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Sound Senshi - Kokonotsu Katsuro

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  • Sound Senshi - Kokonotsu Katsuro

    Kokonotsu Katsuro - Priest of the Sanguine

    Name: Kokonotsu Katsuro
    Age: 28
    Sex: M
    Height: 6'0"

    Character Type: Shinobi

    Country/Village: Rice Country/Hidden Sound
    Rank: Senshi
    Division: Kariinu - Path of Rituals

    Physical Description:

    Katsuro doesn't immediately stick out among his fellow shinobi. He is tall and slender, with long hair that is unnaturally gray. His skin is fair, and his features youthful for a man that has been through years as a nomadic shinobi. His eyes are a light blue, when he is calm. He keeps his hair long, and usually tied up and out of his face in some way or another. He looks the part of the religious man more than the assassin, but that is conscious choice.

    When battle takes hold on him, Katsuro's seal changes his features. His eyes darken, and his hair frays. His nails, usually kept clean and perfect, grow long and sharp.

    Without his clothing, it is easy to see that Katsuro has a seal on his hand. On his chest, on the left breast, is a tattoo that marks him as number nine. Opposite of it, he has a tattoo of the eighth note.


    Katsuro is prone to wear whatever makes his shrine look more legitimate. Often this means he wears a black coat with a high white collar, marked with symbols dedicated to the Sanguine, like the kanji for blood in red at his breast. The coat helps conceal his weapons, but also carries his prayer beads, small coins imprinted with the symbol of the Sanguine, light reading and a pen for writing, and a bowl for prayer.

    His pants aren't too different from normal shinobi wear, black with sandals beneath. He keeps his hair tied up with a black ribbon that has a crest also dedicated to the Sanguine. Finally, he wears a pair of rimless glasses, for reading. He has a piercing on the back of each ear.


    It would be fair to call Katsuro obsessed. While he spares his teammates on missions too much talk about his connection to the spirits, his frame of thought always goes past what the Sanguine gods could want from him. This extends beyond acts of violence, as his work at his shrine has lead to connecting the Sanguine to even mundane activities like daily eating and cleanliness. When he doesn't see a connection, that is only a chance to craft one, pray on it, meditate on exactly what could be done to please the spirits that shape his life.

    While the cursed seal on his hand centers him on bloodshed, he has found ways to repurpose it. The shrine of the Sanguine is about the artistry of spilling blood, the beauty of blood in the sunlight, killing those who have earned a beautiful death. It isn't enough to slaughter, pools of blood will appease but not please. Katsuro is a man of craft, and his childhood has taught him to avoid becoming the feral beast his seal tries to create.

    Instead he tries to seek beauty in everything. The Sanguine hate the blood of the innocent, and seek only punishment for those that would threaten the beauty of life. Because what represents life more than blood.

    Nindo; "Way of the Ninja": "Let's pay tribute to the Sanguine."

    Clan/Bloodline: None

    Combo Archtype: Masochist
    Primary Archetype: Maverick
    Secondary Archetype: Cavalier



    Physical 50

    Strength: 1 + 17 P = 18
    Speed: 1 +2 Cv +17 P = 20
    Stamina: 1 + 16 P = 17

    Mental 60

    Intelligence: 1 + 1 Mv +-2 Cv + 20 P = 20
    Tactics: 1 + 1 Mv + 18 P = 20
    Willpower: 1 + 1 Mv + 22 P = 24

    Chakra 40

    Power: 1 +-1 Mv +1 Cv + 15 P = 16
    Control: 1 +-1 Mv + 13 P = 13
    Reserves: 1 +-1 Mv +-1 Cv + 12 P = 11


    Jutsu and Techniques:

    Tenrai Tsume (Heavenly Claw)
    Stage Five (1-5)
    Stage Requirements: 20 Speed , 18 Strength , 17 Stamina, 16 Willpower
    Stage Bonuses: +4 Speed, +3 Strength, +2 Stamina
    Special Techs:
    Chain Bunshin (6)
    Quick Assassination (7)

