Razor of the Dawn Castle, Crab Lands

Mirumoto Mareshi often wondered how his life might have unfolded if he had been born without such a unique heritage. His father’s humanity meant he sometimes had difficulty in controlling his emotions, especially at his relatively young age. It often confused him, but the typically human emotions had confused his Naga brethren even more. Through the Akasha, every Naga could sense the emotions of other Naga, especially those in close proximity. While Mareshi could not fully access the Akasha, it was enough to make him mildly uncomfortable around large numbers of his mother’s people, and vice versa.

A short time after his tenure with the nemuranai hunters had come to an end, Mareshi had been selected to serve a brief duty on the Kaiu Wall. Stationed at Razor of the Dawn Castle, Mareshi had been disappointed that he wouldn’t see more of the Shadowlands. That dark realm was a source of constant curiosity to him, although he was careful never to let it impede his judgment. Instead, he had learned that activity along the Wall near Razor of the Dawn Castle was minimal, and that the Crab frequently placed important visitors here to keep them safe. It had been difficult for him not to feel some degree of resentment.

It was a few months after his arrival, just as he walked through the town beyond the Castle on his journey back to Dragon lands, that Mareshi sensed something unusual. The kami were in a state of uproar, even more so than usual. The sensation had hit him like a sudden gust of cold air on a hot day. His sense of smell, slightly sharper than that of a normal man, also picked up a thick stench of blood, but none was to be seen in the strangely quiet, empty streets around him. Mareshi’s hands drifted to the hilts of his blades, a matched katana and a unique scimitar that his mother’s people wielded. Had the Shadowlands infiltrated the city after so long a period of inactivity? Where were the villagers?

Mareshi was momentarily wracked with indecision. Most of the Crab soldiers were either at the wall or at their barracks, both a long walk from the village. Should he investigate and risk certain death, or go for help and risk his prey escaping. Mareshi cursed inwardly for declining the horse his Crab commander had offered him that morning, now he had no way of alarming their forces of the danger he sensed.

The stench grew stronger as figures darkened the doorway of the village’s meager teahouse. Darkly robed figures emerged from the house at the edge of town, carrying bloody knives, murmuring incoherently, with blood coming from their mouths, ears, eyes and noses. Mareshi knew there could only be one source for such obvious madness and depravity: blood magic. He felt a wave of despair at the notion that he could not hope to defeat them alone, and yet neither could he permit them to escape while he went for help. It was in that moment of despair that he felt something odd. An inquisitive tugging at the back of his mind that was at once familiar and completely alien.

What troubles you, human-son-of-Mara?

Mareshi was so taken aback that he nearly allowed he maho-tsukai to see him, but instinct took over as he ducked into an alleyway out of their line of sight. Who speaks, he asked, focusing his will completely in order to extend his spirit awkwardly into the Akasha.

A southern patrol from the Shinomen, came the response. We sought human servants of the Foul at Akasha and the General Chen’s request. We sensed you from afar and were curious. We did not recognize you for who you were until a short time ago. We planned to return to the forest until your dismay reached us.

The servants of the Foul are here as well, Mareshi managed. I stand against them alone.

No. Not alone.

Mareshi grinned at the thought. How long will it take you to reach the village?

Not long, was the answer. Track the creatures. We will join you shortly.