Aachen Rizen Compile - Hymn of Origin (IC)

[ERode]

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[Month of Origin, 6th / Demon Crown Mountain]

As men, like ants, crawled over the fortifications of Haschou Village, sowing discord and grief, a woman watched, feeling the updraft of flame, the stench of decay, even from such a distance away. As if her wind was biding her to come back, to fight for what she once wished to protect.

But Arara did not leave her hermitage, not for the eighteen years that war had been waged, irrespective of the calamity that she should have been sent to prevent. The world could burn. In the two decades that had passed, there had been no light that have entered her eyes, no greater purpose, no love or affection to spur her on. Gone were the beautiful robes that she had gifted her after the first bleeding. Now, only functional rags clung to her muscled form. Gone was the luscious, raven strands that she had carressed in moments of undue intimacy. Now, it sat necklength, haphazardly chopped by a nicked blade. Gone was the pale, glowing skin, that made her capable of serving both as a handmaiden and a guard. Now, it was but a tapestry of scars, tanned and leathery.

There was still elegance, there was still grace, there was still beauty. But it was not the beauty of a woman. Not anymore.

All that remained of her past was her beloved blade, Sakanade, the Dragon Spear that had never failed her. It was always her own fault. Always her own weakness. Always, always, always.

A wick of flame lit a stick of incense, the sacramental aroma wafting up into the heavens as the earth became hell. While the village that she once lived in faced its direst situation yet, Arara watched.

Prayed.

But that was all.

Her eyes had not changed since that day either.

It was still of coal. The black void of a dead star.

It was then, just behind her, that the quiet sound of footsteps on the rocky ground sounded. Standing there, was a figure totally unfamiliar to her at a quick glance. Where Kiri's hair had once been short, it now fell nearly to the ground. Her clothes were tattered and common, to contrast the luxurious garb she once used to wear. Only when she finally spoke, would there be any hope of recognizing her calm voice.

"You've changed a lot in the past 20 years, Arara. You're not down there aiding in their fight?"

Lightless eyes turned to that familiar, unfamiliar face. What hatred she held for the traitor had long died down in the years, and the gaze she held now was as hollow as her heart.

"I only fought for my Lady."

Simple, blunt truth. But perhaps years of isolation had gotten to her after all.

"You've changed as well."

Kiri didn't laugh, but she did offer a small smile.

"I can't be napping as much as I used to… as far as the wilderness is concerned, I'm just a peasant."

She calmly wandered up to Arara's side to gaze down at the violent turmoil below. Another burst of flames shot up from one of the outlying homes, alongside a great warcry.

"They really are making such a fuss though..."

Kiri glanced over at Arara, looking her straight in the eyes. Those cold, dead eyes that'd had the life sucked out of them nearly 20 years ago on that day.

"She really was important. I didn't realize it back then, but that goal of her's… the 'pilgrimage'... if something's not done, this land will end up consumed in flame."

Stealing a glance back at the village below, she let the thought hang in the air a moment. It was kind of ironic… the mountain was threatening to do what the warring tribes were already doing to themselves.

"It was her dying wish, wasn't it? To save this place? Would you be willing to spend your life for it? To give them a chance to succeed where we failed?"

"What's the point."

That was it, the crux of her curse, the crippling fact that nothing mattered now. Revenge wouldn't bring her back. Salvation wouldn't bring her back. All the akumagraphy in the world would not serve to bring her back.

"She's dead. In a few days, everyone you know will be dead. In a few decades, everyone here will be dead. The planet is dying because they let her die."

Her lips curled back in a snarl, blind in the hopelessness after she had once tasted sunshine.

"Serves them right."

"Hm… maybe so."

Kiri bit her lip. She hadn't forgotten that day either. How she was immediately blamed for the shadow assassins. How that crazy guard had lunged for her without any provocation.

"Really, I should hate them more than anyone. I did for a while. But I got tired of that. Maybe - in his mind - he really did the best he could to protect Cirika."

