White weasel
A story based on a new character by Roger (on FA).
As the red sun slowly sank down to the horizon, the diamyo rabbit could only stare into the dimming light from where he knelt on a hill-top. His hands clasped in front of him, his back straight, tears slowly rolling down his face. Below, outlined by the bright sun, was the remains of a battlefield. Tens of samurai and scores of peasants lay in the blood-soaked fields. The tight ropes binding him to the standing stone post had left his limbs numb.
A faint whistling noise was all the warning he got before the world violently rocked and shook - tumbling around him. He could hear rain as his face lay in the cool grass, the colour fading from the world as pain built in his neck. The world going dark as his eyes grew glassy in death.
The ferret shinobi waited until the rapid spurts of blood died down, the rabbit's headless body slumping in its bondage. The last thing he needed was blood on his white fur. He smiled behind his face mask, realising he had managed to swing the axe without the rabbit foot's chain clinking and alerting his victim. One clean, swift cut and the diamyo's head was cleaved away from his soft body. Taking care to step over the bloody spots, the ninja reached down and lifted the rabbit's head by its top-knot and bundled it into a leather bag. It was all he needed for his reward. He left the body still bound to its post, for whatever scavengers or loyal survivors wanted of it.
Removing his scarf, the ferret cleaned the blood from his well-used (but well maintained) axe. The heavy double-headed blade had served him well for years now, and had tasted more than its fair share of blood. Most shinobi preferred lighter weapons, and used range or poison to avoid detection. But when you are a true master of stealth and dexterity, a war axe can still mean death from the shadows.
The ferret's eyes opened, the light sound of footsteps enough to wake him up. His heightened senses were trained for moments like this. He looked down from the branch he was lying on, seeing torchlight flickering through the dim moonlight of the forest. He carefully reached out for his axe and undid the silken rope that kept it bound to the branch beside him.
There were three of them, trying to follow the tracks he had left in the forest floor. Carefully, he shifted his weight to the edge of the branch and took firm hold of the thick wooden shaft. He waited until they were directly below before rolling soundlessly off the log.
The first samurai (recently made ronin) had no chance to react. The heavy axe cleaved through his skull and neck, almost slicing his torso in two before it finally stopped. His body broke the assassin's fall, the dry forest floor turning glistening black in the torchlight.
The second one, turning at the loud noise, saw only the butt of a wooden shaft as it struck him in the face. He fell on his back, stunned.
The torch-barer, a messenger, barely an apprentice, managed to draw his wakizashi and face the mystery attacker. He took a deep breath, prepared to call out to the others in the forest - before a thin rope wrapped around his neck, the weight at the end striking his cheek. He choked, losing his footing as the assassin pulled on the cord. The frightened rabbit could see the slow arc of the deadly blade as it swung, the ferret weilding it one-handed as he pulled on the rope with the other. It bit deep into the rabbit's side, the weight carrying it through his light armour, his guts falling freely onto the ground.
Hearing the stunned rabbit regaining his feet, the shinobi spun the axe free from his latest kill and brought it through the neck of the rising lagomorph.
One more head for the bag. And a rather nice sword from the messenger strapped to his back. Then another long night of walking to keep ahead of his hunters. Just another day in the life of a ninja.
"Hello brother"
The ferret lord froze, the familiar voice surprising him.
"Ah... so your mission was a success?"
The albino turned to stare through the open screen into the dark garden outside his bedroom, still unable to see his brother approach - until suddenly a dark-clad ninja stood before him. A heavy axe held behind him, while a bulging bag hung from his belt.
"The diamyo was killed. And so were his heirs. And so were half the samurai serving him."
"How tragic. You have proof?"
The bag landed with a damp thud on the stones.
"And that sword?", the white-furred ferret asked.
"It looked nice. Valuable. No family crest."
"Indeed...
"Please, brother. Rest. Drink with me"
Walking further into the room, the red-eyed ferret poured some tea and carried it over to the edge of the room. He was surprised to see his brother remove the dark silk cowl and mask, exposing the scarred and greying muzzle. He took the small cup, inhaling the rich aroma and sipping the tea. It was sweet - and bitter. Too bitter. Like -
He awoke strapped to a wooden X, his limbs altering him to their distress. He was on a raised platform, facing a large crowd of warriors. And his mouth was strapped shut.
Panic rushed through him. His brother - traitor! - had drugged him. But for what end?
Someone was speaking, but a loud ringing in his ears kept distracting him. There - a Kanko (or some other rank of noble). Reading a decree. And his brother, with the two heads at his feet, his face hidden behind a fan.
He barely had time to realise that he was a scapegoat before the frame he was strapped to fell, before the world spun around him and he saw a hulking form dressed in black leathers blot out the sun - the dark knotting pattern of his axe visible against the glare of the sun. A flash of steel, then the world took a sickening lurch. The sound of rain. Red eyes shining at him, as darkness spread over everything.