Victor Kuroji

[Deleted]

[glow=blue,2,300]I Will Always Serve Blackfyre...[/glow]

Victor Tiemos Kuroji

Human
Age Unknown
Type B Positive
6’2”<br>189 Lbs.
Kuzest, Romania
Astraea Kuroji; Sister
General of Blackfyrian Army
Weapon Izestiphon
Icewater Eyes
Midnight Hair
Large Scar Across Small of Back


[glow=blue,2,300]Strength And Honor...[/glow]

Biography

Victor is very reserved and quiet, although he does find happiness in the happiness of his friends. There has never been a man more loyal to the cause of good than Victor Kuroji. He fights with a passion; born and raised a knight, he has since followed the virtues of chivalry, compassion, loyalty, self-discipline, justice, and freedom. A patron of the great war fought to bestow Blackfyrians with these free virtues, Victor has always remembered those who preceded him and stands loyal to the cause. One of the more powerful warrior-sorcerers of his age, Victor is one of the best raw hand-to-hand combatants in the land. Along with this is his veteran battle know-how and high intensity energy usage, which he has perfected since learning the techniques at square one. A gladiator at heart, Victor is often labeled a warrior for God, and many legends have been told of him not only about his presence at Blackfyre but of his adventurous tale of heroism, toughness, and tragedy. The Commander of the armed forces at Blackfyre, Victor is often seen in full battle dress, including his sword, Izestiphon, a deadly jeweled blade, upon his back. Everything about his appearance, including his temperament, demeanor, style, and personality are a reflection of his past and his one main goal: to serve the freedom of the Republic.


[glow=blue,2,300]We Mortals Are But Shadows And Dust...[/glow]

[Deleted]

[glow=blue,2,300]The Deadly Jewel[/glow]



The weapon above has been in the Kuroji family for generations. Bought centuries ago from a wandering merchant, the blade is indestructible, forged from a metal no one has ever heard of. It is exactly 5'3" from tip to hilt and nearly four inches wide.


[glow=blue,2,300]Sais of Attrition[/glow]



Victor acquired the two deadly weapons only recently. Re-making the design to incorporate the indestructible alloy used in his sword, Izestiphon, he now keeps them sheathed together, crossed over each other at his backside beneath his shirt or cloak. The sais are more often than not used defensively for trapping and disarming an opponent of his sword, but when used together, can become deadly in a very offensive way, and very fast might one add.

[Deleted]

Signature Techniques

Shihai Sun-Tougyo
Heaven's Hell
Metanoia
Yexen Sphere
Mind Link
Twilight Strike
Heartbreaker


Overdrives

Sanctity
Abyssal Ensanguine


Zions

(Unknown)


Victor Kuroji has long since been a powerful sorcerer. Sporting such techniques and attributes as Zao, the infamous demon-infested energy source used in conjunction with his Ki to make an already deadly arsenal virtually terrifying, magic, and, of course, his own inner Ki. For many years he has perfected his style of combat and studied the abilities that he has had (some of which that have been around even before he knew about them). The final result of Victor Kuroji is in the form of a great, energy-weilding warrior, one of legend, and true to Blackfyre itself.

[Deleted]

[glow=black,2,300]Shihai Sun-Tougyo[/glow]
Type: Energy/Manifested Power Source
Origin: Internal
Classification: Damage Varies; Offensive/Defensive

Years ago, a demon virtually inhabited the mind of Victor Kuroji. This demon, once upon a time named Iten by Victor’s father Kaleb. Iten is Japanese for ‘Demise’, and this was one of the only adjectives to describe the pain and affliction originally bestowed upon the victim of whomever the demon resided within and infested. A demon of the mind, Iten was, and banished to the unholy place it had come from only by a great psychic wave that in the same motion helped Victor not only win control of his own mind once more but begin to utilize the impressive power source that the demon had left behind. Classified as an energy due to its internal source point, Zao---Victor’s calling of it, a mystical ancient term---is at first glance anything but. For starters, it is the only known uncoded energy signal in the entire world due to its foreign orientation, utilized by Victor. Because of its mysterious and undefined denomination, Zao is literally untraceable, and undetectable. Victor has become adept at using Zao as a supplement and/or complement to his own energy, or even magic. Resulting combinations can lead to deadly stealth attacks and virtually impenetrable defensive/entrapment techniques. In addition to itself being undetectable, Zao reflects all foreign energy signals, subtracting from stealth but adding to usefulness and power. Because of this ability, Victor’s mind is impenetrable to invading psychic forces. Zao, as well, can be used in combination with another energy technique, as it has grown very stable in conjunction with Victor’s own energy signal, or used entirely separate. An energy in itself, Zao is not as powerful as one’s own Ki, but can be used to generate many an attack. Victor Kuroji has learned to wield Zao expertly, and can use it in hundreds of possible scenarios. Codenamed ‘Shihai Sun-Tougyo’, which is the name of an extinct ancient Japanese Goddess, Zao is one of the ultimate supernatural weapons a fighter can have within his arsenal.