The name rung out: that one word they'd both avoided using. Dragging up, along with it, memories of the girl it'd belonged to.

"All I know is, I still love that village down there. Mom and Dad. My sisters. Even that stupid maple tree. I was thinking, maybe, you felt that way too. Somewhere, deep down..."

She sighed. Then, an idea came to her… just how much of that old Arara loyalty was still in there…?

"...but I guess your loyalty to her died just as easily as she did, hm? That's a shame."

Pulling the hood of her coat over her head, Kiri turned and began to walk off towards Demon Crown Mountain.

A heart beat.

A flicker of rage.

And then smothered by coal and self depreciation.

"Yeah," she laughed, bitter, "All that effort, all my devotion, upended with a single arrow."

Her grip whiteknuckled over the Dragon Spear.

"Loyalty. Love. Life. All fucking worthless."

"Oh?"

Kiri stopped a moment. Maybe there was hope after all…

"Love, hm? I always thought the two of you seemed closer than just a Warder and her servant."

She let the thought linger.

And it did linger.

Because there was nothing there but a one sided affection. Not when the last thoughts of her Lady was for her brother and not her guard.

"All fucking worthless," she repeated, teeth clenching at the bitter memory. "Twenty years won't change one's nature. You're doomed for failure no matter how much you bleed or cry."

"Is that so? After all, the Arara I knew from 20 years ago wouldn't have said anything like that."

Kiri turned around to give one last look at the woman she once knew.

"You were a lot more than just her servant. Everyone knew it too. Everyone except you, I guess."

She turned back to face her destination.

"If you've really changed into some totally different person, then go ahead and stay here. I'm going to give it one last fight… for her."

"You didn't even know the Arara from 20 years ago."

Venom coated every word, her gaze burrowing into Kiri's own as the once-slothful princess of the Moriya turned for the Crown of the Demon. She wouldn't succeed. Couldn't. Twenty years didn't change people, and even a childhood spent with her couldn't change the base of what Arara was.

There was never change. Only regression.

The black chains and the sharp stains. The straw crate and the fourth birthday. The coals and the shackles, soot-covered wings too broken to extend.

"...don't…"

The flesh was splitting, her beloved naginata, the last treasured memorabilia creaking.

"USE HER TO SATISFY YOUR OWN SUICIDE RITUAL!"

Scarlet flame coated blue-hued steel, a beheading stroke cleaving through the crying winds.

Kiri just barely managed to flip around in time to catch it. That same sword that she'd always used, now headed straight for her neck. With a swift flick, a wall of rock leapt up from the ground, catching the blade just inches from her neck.

"What do you think the Pilgrimage is, Arara? If our world is living on borrowed time, then what can we use to pay for more?"

The questions themselves distressed Kiri. It was like she didn't want to accept the answer herself, but all the pieces of info just… fit.

"Cirika was dead either way."

Those words struck like a hammerblow, the flames snuffed out, leaving only plagued grudges.

"And you'd still fight for this rotten world, built on the corpses of children, while their parents fight meaningless wars?"

"Fight? No. I'm just tired."

"Then go do what you do best. Sleep and let the world kill itself, so everything can finally end."

Kiri just stared back wordless. There wasn't much she could say to that… there wasn't much she wanted to say back. Instead she just turned and walked away, this time at a more brisk pace.

Those eyes, like black holes, followed her as she left.

And then, Arara turned away as well, facing the war in the distance, the bloodshed at the end of the world. So eagerly, how humans tore each other apart. A flicker of regret emerged, but she buried it easily enough, before she could drive another stake into herself.

"Any last words you wish be delivered, Lady Moriya?"

Kiri smiled, tilting her head back just long enough to answer.

"Tell my family to take care of my maple tree for me."

"I'll make sure they install a proper resting place for you there."

Nodding her appreciation, Kiri continued on her way.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. Demon Crown Mountain was still quite the distance away, but it couldn't have been anymore than an hour when the entire land shook with a loud boom. It could easily have been mistaken for a freak earthquake, but it marked the final nap of Kiri Moriya.

