From the Journal of Ide Amu,
First Ambassador of the Unicorn to the Phoenix
With a sore heart, I arrived in the lands of the Phoenix, not knowing what I might find there. The stories of their strange practices and odd rituals had reached us, even during the War upon our return, the Phoenix spell-crafters hurled down the elements as if they owned the sky and sea. Our own shugenja have not such strength, and it is said that our understanding of the Tao of Shinsei is different – corrupted, the Rokugani say, by our long travels.
They also say that the Phoenix can assist us in developing an understanding of the strange culture of this new land. Our relations with the Phoenix have been sporadic. In the court of the Emperor, they spoke against us, saying that our claim to Shinjo’s blood was ‘blasphemous’ and that we were a threat to the Empire. Their shugenja fought against us, claiming loyalty to the Hantei line and defense of the Empire, while their pitiful armies remained far from the battle.
We have seen nothing of these Phoenix save their tremendous, arching spells in the night. Such an opponent – one who fights from afar – cannot be respected or feared, but only pitied. The stories of Mekhem and the words of Shinsei speak scornfully of such a foe; shall we not learn from their wise words?
Yet I had been sent, the ambassador to the new world, to visit each of the clans in turn and learn their histories. In this way, the noble Emperor claimed, the Unicorn can truly return to this land, our ancestral home. I journeyed to the lands of the Crane, and was greeted with brotherhood. From the Scorpion and the Lion, nothing but scorn and an obvious desire to steal away our treasures. Who could tell what kind of reception I would receive from these appointed ‘masters of magic-craft’?
I approached the castle of the Shiba with my entourage, an Utaku battle-maiden and my old friend, Iuchi Tagiso. The Utaku spoke of strange feelings brought on by the winds of the night. Foolishness, I claimed, and we traveled onward. Yet, even in the day the darkness seemed to press closer in these haunted lands, and the feeling of being watched only grew stronger with each passing step.
We stopped to rest within a great box-canyon, a pass through which the road wound. Though the road was small (no more than two men abreast, or one of our great steeds, could pass through may areas), it seemed to bear the marks of frequent passage. The walls of the pass wer hewn from the tremendous mountain by aforce more powerful than the most earnest miner, worn smooth by wind and carved with figures of gigantic men and women. Each one seemed to be hundreds of years old, and my friend Tagiso apprached them with nothing short of awe.
Each one stood nearly forty feet tall, with eyes carved deeply into the shale and white marble. Their robes hung in granite waves from their upraised arms, their monstrous visages hung suspended from the walls of the pass like abandoned specters of ancient heroes. We walked beneath them – or perhaps, among them – with reverence and awe, unable to comprehend what force had carved them, or for what purpose. If these strange monoliths were the work of the Phoenix, then perhaps they could tell us of their creation. We continued in this manner for nearly three days, through the treacherous and twisted paths of the chasm, beyond thousands of unknown faces and looming figures.
Weary and restless, we hurried our three steeds through the pass, hoping that with each turn we had come to the ending. The Utaku rode ahead, keeping guard and I rode with Tagiso. “Sake?” he offered, and I was glad to accept, as the day was warm and the heat pressing down the high walls of the canyon had become oppressive. As I lifted it to my lips, however, I heard the Utaku cry out. In a widening of the ravine, sat a small man wearing a silken robe of Phoenix colors. Although his form was slight, he blocked the narrow path, and we could not pass.
The Utaku approached warily, unwilling to trust, but the man never moved. Even his eyes never blinked from their study of the rocky slope before him. I heard their conversation from the back of my steed, but the man’s words seemed only to enrage my escort, and she pressed her steed closely against the wall of the chasm. Her horse’s hooves striking sparks from the loose shale, the Utaku challenge the man for the right to pass beyond. Wary, but desperate to prevent bloodshed between our clans on the eve of our new friendship, I pressed past the Iuchi and lowered myself to the ground. As I approached, I heard the shugenja’s voice, low and even, speak loving, entrancing words to the Utaku.
