G-g-gg-GHOSTS! (Open)

[Isawa Mitsuru]

Mitsuru he,

I recently received word from an old acquaintance of mine that there has been a significant amount of unnatural unrest in the Unicorn Provinces. Further discussion has convinced me that this matter would be well suited to your area of expertise. As a favor to your former master, I would ask that you please proceed to Haino village and determine the nature of these reported hauntings.

I have also prepared you a letter of introduction to one, Shinjo Feng, who I am told is a skilled tracker and scout. Please coordinate your efforts with him.

Isawa Gomaru yori

I read over the note again as I made the final leg of the journey to Haino. Master Gomaru’s precise handwriting reminding me of our years spent together tramping up and down Phoenix lands while he trained me in the art of Void magic. It was in some ways a comfort to me to have received this letter a week ago. In the time since my genpukku I have been…aimless, I suppose. It’s very difficult to transition so suddenly to a life where you make your own decisions and are not beholden to a man who directs almost every aspect of your daily activities.

“Keep up, Kohai-kun!”

Shiba Kanmaru stood up ahead, stopped in the middle of the road, staring back at me from under the brim of a well used conical kasa hat. My face soured instinctively at being called “kohai” by a man who was at least nominally, my servant. Shiba were often like that though. Like almost every other Shiba I had ever met, my yojinbo thought of me as a child who really needed his protection at every possible moment.

I tucked the not back into the lapel of my kimono and quickly jogged up to Kanmaru and then slowed back to a walk as I passed him. I buried my arms in my robes and looked stubbornly at the ground ahead of me. Kanmaru sighed and then fell into step just behind.

After just a silent hour or so we rounded a corner and just past a copse of trees I could see a few huts that confirmed the existence of the village. Haino seemed to be comparatively standard village. It was surrounded by several sections of rice farms with a central area of homes and businesses. As we passed into the central district it became clear that something was, in fact, amiss in the town. The farmers in town glared at the two of us with trepidation above and beyond what I’ve become used to as a samurai coming unannounced into a town of heimin.

Wanting to get off the streets I turned to Kanmaru and said, “We should probably find somewhere to stay.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” replied Kanmaru, glancing back and forth warily.

We found a large sign for an inn and ducked inside the building. I for one, was wondering what had happened to spook these people.

[Shinjo Feng]

“A Phoenix looking for me?!”

Feng made no attempt to mask his disbelief.

The servant had informed him as he reached the stables that inquiries were being made after his person by an Isawa... Feng had not bothered to remember his name...at an inn in a nearby village.

“Why isn't he staying at the castle?”

“I do not know, my lord.” The servant deferred not meeting Feng's gaze.

“Fine be elusive.” Feng laughed. “Why is this particular 'feather-bed' looking for me?”

The servants face dropped at such an implication directed at the honorable Phoenix.

Regaining his composure he responded

“He has been sent to investigate the reports of..... “

He trailed off and made a sign as if warding against the Shadowlands.

“Ghosts”

“Ghosts?” Feng laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his saddle.

Once again the servant found himself regretting this assignment. Did this man take nothing seriously?

Sighing the servant continued.

“As I said, ghosts. The local peasants have reported seeing something outside of their villages.”

Feng's laughter faded quickly.

“Why were we not told of this? Surly the villagers know that we are willing to help them.”

His demeanor was completely changed.

“Staying at the inn you say?”

The servant nodded. Before he could respond to the Samurai, Shinjo Feng wheeled his horse in place and rode out of the stables and courtyard beyond.

The servant stood gaping.

“He didn't even ask which village....”

[Isawa Mitsuru]

I sat on a hard bench inside a small eatery area of Haino’s largest, by which I mean only, inn. A large pot bubbled contentedly over a fire pit in the center of the room. Kanmaru buried himself stoically inside his robes and refused to do much more than look around the room.

Presently, a serving girl emerged from behind a curtain and came over to our table and bowed with as much propriety as she could muster.