And, once the dreamer had put herself to rest, the ember eyed romantic unsheathed her beloved blade. She was always weak, and she could never protect the lives she held close to her chest, for they would all invariably fall apart.

The Spearwoman of the Ikkikari Guard was naught but a living weapon seeped in regrets.

But, incapable, inadequate as she was, she could still do one thing.

Fulfill the last wishes of the dead, and offer vengeance for the grieving.

Amongst the flames of war, that maple tree still stood strong and proud, beauty found in its unyielding, steadfast nature.
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[Jakers]

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[Month of Origin, 6th / Haschou Village, Lord's Manor, Main Hall]

It'd been twenty years until the tragedy. The tragedy he'd arrived at far too late; and the tragedy that'd broken the young man for years on end. For a while, he'd isolated himself. Punished himself. Refused to eat. Refused to talk to anyone. Refused to enter the houses of anyone, and honed his skills, day after day. Nonstop. Nonstop nonstop nonstop, because that haunting night refused to leave his brain. And that question - that one, lethal question - refused to stop its screams: Could he have stopped it?

Eventually, however, the young man returned. The same spirit deep inside, but a different person altogether for the past years. Perhaps it was watching his new Lord - his unending spirit, his refusal to give up - that'd bought him back from his self-contained torture. Though his poor reputation still somewhat lingered, Jouta grew to tirelessly work throughout the village. To keep everyone's spirits high. To rebuild the replaceable things that'd been lost as best as he could. It was the mixture of his wise attitude, and his seemingly eternal stamina to work and smile for anyone when the time arose that began to slowly bring his name back.

And now, 20 years after the day of that tragedy, he stood amidst fellow fighters. He listened carefully to the speech of Lord Anzai, trying to remain as calm as ever despite the loss of multiple of his fellow siblings in these dire times.

Closing his eyes, Jouta stroked his long beard in thought, a gentle breeze trailing through his long mane of scruffy hair.
"Hm..." the gruff man smiled slightly, as he realized the words of his Lord had moved him to tears.

"It has been an honor, my Lord. I won't run, either," Jouta spoke in turn after Reiji, emerald eyes calm and closed as tears still began to silently run down his eyes. Jouta Shizuka was still the same, emotional heart as ever. "...I thank you, Anzai. For being the steadfast spirit and the blessing your people deserve."

With that, the muscular hulk of a man turned away to prepare himself for the fight. As always, he would use his abilities to defend the village rather than shed blood. But as he headed for the rampart's where a final stand would be made, he noticed a group of unknown, cloaked figures who were approaching him from the distance. They didn't wear the colours of an enemy. They wore the dirtied colours of his village, but... who were they? A commotion was being caused by the unknown group, and bows and blades were cautiously pointed at them alike.

At least, he didn't recognize them, until the head of the group stopped in front of Jouta, and turned down her hood.
"Hey."
"Wh... wh-what? This... this can't be..." the gruff man stepped back slightly, his fists clenching for a moment, before his eyes looked up in awe. "Y-you're..."

Standing in front of him was his ex-lover. Dirtied, but armed. Wearing markings he'd never seen her wear before. Her blonde hair long and braided, when before it'd been short and scruffy. And even now, he could recognize those eyes of hers. Those eyes that'd fooled him; betrayed him. ...But why was she here? Why was she here with a group of a dozen - some of which Jouta recognized, some of which he didn't?

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Jouta was in silence. Not sure what to say as his ex-lover stared him down, staying steadfast despite the bows that were drawn on her.

"Criminals or not, we've come fight alongside all of you. We heard of the news, and this is still our village. And this is still our fight!" The girl that'd been Jouta's lover many years ago looked into his eyes with burning brown irises. "You remember the promise we made to this place, don't you, Jouta? Well... I... I haven't forgotten it. I swore I'd sooner die than see this place wither away. So I - we're - here to do just that."

