Cruel Oath

He stood at the base of the great mountain, staring grimly up toward the peak. The rigid lines of his body coupled with the absolute stillness of his carriage could have seen him mistaken for a stone carving, but only the gentle fog of his breath betrayed the image. The man - the wolf - seemed trapped in time, silently reliving a bitter memory.

It looked just like it. Minus a few details here and there, up to and including a small village at its base, but the jagged spires and unforgiving silhouette was unmistakably familiar. The Oni's mountain had been a dreadful, treacherous climb, nearly ending in his demise from the brittle rock-face alone. In his mind's eye, he could still see lightning flash white-hot across his vision and hear the growing thunder that accompanied each bolt. He could feel his hands, bloody and raw. His muscles ached.

Yet he had made his oath, and duty saw that it must be fulfilled.

If only the Oni hadn't killed him first.

Heaving a low sigh, Osamu turned his head away from the scene, gazing back into the coniferous forest he had found himself in. How sharp everything smelled - particularly the scent of wolf, but for the first time, it was not just the pungent scent of wild animal he had been accustomed to in his past life. This smell came with a peculiar flavor, a color, perhaps; as individual as a woman's perfume or a man's cologne. It had a sense of belonging. Of many.

Osamu suddenly realized how hungry he was, and as memories of hot buns and sake flashed across his mind, he was quite surprised to find that they were slowly being replaced by thoughts of wild hare and venison. He flicked an ear, shifting uncomfortably. That might have been well and good, but for some reason, this time he really wanted them bleeding and raw, which was simply not done.

Yet wolves did not cook their food.

He glanced up at the falling snow, and silently mourned.



@Hydra

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The matriarch watched from afar, upon her vantage point above, obscured by the shadows. Some that came merely passed through, and she marked them and moved with them (for the most part, unbeknownst to the other party), others tested the boundaries of their claim. With Winter fast approaching, Hydra knew the likelihood of this stopping soon was near nonexistent. There were hungry mouths, and Empyrean had plenty of caches and lingering prey. They also had the numbers to protect them, which was easy to note for any beast with a nose that could detect the borders.

Hydra wondered what sort of eye the man had. Was he noting which pathway might be best to take, which route might give him the best advantage?

The way of the wolf, and of the hunt, was to watch and to wait. Hydra was a patient woman, and could do so for days on end—but with her cubs still young, she would not make someone lingering wait for very long. Nor would she give him the time to do those things she had wondered about. When he looked up toward the sky, to the falling snow, the matriarch emerged from the midnight shadows. She swept downward with a savage elegance attributed to her nature, and the ease in which she could now maneuver upon this earth. She had not the years here that she had upon Moonspear, where she had memorized every bit of land but for the errant stone and scree that would be produced, but Hydra had time enough where she knew The Nameless Mountain intimately.

As she drew nearer to the man colored so similarly to the place he stood so close to, Hydra could smell the sadness upon him like it was his own individualized scent, as though he were made of it. It was an almost tangible thing, as the fear in her enemies and their quarry could feel when it was at its peak, and Hydra slowed in her prowl as she regarded him. He was near the borders, close enough for her to feel justified in chasing him off—and yet.

Hydra's plume remained stiff behind her, erect in a clear indication of her own position here. While her head was held high, her muzzle was draped primly over her throat. There was nothing prim about the intent behind such an action; she protected the area in such a way. The Queen maintained her stoic demeanor as she drawled, “what is it you seek?” knowing the question to be multi-faceted. His answer would determine how she determined to deal with him, not at all content with the idea of someone loitering.

He was a large, tall man; she imagined beneath his winter furs, he would be compact and hard with muscle. He was a lone man, she could smell—more likely than not a hungry one. Contrarily, the matriarch looked soft, her edges at the face of it rounder. The sharpness of her own blade was not one many eyes could see from the start, and one well wielded. She watched his every move, should she need to show as much, considering all the while. She was ever unreadable as she pondered.