“Would the honored guests enjoy something to eat?”

“Hmmm. let me see…Ah, if you have them, I would very much like some dumplings on a stick,” I asked. “And if you have a moment I have a couple of questions for you.”

She bowed again a little embarrassed, “My lord patron, I am quite sorry but I am very busy today.”

I took a quick survey of the room and noticed that at midday, the only other person in the room other than our little trio was an old man in the corner sitting sullenly next to a small bottle of rice wine. I looked back at our waitress, “I hope we can talk for just a little while. I see that a servant of your skill will be able to handle the many demands of your trade with a brief respite. If you please, it is a matter that I’m told is very important to the town.”

She looked around nervously, clearly conflicted by her own embarrassment at having to speak with nobility in anything more than passing business fashion and then bowed again, “I think that I can talk with you when I bring your dumplings.”

She bowed one more time before scuttling back behind the curtain. I waited for a short time, as the dumplings were prepared in mildly awkward silence with Kanmaru.

The serving girl returned with a plate bearing three round dumplings skewered together and drizzled with sauce. She place them on the table and then stood uneasily.

“Miss Waitress, if you like, you can have a seat.”

“If it’s alright I would prefer to stand, in case more customers come in.”

“I…see. Well, miss, my companion and I are here looking into rumors of…strange happenings? Perhaps there are some restless spirits in the area. Have you seen or heard anything about this?”

She paled quite thoroughly, “Ummm…let me see. I don’t think I know anything off hand…have you maybe checked with the old man who tends the town shrine. Perhaps he knows more about-“
“Young lady,“ Kanmaru’s stronger more direct voice slammed through the polite awkwardness of the conversation, “It is very important that we know about this. This restaurant must be a central gathering place in the city. Surely you know something.”

I shot Kanmaru an annoyed glare which he more or less ignored as he was looking down at the young lady who was bowing on the ground.

“My lord samurai, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to inconvenience you in the least! I may have just remembered a story that I heard a few days ago. Farmer Kuzen has come into the inn telling wild tales of a ghost at his home. The ghost scared his wife and child and he swears that it is blighting his crops!”

I was grateful for the progress in the investigation, even if I was uncomfortable with Kanmaru’s directness. If we gained a reputation for being overbearing, it might be very difficult to talk to these people. I did not want to let my former master down by failing him in his first request.

“Thank you very much miss,” I heard myself saying, “We will see what we can find from farmer Kuzen. And thank you very much for the dumplings.”

As I turned toward my dumplings I noticed that Kanmaru laid a couple of coins on the table which the waitress smoothly picked up before bowing her way back to the kitchen beyond the curtain. Chewing on my dumplings I thought through the tasks we had ahead.

Questioning a small town farmer.

And finding this Shinjo Feng.

[Shinjo Feng]

Feng's steed flew across the planes leaving the castle far behind him. The fact the Phoenix was here at all disturbed him more than the ghosts. His family had always prided themselves as being a friend of the people and to have heard nothing regarding these ghost stories.

The first village passed by in a blur his eyes scanned the simple homes and dwellings as he rode by.

Nothing.

It is true that most the Unicorn were not well known for their shugenja but surely one of them could have resolved this problem. Something was gravely wrong and Feng wanted to know what is was.

He sped through the second village the suns position made it mid morning. Once again he scrutinized the homes that he passed by.

Nothing here as well.

The sun rose to the midday position in the sky. Feng's mind was ablaze with thoughts. Ghosts, war, a peasant uprising, maho, oni here? He bit his lower lip nervously at the thought of trouble.

Perhaps, he thought, I should turn back and warn the Khan.

The third village on his chosen route was approaching.

After this I head back and raise the alarm.

His eyes studied the doors and windows of the village. As he looked he slowed his horse to a trot. Here and there little signs were everywhere that something was wrong. Small charms hung above doorways, windows shut tight despite the pleasant weather, and no children playing outside.