    Global Ninjutsu
    Kawarimi no Jutsu (Body Switch Technique) (8)
    Requirements: Power 2, Tactics 2
    Henge no Jutsu (Transformation Technique) (9)
    Requirements: Control 3, Intelligence 2
    Kinobori/Kabenobori no Jutsu (Tree Walking / Wall Walking Technique) (10)
    Requirements: Power 5, Control 4, Reserves 4
    Genjutsu Kai (Swapped over Empty Slot) (11)
    Requirements: Power 10, Control 10, Willpower 8

    Black Miko Hexes and Blood Miko Swaps
    Shinpo Ofuda Gijutsu: Kuro no Kunou - Hex Seal Technique: Black Affliction (12)
    Requirements: 2 Control, 2 Intelligence
    Shinpo Genkaku: Kuki no Me - Hex Illusion: Stalking Eye (13)
    Requirements: 5 Willpower, 4 Intelligence, 4 Tactics
    Blood Hex Technique: Blood Soaked Blades (Swapped for Hex Sealing Method) (14)
    Requirements: 8 Willpower, 6 Intelligence, 8 Tactics
    Blood Hex Technique: Three Fold Curse (Swapped for Familiar) (15)
    Requirements: 12 Willpower, 11 Intelligence, 10 Tactics, 12 Control

    Divination Miko
    Jikan wo Tsutaeru - Telling Time (16)
    Requirements: 2 Control, 2 Intelligence
    Ofuda Gijutsu: Shiten - Seal Technique: Perspective (17)
    Requirements: 5 Control, 4 Power, 4 Reserves

    Kigo no Yokina Kamigami (Seal of the Sanguine Gods)
    First Third (18)
    Requirements: Willpower 10, Intelligence 10, Control 8

    Shinobi Kit: 0
    Chain Claw: 4
    Glowing Claw: 3 (2+1)

    Item Points Remaining: 1



    The First Part

    Having a child changes a man. It isn't every day you bring something of yourself into the world, that you can look down on another being and say that their works are at once your own. It alters you, in mind and in body, your will is born anew in fresh flesh.

    Flesh supple for marking. Simple, like a tattoo, like so many of them will have soon enough. It is a number, a categorization, placed on the boy's chest. It was done while he was young, so the pain is long gone. But you wouldn't know it from the way he thrashes on the operating table. His hair is long and unkempt, his skin dirt caked except where necessary; the wrists, neck, three select points on the torso.

    The greatest fear for a father is leaving his child unprepared for the world he himself will usher in. So the father gave the boy a shot to calm the thrashing, checked his temperature, watched his instruments, tightened the neck straps for good measure. He ignored the boy's crying, because a child doesn't understand sacrifice. He ignored the child's fainting, because strife breeds a strong character. He also enjoyed the brief moments of silence, with the sounds of his machinery, his own occasional murmurs, his tomes, and the thoughts in his head. His fingers ran through his frantic gray hair before starting the final preparations.

    Fatherhood is imparting wisdom in whatever way you can. An injection of preparatory fluids, the flow of which caused a blinding pain that shook the boy awake as the procedure began, that's a start. The seals hung in imbalanced but meticulous patterns about the room, were a more subtle method. But words are direct, words leave an impact.

    As chakra charged batteries spilled energy over the seal on the boy's hand, the father looked on with sunken unblinking eyes, and gave the boy words to remember.

    "You're the 9th, make sure you are a victory." They were words to remember, a father's gift to his darling child. He placed a gloved hand on the boy's chest after he spoke. He held the boy down as convulsions shook him.

    The boy wouldn't remember, at least not at first. But it didn't matter, he received a piece of his father that day. What the boy would remember was those distant eyes, looking down on him through the haze, surrounded by black machines and green energy. Along with a strange seal marked on his forehead, illuminated with each spark of arcane energy. The eyes were most terrifying of all, calm, flat, detached.

    Even when the walls of Hidden Sound crumbled all around him, even as he was dug out of the rubble by escaping nomads, through all of those early terrors it was those eyes that kept him up at night.


    The Second Opinion

    When children become labor, what good is a kid too stupid to work? Not to say the Nomads of Sound put every kid to the whip, but life was brutal wandering the world, trying to avoid detection by the villages of the world. As far as the average nomad knew, the villages wanted them all dead, and so secrecy became the law, and likewise did obedience, strife.

