Open Chronicles The Exile

[Kujo]

Rays of light filtered through the crimson curtains that were draped over the tavern's windows, casting the interior into an ominous red hue. The sound of voices speaking softly filled the air, as did the smell of burning incense. Everything was relatively calm; people kept to themselves mostly, exchanging a few words with those around them every so often, mostly to talk about mundane topics, such as the weather, or the local politics. They were silenced, however, by the sound of the tavern door creaking open, drowning out their conversations and compelling them to turn and get a look at the newcomer.

Kujo had been used to being looked at funny. He didn't exactly fit in with the local populous. It was like this everywhere he went. Kujo didn't mind it much, as he preferred to keep to himself mostly nowadays. Not like he had much of a choice. Nobody would bother to speak to him, let alone sit down and converse with him.

Kujo stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the interior of the tavern, seemingly searching for something in particular. After a few moments of this, accompanied by an awkward silence that had started the moment he set foot inside, Kujo stepped forward, letting the door slam shut behind him. The sound of his shoes hitting the worn cobblestone floor filled the room as he walked down the center aisle, in between the few tables and chairs that had been set out for patrons to sit at, steadily making his way to the bar.

The bar was manned by a short, stocky man, bald except for a small mustache that crowned his lips. He glared at Kujo, evidently not pleased with his presence, perhaps fearing that he might cause some sort of trouble. He'd seen his kind before; some dangerous wanderer, a sell-sword looking for someone to buy his bloody services. The bartender continued to frown as Kujo reached the bar. Kujo reached in his pocket, digging around for a few seconds before removing his hand, producing a few small coins which he placed in front of him, before finally speaking.

"Give me a bottle of your strongest stuff," he said in a gruff, yet youthful voice. The bartender, surprised (he sounded younger than he looked) yet unshaken, stood his ground.

"We don't want your kind in here, mercenary. You may be able to practice your bloody arts wherever your from, but our community is one of peace, and we prefer to keep it that way." Heads nodded in agreement throughout the establishment, the soft hum of voices starting up again as they debated the newcomer's presence.

"Listen, friend," Kujo started, a small grin forming on his face. "I don't want any trouble. I'm just a weary exile, looking to drown my sorrows. And I will happily pay for the privilege." He slid the coins closer to the bartender, putting his other hand in his pocket in case he needed a little more "persuading."

"Now you listen, cutthroat," the bartender started again, a hint of anger evident in his tone. "I meant what I said. I don't offer my services to the likes of you. I don't know what game you're playing at, but it won't work on me. We have standards here. Morals." Kujo sighed, tilting his head down just slightly. He was starting to get annoyed, and he knew that things would continue to escalate from here.

"Fine," he said, grabbing the coins off the table. "Have it your way." He lifted his head back up to look at the bartender, a threatening glare on his face. The bartender let out a short gasp as he felt his heart stop for a short second. Kujo let out another sigh as he turned to leave, the crowds hiding their faces as he walked past them.

 

[Jirou]

Another wayward town on his journey to nowhere. It was probably time for him to return to Elbion some time soon. Though he doubted Yuuna's family assumed he was dead he should relay to them what occurred with The Amalgamation, and how he had seen her once more. The encounter with Anima left him feeling empty. He killed her, the one who'd destroyed half of the great orc stronghold and had taken countless lives. And she just let him. Did she crave death? Was that her repentance? It felt strange. Unlike any head he'd ever taken.

Tonight was a night to drown thoughts. To not think on this existential woe he had newly acquired. Instead he'd much rather have an ale and hear some bardic songs. It seemed, however, this would not be a possibility. He could barely hear the argument inside. A man being rejected for his profession. From the sounds of it a sellsword, which did not bode well for him either.

Kujo came towards the exit of the door and when he finally left the tavern he'd be face to face with Jirou. To his surprise, he was a very similar warrior to himself. One with an equally similar look in his eyes. Jirou smiled half heartedly.

"It seems we are not welcomed in this place." He set his sword on his hip and reached into his robe to reveal two bottles of sake. "Could I offer you a drink elsewhere?"

 

[Kujo]

Kujo was a bit surprised when he bumped into Jirou upon just leaving the tavern, but this did not stop him from smiling back.

Sake. They had had it back at the Temple; it was the drink of choice for the Spirit Warriors. Despite practically being a servant, Kujo did partake on a few occasions, mostly by way of his father, who would sneak a bottle into his room at night when most everyone else was asleep. Kujo could still remember the taste.