The dirty-blonde haired girl paused, the man speechlessly watching her in awe, before she rushed forward towards the red-haired man and embraced him, tears leaking from hazel-brown eyes.
"Even after all this time... I... I s-still don't have much to offer. But please. Give me - give us - at least one chance to offer ourselves for the village again. I... I-I... I'm so... sorry..."

"..." Jouta froze like a statue in the girl's embrace, hearing the distant cries of anger at the fact strangers had entered the village in such a desperate time. Though he didn't fully return the embrace, he placed one, calloused hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's okay."

Waiting until the girl eventually released him, Jouta looked to his old band of friends - that'd grown considerably since the last time he saw - giving a gentle smile to them.
"Old friends. ...Times are dire," he began quietly, addressing the small group of exiles in front of him, "we've all made mistakes. And those transgressions on our people are already set in stone. Even now." the man stroked his beard, breathing heavily out of his nose, before opening his eyes, "...So come. Let us crumble. But not in defeat. Let us crumble down into a blockade for our friends, our family, and our new heir. Into rubble that will one day be replaced by the light green of grass; the mud and the trees."

"...Will you join me on the frontlines, and take the orders of Lord Anzai until your dying breath?"

"I will."
"...I will."
"I will."
"WE WILL!"

And so, with determined eyes and stony expressions, Jouta stood with his group of exiles, every member ready to fight under Anzai's command. Though people tried to stop the people at Jouta's side at first, the slowly began to recognize the group of people that'd joined the red-haired to run away from the village in the past. Some spat. Some were speechless. But at the end of the day, all recognized that every single one of Jouta's old group had returned to fight.

Even with the small amount of added numbers, it still wasn't nearly enough, Jouta supposed. Perhaps victory was too much of a dream. Perhaps his family's safety was a goal hidden far behind the mountains, and perhaps he would fade away with his name soiled in history for eternity.

But no matter the winds, leaves would always fall... and scatter.

...No. That phrase didn't make much sense at all. But it would make a nice lyric, wouldn't it?

The young man smiled to himself slightly, clay-white dust trailing at his feet as he and his small band of exiles placed themselves to reinforce first line of defense. A spark; a twinkle of fearlessness was in the group of exiles as they readied elemental arts and weapons alike.

He watched the horizon. The last, beautiful horizon, as he held the hand of his lover and w a i t e d .
@Ehb
@Karyra
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[Ehb]

Aachen Rizen Compile - Hymn of Origins - END
Minna! Thank you so much for participating in this short run. While I admit that the short run was definitely short, rest assured, the things that happened in this RP do have an effect on a canon universe that will see use again someday in the future. It was mentioned before that I'd ask if you'd want to have your 'legacies' be put to use, but that was looking WAAY far into the RP Universe's future. So I opted to just go for an immediate history instead.

Below are glimpses of the world that the next generation of characters will be tasked to face someday. The Failure of the Pilgrimige of Tousawa valley lead to many despairs. But in the tumultuous times that lie ahead for the Sapien Tribes, will heroes arise to meet those challenges that lie ahead?


Canon Log
The Canon Log is how the events of the RP and your characters are remembered according Aachen Rizen's Canon. The events of this RP are things that characters in the next generation would know of through the traditions. Note that what your characters actually did and how it's remembered by the world may be a bit different.


The Tragedy of Demon King Mountain

The Tragedy of Demon King Mountain is a pivotal moment in the Rizen's history. It single handedly ended the Decades long war that had raged between the Sapien Tribes of the Tousawa Valley. It is also widely regarded by historians as the beginning of the Titan Crisis.

In the Tousawa Valley Region, there existed a Warder Shrine at what was called Demon Crown Mountain. Every century, a Warder born into the tribe was selected to embark on a pilgrimage to the shrine in order to prevent the dormant mountain from going active. Of the three main tribes in the region this particular warder was born into the Ikkikari tribe. Unlike most other Sapien tribes, the tribes of the Tousawa valley were distrustful of one another, and had periods of armed conflict. The warder for that century was assassinated before the pilgrimage could be completed. Leading to the straining of the wards at the Tousawa Valley Shrine.