[glow=black,2,300]Heaven's Hell[/glow]
Type: Zao Energy
Origin: Internal
Classification: Strong; Offensive (Status Effects: 1)

A very well-rounded technique spawned from Victor’s explosive Final Flash. With a very hot aura of the silver energy so associated with the former mercenary, a nexus of energy begins to form and shape between his hands. Almost invisible due to the same silver background, the real signal for the beginning of the technique is a bluish coloring to Victor’s pupils, which are, though originally blue, silver whenever his aura heats up. The attack is launched forth in a wave, beam, or blast, exploding into the opponent at terrifying speed. However, just moments before the explosive barrage of energy is released, an extreme, blinding white light surrounds the area and aura in the battlefield, for approximately three seconds, confusing the opponent and causing slight damage to any being’s vision. If the blast is repeated, a victim will be more than likely blinded. In conclusion, the initial light flash is followed by the attack itself, which can prove to be very dangerous.

[glow=black,2,300]Metanoia[/glow]
Type: Dark Magic
Origin: External
Classification: Harmless; Defensive

Metanoia, or molecular conversion, works in a different way than one might think at first glance. An unholy magic technique Victor was taught by his former sensei, the technique itself is more of a protection to the silver warrior and his aura than an offensive asset. The magic is gathered with a very unusual, undefined color, which can possibly be described as shadowy or transparent gray. Released in a sort of wave or wall and melting within or guarding in front of Victor’s aura, it seizes every last foreign external molecular particle making up an opponent’s attack (magical or any energy element other than internal ki) and literally reformats the structure and compound make-up of the molecule to match that of Victor’s aura exactly. Although the particles become unusable and disappear due to its external being, the transaction simply erases the attack, and can be very useful indeed.

[Deleted]

[glow=black,2,300]Yexen Sphere[/glow]
Type: Zao Energy
Origin: Internal
Classification: Deadly; Offensive

The infamous Yexen Sphere is indeed back, but with a terrifying twist. In setting up for the mighty sphere of Zao, Victor’s aura will be intensely powerful, exploding all around him. He will focus the Zao outward as it is both an external and internal energy source molded into one, although it must be aquired from within. Invisible and still undectable, the Zao will spread out through a certain area, much like Victor’s teleportation trick through the coordinate planes of Zao within the air. Victor will often lure an opponent into the sphere or trick a victim to just coming within range, and all he must do is focus the surrounding energy into a large sphere above and below ground, entrapping the opponent within. Due to the Zao’s natural reflection of inferior energy particles all foreign energy sources (or magic) is contained within the sphere itself, rendering teleportation impossible. A slight encounter with any foreign energy (in particular the opponent’s aura) will trigger a massive explosion that will simply obliterate every particle of matter within. More often than not many will barely catch a glimpse of the sphere before the explosion is detonated, due to the aura or energy signal given off the victim at the time of the sphere’s creation. If not, the sphere simply will implode in on itself in one massive explosion regardless of the energy sources within, or from an added burst of energy from Victor himself, which will disrupt the balance of energy particles that make up the sphere and cause the energy to be disrupted. The sphere can also be launched alternatively in the form of Heaven’s Hell only without the white light, in just a massive release of energy focused from Victor’s fists. The wave of energy will envelop and oncoming opponent in the form of an oval-shaped sphere and detonate that way. All in all, the Yexen Sphere is re-known as one of the most devastating techniques ever devised, and is legendary among Blackfyrian fighters as being one of the only entrapments an opponent simply cannot get out of without being destroyed.