"My friend, I would be happy to take you up on your offer," he said, dipping his head a bit, a sign of respect. "And yes, it seems the people of this town don't take to kindly to strangers. Especially strangers like us." He grasped his sword as he said this. "Please, lead the way."

 

[Jirou]

Their similarities were almost eerie. Not only of the same cloth, but perhaps even the same origin. He lowered his head and straw hat back to his new found drinking partner. This town was unfamiliar to Jirou, as many towns that he came across lately were. It had been a long while since he'd shown his face anywhere he was used to. He kept trying to decipher if that was on purpose or not. After all, he no longer felt like himself.

He rose his hat a bit and eyed around. The night wasn't cold, but not warm either. Meaning public spaces had a fifty fifty chance of being occupied. From what he could see at his position, there weren't many people out and about. Most in their homes or in the taverns they themselves were not allowed in. He saw an opening, a bench near a fountain, and motioned for Kujo to follow him with a wave and a smile.

Upon their reaching of this destination, Jirou had to set the sake down in order to do the same with his blade. His unoccupied sleeve was flowing with the light breeze. The warrior had given up on hiding his handicap. He had one arm now, and that's how he was to live. It took him a decent while to get everything from his knapsack, but he even had two glasses for the both of them. Jirou never came unprepared for a drink with a stranger.

He poured both drinks with his good arm and slid one glass to Kujo.
"So then, friend. What is it that brings you here? It seems that work for either one of us is out of the question." Jirou chuckled.

 

[Kujo]

Despite noticing Jirou's unoccupied sleeve, Kujo decided against mentioning it. That was his business. Kujo nodded as he took the cup from his new acquaintance, lifting it to his face and closing his eyes as he took in the aroma, before letting out a soft sigh.

"Thank you for the drink, friend. Here I was afraid I'd have to spend the night sober." He chuckled a little as he sat down, taking a small sip as he did so. "As for what brings me here, well, let's just say that's my business. Forgive me for not being so open with you. After all, you are still a stranger, albeit a kind one." He rose his glass in Jirou's direction, a small grin on his face. "Work would have been nice, however. But it looks like that will have to wait." Kujo's smile turned into a frown.

Life had not been kind to Kujo since his exodus from the Yugata Temple. Work was scarce. Lodging was even scarcer. Kujo managed to survive, though. He had to. Ever since his father had been banished for his sake, he felt it was his duty to find him. And Kujo wasn't one to give up so easily. But those were plans for the future, and Kujo needed to focus on the present. The sake would help with that.

 

[Jirou]

Jirou couldn't help but laugh aloud. Their circumstances were far too similar for this to not be fate. He matched the risen glass to Kujo's and smiled wide. "That's a story I know all too well. I won't pry." He downed his whole glass and filled it back up, setting the sake between the two of them as an indication for Kujo to help himself. Strangers passed by with glaring eyes but Jirou paid no mind. He doubted anyone was foolish enough to tell two warriors to carry on.

He looked up to the few hanging stars in the sky. "You'll find work, don't worry. It's everywhere. Even if this town tries to push violence out of its walls best they can it'll make its way here. No place from The Spine to Amol-Kalit is completely devoid of swords clashing. And once they realize that I imagine their policies will change. A bandit attack, a loose archfiend. There are plenty reasons for swords to be hired."

 

[Kujo]

"Of course," Kujo chuckled, sipping his sake. "But I don't think I'll be sticking around here much longer, waiting for work to come to me." He let out a sigh as he refilled his cup. It seemed like everywhere he went, people were living out their lives in relative peace. They had no need for someone like Kujo. He could only hope that things were different down south.

"Listen," he said, turning to face Jirou. "If you're looking for work as well, why don't you join me? It's been ages since I've had any form of companionship, and you look like you could use the help." Kujo smiled, placing his cup next to him on the bench. Work was already scarce as it was, and having some competition wouldn't help matters. By travelling together, they could both make money without stepping on each other's toes.

 

[Jirou]

Jirou shot his second glass down. "I wouldn't recommend sitting and waiting either. I give it a month before this town needs warriors to assist it. Peace, it just doesn't last." He filled his glass up once more. "Nowhere you go will you find it free from fear, racism, and bastards who want to take advantage. There is always a throat that needs slitting." And down went his third glass.

He toyed the idea in his head. It certainly wouldn't hurt him to have a partner for some time. It may be best for him to try and make it back to Elbion in order to figure out what to do about his arm. Some mages there ought to have the answer.