    A boot to the jaw dropped the half-nude boy to the wet dirt. Like many of the surviving Jounin made Senshi, Hatsuma enjoyed the perks of the new loose hierarchy. Hatsuma's snarl carried authority over those too weak to fight him. That applied to a large chunk of the camp, and most knew that. Not the boy though, his scars from that final experiment still criss-crossing his body. Though the newly dubbed nomads let him live, not everyone enjoyed his presence. In a world where undue aggression could end with someone in the grave, a boy just short of feral was a liability. So far, all he caught was another boot, another bruise, and more dirt clumped against his skin.

    "Make yourself useful you little..." Hatsuma took a deep breath. That snarl replaced the last word, "Food, go get me some food and maybe I won't strap you to a tree tonight."

    The boy snarled at Hatsuma, but knew when he was beat. He ran toward the center of camp, looked for the stores of food collected by the roaming village-worth of shinobi. But hate breeds hate, and his journey was cut short by a trio of children just older than him. How patterns of abuse could form so quickly was a wonder. The boys had rocks at the ready, and knives to threaten doing worse. They pelted the tattooed boy, cutting him off from his mission.

    He knew better than to engage them when outnumbered. He had a scar on his chest from the last time he tried that. He went to run, but a rock caught him in the back of the head, planted him in the muck.

    The boys laughed. "What an idiot!"

    "Did you see that?"

    "Hurry and get him again."

    It was always the same.

    He rolled out of the dirt, growled his frustrations for lack of words. His fingers ran through his hair and came away wet with blood, it was his own, that was okay. Their laughter wasn't okay, it was a weapon worse than any boot or knife. The boy picked up one of the rocks, and launched it back. The first missed, and of course his assailants noticed.

    They grouped up, their chests pushed forward in defiance. "Look at the little freak try to throw."

    The tattooed boy's next throw was harder, determined, propelled by his clinging tears and desperation. One of the boys looked up in shock just before the impact with his face.

    There were cries of pain and anger.

    "You've done it now!" They called out together, "We're gonna get you, little freak!"

    They picked up their friend, and pulled out their knives. The same intimidation tactic, always the same.

    But it was different now. The other boy was bleeding, a trail draining down the side of his head. It was different when it was his blood, it didn't build up that well of anger, didn't create that noise in the back of his head like small animals screaming for release. But now it was their blood, and he couldn't help himself. His hands gripped the mud, his teeth were bared. Though the boys thought they had the advantage, he made the first strike. One boy was tackled, the wild boy's arms flailing as he tried to pummel him into submission.

    The other boys joined in, a pile of young fists and feet. It was chaos, until a whistle made them all freeze in place.

    A woman approached the pile, peeling the boys from each other as their bodies lay paralyzed. She laid out the three boys, confiscated their knives, then snapped her fingers. They sat up, crawled away from the older woman in a panic. As fast as their feet could carry them, they leaped up and ran back toward the center of camp. She looked to the tattooed boy, dragged him to a seated position, then brought her eyes down level with his. These eyes were different, soft, brown, energetic.

    "I bet they think you're just an animal, don't they?"

    He couldn't respond, his body frozen in place. But the question echoed through his mind. While he was held in place, the urge to fight fell away, left him with nothing but a serene view of the woman and the forest beyond her. It didn't seem like she needed an answer. Instead she touched the mark on his chest, looked at the seal on his hand, checked his wound on the back of his head. She cleaned and wrapped the wound.

    With time the technique wore off by itself, but he didn't bother moving. If she let him stay there with her, he would accept it. Moving could change everything. She finished, and gave him a shirt a few sizes too large for him, but clean.

    "I've seen you before," She said, "Being run around, grabbing food, getting into fights, being chased away. They treat you like an easy target, like you can't do anything. I'm willing to bet you're just scared. That right? What's your name?"

    He wanted to answer, but while her words reached him, he didn't know if he could give her what she wanted back.

    He was, "Kokono," the ninth, and, "Katsuro," the victorious.

    She frowned, but he could tell she was excited instead of mad. She nodded, and held a hand out to help him stand.

    The Third Eye

    Her name was Tano, a Chuunin that survived the fall of Hidden Sound. She didn't feed him, or house him, but she kept an eye on him. She trained him to be a shinobi, no matter how difficult that was. She taught him to ignore the urges that whispered in his ear. Eventually, she brought him along on assignments with her. Katsuro was dangerous in a fight, but there was little use for fighters among the servant class of Kitaeru. Tano had a little skill, but the council used her to pry information, to torture, and spy.