[glow=black,2,300]Mind Link[/glow]
Type: Zao Energy
Origin: Internal
Classification: Harmless; Offensive/Defensive

The mind link works in conjunction with any special technique Victor is readying to assault his opponent with, such as Heaven’s Hell. As long as there is a good field of Zao to work with Victor has the ability to transport himself instantaneously to another coordinate within the Zao plane of energy. For example, if he were standing at point A with his aura exploding, and used the technique, he would be already at point B, as if he had been there all along, although not at point A any longer. The technique can be very useful as it puts the exclamation point on the delivery of an energy attack that will strike the opponent surprised.

[glow=black,2,300]Twilight Strike[/glow]
Type: Dark Magic
Origin: External
Classification: Strong; Offensive (Status Effect: 1)

As the spell is cast, the signature of blue eyes instead of the usual silver similar to the signature of Heaven’s Hell, one of Victor’s fists (or perhaps both) will become infringed with a shadowy magic, gathered within the arm itself, lacing from the knuckles to the high elbows. The physical punch Victor will attack an opponent with is brought forth with twice the speed of a normal man’s punch. The punch is described by a rippling sensation, or after-image of four fists striking the intended area, the first three fading away one after another before the real one strikes, all in the space of a moment or two, cloaked in a shadowy, transparent gray color, much like the Metanoia magic. The punch itself deals an incredible blow that will instantly break the bones of the exact area the punch struck. In addition, a peculiar side effect results---a spell involving a displacement of the magic embedding within the afflicted area and slowly spreads throughout the entire skeleton. Slowly, bone material and marrow is eaten, spreading, turn-by-turn, from the initially hit area.

[glow=black,2,300]Heartbreaker[/glow]
Type: Dark Holy Magic
Origin: External
Classification: Deadly; Offensive (Status Effect: 1)

A technique that has recently come into play in many of Victor’s fights, although rarely used in the past, is this one. One of the former mercenary’s deadlier magical abilities, it begins with an already explosive aura of energy and a sufficient amount of magic already gathered outside the perimeter of the supernatural power at Victor’s disposal. Raising both gloved hands, a huge, spiral-shaped web of red energy begins to form in the sky, covering a huge amount of the battlefield. A pillar of the same type of red, chain-linked energy, three of them to be exact, strike downward in a violent, explosive frenzy, causing a great crater to be created within the ground, in a violent, magical explosion. An opponent who has already taken quite a beating that is caught within the radius of the explosion is sure to be dissipated. The move itself comes in three phases, each pillar striking a different area around the opponent, or atop the opponent. Radiating out from the explosion, the red particles form several, rippling walls of waves, the excess magic enveloping the opponent, inflicting a very gruesome status effect: turn-by-turn, several veins and arteries within the victim are internally severed, leaving the blood within to bleed within itself and disorganize blood flow to and from the heart, also causing eventual, slow suffocation. The result of the distorted blood flow will cause the opponent to simply explode from the inside out, after exactly eight turns. Of course, this is only if an opponent manages to survive the initial pillar-like explosions…pillars that Victor Kuroji can direct. Deadly, powerful, and somewhat gory, the pillar-like explosive phase technique---dubbed ‘Heartbreaker’, rather modestly---is one of the most dangerous techniques ever devised and perfected.

[Deleted]

[glow=black,2,300]Sanctity[/glow]
Type: Holy Magic
Origin: External
Classification: Weak; Offensive/Defensive

Sanctity involves holy energy, white energy, white magic, or whatever one may choose to term it. White magic has been a part of Victor Kuroji’s supernatural arsenal for years and years, but has since been reduced to but a desperation attempt to send a greater attack back in the direction it had come. In the beginning of this technique, a long, swiveling, beam of energy of the whitest color will begin to formulate at the gloves and arms of the sorcerer, swirling around the body and torso. The magic is then amplified to great magnitudes, before being launched forth in the form of a beam or a wall. The type of white energy within Victor’s grasp has certain unknown, or abyssal, qualities to it, and it will neutralize any foreign energy within the air before him. Released into his own aura as well, the energy freezes and holds all energy molecules and particles that are foreign to Victor’s own ‘signature’, working in a similar but not as effective way as Metanoia, for the hold can only last but a few turns. While the molecules are ‘frozen’, they are considered neutralized, and cannot be utilized by its owner. After the magic is dispersed, the energy becomes usable again. Thus, Victor is given a chance to breathe, regain his composure, and attempt to re-cooperate.