"Have you a destination in mind?"

 

[Kujo]

"A destination?" Kujo rubbed his whiskered chin, seemingly deep in thought. He wasn't exactly familiar with most of the lands down south; most of his travelling had been between a few modest villages and townships around the border to the Eretejva Tundra. "Not exactly. I'm not too familiar with this area, and the settlements I have visited have been surprisingly short on work. I'm sure you'd have more luck finding work than me." He poured himself more sake and gulped it down.

Kujo hadn't planned on going to far south, as he wanted to stay within a reasonable distance from the Tundra. He had tried to enter a few times, but found that the arctic temperatures were too much for him. With little food or supplies, Kujo wouldn't have made it more than a day before the cold got to him. He probably would've given up on looking for his father; there was no way he would've lasted long out in the frozen wasteland. But Kujo was aware of an ability that the most skilled Spirit Warriors from the Temple possessed: the ability to convert one's spiritual energy into heat, allowing them to live for long periods of time in the harsh conditions of the Tundra. It required a great level of skill and spiritual control to be able to perform this feat, though, and Kujo had never even finished the informal training his father had given him. He would have to find some other way to survive in the Tundra.

"My name's Kujo, by the way," he said, realizing that he hadn't properly introduced himself. He hoped his name wouldn't mean anything down here; he wasn't sure if the Temple would've bothered to place a bounty on him or not.

 

[Jirou]

To not have a destination. Their coincidental similarities ever grew. Jirou smiled, setting his sake glass to the groound. He was beginning to feel the alcohols warmth wash over him and thought it be best to slow down on it. He didn't need to be completely out of it around a stranger. He chuckled a bit.

"I find that luck has no opportunity to strike if one doesn't allow it too. Luck becomes a lost factor for those unwilling to sacrifice their comfort. And sometimes, luck is a bastard. A harsh one," He glanced at his missing arm. "and very merciless."

"Jirou." He said, extending his good hand to shake Kujo's. "How long have you used a blade?"

 

[Kujo]

"Right," Kujo said, taking Jirou's hand in his. Jirou had kind of lost him with his luck monologue, but he figured it was probably the alcohol. He was, however, relieved to see that Jirou made no adverse reaction to his name. "As long as I've been able to carry one," was his response to Jirou's last question. "Let's just say I've been practicing for a long time," he continued with a grin. He hoped that Jirou wouldn't continue to interrogate him about his history with a sword. That would make things complicated, and Kujo knew he wasn't a very good liar, especially not when put on the spot.

"So..." Kujo stood up from the bench, stretching a bit and trying to keep himself from falling back down. It seemed the alcohol had gotten to him quicker than he had anticipated. "Before we do anything else, we should probably find somewhere to stay for the night. I'm placing my bets on this place not being an option." He pointed behind him at the tavern, which had become increasingly crowded as the night drew closer. "Besides, I think I need to sleep this sake off," he added with a chuckle.

 

[Jirou]

He could only wonder if he'd been in the same boat as Jirou with his blade. A sensitive topic. To be forced into wielding a sword as a child. There was no guarantee that was the case but his reaction gave the impression of something darker rooted than just training.

Jirou watched Kujo stand up and began to pack away his sake and utensils. Once situated he stood up to meet the gaze of his newfound drinking partner. "I think that's for the best. No need to spend the night wandering inebriated." He chuckled, but his eye caught the approach of figures from the darkness.

"I thought we already told you." A voice called to the group, pointing at Kujo. "You and your types aren't welcome here."

Jirou smiled warmly at the three angry individuals. "We were just leaving, actually."

"Nah, you had your chance." One called while drawing a short sword.

Jirou sighed heavily, his eyes turning back to Kujo. "What do you want to do?"

 

[Kujo]

Kujo looked back as the figures approached and drew their weapons, letting out a soft sigh as he placed his hand around the grip of his sword, clenching it tightly, prepared to draw it if the need arose.

"What was that you said about peace not lasting?" He said quietly to Jirou before turning around and taking a step toward the aggressors, still gripping his sword, though he was hoping he wouldn't have to use it. Kujo loved a good fight as much as the next warrior, but now wasn't the time or place.

"Didn't you hear my friend? We were just leaving. Now if you'll leave us alone, we'll be on our way. We don't want any trouble." Kujo's eyes narrowed as she shifted his cold gaze between the three men.

