not cross the Thunderer's order lightly.

And so it was that when the fires began in the villages nearby, and the villagers did not know where to turn, they came to Osano-Wo's temple. The monks said not a word, but opened their doors wide to admit the refugees as they fled the madness that had consumed their homes. The scarred sohei now lined the road leading up the mountain to their temple. They wore loose robes, laced with light armor. Their faces were wrapped in thick scarves, and each monk bore a heavy, two-handed axe.

Ageku, the old and wizened master of the temple, watched the smoke rising on the horizon with wary eyes. Since the Rain of Blood, his order had suspected this day would come. After five centuries of hiding among the populace, the Bloodspeakers were now striking out against Rokugan. According to the refugees, many of the villagers had suddenly fallen ill earlier this evening and died shortly thereafter. The waters of each village had been poisoned. Soon thereafter, those who had perished had risen again as blasphemous unliving automatons, controlled by the Bloodspeakers.

Only minutes ago, the army had first revealed itself. A mass of shambling undead lurched ponderously across the plains toward the temple. Even Ageku, who had seen many terrible things in his time, was deeply disturbed. His men were skilled warriors but could they stand against such a foe and protect those who had sought refuged in the temple as well? And even if they triumphed here, was the horror that had consumed the Plains of Thunder now reflected throughout the Empire?

The old monk closed his eyes in grief for those who had already been lost. Ageku prayed to Osano-Wo for strength and courage, but not for himself. he knew that the Thunderer would not answer such a selfish prayer. Instead, he prayed only that no more innocents would die today. He prayed for the strength to claim vengeance in the Thunderer's name. As he finished his prayer, Ageku heard the rumble of distant thunder.

No, he realized as he opened his eyes. It was not thunder at all but the sound of rapidly approaching horses. A second army had appeared upon the plains, clad in brilliant green. Their banners bore the symbol of the Imperial Legions, but also the symbols of the Mantis Clan - the clan founded by Osano-Wo's son.

Surely it could be no coincidence.

The undead army halted. Though the troops were too mindless to know true fear, whatever intelligence controlled them clearly doubted its chances against both Osano-Wo's priests and this new enemy.

"For the Daughter of Storms and the Shogun!" their general's voice resounded clearly across the plains.

Ageku held up two fingers, signaling the warrior monks that waited for his command. In perfect unison, they clapped the butt of their axes against the stony earth three times. Lightning flashed in the sky overhead. In a silent wave, the monks of Osano-Wo descended from their mountain even as the legions of the Mantis galloped to meet them, with a doomed Bloodspeaker horde trapped between.