[glow=black,2,300]Abyssal Ensanguine[/glow]
Type: Dark Holy Magic
Origin: External
Classification: Strong-Deadly; Offensive

As Victor's aura depletes and he grows weak and exhausted from battle, within his arsenal he can conjure one last, grandly devastating attack that can easily turn the tide and obliterate all opposition. The silver warrior will begin to focus his senses on the gathered magic about him, forming the massive, dangerous energy particles to all sides of his body. Red planes of darkened, red-tinted energy begin to form along either of his sides, and overhead, in a large, checkered spiral resembling a super nova in size. It does not take very long for the energy to grow extremely powerful, to the point where Victor himself is at the mindful control of every last bit. In a diameter of exactly a third of a mile, the enormous spiral overhead opens up within the center, forming a perfectly shaped black hole, and immediately every particle of foreign energy, potential and kinetic, is sucked up within the hole into nothingness, or the abyss, once a great source of power for Victor but now limited only to this terrifying magical technique. Following this great suction of energy particles within the given diameter, rendering an opponent completely powerless, from within the black hole comes forth an enormous, destructive energy wave glimpsed and recognized in part by its bluish-white transparent exterior and red, misty interior, explodes downward obliterating all forms of matter within the diameter originally created by the spiraled black hole. Victor, protected by the powerful barrier of red energy created at the beginning of the spiral’s ascension into the skies, then stands alone, his aura depleted, in the wake of desolation and destruction. Abyssal Ensanguine has only been used once, during the Great Cretian War many years ago, a long time before Victor’s arrival at Blackfyre. Since then, Victor has never been so weakened he was forced to use such a deadly, desperate technique, and he hopes that he never will.

[Deleted]

Excerpt from the journal of Victor Tiemos Kuroji
Dated XII, 1298

Darkness…silvery, silhouetted darkness…<br>
…And I could feel it, not just around me…I could see it, not just with my eyes…it filled my soul, and my mind. Composed have I been, until the moment when her luscious, tanned skin had taken on a black, charred coloring. Her irises, like wild flowers, clouded and diluted. Her long Mediterranean hair that once flew straight, silky, and wild, like a sail in a November breeze, now gnarled, taught, and smoking.

Reality was an endless stream of senses and feelings I had since taken for granted. Thousands of noises clogged my eardrums, from the small finches to the old oaks nearby…a desolate place to have to be destroyed. To have to be tortured with the vile flames of death. Violated…murdered in cold blood. Torn to pieces like a sacrificial lamb…eaten by the beasts of the Earth and sodomized by the demons of the dark fall. There was no anger…there was no remorse…there was not even any pain that I could vividly remember not even emptiness a feeling I or no other human being should have ever felt. It was a feeling of helplessness. And it grasped my insides like a great-gloved hand, holding them in a torturously loose but impassive grip that I knew would eventually drive me to the piers of insanity. My cloaked knees sunk into the river-bogged mud, which was no more mud than spilled blood, sweat, and tears. I felt my upper body sinking forward, and my head ducked beneath the stream. The water felt like wind, blowing a gently breeze from the southwestern side upon my face. I lifted when the liquid ran into my hazed eyes, and I let my palms drop, seeing the blood and black death running off, catching briefly in the hairs and then disappearing into the cold current. I could not lift my gaze, I could not bare it, and I knew that it was happening, something deeper and unknown would ail me if I glanced back, and I also knew that if I could barely manage to look the first time, I would collapse the second time.

Coming up upon the riverside shanty from the oak woods nearby, where I gave Samuel his hunting lessons come Autumn---we had just been ready to leave again, and I had been considering taking the boy on a pilgrimage with me to the vassal of Grimshaw, where I had recently acquired some work---I saw his body, or what remained of it, closer to the stream than hers. I spared it just a moment’s glance because Felicia’s was in my line of eye focus, and she instantly drew out the feelings I had felt the moment I had spotted the rising smoke from the Astor’s field yonder. Just a short glance, was all that was needed…his riding boots, one half on, emerging from the gnarled roots and marshy shrubbery along the river. His shins were also blackened…and…I could see…his left side…was gone…like the moon during the daylight hours…gone…or across the river…I do not neven wish to contemplate, and that was when I fell near my wife’s desecrated body. That was when I knew that my life would never be the same.

Her hand I gripped in mine own, blackened and without shape, and my lips fell to the dark tissue. I felt the first stinging tears, not of agony, but of the unknown. For a fleeting, panicky moment, I knew not for what was running down my face…I wished that I had been the blood flowing from my hands in the stream…I wished that it would carry me downstream and disperse me through the mystical currents. I could not move, not a foot nor inch. I would stay here for all eternity, or until the great Lord in all his mercy dragged me upwards into the sky.

