F r e e f a l l
From the top to the bottom
Have you ever experienced a feeling so
strong you wondered if it was even
real? Have you ever felt yourself so elated, you wondered if it could really exist? Have you ever fallen so far, so deep, spiraling into a lacuna of a reverie, one which you were certain you would never get out of?
I have. The feeling is much like a quick burst of euphoric joy - one moment, you're on cloud nine, heck, you're on cloud ten, eleven, and twelve for that matter, and the next, it all falls apart. One moment you're doing great, superb, and the next, everything you thought you knew was swept away in a matter of moments. I've seen this, and experienced it many times. When I charged onto the battlefield, sword in hand, high on adrenaline, ready to
go. You think the battle is only a few seconds, as it whips past you, with others hacking away, and charging at you from every direction. And then, it's over, and only corpses litter the grounds. You're standing there, staring out into the expanse of fields, once green and fertile, now bloodied and bruised. You realize your sword is tainted with your enemies blood, and that your clothing has taken on a rouge colouration. And it's all over.
B l o o d b a t h
Bottom to top I stop
My name is Niaraw - I am not like most you'll meet, nor like most you will forget. I have been saved from death, and even brought back to life if you can believe it. Though, that is hardly a plausible explanation, as I have been dead for as long as I have lived. I have come close to death so many times, it sometimes seems to be the only constant in my life: when there is nothing else to depend on, I can always be sure the grim reaper is hiding in the shadows nearby, waiting for his chance to pounce. He has come close many times, but only a few times was I ever in danger of dying. I am a vampire by birth, and a samurai by decision. I will not easily be killed, and I'm certain death knows that. But he continues to wait, for he has all the time in the world.
I have many stories I can tell, tales I can weave and memories I can dig up. However, I think I tell you about how I came to be what I am today. About how I viewed the world when I was young - far, far younger than I am now.
The skeletons are dancing in the closet
All vampires have a weakness: a point where they can be hit, or a certain way they must be killed. When a vampire is born, those nearest them are given the task to find how it is they can be killed. Sometimes an enemy discovers the secret before a friend does, and the vampire is slain only days after its birth. In this sense, Niaraw was fortunate; his mother and father strived to find how it was he could die. It was by a sword.
Because of Niaraw's weakness, how it was foreseen he could be slain, he took up the sword years ago - near the end of the Kamakura era, it was when Niaraw was born. He was born in the year 1315, and began working through the ways of the sword at the age of eleven. As his mother had predicted, his death would only be acheived through the blow brought on by a samurai, and so, he worked at learning how to use the sword so that he might defend himself. In the year 1333, the Kamakura era ended, the Muromachi era began, with it, bringing the samurai's influence. For many years, Niaraw continued to work on perfecting his skill, oftentimes coming quite close to dying various times.
Quite quickly, the training simply to protect himself became something more of an obsession. Born to poor parents, Niaraw had never had many qualls with sowing the fields, and living a quiet life, only grabbing a bite to eat once in a while. He was fairly certain his family felt the same, however, he began to strive for more. He wanted to be stonger, better, faster. Suddenly, the life he was living wasn't as great as it had been once. Niaraw needed more. He wanted power, fame, fortune - everything he knew he would never acheive with his current life.
At the age of 25, Niaraw set out, leaving his small village behind, in search of someone who would employ him, which he knew would be easy. It was the Muromachi period, after all - all the states were warring, and everyone needed more men for fighting. Niaraw was quickly hired, despite his lack of experience. He had felt confident he could best the others. He knew he was stronger, better, faster - he would win many battles, and make everyone wish they were him, with they were as good as him.
Unfortunately, this didn't happen. After stepping onto the battlefield, Niaraw received a wound to his arm and calf, though not fatal, made it impossible to fight. He was nearly trampled, and was almost left behind when the battle had begun to ebb. He had lain there, almost dead for the duration of the battle, and was almost dragged away at the end. It was a humiliating start for him. Following that, he vowed he would train harder, train more, so that no one would ever be able to even get near him with their sword.
Granted, it was probably the most foolish thing Niaraw could have done: he was literally setting himself up for death. The only way to kill him was with a sword, and he was risking his life. But he felt the close brush he had with death was nearly intoxicating - he could come so close to dying, to losing his life... it was better than anything he ever felt. And so, he continued training, pushing himself harding, and stretching his limits. He fared considerably better the next time he stepped into battle, receiving a few wounds, but certainly, nothing nearly as fatal.
For years, he continued fighting, honing his skills, and working at perfecting his technique. He strived to be the best, to be the greatest there ever was. If he caught wind of someone who was known for their skills, anyone who was hailed as exceptional, he sought them out, hungry for not only blood, but battle as well. Soon, his life revolved around fighting and drinking - blood and battle.