    She used Katsuro as a mask, the boy serving as her son on missions to small villages the nomads wanted to investigate.

    Like a village in Northern Coal country, Hechi, where peasants still shuffled quiet to and fro as if the world around them hadn't shattered with the destruction of Hidden Sound. The village knew nothing but labor, and the small services that cropped up around working men and women. There was plenty to drink, utilities to buy, and a shrine to pacify the souls of the desperate.

    As the two waited outside a market, watching the movements of town watch, Katsuro pulled on Tano's robe and asked about the shrine. He had never seen one, and didn't understand the purpose. She explained as best she could how they claimed to bring good fortune and blessings, how they served spirits. That calmed Katsuro for the moment, but when Tano left him out among the noon traffic, Katsuro got curious. The boy wandered closer to the shrine, where a priestess approached him. She asked if he was curious, and he was. She said she was a priestess, and could tell he was blessed by the spirits. He didn't believe her. She said she could show him, read his fate, quick and free.

    Katsuro looked for Tano, but her guidance wasn't there. He nodded, and was lead into a small building next to the shrine entrance. She sat the boy down, and her blue eyes focused down into Katsuro's. The priestess told him to concentrate, to look to the future, to let his mind listen to the voices all around him. The boy watched the beautiful blue orbs in front of him, lost in a subtle glow in her gaze. It felt like she was getting closer, until her eyes were all he could see.

    Then the priestess gasped. She cried out no, swore in words he had never heard, and pushed herself back from the table. Her chest was heaving, breathing rapid, head shivering, and eyes darting.

    "There are so many," She said. Katsuro would never forget. "Too many of them!"

    Then she squeezed her eyes shut, but that did no good. Her nails went to the flesh of her face and pulled down, clawed at it. Each rake of her fingers opening wounds, slashing at her skin, exposing those once blue eyes as red and horrified. The screaming filled the small room, both hers and Katsuro's, as she continued to slash and slash until her fingers were caked in blood and worse.

    Tano burst in, her yells of confusion unheard over the boy's abject terror. Tano turned the boy away before charging the woman and putting her down. She ushered him out and away from the shrine, took him far from the village, before asking what happened. He wasn't sure, and he was still so scared. But he had one idea, one he couldn't quite communicate to Tano. But if it was true, it scared him enough to keep tears streaming down his face.

    "She saw them."

    That Fourth Strike

    Katsuro and Tano could do more than spy when the situation called for it. As years passed, Katsuro learned Tano's taijutsu better than she ever did. While she lead them, and any other shinobi accompanying them, Katsuro's ferocity was on full display when blood was shed.

    In the forests of Southern Lightning they chased a traitor as a trio. Tano, Katsuro, and Ryuto, a boy all too familiar to Katsuro's childhood. The traitor was a former warrior of sound, the struggles of nomad life bending him until he broke for foreign arms. It fell to the Hiyoutori and the pair of Kitaeru to hunt him down and find out what he had whispered in enemy ears.

    They dashed between trees, the greenery rushing past them. Their attempts to corner the target doing no good. Projectiles were flung, and small techniques thrown, but the traitor stayed a step ahead.

    "I need to close in!" Tano shouted over the trees.

    Something didn't feel right. While his mind was clear, the blood haze not yet on him, he tried to stay out of trouble. It was how Tano taught him, to be strategic while he still could. The traitor had a clear path, knew where he was going. It wasn't good.

    "We're being lead!" Katsuro replied.

    "Nonsense," Ryuto shouted, "I'll slow him, then plug him."

    The other kitaeru sped up, charging ahead while his hands worked through several seals. He got out of sight, and then there was a thump of sudden chakra and sound.

    Katsuro and Tano stopped, the entrance to a cave up ahead, and no sign of Ryuto or the traitor. Katsuro could hear the blood, whispering to him, there was violence ahead.

    "He is fighting," Tano said, "Go help, I'll be behind you."

    Katsuro didn't need to be told twice. He leaped down, and charged into the cave with weapons out. When he rounded past the entrance, he was faced with four enemies with weapons drawn, Ryuto holding a bleeding wound on the ground.