"If you didn't want any trouble you wouldn't have come here," one of them replied, stepping forward, clenching his sword tighter in his hand. "And you're about to find out how we deal with trouble," he added, grinning cockily.

Kujo sighed, lowering his gaze. "Can't say we didn't try," he said quietly, tilting his head in Jirou's direction. "I hope you aren't too drunk to fight." He quickly tore off his robe, tossing it onto the bench next to them, before slowly removing his sword from its sheath, placing himself in an offensive stance.

 

[Jirou]

Jirou shook his head. Every pompous bastard with a sword though they could step to any warrior they came across so long as the advantage looked their way. To assume a one armed opponent was lesser than you was ignorance and foolishness at its peak. He'd sized up these men and assumed Kujo had done so as well. They were hardly threats. They were scared, angry, men. The world was chock full of them.

Jirou drew his blade from its scabbard and aimed it at the ground pointed behind him.

"I see no reason to kill these men. No need to add more fear to the town." Jirou had been exhausted of killing from the life he just took. He didn't need anymore burden. He would not tell Kujo how to live, however, since it would make him a hypocrite.

The three charged, yelling loud enough for the whole town to hear. One each at them directly and the third trailing behind just in case. Jirou flipped his sword around to where its hilt pointed towards his opponent. The man swung wide at him and the ronin followed his motions exactly. Jirous hair guiding itself along the bottom of the mans blade as his body rotated three hundred and sixty degrees. He planted the hilt square in the man's chest and knocking him flat and out of breath.

 

[Kujo]

Kujo sighed. Jirou was probably right. Killing them would only make things worse off for them. He switched to a defensive stance and waited for the man to get close enough to attack him. The man swung his sword wildly in Kujo's direction, which he easily dodged. He continued dodging and parrying the man's attacks, hoping to tire him out.

The third attacker seemed to be aware of his friend's trouble and decided to join in, adding his sword swings to the mix. Kujo continued to dodge out of the way, refusing to strike back, although he knew he'd have to do something soon.

Kujo's eyes widened as he saw a blade cutting through the air, aimed straight at his face. He dodged back, arching himself backwards, the blade barely missing his nose. He furrowed his eyebrows and repositioned himself, preparing to take the offensive.

He spun his blade through the air in front of him before swinging it forward, knocking the men's weapons out of their hands with a few swings. The men's eyes widened as they processed what had just happened, taking a few steps back before turning and running in the opposite direction.

"Come on," Kujo yelled at Jirou, grabbing his robe from the bench. "Let's go before more show up."

 

[Jirou]

Jirou dragged his sword across its sheathe and knocked it tightly in place. He nodded Kujo's way.

"Back the way I came. There are woods, we can hunt something to eat and find a soft place to rest." He pointed towards one of the town's exits and sprinted ahead with a wave for Kujo to follow. There were a few problems on their way. Windows opening from the sounds of fighting, guards yelling from alleyways, and the gate slowly closing on them.

Jirou picked his pace up. Arrows began to fly by his head. A couple he had to dodge willfully. When he reached the gate he pushed his shoulder hard into one side of it, keeping it in place for the time being. Arrows continued down on him, forcing him to move his blade out again and block them.

"MAKE HASTE, KUJO!"

 

[Kujo]

Kujo sprinted toward the gate, dodging arrows as they flew at him. He was within a few feet of Jirou when he made a wrong move, resulting in an arrow being lodged in his shoulder. Kujo let out a soft grunt and grasped the arrow, breaking off most of the shaft, before continuing toward the exit.

"Let's go!" he shouted as he passed through the gate, motioning for Jirou to follow. He wanted to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible, figuring the town might send search parties after them. He winced slightly as he felt the adrenaline leave his body, the wound on his shoulder starting to get a bit uncomfortable.

"We have to make sure we aren't followed," he said quietly, looking back at Jirou as he slipped his robe back on. "Who knows the lengths these men will go to to chase after us."

 

[Jirou]

Jirou followed his temporary ally through the gates as they almost crushed him in their weight. Missing an arm was growing to be an immense pain for the ronin. He took notice of Kujo's wound and stopped, despite the pursuers that were sure to follow.

"Grit your teeth, Kujo." And with that statement yanked the remainder of the arrow out of his comrades shoulder with one violent tug. The pain was destined to be great, but avoiding infection was far more important. "Always remove metal from your body. It can poison your blood."

The roar of the crowd behind them increased in virulence as they called out for blood of them both. The only option they had was to divert their attention. There was little sake left, but it should suffice.

