Entry 1: Beginnings of an Outcast's Life Anew!
March 5th, 1986
My name is Kisora, a descendant of the Kawanari family, Warrior of the Burudoragon, and now wanderer of the great lands of Japan. My Parents were Koju and Sakura Kawanari. My father was a blacksmith for the clan, retiring from his Warrior days, and my mother was an herb specialist for the clan’s medicinal needs for poisons and other wounds. After failing to become a Warrior, she was meant to be and proved to be a talented Healer. She was regularly used as a medic, but one who could also fight on the battlefield.
Unfortunately, both were killed when I was six years old by a group of undesirables who only wanted what was in their pockets. A rare occurrence in our clans to have so many Warriors, making it nearly suicidal for such people to exist here. As a potential prize, they kidnapped me to sell me to a slaver or something worse in the shadows of this world, making me valuable to common criminals wanting someone to torture or violate, mostly in other clans where there was significant money for my kind and far safer to sell me off.
That was nearly my fate one night as a man purchased me to be a slave to him and his wife. These two were not native to our land but were what people call “Americans.” A culture of people I had never heard of, and I hoped that all of them were not as cruel as these two. We usually have little knowledge of this place amongst the clans. Usually, not positive ones.
The servitude they wanted to put me through was one of sadistic pleasure. Wanting to beat me, torture, and humiliate me. This was something I did not want to have forced on me, being sold like cattle to this scum. This was the day that changed my life forever. It was my first time taking life and finding joy in it. When the seller opened my cage, a sudden rage engulfed me, igniting my fire and scaring the people into shock. No one should ever think to cage my kind’s fire. The open air and sky are where our hearts live. It is as if you are killing us. Any Dragon pushed to death could become something most can never face and survive, even at six years old. If not handled properly, Wielders, primarily Warriors, can quickly kill non-Wielder adults if pushed hard enough.
The man was about to whip me, but was too slow. His foolish attempt to prevent me from leaving left him wide open for me to grab his knife and cut his throat out, so engulfed by my anger, I didn’t stop until his head was removed entirely from his body. Filling me with a sadistic smile of happiness by murdering my parents’ killer. This is the price one pays when you have contempt and ignorance of other people, especially the Wielders of Japan.
My smile scared the two buyers, looking at me with fright. I found there to be twisted fun in scaring these two bastards, thinking that just because they have power in wealth, they can tinker with mortal life. It sickened me, my soul demanding they die for their mere transaction of evil, but refused to, as I have already murdered the one truly deserving of death.
Walking past them, covered in blood, they said nothing to me. Wise decision to make, as I did not like to speak to vermin. Unfortunately, the vile pigs’ crew witnessed what I had done and attempted to attack me, but the sadistic joy and rage I felt with my first spilling of blood made me want more. More blood and death to these men and women, mortals that would dare live only to bring misery to others' livelihoods. Charging at me, demanding my end, they were sadly not given it, for I gave them their death first, slashing the throats of many, ripping and tearing the guts out of them even when the knife ran dull. It was so satisfying.
They could never match our speed at this young age unless they were genuinely gifted as non-Wielders. As the morning dawn came through the cracks of the building, I made my way out. I was running with blood and pieces of organs covering me, turning my skin a stained blood-red from its prolonged meld to my flesh.
For hours, I ran, trying to find my way home. Finally, I fell, tired from exhaustion. I could barely move anymore due to my sore joints. But as I fell, tired in what seemed like nowhere, a group of traveling Clansmen found me in shock at how much gore I was covered in. Shocked by what I told them about my parents and my actions for my escape, it was enough to make the Elder Dragon grow concerned, not about the evil men or the people who nearly made me a slave, but of what I’ve done and how it was the murders of those men that awakened my fire, my inner Dragon.
Februray 20th, 2002
Sixteen years have passed since that incident, and I’ve learned so much. The feeling of wielding a blade, learning its purposes, and knowing the path of a Samurai. These were the ways of our people. The Burudoragon were bred to be warriors. Protectors of peace and order, the methods that our God, The Great Blue Dragon, passed down from generation to generation. These were our blood-given laws of life, ones that we always obeyed. That is, until the modernization of the world. Lands like Tokyo, Kyoto, Nagata, and even Osaka became modern scrapes of this so-called “New Era of Modernization,” as I liked to refer to it.
I was no fan of technology, but I never cared about how people wanted to improve the world. I saw myself as only a weapon for justice and nothing more. However, to stand for goodness in the name of the Burudoragon made the clan choose questionable actions, seclusion, and ignoring the outside people. Restricting ourselves to only be within the borders of the clan’s “New Law.” These new ideas were not Burudoragon. Making me question every word, thought, and order from our clan leader, the Elder Dragon.
Instead, he’d hide and ignore wrongdoings rather than stand beside those needing help and safety. We keep our borders safe and secure, but remain true to our folk. Yes, that is what I want and what we always want. However, we are also a people meant to venture out into the world either for a sense of challenge, adventure, or a right to help those suffering from the wrath of either man or nature. That is what made us great, respected, sometimes loved, and feared. Many friends were made from such a fire within us. Stay within all that we have now done.