    "I told you," The traitor said, drawing kunai, "Kill him before the third comes!"

    It was a trap, but Katsuro put that out of his mind. He charged the first mercenary, slashing across the man's chest until he crumbled. A blow came down hard on his shoulder, but he ignored the pain and replied to the second target with a deep stab to the stomach that made the man whimper and fall. The kunai from the traitor were launched, and Katsuro could only dodge and deflect so much. He felt sharp pains in his shoulder, side, thigh.

    He let out a feral growl. He had to concentrate, he knew that. The traitor had to live, he repeated that. So he ignored him, moving to the last mercenary, their weapons clashing, a spark lighting the cave as they met blow after blow. Eventually Katsuro's attack found purchase, the mercenary dropping his weapon as the life drained from him. The voices were singing now, loud, bouncing in his ears, drowning out everything.

    Katsuro turned and saw that Tano had joined the fight. The traitor had her, a weapon at her throat. But he was lost, unable to even focus on his empty threats against her life. His teeth bared, he lunged at the traitor.

    Blood sprayed across the cavern walls, Katsuro's blades sunk deep into the man's heart. The anger had him, the terrible disgusting rage. He cut, and cut, and left his blades soaked.

    A hand grasped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Ryuto, supporting an injured Tano.

    "He's gone you freak," Ryuto said, his words coming in through a fog, "Stop."

    "Idiot!" Katsuro barked, "You got her hurt!"

    "Calm down," Ryuto said.

    But Katsuro was looking at Tano, who was barely able to stand with the cut from collarbone to collarbone.

    "I told you!" Katsuro wanted to say so much more, but Ryuto seemed oblivious. Instead he had that look in his eyes. With a gaze, he was calling Katsuro an animal, useless, savage. All it did was make Katsuro angrier.

    His arms moved without a thought, a cut across the man's face, dropping him to the floor of the cave once more. Katsuro pinned him as he screamed out in pain. Held his hand back, ready to deliver another blow.

    "No!" Tano cried out.

    Katsuro turned and saw Tano, eyes wide with alarm, even while her body was weakened. She was alive though, safe, hopefully.

    He struck the ground next to Ryuto's head, his arms trembling with the effort to stay his hand.

    The Fifth Chapter

    Tano's injuries meant she couldn't serve her usual roles within the nomads. In the cut-throat group, a useless cog was a burden. If no one cared for her, she risked decay and in the worst case, death. Katsuro didn't know care beyond his time with Father, and his time with Tano. All he could do was watch over her, get her food, and bring healers when she wasn't doing well.

    Without being in the field, he felt weak, useless. His attempts at learning ninjutsu like Ryuto, or genjutsu like Tano, all met with frustration and failure. So he did what he knew, attacked. Sitting in Tano's tent all day gave him time to think, and that was a dangerous door he had previously avoided opening. To make it worse, he could tell Tano was furious with him. She taught him restraint, control, avoiding being the monster everyone expected of the strange experiment boy.

    He found time to read, a skill he only had because of Tano. Then among Tano's possessions he found a scroll. It had been with her for a few years, but didn't look well used at all. It was about priestesses, and the spiritual magic they use. It was written by some shinobi attempting to understand a foreign type of combatant, a strange angle, but interesting enough to occupy Katsuro's idle hands.

    The more he read though, the more he wanted to try. He found himself spending his free time, when Tano rested, testing their strange rituals. He could remember the priestess in Hechi. In the little room there were tags, incense, candles, and so much more. It seemed ridiculous, but he remembered what she said. It seemed like she could see something around him, the 'blessing' she thought she saw, what turned out to be a curse for her. When he meditated, left out chiminage, burned the right scents, everything changed. The whispers could get quiet, or stranger yet, become clear. It wasn't like words, more like sensations and wishes.

    If the scroll was telling the truth, that was the will of the spirits, the tiny gods. He could try to speak to all kinds of spirits, and the results were less than adequate. But it wasn't until he opened himself up that he received the answer why. He asked what the spirits wanted, what he could give, what they could help him with. He put an open call out in an attempt to practice a simple tactic from the scroll.