And I hated it…I hated it…I hated the both of them…and hated myself…I hated my body, my mind, and my soul…loathed it…there was no will to move beyond. There was nothing but a great, blank emptiness that I knew would be the one thing in the history of our known world extended by the Romans would never heal in time. A rift had been created, a scar of unimaginable depth.

And darkness descended, yet I remained…I was invisible to myself, even when I saw her body lift in the arms of a strange figure whose face bore a slight resemblance to the man who had helped me become situated in these foreign parts…I had traveled with him, and he had taught me the ways of the Old Code…yet I could not place him. I could not place life. An endless stream of hatred, sorrow, hopefulness, helplessness, and desire flooded through every vein, artery, and cell. And then there was light, and this time my son’s body was no more.

And darkness continued to descend…but this time, the light would never again ascend. Never again.

[Deleted]

“Mama! Mama!”

He burst into the house, looking very thin and malnourished in the wide brown cloak. Winter had come to the far outlands of Kuzest, however, and it was not uncommon for mothers to bundle up their children to protect them against the elements. Nevertheless, the boy was no where near malnourished. He was young and wiry, like his father, and ate lean. They could not afford heavy grain and butter like the other families outside their land, he knew, especially with all of the debts his father owed the local Lord. He spent most of his time out of the harvest season running around in the woods with his older brother Raio, who was old enough to be annoying but young enough to still play with him. But they weren’t playing now, and Raio was not being playful at all. He was being annoying.

From across the room, the child’s mother looked upwards from the pots and pans she had been rattling. The barricade leading into the kitchen atop which his mother always prepared his favorite meals was directly across from the foyer of the large and spacious cabin. Victor had always hated that counter and its presence, because his Mama was always there, and whenever he came in yelling and his sister was asleep, she would look over that counter with a stern look on her face. It wasn’t always when Astraea was asleep either. Whenever he was in trouble, for instance, if one of his brothers beat him home to tattle tale, she would look up and over at him. He had gotten used to it. He would stop himself when she looked up and trudge silently upstairs to the room he and Raio and Thomas shared, no hatred for his mother but for that damn bloody counter. That counter, mahogany would. There was no escape.

Aisha Morsekyov, the classic example of a wealthy noblewoman entering the laborious life of a family of poverty out of sheer love for one man, married Kaleb Kuroji, a Japanese-Burmese traveler who had settled nearly half-way across the globe, ten years ago and had been living frugally ever since. Throughout those ten years she had gone back to visit her high family in Eastern Gaul every six or seven months. During those times of visit she had always seen herself a little less like them in every way from clothing and appearance to character and attitude, as well as zest for life. Kaleb had changed something about her, and while most women were very unhappy moving out of the luxurious life, she was not. She had her loved ones and a place to live, and a place in that life as a mother, a husband, and a seamstress to help earn an income. She, unlike the other women of neighboring lands, enjoyed the slow change from pillows to blankets to rags. At first she thought that she would eventually grow tired and fall out of love with Kaleb, but she had not. And she loved everything about their lifestyle. Her children were well-disciplined, responsible, contributive, and, of course, loved. Aisha had watched all of them grow older and each become accepting of the way they lived. What she loved most about all of them is their personalities and paths they pre-chose for themselves at early ages. None of them had to live this way forever. Not at all. She would see to it that they moved on. She had never really needed to take a whip to any of them, except Victor on occasion, who loved to tease the holiness out of his younger sibling, Astraea, with a field mouse he had caught or perhaps one of those garden snakes. Victor was different than the rest in many ways, but he was equally as disciplined and respectful of her authority. When he did not even stop as she looked up, her brow line thinned a bit, and she pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes.

"Hi, you…hush! Your sister!”

Victor paid no attention, storming through the living room and throwing himself through the air, landing in an six-year-old heap behind the sofa. He did not even look at his mother when he peered over the furniture, but at the doorway. Papa would be home in a matter of minutes, he thought. Drunk, maybe. Papa loved Mama when she gave him reasons to knock around his older brothers. Especially when they decided to be mean to him or his sister instead of playing nicely.

“He has a snake!” Victor cried, pointing fixedly at the door.