These actions made my blood boil and my fire burn ever so bright. I was a fool for it, but I needed to stand for what I believed in. Challenging against the Elder Dragon’s word, making myself out to be the only one to stand up to his rule, his new ways felt unjust. He was making the clan not ours but those of cowards and manipulators for that. We became more like Ninjas, secretly leveraging and tricking friend and foe for personal gain and control. He even tried introducing more “Modern Thinking” into our daily lives, which many said was fundamentally dismantling our existence. Technology for better things, such as indoor plumbing or electricity, is one thing, but making us into some cog in a machine for either profits or shut-ins was something I and others were not for. I was just the bravest and loudest about this.
My outburst against his pathetic words nearly cost me my life, as he did not take very kindly to what my words were. Striking me across the face with his bare hand, sending his Wyverns to beat me down as punishment for my “treasonous words,” as he put it. It was then that I knew that the clan I had been raised and taught by had become almost as cold and unfeeling as the men who murdered my mother and father, to be beaten for speaking out. It was an act of betrayal to me that implanted the knowledge that this is a place I am no longer welcome in, and for that, I must leave. I will not cause a rebellion that will only bring unnecessary death to our people. Many are uncertain what to think about the leaders and the Elder Dragon bringing in such new ways. Some are for these, and there are enough to say no. This must be why he has been subtle, bringing in such practices.
He had seen me in the past as merely a directionless child, and we have a special law that the parents must quickly train and teach children to become civilized and ferocious Warriors, not some beast like I almost became when I was six. The pure animalistic nature of our Dragon Blood becomes wild. Once that happens, we can become a danger to be merciless and brutal to both enemies and friends, even to our own kind. He had hoped to control me and placed me in special classes with the best teachers, and it mostly worked, but I became so confrontational in all manners; it was both a blessing and a curse to face these new ways, but it also alienated me from others.
Once I proved too much to control anymore, he had only one option. Cast me out, and I would face an army if I tried to return. I ultimately made it easy for him, for I had lost faith and chose to leave.
I was secluded within the Maiden shrines, and my privileges for the sword were stripped. My honor was stained, being accused of bringing shame to my family’s name. All in the words of the Elder Dragon, but I knew that if my family still had a part of this, they would agree with me about his dishonorable actions. Turning our clan into a mere yellow-belly group of cowards. I knew that I couldn’t stay here. I needed to be free. Some time has passed, and it’s given me plenty to plan. I’ve heard of other clans and even read about many. One in particular, called the Mojon Hon.
They accept Outcasts like me, but I wondered if they would help because I am Samurai-bred. It’s conversed chiefly with Ninja/Kunoichi, but I figured it would be enough to seek refuge if I told them about part of my situation. They bring in those who are helpful to them, and being a Burudoragon, they will undoubtedly find me very useful.
Tonight was my time to leave. All of the Dishonor the Elder Dragon has brought will no longer concern me. I know I will no longer be part of the clan, but I will at least be a true Burudoragon, not just by blood but by my heart and soul. There was one thing I needed to grab before I left. The clan has become too tainted by dishonoring the traditions of the Burudoragon. They are no longer required to keep it here. It was risky, but it was time the Hellreaver came with me. A sword forged by the eternal powers of the Dragons that was created to eradicate the darkness that nearly destroyed the world centuries ago. A terrible time is known as the Dark Epoch. Little is known, for history was not recorded at this time. What apocalypse happened in such a time, I often wondered?
This sword was thus kept in the hidden temple of the Burudoragon, waiting for its newly chosen Wielder to come to retrieve it. I did not know if that would be me, but I’m willing to try. Stepping into the temple’s lower levels, the rooms were illuminated with our God’s Fire, filling the air with hot and cold feelings, as if I was in a dimension of multiple seasons. Feeling the cool crisp of the mountains while at the same time feeling the heat of the sun’s light.
Walking further into the temple, I reached the final level, entering a room of significant width and height. Filled with statues of Dragons towering over the ceiling of this structure. Blue Fire Ignited from the mouths of the figures to illuminate the path in front of me. It was there as I saw it with my own eyes, the Sword of our people. The Hellreaver.
The sword was of a unique design, bearing a length much bigger than a typical sword that I was trained with, the Katana. Legend says it can only be picked up by the one chosen in destiny to be its Wielder. It will be hard to get this out if I’m not the “Chosen Wielder” for it. Doubt it would be worthy for an outcast like me with such a troubled start to my life. However, I went to pick it up, and to my amazement, it was light as a feather. It occurred to me that maybe I was to be its chosen Wielder, or the ideal legend of it was a hoax. Either way, I’m now in possession of the Blade, so it was finally time to leave the clan and start a new life. My journey to Osaka, the Great Rose, begins now.