    What he got back was a scream, louder than anything he had ever heard. It came to him, all strange sensations in his head, they were voices he didn't know to listen to. The priestess was right, he did have a blessing. She just didn't understand them, she feared them. Because what they asked for was something the common man would never wish for, but a shinobi could give. It was a wish for bloodshed, a lot of it.

    The seal on his hand glowed in anticipation. He wouldn't know it then, but this was a gift given to him.

    When Tano finished her recovery, she found Katsuro changed. His progress had focus. He was training himself toward a goal besides a brutal onslaught. She confronted him about it, bringing up what he did to Ryuto, what he risked turning into. When he revealed what he was practicing, he saw true fear in Tano's face. She reminded him what the priestess did, what her 'power' did to her when confronted with Katsuro. Did he want to risk that? Did he want to be crippled by invisible powers he couldn't stop.

    Katsuro asked her to let him show how much stronger he was. She accepted, and they sparred. It was less about his physical strength, in that field he had already surpassed his teacher. His skill with the powers of priestesses was still in infancy, so that wasn't his goal either. Instead it was about control, focus, and Katsuro keeping a cool head as he defeated her. After that, he rose to Hiyoutori, claiming a rank alongside his teacher.

    The Sixth One

    The world around the nomads changed. As Katsuro grew older, he watched Tano's injuries push her further into a support role within the nomads. But her life as a spy served the harsh and nomadic life. Their leader, Kaigen, wished for something greater. He refocused the nomads, promising the council would give them a new home.

    The idea seemed insane. For most of Katsuro's life, he was a wanderer, an animal pretending to be a man. But as he trained himself more in the arts of priestesses, he reshaped himself. When he was at camp, he dressed as clean as he could, gave blessings to those heading for battle, he kept up a shrine which he moved with his tent. Many of his fellow nomads considered him insane, the next step in the strange fall of a strange man. But for Katsuro, he was finally sure of something. He would allow prayer to any gods in his little shrine, but he also spread the word, of the Sanguine Gods.

    His obsession with blood didn't go unnoticed by his superiors in the camp. They tested him, some questioned him. Those that knew him as the little feral boy would try to push him to violence. But he remembered Tano's advice, kept calm, and smiled at those who couldn't hear.

    "The Sanguine Gods aren't make believe, they just aren't... mainstream," He would say, "But let me give you their blessing, and you can see for yourself."

    But as he continued to serve, continued to fight well, and succeed, more scrutiny came his way. He didn't want to live like a nomad, that was the claim. He was some strange experiment, using some non-shinobi power, to distance himself from the lifestyle they had made. It didn't matter that he fought for the nomads, he wanted to be elsewhere, he was distant. Katsuro didn't fight it, he just continued to serve and pray.

    He knew from his father that he had some greater purpose. That was all he remembered, actually. He knew from Tano that he didn't have to be a savage. Why was it that following the path laid out for him lead to him being estranged by his fellow nomads.

    He asked Tano herself.

    She smiled at him, her face now taking on wrinkles from age, "I explained it back then, didn't I? They see you as an animal, they are afraid of you. If they accept you as you are, a you even I had trouble accepting, then they have to see that you were always a sound shinobi. You're like any of us, toughened by the insane world around us. But you've tried to find a way out, while others have dug deep into this lifestyle."

    He spent many nights thinking about what she said. Then, the blackest night came. The chaos took many shinobi, the leadership of the nomads decimated. It was impossible to tell who among them were friend or foe. While no one wanted to say it, it was obvious that no attack of that magnitude could happen without traitors among them.

    Raimei took them to the catacombs, and they spread among the the maze-like caves in search of the strange naga that could be the key to all that had occurred. Just the word sent chills through Katsuro. Whenever the idea of the naga was explained to him, mad scientists without a care for innocent life, his mind flashed back to his the sunken eyes of Father, the strange symbol on his forehead, his wild hair, the few words on his lips.

    Orders came for Katsuro to split off. He was sent with a team of a few other Hiyoutori, including Ryuto. The man's face still had the long scars Katsuro gave him that day. He looked on Katsuro with a hatred he couldn't mask, his partially exposed eye keeping watch on the fellow nomad constantly.

    They fought their way deep into the catacombs, facing strange threats and creatures of science. When they reached a certain depth, Ryuto stopped, seeming content.

    "We have to keep going," Katsuro said.

    "Is that what your gods say?" Ryuto said, spitting on the cavern floor.