Flattery. He must have been mad.
Her sword-hand flinched toward her daisho, and her face reddened. “Defend yourself!” she cried, and with a swing, her sword leapt for the man’s throat, beneath his straw hat.
A resounding crack, a ringing as wide as the heavens, and the blade of her sword fell to the ground, severed as if she had struck the face of the marble pass itself. She faltered, her skin turning white as her ancestors’ souls shrieked within her, and I stepped forward as she sank to her knees.
“Who are you,” I asked of the man.
“My name is not yet important, Amu-san,” he spoke, and I could hear the smile in his words. “Oh yes,” he said to my surprised look, “we knew you were coming, and we have prepared for your visit.”
At this, Iuchi Tagiso murmured into my ear, “It may be a trap. Be ready.” From my feet, a strange echo came from the stone, and I heard his words reverberate eerily, much louder than had been intended. I looked at the man in the path, his eyes still staring at the stone wall, and I knew he had heard the exchange.
“It is a trap, Iuchi.” The Phoenix murmured, and for the first time, I saw his eyes. They shone an eerie green, glowing as if formed from twin orbs of jade. Merciless, they bore into my companion’s soul, and he stepped back. “But not one of my making.”
“What…” whispered Tagiso. “What are you speaking of?”
“Why don’t you rest, my friends,” the Phoenix’s voice suddenly took a friendly tone, “and have some sake?”
“What?” said I, confused, but I saw my companion’s eyes widen. The Phoenix made a gesture, and of its own accord, the sake canteen leapt from my hand, springing to Tagiso’s feet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tagiso’s voice shook, and I turned to look at his face. White, pale fingers reached for my shoulder as he stepped away from the canteen on the ground.
“Better yet,” hissed the seated shugenja, “feed it to your horse, that we might watch its belly burn. And when its tongue is black from the poison, you can tell your master why you trusted the Scorpion when they spoke of peace.”
“Tagiso, is this true?” I said. “Is the sake poisoned?”
“No, no, of course not.”
Something in his voice made me pause. Some subtle nuance that I had not heard before echoed through the chasm, and the voices of the monolithic figures seemed to whisper in unison. “Tagiso stepped back, faltering. “No…” I could not tell if the whisper was his, the gigantic figures’, or my own.
I scooped the leather canteen from the ground, and held it to him. “My friend…” His eyes were cold and frightened. “Drink the sake.”
“You trust the word of a Phoenix? A sorcerer?” Another step back, toward the figure of a tall man in armor, a giant stone carving towering twenty feet above us. “Over my own?”
And somehow, I did. Perhaps it was my own failing, or perhaps the strange shugenja had cast some spell over me which dulled my emotions, but I stood and watched as Tagiso drank the bag dry. And when his convulsions were done and the blackened body lay in a heap at the feet of the gigantic warrior on the cold rock face, I knew who had spoken the truth.
The Utaku still knealt beside her broken sword, rage and hopelessness warring on her young face. Beside her, the Phoenix slowly rose, and reached to join the two halves of the blade on the ground. “Stop!” she cried as his hands closed over the breach.
“What was broken by anger can be healed by trust.” His eyes met hers, and she was frozen, as I had been, beneath his strange jade gaze. When he removed his hands, the blade was whole.
“Return to your people, Katsako, and tell them that Amu-san is safe with us.”
Her eyes widened as she gazed at her family katana, and she reverently accepted it when he offered. “I was told to escort him through the entire journey. To the Elemental Masters…” she protested softly, out of duty.
“And you have done so.” A strange voice rang from above, and I saw four figures standing in the high clouds above the mountain pass. “Now it is time for you to return, and for Amu to come with us…”
“…if he dares.” The Master of Earth stood at my side in strange friendship.
I could see his smile beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “The journey is over, Utaku-san,” I whispered. She bowed reverently, head turned to the ground in complete supplication.