This was the place for sure.

Bringing his mount to a stop he carefully dismounted. Despite the dower looks he received from the peasants Feng put on a smile.

“Good people, may I inquire to the location of your Inn?”

[Shinjo Feng]

Only a quick nod points me towards the Inn.

Strange, usually the welcome is warmer. My thoughts wander. I wonder if our Master Phoenix has something to do with this.

Perhaps Inn would be a generous word for the establishment I am directed towards. This is not one of the grand Inns along the major trade routes of the empire but a small dwelling that can be little more than the owners home with an adequately large room to host members of the village.

The sake will be weak at best but there might be beer.


Long ago my family had traded with distant lands for hops. Though good for little else they gave a rich malted flavor to any brewed substance improving the taste greatly.

Well except Sake.

Easy to grow it made the barley drinks of the peasants more palatable and some Unicorn Samurai had taken too it, I was one of those Samurai.

Poking my head inside the door the warmth of the rooms small fire hit me like a wall of welcoming kami. I quickly stepped in out of the cold.

I patiently wait for a host to appear. In the corner I notice two Samurai seated speaking with a young woman.

Perhaps this is the Phoenix.

Though dressed in traveling clothes a bag, filled with what I can only assume to be scrolls, bears a distinct Phoenix shaped Mon. Though the Shugenja appears to be at ease his companion is tense and does not look to be very happy to be there. I suspect he would have preferred the palace to this Inn. Our eyes meet across the room and we exchange the briefest of bows one Bushi to another.

“May I help you lord Unicorn,” an aged voice draws my gaze.

An aging man, whom I assume is the proprietor stand before me. He is clean and well dressed despite the obvious repair of his clothes.

“Yes, aged father,” I respond, “I have traveled far this day and seek respite from my journey. Though I would sleep under the stars I am troubled by the arrival of many birds in our area. I fear droppings might soil my clothing. Have you a place where I may rest and my horse may be stabled.”

The Old man indicates that he can house me and my horse for the night. I don’t listen much to what he is saying instead taking in the room and the sense and smells. Though our host is courteous he is nervous. The Young woman speaking to the Phoenix also seems shaken.

This is the place this is the village where we’ll find the ghosts.

[Isawa Mitsuru]

I almost choked on my dango while listening to the old man and the samurai. In my childhood I had heard tales from older cousins who had traveled to Unicorn lands that “bird droppings” were a common euphemism used in asking to stay at an inn. I had, of course, until very very recently presumed this to be some sort of inside joke. Cousins often act that way you know.

I glanced over at the man who had just entered and noted his appearance. Now, I had spent the vast majority of my childhood in the Phoenix provinces. Even when Master Gomaru had business outside our lands, he would often leave me to short periods of “independent study” while he was away. As a result, I had sort of assumed that everyone in the world looked the same, with very specific faces and eyes. This is simply the way things were.

For example, I myself am a little shorter than many people, but not excessively so. My skin is fairly dark, though not nearly as dark as my eyes. My hair is a dark brown with a reddish twinge in the right light. I wear it long as is the more conservative style; eschewing the cho-mage knots in preference for a loose tail. I try to dress cleanly in the styles common to the area where I grew up. Right now I was wearing a kimono all covered with tie dye kanoko deerspots in patterns of pine trees and I had a bag of scrolls and travel supplies slung down my front. This last piece was a gempukku gift made by my mother and as a result sported three kamon: the crest of the Phoenix clan, the Isawa rondel, and our own family line’s badge.

However, the man who stood here had a completely different facial structure and style of dress. He was even wearing…fur? That seemed especially odd. I suppose that I should have expected regional differences among clans but this man was…not alien per se, but definitely something different. All in all he seemed quite exotic to my taste.

Slowly the internal gears of my mind caught up to the outward situation and I realized that he was too well dressed for a peasant and was very likely one of about three samurai in the village.

