Treacherous as the Sea, Part 1October the 24th, 1568
The foggy mist of the Atlantic Ocean settled in over the streets of London. Few passed through the streets at night, and for good reason. The streets near the London port were very dangerous at night. Murders, rapes, and muggings were the most common of occurrences. However, none of these things could shake Ronin. The night was the only time he could walk freely through London and breathe the open air without worry. No one would ever look you in the eye while it was dark on the streets, and Ronin preferred it that way.
His simple hand made leather shoes slapped against the cobblestone as he walked. His large overcoat kept him warm on the chilly nights in town, but it also hid his sword from view. He once found a bowler hat and wore it to conceal his strange feathery hair and the tips of his ears. He stayed away from the lamps; his dark skin was not well received with the pale Londoners.
Ronin loved to walk the pier, looking out on the ocean with the moon
Ronin: JourneysIt was a long time before Ronin decided to write about his life. He kept a few small memories on parchments that he always carried with him. Ronin would never forget the two most important events of his life, when he was born and when he was named. He never found a reason why he should keep constant record of his memories until he realized that he didn't age like a human does. He has walked the Earth since 852 AD, and has not aged a day beyond his birth year. When the computer was created, Ronin foud an easier way to create and carry with him all of his memories. Those small bits of his life in the past were all he had as he roamed the earth in search of something more.
The year is 2007, and Ronin sat in his room to reflect upon recent thoughts and memories.
I always loved to fly. The cool crisp air against your face. The clouds under your wings. The endless blue of the ocean. How I loved to fly.
I would a
Ronin: Death23 years.
For twenty three years I stayed with old Haroshiro. His stories never ended. Every tale taught me something about him and his strange culture. The sense of honor among these people never ceased to intrigue me.
Of all the things he talked about, he never once asked me about my past or what I really was. I found comfort in that fact.
One night in the winter of 1068, old Haroshiro did not rise from his bed. I would always wait in the common room, waiting for tea and stories. This time, I went to him.
He laid there, half awake and coughing in dry heaves.
"I am dying, Ronin."
It was a statement I was most unfamiliar with. My eyes contorted in confusion.
Haroshiro coughed again, this time he spit blood into his washbowl.
"You must understand, Ronin. I am not like you. I am old and will soon leave this world."
The truth put my mind in a frantic state. What would I do without his tales and legends to keep me company?
I pulled a small vial from my pouch that glowed with a blui
Ronin: NamedIt was 852 AD when I came into this world. It was that cold winters eve that I lay bare on the floor, disoriented and confused. Feathers were strewn about the floor, and a dark shadow of a man stood over me. He called himself Master, and he called me servant.
I could not remember before that night, yet I had existed prior to that late evening. I lived in another body, another form, different from what I am now. Master told me I was his pet, his company on lonely nights a raven. He brought me into the form of Man to better serve his purposes.
I serve no ones purpose but my own, I thought.
I tried to escape, but Master was too powerful. I decided to wait and to learn.
Once I had learned all his powerful magic, I parted from him and roamed the world free.
For 196 years, I walked this earth with no name but servant.
After all that time, I found a name for myself in Persia.