Perhaps he sought... permanence. Perhaps he saw it here. Or perhaps something else... perhaps, the source of his sadness. If he thought Empyrean to be the cause of it and sought retribution, he would only come to find his grave here. Hydra was prepared to defend this place should push ever come to shove. That much was obvious by her mere presence here alone.

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He stiffened visibly as the liquid form of a dark she-wolf suddenly melted into view, silent and stoic. Her tail was held aloft - he understood well what that meant - and her eyes were ice and ire, yet she did not move to chase him. She seemed curious more than anything, and he was grateful for this distinction. Osamu did not relish the thought of a fight so soon when he could barely get his own paws in order.

'What is it you seek?'

The question took him by surprise, as reasonable as it was, and he realized he did not have a ready answer for her. What didn't he want, now that flesh and virtue both had been stripped away from him, then saw him dumped unceremoniously into a lower, degrading plane of existence? Unconsciously, his ears swiveled back in distaste. He held her gaze for an agonizing moment as he weighed his words carefully. She could easily find an excuse to tear his throat out.

Then again, what did he stand to lose?

“An explanation,” he said gruffly. Osamu had never been good with conversation. “Though I do not think you will have an answer.”

His attention shifted back toward the mountain that loomed overhead, bleak and pitiless against the dark sky. It came as no shock that such a harsh-looking woman would choose to call such a place home, and perhaps distantly, he could see the appeal. It would certainly deter strangers.

Well, most strangers.

“It calls to mind another time, another place. I thought it might be related, but I was... mistaken,” he continued. While the she-wolf's features were refined, almost delicate, he could see faint scars laced beneath her pelt and noted the ready twitching of taught muscle that threaded her firm legs. “You are also a warrior?”

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The matriarch listened, letting him finish before she jumped to her own conclusions. As he held her gaze, she bristled, offering oonly a warning rumble before his gaze shifted. It was an impersonal thing that came from what they were, though she could not know this had not always been so for him. Hydra saw no challenge in his gaze, and when it had shifted she was again at ease. Once, in her younger years, she might have already formed an opinion beyond what she had already based on his first two words that came after. Time had hardly tempered her, however—it had only brought her wisdom.

It was him who explained things. Familiarity, but not the sort that then brought any amount of certainty. It seemed his studies had only given him more questions than clarity, hence his search for an answer still. But he was not alone in that. Hydra, too, had her questions for the world. She did not know if and when she might get them, but she would still seek them as she sought her family.

Hydra nodded, firstly in understanding. At the heart of it, she did—but his wondering transpired close enough to her home to promote her own inquisition. It did not end there, though he had answered her questions rightly. Not while he still lingered. And with a question of his own, one that furthered her interest in him. One might see a twinkle in her eye as she heard it, but such a thing would be gone in a blink it would be easy to wonder if such a thing was there at all. Too easy to miss, that—but he might have seen it. She supposed, given his eye, he might not have been one to miss such.

“I am,” she drawled in answer, without arrogance or boastfulness, before continuing: “I had rather hoped you were not seeking an enemy here. You have the look of one yourself,” she hummed, the end of it a question in of itself. Was this true, or had her own eyes betrayed her? True, with her pack here—nevermind her own capabilities—it would have been dealt with quickly enough, but in the Winter, Hydra had learned the folly of engaging in unnecessary entanglements. It was near apparent that this man had not come here for such, at least.

And then, her next question, quick to follow the next one, and presented in tone as more of an observation: “you are alone,”

Is this your choice? To remain such?

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It seemed that he did not please the dark she-wolf. Tension sang white-hot behind her eyes, taught as a stretched string and humming so violently it threatened to break; it was the sound heard in one's mind before blood spilled crimson upon the earth.

And yet... she did not have the look of someone who broke very easily.

She instead stayed her hand, and wavered questioningly before him.

“'I had rather hoped you were not seeking an enemy here. You have the look of one yourself.'”