I stood up and approached him with a little bit of trepidation, not wanting to seem rude. I bowed to him as my superior, “Excuseme, but are you perchance my Lord Shinjo Feng?”

[Shinjo Feng]

“You have me at a disadvantage Master Phoenix.”

I reply to his inquiry.

“I am indeed Shinjo Feng but I am not acquainted with your personage.”

While the phoenix is clearly dressed for travel his clothing seems refined and almost more appropriate for a courtier than a traveler. However it is possible the kami protect their own and heavier clothes are not necessary.

I bow before him.

“If you will allow me I will join you shortly at your table.”

Stooping I begin to remove my boots. Rising nearly to the thigh the tall boots are made of supple yet sturdy leather protecting my legs from the whips and barbs of riding through brush. I had bought them on a journey to the Mantis Islands where I was assured they were owned by a notorious Gaijin pirate. The story aside they were comfortable and served their purpose.

They are a pain to remove though

I thought while tugging at the heel. No it was not dignified or graceful but that was the sacrifice you make for utility. Carefully I turned handed by traveling items to the old man who took them with as much dignity as he could manage. I bow and grimace in apology. I do not often stay at inns and forget that my traveling clothes often disturb others.

Having divested myself of my boots and traveling cloak I carefully navigate my way to the table where the two Phoenix are sitting. As I approach I note the subtle smell of perfume that must adorn my table mates. I must smell terrible of horse and sweat mingled with the dust of the road.

While their attire befits that of the Samurai my own resembles that of the common people, a hitatare of brown and green and dark brown kukuri-bakama covering my legs drawn in tight near the foot with traditional habaki. My cloak now in the position of the innkeeper was lined in fine fur. Aside from a small set of mons dyed onto the shoulders of my hitatare only a hint of a purple under kosode gave any hint to my clan alliegence. It was more my face that gave the story of my heritage. Wider cheekbones spoke of moto ancestry but light brown hair and green eyes spoke of something more foreign mingled in my blood. This mingled with my state of disarray surly would set the two phoenix on edge.

Perhaps if I retired to bath and groom myself their discontent could be overcome but that would be a nicety.

And there is no time for niceties.

[Isawa Mitsuru]

I waited patiently at the table for Feng, not really knowing what to expect when he came over. After he sat down I bowed to him again, in a manner of speaking (having not actually stood up to do so), and made a proper introduction.

“My name is Isawa Mitsuru, Ishi shugneja of the First Ring, son of Isawa Kenta and Shioko. This is my yojinbo, Shiba Kanmaru.”

I motioned respectfully toward Kanmaru who was watching Feng with his usual habit of sizing up everyone we met. Inasmuch as our world is organized with ranks and tiers of people, Kanmaru takes the concept of superior to inferior more seriously than most.

In any event, he gave another polite, if stiff, bow to Feng.

I reached into my satchel and fished out the note from Master Gomaru.

“Feng-san,” his name was very difficult to pronounce properly and I had to concentrate on not offending him, “I received this notice from my former master that he needed…a favor in this town. Apparently there have been reports of-“

I paused momentarily to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers. Of course, in the middle of the day I had no reason to worry. Even the serving girl was keeping to the kitchen.

“-the returned dead.

“There seem to be stories of one of the villagers, one farmer Kuzen, seeing ghosts which are negatively affecting his farm.”

[Shinjo Feng]

"Master Phoenix I hope that you are serious regarding your inquiry into this matter. Even though we Unicorn may have different superstitions than many of the Empire, ghosts are a serious mater."

My voice is low but enough to carry across the table.

"You have spoken with this farmer? Are you sure that is not more than pranks played by the children of the village?"

I asked the question though I knew that the answer would not be children's pranks. It was important to see if this phoenix had done his work and establish what should be done next.

Tea is brought and served. I pick up my cup quickly and gulp down the scalding liquid trying to hide my own nervousness.