"I agree. I will make their eyes look elsewhere. Though I feel no joy from what I'm about to do."
Jirou splashed the closed gate that they were attempting to reopen with the remainder of his sake and then drew his blade. He dragged the steel against a nearby rock, creating sparks from the collision and flung them at the spot of sake he'd marked the gate with.

It erupted in flames, the sake acting as a catalyst.

He turned to run, "They will be able to deal with this or chase us. Not both. We know what they will choose."

 

[Kujo]

Kujo clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as the arrow was wrenched from his shoulder. He let out a gasp as Jirou finished the procedure, holding the palm of his hand up to the wound to stop too much blood from flowing out before he could properly bandage it. Kujo watched as Jirou lit the gate ablaze, causing a frenzy on the other side, slowly shaking his head. It was a shame it had to come to this.

"Let's go. I don't want to bleed to death here." Hand still on his shoulder, Kujo began walking in the opposite direction, towards the forest. "You lead the way. You probably know these lands better than I ever will."

If Kujo wasn't wary of entering town before, he sure was now. He never knew if the local populace was going to be after his head or not. He sincerely hoped that work was more plentiful down south, and that his "kind" was more tolerated. He had heard stories about wandering warriors and traveled sellswords from eavesdropping in taverns here and there, and figured it was worth a shot. He hated having to go so far from the Tundra, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

 

[Jirou]

Jirou didn't know this area a great deal and this wasn't where he'd originally entered from. In their frantic escape he'd made little effort to see where they had been fleeing to, rather just paid attention to them getting anywhere safely. The night was as deep as it could. The stars shone down on the dense woods before them.

Kujo's concerns were valued, if not a bit exaggerated. He wondered how long the man had been away from his home. He could clearly fight. Jirou set his sack to the ground and reached inside of it, pulling out bandages which he tossed to Kujo.

"Patch yourself while I try to find a place for us to rest." He then walked slowly into the woods, but not that far. He closed his eyes and gripped his blade. The sheathed sword began to emanate a pale green as he held it.

Jirou opened his eyes and looked towards the branches above him, and a kitsune spirit appeared before him. It's shimmery body nodded for him to follow into the woods. He was unsure of if Kujo could see him or not, that was up to his own spiritual affinity.

"This way."

 

[Kujo]

Kujo caught the bandages and nodded at Jirou before kneeling down and beginning to wrap up his wound, wincing a bit as it made contact with the bandages. After about a minute or so, he stood back up, gently moving his arm around to test his range of motion. He considered himself lucky that it wasn't his dominant arm that was injured. He slowly put his robe back on and turned to face Jirou, who was now facing the woods.

Kujo observed as Jirou drew his sword, which had begun to glow. He could feel some sort of faint spiritual energy emanating from Jirou, which magnified as Jirou opened his eyes, looking into the forest as if he saw something or someone. Although slightly confused, Kujo decided not to question Jirou at the moment, and followed him into the woods.

 

[Jirou]

The kitsune led the pair deeper and deeper. A walk that neither of them needed considering their previous circumstances. While Jirou had no idea where they were headed, he trusted the nature of the creature that led them. It had no aura of contempt or disdain towards humanity, which was common in many spirits. The woods seemed to simultaneously get darker and yet lighter in mood. The flora was taller the further they went in and the grass began to show again. The likelihood of humanity having not touched it was high.

Eventually the forest led to clearing of tall grass, and a lack of sound besides the few animals that awaited nearby. The scent of predators and humans all but vanished. It was tranquil.

"Here." Jirou said softly, a smile reforming on his face. "This will be the best place for rest. We will be unbothered here." The kitsune spirit chirped towards Jirou before it fled into the sky above.

 

[Kujo]

Kujo took a quick look around before turning to face Jirou again.

"You sure know how to choose them," he said with a grin before sitting down on a small boulder nearby. The spiritual energy he had felt before had all but disappeared.

Kujo looked up at the black sky, rays of moonlight filtering in through the large branches and leaves that made a sort of roof above their heads. The area had an aura of peace surrounding it, giving Kujo an unusual feeling of calmness, one he had not felt in a long time. He briefly closed his eyes, basking in the feeling, before opening them again and looking up at Jirou.

"I guess I should count myself lucky that I bumped into you, although I have a feeling it was more than luck." He didn't know how, but Kujo felt that their meeting was meant to be. Why? For what purpose? For that answer, he would have to wait and see.