~This character's storyline is set in Edo Era Japan (1847 to be exact), so those wishing to join please consider this when choosing your character. I prefer characters that are from such a setting, so as to keep it logical, but welcome anything within reason. Thank you, and please pm me with any questions and the like. ~
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The ways of the world never truly change, for savagery and murder run more abound with each passing century. Death and oppression, sin and taint were as a common as oceans, ever rising like a broken ship. The floods enter without a force to stop them, torrents of pulverizing might which can only consume the vessel whole and drag it down to the abyss. Those in power suggested that men required a leash, and while this swordsman once barked like a dog without second thought, the ways of the Shogunate were those of strictness and bloodletting—and as similar as his former life had been to their spilling ways, now his swords were to be swung for the freedom of the world.
The one named Inomono Tasuke stepped lightly through the deserted streets of Edo, her ornate designs accented by hung lanterns of lemon yellow and orange as midnight stretched its hands upon the city. Few traveled the streets at such an hour, but this one of short obsidian hair and silk the very shade of night itself, found no better a time to wander in thought. His sandals scoffed mutely upon the dirt underfoot whilst he traveled with the right arm at ease, his left cradled atop the smooth lacquer scabbards of the twin katana slung through his sash and affixed against the hip. One burned scarlet, the other an intricate mesh of jade lace, but each color splashed across black sheaths accented by silver guards and satiny hilts. The kimono of the man offered little for one to ponder, for nothing was seen underneath on such a sultry summer night. Feathers of hair curled about the youthful curves of his face, a dark onyx gaze brought to sky with a sudden halt of frame.
The heavens had been bespangled by diamonds, aglitter like flakes of snow upon deep sapphire robes. The celestial shroud was a gift to all, the just and wicked alike, and it was for only one side of the coin that he traveled on. Entrance into the mist of thoughts brought Tasuke’s eyes to a close and a light smile to his lips, for he well remembered when he crossed from shadows to sunlight. Some who retired from the assassin’s fold learned to stop killing, others went on with their methods of madness without remorse. He killed to rid the world of a pestilence, a plague of ticks—imposters which dared to call themselves human. Those that spread abomination, hatred and innocent blood had felt his sword, and like the words of an entrancing siren, heard the voice of death whisper in their ears as a price for their deeds. This was the path he had chosen, of repentance for the children—for the mothers and fathers of innocent blood which he cleaved without thought. The powerless would be defended and given strength from his words and sword, and the evil would be licked by gelid, silvery steel.
His eyes opened and fell to the road once more, Tasuke to step forth toward the southwest district. His target was the tavern known as Aoi, and it was there that he sought to see quite the friendly face. It had taken quite some time for him to forgive his own atrocities against her, but the days had finally allowed a peace to their conversations. That was the final chain. The final crutch of guilt for a murderer turned savior.
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The ways of the world never truly change, for savagery and murder run more abound with each passing century. Death and oppression, sin and taint were as a common as oceans, ever rising like a broken ship. The floods enter without a force to stop them, torrents of pulverizing might which can only consume the vessel whole and drag it down to the abyss. Those in power suggested that men required a leash, and while this swordsman once barked like a dog without second thought, the ways of the Shogunate were those of strictness and bloodletting—and as similar as his former life had been to their spilling ways, now his swords were to be swung for the freedom of the world.
The one named Inomono Tasuke stepped lightly through the deserted streets of Edo, her ornate designs accented by hung lanterns of lemon yellow and orange as midnight stretched its hands upon the city. Few traveled the streets at such an hour, but this one of short obsidian hair and silk the very shade of night itself, found no better a time to wander in thought. His sandals scoffed mutely upon the dirt underfoot whilst he traveled with the right arm at ease, his left cradled atop the smooth lacquer scabbards of the twin katana slung through his sash and affixed against the hip. One burned scarlet, the other an intricate mesh of jade lace, but each color splashed across black sheaths accented by silver guards and satiny hilts. The kimono of the man offered little for one to ponder, for nothing was seen underneath on such a sultry summer night. Feathers of hair curled about the youthful curves of his face, a dark onyx gaze brought to sky with a sudden halt of frame.
The heavens had been bespangled by diamonds, aglitter like flakes of snow upon deep sapphire robes. The celestial shroud was a gift to all, the just and wicked alike, and it was for only one side of the coin that he traveled on. Entrance into the mist of thoughts brought Tasuke’s eyes to a close and a light smile to his lips, for he well remembered when he crossed from shadows to sunlight. Some who retired from the assassin’s fold learned to stop killing, others went on with their methods of madness without remorse. He killed to rid the world of a pestilence, a plague of ticks—imposters which dared to call themselves human. Those that spread abomination, hatred and innocent blood had felt his sword, and like the words of an entrancing siren, heard the voice of death whisper in their ears as a price for their deeds. This was the path he had chosen, of repentance for the children—for the mothers and fathers of innocent blood which he cleaved without thought. The powerless would be defended and given strength from his words and sword, and the evil would be licked by gelid, silvery steel.
His eyes opened and fell to the road once more, Tasuke to step forth toward the southwest district. His target was the tavern known as Aoi, and it was there that he sought to see quite the friendly face. It had taken quite some time for him to forgive his own atrocities against her, but the days had finally allowed a peace to their conversations. That was the final chain. The final crutch of guilt for a murderer turned savior.
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