As if on queue, the third oldest boy in the Kuroji family stood in the door way, holding an overly large garden snake by the neck in his right hand. His other yellow-haired hand held the snake at the midsection. There was a teasing glint in his blue eyes, and Victor shuddered. He loved to play with the small ones, but Thomas told him once that bigger snakes were dangerous, some of them even poisonous. Victor’s father told him to stay away from poisons. If poisons could kill the rats out in the barn, they would surely kill him, he would say.

Aisha Kuroji put her hands on her hips, glaring at Raio from across the room. Raio, muscular and lean like all of the Kuroji’s but the only one save for his mother with blonde hair, stuck the snake behind his back.

“Raio…I am surprised at you…why are you not gathering the stove wood with Thomas and Kalen? And what on Earth are you doing with that…that…thing…?”

“Uh…hm…what snake, Mama?” Raio asked apologetically and half-heartedly, knowing he was defeated.

“She saw that snake, Raio!” Victor cried, pointing. “And Papa is going to beat you now. We will not have enough wood and we will be hungry tonight!”

Aisha, moving around the counter, rounded on him. “You hush!” She then turned and opened her mouth, but a smaller figure had appeared at the bottom of the staircase. There were rivets of tears running down her cheeks. Victor knew that she was not really crying. She liked to get everyone in trouble. Rae always did that. But he could not get in trouble…he was the victim this time, he thought.

“Now look, both of you. You’ve awoken your sister! Raio, I swear to---

But she stopped talking when a strong hand fastened around the snake in Victor’s brother’s hands and ripped it from his grip. In the same motion, there was a loud smack and Raio cried out as he was belted to the floor in front of the door. Kaleb Kuroji stepped in, a strong, muscular, balding farmer of fifty-two. His eyes were as icy as Victor’s own eyes, and there was little room for sympathy and soft-heartedness, especially when it came to matters like these. Kaleb very seldom spoke, especially after returning home from work. The Kuroji children were always mindful of their father, and spared him only a few glances as he wolfed down the dinner Aisha had prepared for him. In recent weeks, however, they had delayed dinner by perhaps an hour or more, as the stove wood had depleted and the three older children were required to cut some each night down at the river, where Old Belle lived. Kaleb never thought any of this. He was not a drunk who came home and beat his family. He was a strong, proud man who loved and honored his wife and family. But he was a very rigid man, and expected the most out of the little ones his loins had produced. The older the wiser, and the more that older child was punished, for he was the one to set the example. He went to work every day from dawn until dusk to support his family as best he could while they ate from their mother’s livestock and garden. Sometimes they stood up to their mother, but never their father. Ever. And Raio backed up along the split log floor, his eyes alert.

Kaleb Kuroji grunted, tossing the snake out the door and shutting it firmly behind him.

“Why are you not down at the river?” Kaleb asked quietly, his eyes meeting his wife’s for a second, and then falling down to his son.

Raio stuttered. “I…er…”

“You nevermind…get out.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Victor stood up slowly, moving over to join his mother and his sister. He kept his eyes lowered, trying to decide if he had done anything wrong. He couldn’t think of anything, but he bet his mother could. She was smarter than anyone, even Old Belle, who’s skin was so loose that she looked like a mummy.

Aisha sighed. “My love…Victor must go tonight too. He and Raio both woke Astraea.”

Victor looked up with wide eyes, searching his mother’s.

“Go on.”

He knew not to say anything. He left the house quickly, breathing deeply. He stubbed his toe on the rickety wooden porch outside coming down, and cursed. He would never curse in front of Mama or Papa. They would beat him to within an inch of his life. It was going to be a long night. And an even longer walk to the river. Victor sighed once more, kicking at a stone embedded in the ground nearby, and then walked under the canopy of trees to where Thomas and Kalen still were. Raio was just coming up on the, and he saw Kalen deliver a stiff blow to his younger brother, sending him splashing into the muddy river with an angry shout. He guessed they were mad at him for chasing him with a snake and leaving them to cut the wood. Victor heard the porch bang behind him, though, and turned, seeing his sister come amiably outside into the cold, bundled up. She took his arm and they started in silence toward the river, their shoes crunching in the hard rock-strewn dirt. Astraea was his best friend. There were no other kids---he had not seen another face his age for two years, and that was only because his father took him on a pilgrimage to Yusev down near Gromo.

“I’m sorry---

“Come on,” he said, and pulled her over the stream.