Decades later, in the middle of the Sack of the Ikkikari Clan's Village, Demon Crown Mountain Erupted. Leading to the mass migration of Surviving Sapien Tribes out of the Valley. Many of them migrated into a weary Sapien Kingdom of Shang. The devastation caused by the Eruption of Demon Crown Mountain lead to the Migrant tribes settling in the plains in the fringes of Shang Kingdom. Contempt between both sides in the following years lead to a rebellion that climaxed at the Battle of the Fujian Plains.

In the aftermath of that battle, a woman claiming lineage to Daimyou Anzai Ikkikari rose up to lead what remained of the migrant tribes. The destruction of the Shang Kingdom's army at the Fujian plains lead to the establishment of the Tousa Kingdom and brought a temporary peace between the two peoples. This Ambitious Self Proclaimed Daimyou, Celica Ikkikari, sought to conquer the Shang Kingdom for her own ambitions before they could rebuild their armies.


Characters
The 'Oral', 'Written Traditions', and 'Written Histories' correlate to how well recorded your character is in universe, and is also directly correlated to the impact they had to the world in their lifetime.


Cirika Ikkikari
A character from the written traditions.

Cirika Ikkikari was the daughter of an Ikkikari Daimyou during the legendary period, predating the Titan Crisis. Her assassination on the morning of her Journey sparked the Tousawa Valley War, between her Tribe and the other tribes of the valley that lasted for decades. The conflict ended with the migrations forced by the Eruption of Demon Crown Mountain.


Anzai Ikkikari
A Figure from the Written Histories.

Anzai Ikkikari was a Ikkikari Daimyou who ruled in the years just before the start of the Titan Crisis. He was the last Daimyou of the Ikkikari of Haschou before the migrations who presumably died in the Sack of Haschou. Under his rule, Haschou experienced it's zenith, despite the ongoing war that he inherited from his father. Establishing other colonies in the valley.

The entire Ikkikari Line died during the battle on the eve of Demon Crown Mountain's Eruption. However, according to tradition, Daimyou Celica Ikkikari, then a Junior Guard, escaped the disaster after being misinformed about the Lord ordering the village abandoned. Years later she would lead her people to victory at the Battle of the Fuijan plains over the Shang Kingdom.


Arara Sakanade
A character from the Oral Traditions.

She was the house guard to Cirika Ikkikari. Remembered as being very dedicated to her duties. She left the village after the death of her charge. Legend has it that she died in the forests outside Haschou and haunted them in the years after. Her ghost was known as the 'Black-Eyed Phantom' that was reported by merchants from time to time.


Jouta Shizuka
A character from the Oral Traditions.

Jouta was a part of the Shizuka Family that presumably died with Daimyou Anzai during the sack of Haschou. A skilled Akumagrapher in his life, a local folk tale is said to be inspired by his life of dishonour and ultimate redemption in dying for his village.


Kiri Moriya
A character from the Oral Traditions. Though her 'role' in the Written Histories is as a figure of betrayl.

She presumably betrayed Cirika by leading the assassins that killed her. Much of her life is a mystery. Her name was eventually shunned from the Oral Traditions, and she was solely remembered for being responsible for the punishment the Moriya Family endured for their involvement in the plot to Kill Cirika.

The Name 'Moriya' became synonymous with the word traitor in the Migrant Sapien Cultures. The remnants of the actual Moriya family oft opted to change their names in order to avoid the stigma.


Reiji Shibata
A character from the Oral Traditions.

He was an archer who fought along Anzai Ikkikari at their last stand during The Sack of Haschou.


Eimi Otachi
A character from the Oral Traditions.

She was one of those designated to accompany Cirika on the Pilgrimage.

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@Jakers
@Rithas
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