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Writing Blatt vom Toten Himmel (Continuing Thread) [M-VLS]


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[I][CENTER][COLOR=RoyalBlue][SIZE=3][FONT=Arial]First Chapter: Up a Sensei, Down a Sensei[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR][/CENTER][/I]

[COLOR=DeepSkyBlue][SIZE=2][FONT=Arial][I]That voice! That damn voice![/I]

It still plagued him. The coldness of that dark figure's call to him, and the coldness of the death he had only barely escaped. His chest heaved, his heart pounded when he thought of how he was saved by something he could not even see, much less understand. It had spoken a foreign language to him, and though he was proficient in several, that one language was one with which he had no familiarity.

[I]German,[/I] he thought.[I] It had to have been German.[/I]

He stroked his chin, lost in thought, as he pondered what had happened that day, sweat trickling down his brow and his heart beating faster and faster.


"Fool!" he shouted through clenched teeth. "You can't kill me this easily!" He charged for Einsamer, swinging at his torso with his sword. Einsamer dodged, skillfully, and he swung his sword again. This time when Einsamer dodged, he tripped and fell over the edge of the cliff upon which he stood.

He just barely grabbed the edge of the cliff as he flew over it. Hanging on by only three fingers, he panicked and frantically tried to get a better grasp on the cliff's edge. He heard his sword clatter on rock as it fell from his side and skidded down the canyon walls.

"And now, I will leave you here to die," his opponent cackled. "You dishonor our good name."

Einsamer tried for what seemed an eternity to get a better hold of the cliff from which he hung, but to no avail. Suddenly, from the dark, a cold voice rang out.

"Geben Sie mir Ihre Hand, Kind, wenn Sie wünschen, zu leben."

Einsamer was shocked. Did he offer his hand to the cold voice, or did he fall to his death?

"Befürchten Sie nicht; ich bin nicht, befürchtet zu werden."

He somehow understood, though he had never heard the language before. Sticking his hand out, something unseen grabbed it and hoisted him up and over the ledge. Standing there, he saw nothing.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" he called to the darkness.

For a moment, nothing could be heard. Then, from the darkness, the cold voice rang out again. "Wer ich bin, ist nicht Ihre Angelegenheit; Sie müssen sich auf Überleben konzentrieren. Sie sind der Windstreikender."

A sword appeared in front of him, floating in the air as though lifted by shaky hands. The sheath, carved from white ivory, bore the phrase, "Blatt vom Toten Himmel." The handle was wrapped in a red leather, and the sword seemed to be enshrouded in a dark energy.

"Nehmen Sie dieses Schwert. Es wird Sie schützen, von was Sie sucht."

Though he did not understand what the voice said, he knew what it meant. He reached for the sword, but it only floated away from him. He reached for it again, only to have it float away from him again.

"I cannot take the sword," he called to the darkness. "I cannot grasp it."

The darkness was silent for another moment. "Sie können es haben, wenn Sie bereit für es sind."

The sword then dissipated into the air, leaving Einsamer standing there in the dark, alone and battered.

"When will I be ready?"


He shook the memory away, unfolding his legs and straightening his kimono. He untied the rope at his waist, tying a tighter knot and replacing his bamboo pole at his side.

He had always thought himself a master of the sword; but, he had never even trained under a sensei. Thus was the reason he had lost his fight: he hadn't the skill to defeat his adversary. Now, he was training daily with a bamboo pole under the guidance of the best sensei he could find - a woman called Tatsumya Neigeyo.

"Kampfer-san!" he heard his sensei call. Something about her tone, though, made him uneasy.

"Coming, Neigeyo-sensei!"

He stepped lightly, making no sound on the ground with his sandals. As he approached the door to the dojo, he gasped and dropped to a kneel, the end of his bamboo pole touching the floor. He wept there, in that position, for his fallen teacher.

Tatsumya lay dead, her clothes torn from her body and her naked flesh stained with the red of her blood. A deep cut ran across her throat, nearly severing her head. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her legs spread wide; apparently, from the position in which she lay, she had been raped. A red bandana was tied around her neck, loosely, and looked as though it had been stuffed into her mouth but forced out.

[I]At least she fought the bastard,[/I] Einsamer thought. [I]She didn't go without a fight. Just like her, fighting until the very last...[/I]

Einsamer rose from his position on the floor, his eyes trailing once more over the body of his former sensei.