They walked onwards towards the river while his mother and father debated further punishment back at the house. Yes, it was going to be a very long night, indeed.

[Deleted]

Victor’s eldest brothers had always been sympathetic toward him, for reasons the young lad could not quite understand. He had felt the same expressions from his father. Not often his mother, but his Papa and older brothers, who had all been there and new the life they had resigned to living. There was no freedom here. The Kuroji’s barely had enough money to pay the rental fees on the plow and oxen used to till the fields beyond the forest on their few spare acres…acres that really belonged to Murdstone. The Lord of these lands was a great, arrogant, pompous, fat royal who ate out of silver china and literally owned everything the eye could see, from horizon to horizon. Due to the almost constant low-lying foggy weather, there were almost constant boundary disputes between Kuzest and its neighboring city-states. To solve these problems, Lord Murdstone and Keivelon, the dictator of Esteron, which was another empiric city-state far to the east, adopted the horizon-to-horizon claimant method.

Murdstone himself was not as jolly as he should be, Aisha told Victor one day several years ago when the two were in the garden, planting bean sprouts. He had laughed when she said that wealthy, obese fellows were almost always full of kindness. But this was untrue of Nathaniel Edin Murdstone. There was no remorse behind those cold, hard eyes. They would bore holes through metal, Victor knew. No remorse…nor was there mercy. For those who did not extend Murdstone what he had previously extended them (like shelter and temporary financial aid) were either cast off the land---the only ‘merciful’ choice, although most landless families either roamed and lived off the land until they were captured or killed by the bushwhackers or simply wound up starving to death---tortured and brutally beaten and given one last second chance with a spare amount of time for compensation, or simply destroyed. With many a nonchalant wave of his hand while consuming huge amounts of food, Kuzestian soldiers and hired mercenary cutthroats would be sent to a money-owing landlubber with the instructions to either collect the money and destroy something of value to set and example, or, if the person simply could not afford to hand anything over, kill him, along with his family. Kaleb Kuroji had been in grievous and steadily increasing debt over the past several years, the only thing keeping the fogs at bay being Aisha’s past nobility. Murdstone apparently held a heart for women of royalty---past or present---although as his taxes idled in his strong box, Kaleb grew more and more certain that the death squad would eventually visit his simple but comfortable house and lifestyle. Victor did not know it---his parents would never want to set him to thinking, as his young mind tended to do---but they were all in great danger.

It was in the same manner and for the same reasons why they did not want him knowing about the present situation that they felt sorry for his upbringing into the house of the poor Kurojis’. Kalen, Thomas, and Kaleb shared this sorrow with Astraea as well. They were both young and still had many years ahead of them. God willing, the coming confrontation---whenever it was to come---would be quick and would not end with bloodshed. Perhaps there was still a little heart left in the vile Lord of the manner. And even saying so, no one was sure exactly what was to happen.

“Tie ‘em up, mate,” Kalen said, turning around the pull his wheel barrel out from the muddy river embankment, where it had been stuck while he cut wood.

Raio retrieved his as well. His left eye had swollen frightfully and was turning a rich blackish color around the cheeks and forehead surrounding it. There was a quiet, subdued look on his pursed lips. He knew better then to mess around with Kalen, who was nearly twice as big as him and nearly as big as Papa, with huge muscles and great big, strong fists. Raio knew what was what, and it was just as simple as that.

Thomas, Victor’s other tall, wiry brother, retrieved the third wheel barrel and joined Kalen and Raio at the edge of the river. Victor himself, with Astraea standing by idling watching, her soulful eyes entranced by her brothers flexible, cat-like movements, quickly climbed atop each pile of wood and tied the ropes that held the slings beneath securely. When he was finished, his three brothers gathered the six piles and loaded up the barrels with the split logs. There was enough wood here to last them several weeks, as long as it remained dry. There would not be a problem with that, of course. The overhang outside, where Victor’s mother’s clothesline was strung between two sturdy maple trees, could stand up to most of the weather they were accustomed to seeing year round. After a few moments the Kuroji children headed back down the shadowy path through the forest. It had grown considerably dark, but there was light enough to make their way back home.

“Will Pa whop me one?” Raio asked, fearfully. His eyes had smarted, and he was rubbing his bruised eye with one hand while steering the barrel itself with the other.

“Think that eye was punishment enough,” Thomas said pointedly.

“Bullocks.”