[Isawa Mitsuru]

I accepted the tea gratefully and cupped my hands around it while listening the Feng’s questions. I split my concentration momentarily, focusing intensely on the tea; feeling it’s existence. This was an old habit from my early training where my master would have me seek out the void patterns of various simple objects. He always said it helped to be able to tell the difference between the real thing and the thing you think is there. After a short thinking pause I looked over at Feng.

“Master Feng, I appreciate the severity of ghosts walking among the living. This is, in fact, one of the reasons I decided to respond to this immediately. Unfortunately I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with farmer Kuzen just yet. In fact, thank the fortunes that we have found each other in such short time. We only just arrived in town before you arrived. It is fortuitous indeed.”

I sipped a little bit of my tea, masking my nervous demeanor and inexperience behind years of practiced manners.

“We should probably head to the farms now and see if we can’t find him for more information. I’m also told that there is a shrine in town. Perhaps, if we are unsuccessful with Kuzen, we can importune the spirits in the area as to the situation.”

((OOC: I feel we’re about ready to head out. If you want to move to the farms with the next post, I will assume I have come with. If not, I shall be happy to introduce the peasantry in my next reply. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.)

[Shinjo Feng]

Following the directions provided by the young women at the Inn we leave towards the famers abode.

Unlike the other homes that cluster together for mutual protection and social reasons this farmers home is set away from the village. More centered in his fields ripe with the last barley of the season.

I walk my horse along side the Phoenix samurai not wanting to out distnace them.

“Have you been to Unicorn lands before Master Mitsuru?”

Hope the conversation will lighten the tense mood associated with our journey to the small farm. Though even my question falls flat in the face of the possibility of the restless dead. As a child I had played a chasing ghosts in the castle with my brothers. Though it was all fun and games it often left me terrified in the night. Those same haunting memories filled my mind today as we walked in the afternoon light. I rested my hand at the scimitar by my eyes watching the shadows nervously.

[Isawa Mitsuru]

((OOC: sorry for the delay. this took longer than I would have liked.))

[Shinjo Feng]

The Surreal and peaceful picture drawn by Mitsuru's words snaps suddenly with the sight of the blood on the Tatami floor of the farmers home. The room is in disarray betraying the conflict that took place here. The blood pools around a fallen figure in the center of the room.

Without thought my hand reaches down feeling for the beat of life or warmth with in the figure.

"He is still warm." I say to the gaping Phoenix. "His assailant could be near by."

I draw my wakasashi preparing to face whoever or whatever may have slain this man I assume to be the farmer. Though the shame of touching the dead hangs about me I move quickly towards the inner chambers of the house.

Quickly opening the door I find no-one beyond. All appears to be at peace. A sound from outside draws my attention and I rush through the rear of the house scattering chickens and livestock around me. I warily survey a large cow grunting and straining at its meal. Other than the animals the courtyard is empty.

I return cautiously to the house this time carefully looking for signs of the assassin.

[Isawa Mitsuru]

I faltered and had to keep myself up against the lintel post when I saw the body. Even worse, Feng waltzed right up to the it and grabbed the neck forcefully. After announcing that the body was still warm he headed further into the house looking for clues.

I sunk to the floor of the small lowered foyer trying to think. I had never really seen anything like this, but I had experienced some strange things during my tutelage. The first thing to do was gain more information.

Hands still unsteady, I opened my pack and sorted through some of the scrolls inside. I drew out a smaller one and began unrolling it. As I did so I could feel strength return to my hands and my heart begin to slow down. The familiarity of magical practices was an emotional safe haven. While I was inexperienced in matters of the world, I was capable with magic. Furthermore, I am a void shugenja. There are no other greater magicians.

With increased speed I slipped the scroll open and laid it out upon the floor, despite the blood pooling and soaking into the thick straw mats. I sat cross-legged on the mats, well away from the body and began to think.