    There was tension in the air, but Katsuro knew he deserved a lot of it. Still, some of the other hiyoutori seemed to join Ryuto in formation. There was something else going on, and Katsuro knew it wouldn't end well.

    Katsuro listened, and thought he could feel bloodlust in the air. "This is a bad idea," Katsuro said, "That's what they say."

    He pulled his weapons, and those innocent to the betrayal were confused. Then chaos broke loose. Who Ryuto was working for, and why him, Katsuro didn't know. Maybe he wasn't even the specific target, it was just an attempt to cull the already weakened nomads. But Ryuto died with Katsuro's blades in his neck, and the other survivors all returned to tell the story.

    When new sound rose, Katsuro found himself on the right side of a promotion for his actions in the catacombs. With Ryuto dead, and his betrayal stopped with him, the sound nomad found himself a Senshi at last. With a home around him, he was able to settle. He welcomed a roof over his head, a door to close, a place to return to every night.

    But he knew he couldn't rest. It wasn't luck or instinct that saved him. It was his father's gift, the blessing of the Sanguine Gods. With a stable village, he had new hearts to speak to. He set up a shrine out of his home in the village, the Shrine to the Sanguine was born.

    With the time to think, and a new stability in his life, he could seek what the gods were truly asking for. He knew it wasn't just blood they wanted, but something more elegant. Then again, with the naga all around him he wondered why he heard the sanguine at all. There were too many questions, but he could finally seek out the answers.

    The trouble with the mercenaries was just a matter of bile to sacrifice. The true crisis for Katsuro was in Sound itself, in the hearts of the people, and beneath the streets in the catacombs that nearly claimed him.

    Writing Example: N/A

    Other Info:
    - Isn't sure what happened to Tano after that night
    - Spends most of his free time in meditation
    - Loves to get flowery about combat

    Thread Ratings:

  • #2
    Your tactics should be 20, not 19, if my math is correct. Other than that, not seeing any problems.
    Cloud GM
    Shinshi Clan GM
    ~ Tsuriau Clan GM

    Please Use [They/Them] Pronouns For Me.
    Kurayami ~ Real Monster | Y—i ~ Unfurling Fire | Ayaka ~ Silent Dissident
    Kyou ~ Collared Cat| Masuyo ~ Lurking Liar | Rina ~ Serial Adventuress
    Shiori ~ Cynical Seer | Kinsha ~ Pure Poison | Miyu ~ Amoral Mage


    • #4
      And Approved.
      Cloud GM
      Shinshi Clan GM
      ~ Tsuriau Clan GM

      Please Use [They/Them] Pronouns For Me.
      Kurayami ~ Real Monster | Y—i ~ Unfurling Fire | Ayaka ~ Silent Dissident
      Kyou ~ Collared Cat| Masuyo ~ Lurking Liar | Rina ~ Serial Adventuress
      Shiori ~ Cynical Seer | Kinsha ~ Pure Poison | Miyu ~ Amoral Mage


      • #5
        Available for registry checks, just ask!
        If you need character sheet edits done, let me know!

        Ratings Moderator / Ame no Kuni Primary / Kaze no Kuni & Hi no Kuni Secondary / Maeda Clan GM
        Itsuki Hana ~ Shinshi Junichi ~ Renchishin Ume ~ Maeda Kazuhiko ~ Aoyama Sudao ~ Honekaigi Kasumi ~ Shichou Amane ~ Kawaguchi Takumi

        AP / Swaps


        • #6
          Anime af.

          Half'd for what? Huh? I can't hear you! MOAR SOUND! Ain't no party like a Sound-Nin party because a Sound-Nin party don't stop!

          Don of the Sanada Family
          Leaf & Grass Lieutenant

          Let's end the speculation, I'm talkin' to all of y'all
          Males shouldn't be jealous, that's a female trait
          What, you mad �cause you push dimes and he sell weight?
          Y'all don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates
          Hehehe, and more baggies � why you all aggie?
          Homie, respect the game, that should be it
          What you eat don't make me shit; where's the love?


          • #7
            Blood for the blood god! Half'ed

            Thank you Relu for the buttons!


            ~ Mist Secondary GM [ in training :P ] ~


            • #8
              Approved and moved.