“No, Amu-san,” my new guide smiled. “The true journey is only beginning”
(NOTE: References for Otaku have been updated to Utaku for clarity for the FFG L5R audience)
They also say that the Phoenix can assist us in developing an understanding of the strange culture of this new land. Our relations with the Phoenix have been sporadic. In the court of the Emperor, they spoke against us, saying that our claim to Shinjo’s blood was ‘blasphemous’ and that we were a threat to the Empire. Their shugenja fought against us, claiming loyalty to the Hantei line and defense of the Empire, while their pitiful armies remained far from the battle.
We have seen nothing of these Phoenix save their tremendous, arching spells in the night. Such an opponent – one who fights from afar – cannot be respected or feared, but only pitied. The stories of Mekhem and the words of Shinsei speak scornfully of such a foe; shall we not learn from their wise words?
Yet I had been sent, the ambassador to the new world, to visit each of the clans in turn and learn their histories. In this way, the noble Emperor claimed, the Unicorn can truly return to this land, our ancestral home. I journeyed to the lands of the Crane, and was greeted with brotherhood. From the Scorpion and the Lion, nothing but scorn and an obvious desire to steal away our treasures. Who could tell what kind of reception I would receive from these appointed ‘masters of magic-craft’?
I approached the castle of the Shiba with my entourage, an Utaku battle-maiden and my old friend, Iuchi Tagiso. The Utaku spoke of strange feelings brought on by the winds of the night. Foolishness, I claimed, and we traveled onward. Yet, even in the day the darkness seemed to press closer in these haunted lands, and the feeling of being watched only grew stronger with each passing step.
We stopped to rest within a great box-canyon, a pass through which the road wound. Though the road was small (no more than two men abreast, or one of our great steeds, could pass through may areas), it seemed to bear the marks of frequent passage. The walls of the pass wer hewn from the tremendous mountain by aforce more powerful than the most earnest miner, worn smooth by wind and carved with figures of gigantic men and women. Each one seemed to be hundreds of years old, and my friend Tagiso apprached them with nothing short of awe.
Each one stood nearly forty feet tall, with eyes carved deeply into the shale and white marble. Their robes hung in granite waves from their upraised arms, their monstrous visages hung suspended from the walls of the pass like abandoned specters of ancient heroes. We walked beneath them – or perhaps, among them – with reverence and awe, unable to comprehend what force had carved them, or for what purpose. If these strange monoliths were the work of the Phoenix, then perhaps they could tell us of their creation. We continued in this manner for nearly three days, through the treacherous and twisted paths of the chasm, beyond thousands of unknown faces and looming figures.
Weary and restless, we hurried our three steeds through the pass, hoping that with each turn we had come to the ending. The Utaku rode ahead, keeping guard and I rode with Tagiso. “Sake?” he offered, and I was glad to accept, as the day was warm and the heat pressing down the high walls of the canyon had become oppressive. As I lifted it to my lips, however, I heard the Utaku cry out. In a widening of the ravine, sat a small man wearing a silken robe of Phoenix colors. Although his form was slight, he blocked the narrow path, and we could not pass.
The Utaku approached warily, unwilling to trust, but the man never moved. Even his eyes never blinked from their study of the rocky slope before him. I heard their conversation from the back of my steed, but the man’s words seemed only to enrage my escort, and she pressed her steed closely against the wall of the chasm. Her horse’s hooves striking sparks from the loose shale, the Utaku challenge the man for the right to pass beyond. Wary, but desperate to prevent bloodshed between our clans on the eve of our new friendship, I pressed past the Iuchi and lowered myself to the ground. As I approached, I heard the shugenja’s voice, low and even, speak loving, entrancing words to the Utaku.
Flattery. He must have been mad.
Her sword-hand flinched toward her daisho, and her face reddened. “Defend yourself!” she cried, and with a swing, her sword leapt for the man’s throat, beneath his straw hat.
