From the Journal of Akodo Verick
15 Boar 1157
We arrived in Bugaisha last night, and I feel the weight of this journey on me, as if it were a landslide, threatening to crush me. I came to the land of my father, to honour him, and return his ashes to where they belonged, among our ancestors. That was weeks ago.
I've written before of the adventure and excitement that I longed for in this endeavor. The stories told around the firelight fired my imagination. Even the death, til now, has limited exclusively to beasts, and criminals, but the blood has stained me, and this last journey, I feel it on me, smell it in my clothes, like a tangible presence.
It had only been a game, and even the outbound journey to retrieve Lord Jyaku's item was comfortable, an exciting adventure to be savoured. But at the temple, the joy was rent from me, by the very real edge of death, that violently, suddenly, takes a companion. The hurt made all the more real, by the knowledge that Sho's death was my fault.
I found this death boring into my spirit, and until now, kept me from my journal, and brought a coldness upon me, more chill than the approaching winter. Whatever the cause, the plan was mine, and the blame lay with me for his death. Sho's end took away the blinders, and let me see what this land was truly like, not much different than the west, fraught with greed, treachery, and violence. The Rokugani cloak it all in ceremony, tradition, and caste, but it's all there, the basest emotions and motivations man has to offer.
The Ide showed me first, at Shiro Ide, just after putting Sho to rest, then on the journey back, there was little doubt that the Ide were behind the attacks on us along the way. I had little hope that our stay with Ide Naoya would be any better. Naoya was an annoying little weasel of a man, who hid behind politeness while he planned the ambush on us as we escaped.
It's fortunate that Volar, Yukiyo, and I slipped his net, and escaped, or we might have ended our existence under the cruel ministrations of Naoya, Sedoka, or whoever else might have been involved with the plot against us. Another battle later, and narrowly avoiding the blind hatred of the man which might have caused me to side with Volar, and agree to burn the whole village, the Ide compound, Naoya, and most of his men lay as ashes under our torch.
The return trip was different for me. There was no joy in the journey, no excitement in the battle. I was...I am, very tired. I tried to hate the creatures who killed Sho, I have tried to hate the Ide who betrayed us, but all I feel is emptiness. I fight to stay alive, even though there is little to prompt me to wish to live. I guess I'm not being entirely truthful, deep inside, there is anger, and hatred. I can feel them, and I know that if I release this emptiness, and allow myself to feel, that this is what will overflow the void.
When we came before Lord Jyaku, he offered us a favour, and the only thing I wanted at that moment, was for Sho to be back alive, so I could finally be rid of the stench of his blood on me. I knew it would be rude to refuse his gift, so after some thought, I've asked him to see if he can show me the way to follow in the path of my father. Perhaps as a samurai, I can do honour to his memory, and Sho's.
The people in the group seem less concerned about Sho's death than I am, though perhaps each person grieves in their own way. I cannot see that there is much loss at his absence. The new Crab, Kazayuki, has all but assumed Sho's place, and he is a good warrior, but sometimes I look at him, expecting to see Sho.
Toshiro has been the most un-crablike samurai I've ever heard of. Even the crab we meet seem to think so. He is simple, and honourable, and despite his concerns, he is a great fighter. He seemed most touched by the loss, but now there is nothing. The battles wage on, endlessly, and he fights on, stoically facing each new challenge. He has not spoken of Sho since Shiro Ide.
Volar...I expected no mourning from Volar, after all, he is an elf, or at least part. He is a rogue of the highest order, a troublemaker, and around him, I sometimes manage to forget the emptiness in me. Such is his joy for life. HE is a spell caster of the first order, and periodically, he suprises me at a new level.
Mir is Mir. She is so self involved, and vain, that I doubt that any of our deaths would affect her, other than the inconvenience of having to find another entourage. Of all the group, she is the one I would hate, for her outlook and derision on other people's opinions, and beliefs. There is nothing in her, that I can see worth saving, yet as long as she travels with us, I will suffer her shrewish tongue for the sake of the group.
Mindra is perhaps the most difficult to understand. He is not self involved, like Mir, nor nearly so boisterous as Volar, but there is a strength there. Despite the often irritating way the monkey behaves, and the strangeness of his customs, he is the one I would trust most with my life.
The girl, Yukiyo, vanishes too often and is gone to long to form a solid opinion about. She's a fair shot with a bow, and that's been useful.
Overall, we seem to have stuck together only because we come together well, in a fight. There are few personal ties, and even fewer common interests. I miss having friends, and I miss my family, but perhaps Lord Jyaku can arrange something to set me on a path to rejoin my clan.
Time for bed...More later.