"She would want me to continue my journey to learn the ways of the warrior," he said to himself as he turned and headed, solemnly, out the dojo.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]

[CENTER][COLOR=RoyalBlue][I][SIZE=3][FONT=Arial]Second Chapter: The Test of the Wind Striker[/FONT][/SIZE][/I][/COLOR][/CENTER]

[COLOR=DeepSkyBlue][SIZE=2][FONT=Arial]He had been walking for a week, alone and demoralized. Having lost his sensei, he was without guidance; and now, he had to train himself.

He looked up, to the dark sky that now signaled the coming of winter in the countryside of Tokyo. A few snowflakes fell around him, and one landed and melted on his cheek. He could see his breath in the air, and he shivered against the biting cold.

[I]Great,[/I] he thought. [I]The snow is going to freeze my feet.[/I]

He drew his kimono closer to himself for warmth, adjusted his bamboo pole, and uneasily wriggled his toes in his sandals. He was reluctant to press on, but in order to survive, he would have to, with or without help.

He started to run, trying to generate warmth by moving more of his body.

[I]"Sie sind der Windstreikender,"[/I] the wind whispered into his ears. [I]"Der Windstreikender..."[/I]

"Der Windstreikender," he repeated, stopping on his toes. "What the fuck is 'der Windstreikender'!? Care to give me a fucking clue!?"

He picked up his run again, shaking his head and ridding himself of the nuisance that was the wind's voice.

Suddenly, he stopped. Something made him halt his pace; a feeling in the pit of his stomach made him quit his run. He wheeled around, scanning the dark countryside for something, anything, that would have given him this feeling.

A shadow stood near some trees, staring at him. As he stared back, it charged toward him.

Its speed was startling, and it closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. With its katana raised, it struck at his torso, causing him to jump backward and draw his own weapon. Though it was merely a bamboo pole, he could still cause some pain.

"Sie sind der Windstreikender," the man in front of him said. "Und jetzt werden Sie mich kämpfen, es zu beweisen."

He charged toward Einsamer again, this time swinging the sword around his back and upward toward Einsamer's head. He ducked to avoid the blade, and brought his pole up, clubbing the man in the back of the head and knocking him over. He instantly shot to his feet, smirking and dashing toward Einsamer again.

This time, he did not strike with his sword's blade, but instead caught Einsamer under the chin with the end of the handle, carrying him off his feet and throwing him back several yards.

"Sie können mich nicht töten. Ich bin der Unterbrecher vom Wind!" the man cackled.

A shiver ran down Einsamer's spine as he stood, slowly, a new power coursing through his veins and radiating from his body. He shot his head toward the man, his eyes blood-red and piercing.

He spoke in the language of which he had no knowledge, unaware he was doing so.

"Und ich bin der Windstreikender. Ich sterbe so leicht, Unterbrecher vom Wind nicht. Sie werden härter als das versuchen müssen, mich zu töten."

He charged at the figure, bringing his left arm around the man's. He struck the man's hand with his right fist, breaking his fingers and causing him to drop his sword. Einsamer picked up the man's sword, pointing it at him and smirking.

"Und jetzt sterben Sie."

The man ducked behind Einsamer, pulling his head back by his hair and whispering into his ear. "Sie sind an dieser Prüfung vorbeigegangen. Aber Vorsicht: ich werde hinter sein, Sie später zu töten. Keiner kann den Unterbrecher vom Wind töten!"

As soon as those words were said, the figure dissipated into the air, leaving his sword in Einsamer's hands.

"Ficken Sie den Unterbrecher vom Wind," he said, reverting to his normal state and continuing his run into the darkness of the first night of winter.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]

[I][FONT=Arial][SIZE=3][COLOR=RoyalBlue][CENTER]Third Chapter: Head and Heart[/CENTER][/COLOR][/SIZE][/I]

[COLOR=DeepSkyBlue][SIZE=2] The sun was just rising on the horizon as he stepped into the city, full of the ancient architecture that was Kyoto. He had been wandering for almost a month, and was starving.

He nearly collapsed as he neared the first building, a blacksmith's shop as far as he could tell. The sound of metal pounding on metal rang in his ears as he approached the door and rapped on the wooden frame gently with his knuckles.