I began whispering the words on the scroll. While spoken with a very Northern Rokugani accent, the words were still incomprehensible to those who didn’t know the specifics of magic. In many ways I already knew what was written there and spent half the incantation without looking at the scroll, but it was comforting to have it there.

A Single heart beat pulsed through the world and the illusions fell away.

I am the body, I was the blood and I will be the house. The entire grandeur of the world rolled out before me and collapses simultaneously into a single point of pure light. Before this world there will be another, and there was another after this one.

My eyes flying open and I found myself having floated in the realm of void.

No wait, this will be too much, I need to focusing.

The shadows of light twisted and I will…no, I saw the room again.

I concentrated and kept myself in a single time frame. Before me sat the farmer, quiet because he was no longer alive, but no longer an object. He was again a person. Around him, his own spirit swirled, trying to pull away from ningen-do into the eternal cycle of reincarnation.

I reached out and cradled the spirit into the room, asking it to stay for just a few more moments. With quiet strength, the spirit reassembled itself from it’s components into a more recognizable form. Though it would be difficult still to communicate clearly with a spirit so recently wrenched from one world to the other.

“Who has killed your body, O-tamashii-sama?”

The spirit was confused and tried very hard to form feelings of communication.

“I see. Forgive my rudeness. Would you be kind enough to describe to me the feelings of your passing?”

The room became dark and cold, there was only a shaft of light coming from the door. The spirit’s body had come in through this shaft. Everything swirled and the spirit was momentarily confused. When I was a child I had fallen into a bush and had a thorn stuck in my finger. Now a large thorn pierced the back of the spirit and a stinging pulse short through the room. I fell into a warm pool while the world above became very cold. I was acutely aware of just how big the room was and how far away the gaping ceiling was.

Then everything changed.

A grand spectre with wide eyes and flailing white hair came bursting into the room. It’s tusk-like teeth bent out of it’s mouth at odd angles while it’s face was locked in a darkly ecstatic rictus. It’s hands were warped knobbly claws which hung at it’s side and it was all clothed in a horribly shredded kimono. The entire room lit afire and was consumed with tongues of bright red and orange.

My soul came slamming back to the illusion of my body with a sharp inhale. Outside, a few birds cawed in the afternoon air. The specter and spirit were gone. What I assumed to be farmer Kuzen’s body spilled forth the last few drops of blood into the stained tatami.

I looked down at the body and reached for my pack again, looking for the scroll holding the purification rites for this body.

Before I was able to find it I sensed an apprehensive Feng returned to the room. Without looking at him I explained, “I believe this man to have been killed by a monster of some sort. It appears to be some sort of spirit indeed, although it can manifest physically for at least the purpose of killing. I suspect some sort of vengeful spirit, but I would have to do a little research to confirm this theory.”

Still looking at the body, I continued to search absently through my pack for a purification ritual.

[Shinjo Feng]

As the Phoenix describes what attacked the farmer I grimace in disgust.

"Will it return?" I eye the room ready to strike should the phantom appear.

The Phoenix's silence draws my eyes back to him as he rustles through his bags looking something.

Though I was familiar with the ways of the Shugenja their practices often confused me. Their study of the world of the spirits often came at the expense to their care for the world of mortals.

I study the room more carefully as I wait for a response. Surrounding us seem to be the standard accoutrements of the peasantry. Tools stand near the door, while a set of sake cups set on a high shelf. In the corner a family shrine stands.

Carefully I draw the panels that close the shrine aside looking inwards at it's contents...

"Empty?!"

No incense, no offerings, nothing but the empty cabinet. I puzzle over what would lead a man to abandon his ancestors as such.

Surveying the room a small wad of papers draws my attention. I stoop to pick them up carefully unrolling them. It seems to be a receipt for the sale of something. Smudged with sweat and what might be tears I cannot tell what was bought or sold.

"What do you make of this Master Mitusuru?" I motion the paper towards him.