Her words barely registered across his stern countenance, betrayed only by the light quirk of an eyebrow lifting in bemusement. Osamu was used to being met with uncertainty and fear; from the land he hailed from, he was a warrior of great renown, leaving only harsh justice and a shimmering trail of blood in his wake as the glint of his blade captured fleeting rays of moonshine.
A cozy picture to remember, but things were not so anymore. Ruefully, he doubted his blunted claws would hold the same effect.

“I have laid many souls to rest,” he began quietly, the timbre of his voice a low rumble. “But none undeservedly.”

“'You are alone.'”

The phrase echoed hollowly in his chest, bouncing between his ribs like a trapped songbird fighting for an escape.

It was true. Osamu had always been alone; his life spent in a self-inflicted exile, unwilling to linger in any one place for too long, bitterly turning away from the hushed whispers that dogged his footsteps. Who would dare befriend the blade of the gods? Foolish nonsense, of course, but nonsense that the people believed - and where there was belief, cruelty also lay.

“Yes,” he answered flatly, shifting his frosted gaze back to her own. She seemed to be expecting something, and he suddenly remembered he hadn't given her his name. A woman was a woman, no matter how... hairy, and he had forgotten all about manners within his thoughtful reverie.

“They call me Osamu. Forgive me, my lady,” he said, dipping his head by way of apology. “I do not normally forget such things. I have been... changed, since I awoke here. This is not the form which I am used to.”

The displaced samurai glanced down at his forepaws, brow furrowing in consternation. How was one supposed to defend oneself like this?

He had an idea.

“If you are a warrior - do you train?”

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“We are the same there, then,” she drawled in turn, her plume swaying a slow beat behind her. Not one enemy she had put beneath the earth was there for bloodlust, but due to the consequence of harming one of her own. Threats, too; Hydra was not one to let things sit idly, lest one think it a chance for nefarious opportunity. The greyscale man introduced himself as Osamu, and spoke on—some of which she did not understand. Hazarding a guess seemed too much of a headache, and assuming was for fools. But so many woke up in disorient; it did not surprise her, the way he felt. Out of sorts.

Had she not felt the same?

And all of these landforms, foreign. Familiar, this landscape, but it was not... not of the place she herself had been born upon.

His question earned a look of interest from her. “I do,” she drawled, “though only my own. If you are alone,” she hummed, “and you are a warrior, willing to protect—you need not be alone any longer. Become Empyrean, if you wish for my tutelage. Repay it through tooth and claw, to those that have earned the consequence,” she hummed, wondering if he might be willing. “I am Hydra, Empyrean's Queen. I would teach and protect you, and our fellows alongside you,” she hummed. For Empyrean was family, and not one would be left behind in that if she could help it.

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Ah. A catch.

Well, he should have expected as much. No great blades of his time trained without compensation of some sort, whether it be money or servitude, and it seemed that this world was similar in many ways. He could not fault her for it - this was a feral land, a savage land, full of talking beasts and strange magic that somehow worked to transform its inhabitants into whatever bizarre shapes it desired. He felt his tail flick; it had been completely involuntary, and he wondered at the reasoning. Was it brought about by frustration centered around the unknown?

Osamu realized he would have to be careful, as impartiality was difficult to maintain now with so many appendages. He had to be conscious of his ears, lest they swivel impolitely in directions that were not Hydra.

She finished her speech, and stood expectantly.

“I do not wish to make a decision in haste,” he stated gruffly, though not unkindly. She had made a fair offer, and for one as lost as he, it held its appeal. To have a ring of protection until he could get his bearings - a way to train, to re-hone his skills in a new life, to find a purpose once more after such failure -

Yet unlearning loneliness was its own trial.

“I will not forget your offer. For now, I seek answers.” Osamu, utterly incapable of smiling, instead offered her the warmest expression in his repertoire (which consisted of a stern frown minus the angry wrinkle between his eyes) and nodded his head respectfully. “Good-bye for now, mistress of the mountain. Perhaps we shall meet again.”

The world was vast, after all.



{Exit Osamu}

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