Raio shut up for the time being, and they continued on through the thickening dusk. Victor looked up. He could only make out bits and pieces of the sky here---the canopy of oak was that thick---and he could tell instantly that the day was dwindling. It was not the fact that it was almost supper, or that they had been sent to chop firewood, or that the day had already had a morning since he had helped Papa with the chickens out back. The rich blue associated with a winter sky in Kuzest had been replaced with a dark, lightly silhouetted sapphire color known only as the ‘final blue’, his Mama sometimes called it. ‘Final blue’ was the last color of the sunset. It was the bridge between the sunset and the twilight.

[Deleted]

Kalen suddenly stopped short, dropping his barrel. He turned his head back toward the trail that of which they had traveled up from the river, brushing a wisp of black hair from his eyes.

“Hell…Victor, go back and see if that trap is back in the water, eh?”

Victor nodded obediently, and took off at a run, grabbing his sister’s hand. Astraea groaned slightly, but kept up the face and followed him back down the steep hillside, both of them being careful to avoid sharp ditches and holes that could earn either or both of them a broken foot. Along with a great amount of wood, they were taking home three medium-sized striped trout. Kaleb had set up a unique, iron trap that he placed in the shallows of the river near to the area where the Kuroji’s had cut their wood. He had gotten the trap from an Asian merchant who had set up a business in Gromo. It was designed to lure a fish inside the cage via a top ventilation shaft by the smell of food, which they replenished every two or three days. The cage was wide but not high enough for the fish to right itself vertically and escape through the shaft after its meal. It was Kalen’s responsibility to bring back any caught fish as well as put more feed in the cage and then put it back in the water. He had either done so or just forgot…the day’s weariness had taken its toll on the tall, well-built elder Kuroji brother. After a few moments, the three of them picked up their barrels and continued down the rocky trail. Victor knew these lands like their home, and he had always loved and protected his sister. He would make it back just fine. Meanwhile, they had wood to bring back to the house.

“He will be all right?” Raio inquired, turning a defeated gaze to Kalen.

Kalen scoffed. “Why would he be not? He knows these forests better than you or I…and aside, it is only down the path yonder.”

“Yes. I suppose.”

“Thomas, do you think---

“Yes.”

The sureness greatly overbalanced the annoyance and irritation in Thomas Kuroji’s quiet, firm response. Apart from him being different then the rest of them in appearance, Raio was most tiresome vocally. Often he asked one person something, and if he got an answer that he either did not agree with or was uncomfortable reasoning with, he would immediately confer with the closest person for a second opinion. It had started when he was really young and had been a personality trait he had never grown out of. Raio had been punched before. He was not a tough warrior like Kalen or father. He could be strong and brave when he needed to be, but he was easily and almost, on his part, passively negated. The punch was nothing new. He knew why he had been punched, but he could not help himself.

Kalen began to whistle. They were almost home. It was quiet out here, and very cool. So quiet that the three of them could hear the slight rattling of pots and pans as their mother worked in the kitchen, preparing the meal that would be cooked at last, now that the firewood had been procured.

“Fifer’s a marchin’, and these old Christian soldiers come before ye’.”

Kalen’s voice was deep and baritone. It hurt, though. Possibly a chill or fever. He would work it off. He switched back to whistling as they entered the yard from the rear. He glanced backwards, looking over Thomas’s leathery shoulder, to the dark path that they had just come out from. Victor would be along soon, he knew. The young ones knew enough stories about the bushwhackers---thieving marauders who caught helpless woodsmen and held them at ransom, a ransom money Murdstone usually did not waste time and money trying to pay---for them to keep their eyes open all of the time and not stray too far from home. Kalen had been thinking of both Victor and Astraea lately, as if their future was all that mattered now. Sometimes the wise, older Kuroji brother thought this might be so, but they could not all live like that. There was some purpose. God had his reasons, though they were taught that He had no need to explain Himself. Yes…they would do what they had to do, and he would do his best to help his mother and father raise Victor and Astraea and somehow set them apart…give them freedom. One day Kalen would have to speak to Victor, as he knew his parents never had the time nor patience. They were too concerned with reality, and the present struggle with survival. In fact, tomorrow, they were going to till, and they would have a few hours alone to spend some quality time. He would speak to his brother then.

But he didn’t. Kalen did not speak to Victor the day after, nor the next day, nor the day after that. Neither did Thomas or Raio.

They never saw Victor Kuroji again.