A burly man opened the sliding doors, standing a head taller than Einsamer. He had a strong and mean face; however, benevolence somehow showed through in his eyes. As he looked down upon Einsamer, he let out a low grunt.

"What do you want?"

"I have been travelling for a month and a week. My sensei has been killed and I have been looking for shelter and food. Won't you help me?"

The blacksmith grunted again. "Come in. I'll get you something to eat."

"Thank you sir."

Einsamer entered the shop, marvelling at the swords all about, cluttered on the walls and on dissheveled racks all about him. He approached one rack, barely grazing a sword with the sleeve of his kimono. The rack instantly collapsed.

The blacksmith shot him a dark look as Einsamer nervously smiled and tried to cover up what he had done.

After he had feasted upon bread and rice, Einsamer stretched his weary limbs.

"You may sleep in the corner there," the blacksmith said to him as he pointed to a mat on the floor.

Einsamer nodded and went to the mat, lying down and sighing.

"Do you need a sword?" the blacksmith asked, his voice softening slightly.

Einsamer sat up, staring at him in surprise.

"You are a samurai without a weapon, no?" He nodded. "Then let me forge you a sword. You need it to protect yourself and to train. I should have it finished by the evening. Rest now; you deserve it."

Einsamer lay down, his eyes closing themselves. He drifted into sleep only moments later.


"Tatsumya!" he shouted. "Where are you, Tatsumya?" Frantically, he searched for his sensei.

"I am here, Kampfer-san."

He spun around to meet the dead, cold eyes of his sensei. "Tatsumya..."

She stood, naked and bloodied. Her head nearly fell backward as she stood, wobbling on her dead, bruised legs. "Kampfer-san," she said, coldly, "I am here."

He stared in horror as she drew her sword and charged.


"No!" he shouted as he awoke with a start. He looked around, but didn't see the blacksmith. From the open windows through which he could look, he saw that it had become dark while he slept.

A sword lay by his side, apparently the sword that the blacksmith had forged for him. He picked it up, drawing it from its sheath and holding it in front of himself, admiring its craftmanship. He sheathed it again, and went outside.

He fell to his knees as the smell of coppery blood filled his nostrils. He saw the source for the smell in front of himself as he stared in horror.

The blacksmith's body lay severed from his head. The head had been impaled with a pike and stabbed into the ground. In the blacksmith's chest was a small dagger, pinning a note to his dead body. The note was scrawled in blood, and was written in a foreign language.

He read, aloud, pronouncing the strange language as best he could.

[I][CENTER]"Diejenigen, die dem Windstreikender helfen, müssen sterben."[/CENTER][/I]

"What the fuck does this say!?" he shouted to the sky. "Why do they have to write in a foreign fucking language!?"

He clenched his fist, punching the ground as hard as he could. The wind picked up as he stood, rage burning in his eyes.

He headed to the north, where he had heard rumors of an evil coming to power.

As he walked, he didn't notice the insignias scrawled over every building in the small town: that of a red serpent with a man's head clutching a bleeding heart.[/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR]

[SIZE=2][COLOR=DeepSkyBlue][FONT=Arial]Ooh... A filler... Too bad. I had to do this; I had nothing else to write. I am strapped for ideas right now... However, this does open the door for another encounter or something.[/FONT][/COLOR][/SIZE]
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  • 2 weeks later...
[size=2][font=arial narrow]According to OB's [url=http://otakuboards.com/rules.php?][b]rules[/b][/url], you are not allowed to double post. I am going to edit your posts and combine them into one post. In future, please wait until someone replies before posting again. I suggest you take a look at the rules and the [url=http://otakuboards.com/faq.php?][b]FAQ[/b][/url]. If I find that you've double posted again, I will close this thread.[/size][/font]
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I like it. There's a lot that implies of a secret organization, or some such, and that adds to the mystery surrounding the samurai. I also like the language you use, German. I may be alone on this, but I love the wzy the German language sounds. So, of course, that was an instant hit with me. I don't know what could be improved on, save the blacksmith. You could have said the blacksmith had a "strong but benevolent face", which makes it more beleivable that he would go out of his way to help some stranger.
Thats it for me, anyway. I can't wait to see what happens next.
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