A resounding crack, a ringing as wide as the heavens, and the blade of her sword fell to the ground, severed as if she had struck the face of the marble pass itself. She faltered, her skin turning white as her ancestors’ souls shrieked within her, and I stepped forward as she sank to her knees.
“Who are you,” I asked of the man.
“My name is not yet important, Amu-san,” he spoke, and I could hear the smile in his words. “Oh yes,” he said to my surprised look, “we knew you were coming, and we have prepared for your visit.”
At this, Iuchi Tagiso murmured into my ear, “It may be a trap. Be ready.” From my feet, a strange echo came from the stone, and I heard his words reverberate eerily, much louder than had been intended. I looked at the man in the path, his eyes still staring at the stone wall, and I knew he had heard the exchange.
“It is a trap, Iuchi.” The Phoenix murmured, and for the first time, I saw his eyes. They shone an eerie green, glowing as if formed from twin orbs of jade. Merciless, they bore into my companion’s soul, and he stepped back. “But not one of my making.”
“What…” whispered Tagiso. “What are you speaking of?”
“Why don’t you rest, my friends,” the Phoenix’s voice suddenly took a friendly tone, “and have some sake?”
“What?” said I, confused, but I saw my companion’s eyes widen. The Phoenix made a gesture, and of its own accord, the sake canteen leapt from my hand, springing to Tagiso’s feet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tagiso’s voice shook, and I turned to look at his face. White, pale fingers reached for my shoulder as he stepped away from the canteen on the ground.
“Better yet,” hissed the seated shugenja, “feed it to your horse, that we might watch its belly burn. And when its tongue is black from the poison, you can tell your master why you trusted the Scorpion when they spoke of peace.”
“Tagiso, is this true?” I said. “Is the sake poisoned?”
“No, no, of course not.”
Something in his voice made me pause. Some subtle nuance that I had not heard before echoed through the chasm, and the voices of the monolithic figures seemed to whisper in unison. “Tagiso stepped back, faltering. “No…” I could not tell if the whisper was his, the gigantic figures’, or my own.
I scooped the leather canteen from the ground, and held it to him. “My friend…” His eyes were cold and frightened. “Drink the sake.”
“You trust the word of a Phoenix? A sorcerer?” Another step back, toward the figure of a tall man in armor, a giant stone carving towering twenty feet above us. “Over my own?”
And somehow, I did. Perhaps it was my own failing, or perhaps the strange shugenja had cast some spell over me which dulled my emotions, but I stood and watched as Tagiso drank the bag dry. And when his convulsions were done and the blackened body lay in a heap at the feet of the gigantic warrior on the cold rock face, I knew who had spoken the truth.
The Utaku still knealt beside her broken sword, rage and hopelessness warring on her young face. Beside her, the Phoenix slowly rose, and reached to join the two halves of the blade on the ground. “Stop!” she cried as his hands closed over the breach.
“What was broken by anger can be healed by trust.” His eyes met hers, and she was frozen, as I had been, beneath his strange jade gaze. When he removed his hands, the blade was whole.
“Return to your people, Katsako, and tell them that Amu-san is safe with us.”
Her eyes widened as she gazed at her family katana, and she reverently accepted it when he offered. “I was told to escort him through the entire journey. To the Elemental Masters…” she protested softly, out of duty.
“And you have done so.” A strange voice rang from above, and I saw four figures standing in the high clouds above the mountain pass. “Now it is time for you to return, and for Amu to come with us…”
“…if he dares.” The Master of Earth stood at my side in strange friendship.
I could see his smile beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “The journey is over, Utaku-san,” I whispered. She bowed reverently, head turned to the ground in complete supplication.
“No, Amu-san,” my new guide smiled. “The true journey is only beginning”
(NOTE: References for Otaku have been updated to Utaku for clarity for the FFG L5R audience)
