The Bushido Bandit Vol 1 : Broken
This is an old Original Story I wrote a while back, I have six parts in all ;; so far ;; I may get my inspiration back if I get some people to comment on my work.
This might be the worst one out of them all but bare with me. It was about two or three years ago when I wrote this.
Just so you know, the splits with all the words between paragraphs are random quotes I added, they'll be in Green and in a different font then the rest. They all relate to the whole story some way.
So.. Take a gander and tell me what'cha think. ^^
The Bushido Bandit;
Part 1 :Broken
The wind was blowing across the barren landscape, the sun could be seen for it was rising as another day had started on the continent of Goraan. A group of bandits, dressed in matching armors that were red for the most part were traveling across the wasteland in a stir.
"Crossroads are not just paths....
They are equal opportunity!
Money is not Gold...
Money is life!"
(A widely used Merchant “saying” in Goraan)
They were talking about their previous raid and had a vicious spirit about them. Although the majority were now engrossed by victory, yelling and screaming with glee, one of the group seemed seldom silent as they trotted across the vast area. This man was slightly muscled and wore a dark blue kimono with a katana at his side. His hair was black with white highlights and was slicked downward over his left eye. He adorned a white over cloak which had the character for “Nothingness” on it’s sleeves.
In the distance they saw a brown patchwork tent next to an oasis. Nobody seemed to be about so they thought they would check it out. Looking to the silent man as asking his permission, they had a violent air about them. The silent man nodded and granted permission to the group. The six started towards the tent with an intent to pillage whatever was there. One of the men, a large one at that looked into the tent with anticipation, but was disappointed to find only an old man and a girl, no more than 12 years of age.
After dragging them out with a feat of strength dodging any attempt of futile defense he made another man hold the old man and choked the girl to the ground ripping off her ragged clothes in a fierce lust. Just as fast as this occurred the silent man drew his blade and cut him down with a slash to the back. Blood spilled onto the ground as the man shrieked with pain.
“We do not take women against their will you worm...” he said coldly.
After flicking the blood off and sheathing his blade, the man took off his over cloak and after showing the girl it was safe. He wrapped it around her and snapped his fingers towards the bandit holding the old man to let him go and like a loyal dog he obeyed. The old man was shaking and was quite confused. In an attempt to reassure his kin, he hugged the girl tightly. He turned to the silent man.
“I thought you were going to...” the man was interrupted by our solemn protagonist.
“Don’t question the will of the gods, for they have turned in your favor.” he said emotionless.
That being said, he pointed toward the east, which was their next destination. The group, now only of 5 continued on in complete silence as the silent one had put judgment upon yet another one of the group due to a rule disobeyed.
The next day, the group arrived in a bustling port city, near another oasis, for the ocean was nearly dry. The dock seemed to have been extended in an improvable manner. Several men could be seen on the beach, swinging weapons similar to one another with strait, double edged blades.
"In a day, a coin is made,
A week, a bag of Riches,
Within a month...a fortune."
They all were lined up in a row, about ten of them. They were in serious training with sweat dripping from each body faster than it had a chance to evaporate in the scorching heat. Their was one man with a scar on his chest, that was leading the lot. The intensity of his strikes were major and seemed to move the air with each stroke. Our silent man was leading his group into the town and this session caught his eye.
“Well, how about we challenge the locals?” the bandit with a spear said to his leader.
“I bet we could take them all huh, Ratori?”
Ratori swung back a gaze as cold as ice upon the spearman. He froze up and stopped talking. Another one, carrying an axe looked to the one with claws.
“Why is he so uptight?” he asked.
The claw wielder whispered a response. “He doesn’t allow those he considers unworthy to say his name, he believes only those honorable enough can say his label.”
After they purchased supplies they took shelter at the local inn . They sat down at different tables making an imaginary triangle in the drinking area. There were tables everywhere, tall enough for a person to kneel or sit around. Ratori sat alone in the corner with a warm bottle of sake, a drink to his liking. As for the others, they sat in pairs of two. They all were talking amongst themselves about the previous events of the day. After a hearty drink, they headed to their rooms.
Ratori had his own room, while the others shared one big room. They contained bedding for all people accounted for and alcohol for their night. Ratori sat upon a wall, knees bent up and sword balancing on his shoulder right beside his legs. He drifted off into a solemn sleep after a few more glances about the room. While he was sleeping he would talk without awaking.
“No...Mother! Why....why did you have to die?!” He said seemingly frightened. “Mother....”
His troubled sleep was disturbed by a loud yell. He woke up and quickly shot to his feet and ran into the hallway. He heard crashes and shouts coming from his men’s room. The door was wide open and a man was pulling himself with his arms. The man saw Ratori and started to yell.
“Boss! Help us! we’re being---” his sentence was cut short by a blade piercing his back. He gasped and started to cough out blood. Ratori drew his blade and ran towards his fallen bandit, in a fit of rage he cut a hole diagonal to the door through the wall that was big enough to walk through.
The cuts seemed to have decapitate a person waiting in the corner, obviously waiting for him to turn it. Ratori looked around at the assailants and then down at his men. They were slaughtered. Blood was spread upon the walls and random body parts were about the room. A man at the end of the room burst into laughter.
“Mu-hahahahaha! They were easy prey! Come and taste my blade. Demon Slayer Ratori!” the figure yelled in joy. “I am Forva-Taw the claws of the east!”
Ratori recognized the mans figure, it was the old man at the beach! He was gnarled in a twisted way, his shadow revealed a face like... a Demon! Ratori looked at his (the demon’s) followers, they all had something attached to their head, like another face. They all hissed excitingly and then they attacked. Ratori, moving swiftly, he cut down one by one as he dodged their attacks. In the end it was Taw and Ratori.
“Impressive, no wonder you are labeled the Demon Slayer, you fight like a demon, but you are not!” Taw cawed with glee.
Ratori made a malicious grin and his eyes started to glow with a white fire.
“Who said I’m a full demon? You pitiful twit. You have no idea what’s happening. You were dead before you knew it.” Ratori said emotionless.
Yelling as he leaped, Forva-Taw’s body erupted with spikes and rolled into a ball. He slammed into the ground were Ratori was... because Ratori was a step ahead of him.
“Pitiful, just pitiful. You wish me to kill you? Fine.”
Now behind him, he pointed his blade toward the now stuck ball of spikes. Balancing it on his left fore finger his right eye started to glow green.
“Your in my sights...Hahaha! Byaku Rai!” he laughed as he released a shot of pure energy the ripped through Taw from front to back. Blood dripped from the withered ball, dead. Ratori sheathed his blade and his eyes turned to his normal crystal color.
Our protagonist walked from the room and observed the horrors that the demon had wreathed upon the village. Onwards through the village he went, stained now with the crimson color of blood and reeking of death. Once he left the village, he shed a single tear. That tear lit the village on fire Purifying the tormented souls of those viciously murdered by the hands of demons. By the hands of his own kind.... He traveled north, in hope to find a fresh start.
To be Continued
Re: The Bushido Bandit Vol 1 : Broken
I actually really liked it good work.. Yeah great