Twenty years had passed, and Niaraw had finally decided that it was time to visit his parents, to see how they had been faring. It was then he'd realized how far he had strayed from his little village, and going 'home' took weeks. When he finally arrived there, he found his parents, dead. They had been like that for a considerable amount of time. When he left the hut where they'd lived, he examined the rest of the village. Not a soul was left. He buried his parents bodies, and was about to leave when a man from the government happened upon him leaving the village. The man assumed Niaraw had murdered the villagers, and attacked him. Niaraw, surprised, defended himself, killing the man. The reinforcements arrived, and they too were slain by Niaraw's hand. He fled the scene, leaving the government men's bodies mingled with those of the village.
For years, Niaraw sought out those who had killed all of those residing in the small village, but could never find enough information on what even happened there to make any theories. After years of searching, and wandering through Japan, he found a new employer, and continued his training. He would stop at nothing to be the best.
Years passed, eras changed - the Muromachi period became the Azuchi-Momoyama period. The Azuchi-Momoyama period became the Edo period, and the days of the Samurai began to fade. In 1868, the feuding states were no more, and the samurai class obliterated. The years of the samurai were over, but Niaraw never forgot them. He continued living, and to this day, continues to live and feed off others. With his years of training and battles, few have come close to killing him - with the end of the Edo period came any definite way to slay him.
Nothing is definite in the world, with of course, the constant reminder of death, and how I know it. It's a wonder I've managed to survive this long, using false aliases and fake names. My true name is now long forgotten, for it would do me more harm than good to remember it; so I simply remain as I am, thinking of myself as Niaraw, but telling others quite a different story...
And I think I might know why
I can feel the numbers burning holes in the back of my head, while I try to sleep. I sit up, seeking out the bright, red glare of the digital clock by my bedside.
It flashes. 5:09.
5:09.
5:09.
Nine minutes after five in the morning. That is no time for a vampire to be awake - it was time to fall into a blissful slumber, dreaming about anything one's mind might conjure up for the day. The previous day, Niaraw had dreamt of his thirst, dreamt of not bothering to hold back, and drink the mortal dry. Soon, the thirst would become far too strong to bear, and he would begin to feel angry, and hot tempered (well, moreso than he usually was). When he was at the peak of his thirst, he would become violent and tempermental, out for blood and gore. During the era of the warring states, Niaraw had often used this to his advantage - he would allow himself to become crazed and angry, pushing himself as far as he could go without drinking anything. The violent state made fighting even more exciting; with all the hate and anger coursing through his veins, his sword moved faster, and his attacks less careful and calculated. He knew he always took a gamble by fighting during extreme thirsts - one man had come quite close to stabbing his heart, and instead managed to miss it by mere centimetres. It was all a thrill to Niaraw, however. Attack, defend, counterattack - it was all so much more exciting when he was there, fighting.
And how he missed those days. It was no longer the Muromachi period, nor even the Azuchi-Momoyama period, when the era of the warring states finally began to wear down, but the Heisei era: one without fights that required swords or samurai's, one that followed the abolishment of the Samurai class in the Edo period. No, now guns replaced swords, and Niaraw had little use to ignore his thirst. If he did, the consequences would most likely de dire. He would be prowling the streets at night, when the thirst got the best of him, and he didn't hold back. He tried not to kill his victims - there would simply be too many questions and suspicions - but when he went for days without listening to it, little good resulted in it.
A sigh escaped the vampire's lips, as he began pacing in the room. There was little for him to do, but wait until the sun began to show. When it did, a great tiredness would wash over him, and he would (hopefully) begin to sleep. After pacing for a few more moments, his gaze flickered to where the clock was. 5:12, was all the clock read. A low, vicious snarl followed his sigh as his pacing became more frantic. His hands shook, twitching in unconstrained nervousness. He clutched at his left hand with his right, willing them to stop their infernal shaking. He crused under his breath to himself, continuing the pacing, hoping it would tire him. Nothing.
A glint of steel caught his eye, and he turned to see his one katana, Sango Ryuu sitting there innocently. A smirk made its way across the male's features, settling there for a moment as he gazed up his sword. His katana had been fashioned for him rather recently - in the last hunderd years, in fact. In the time, it had been excruciatingly difficult to find one to replace his old blades, which had become rusted and dull from use. He bent down, picking up the sword, grasping the tsuka lightly in his hand. The tsuka was slightly worn, and the white was not as clean as it once was. He stood up slowly, stretching out his legs, shaking out the kinks in them. He looked around the motel room he'd gotten, weighing his katana in his hand as he surveyed the room. He sighed, and set the katana back down beside his bed, deciding that now was as good a time as any to try and get some sleep. Surprisingly, he did.
Nighttime. It had been only moments since he had awoken from a blissful slumber, where he dreamt of the good old days (for lack of better term). He had gotten dressed in his favourite pair of jeans, which were rather worn and frayed in some areas. He hardly minded; it wasn't like he was poor, of all things. From all the years he had lived he had managed to scrape together a bit of money. A small robbery here, a sale of this there, and he'd made quite a bit. Of course, having lived for so many years, he had acquired many skills that made it relatively easy to move through his life. After a good few centuries, he had begun to study under a rather well known togishi, a blade polisher. After finding how vital it was to have a good, sharp blade (and how tedious it seemed to be to bring his weapons to a togishi), he had come under the tutelage of a rather old, but kind man. After that, he studied in various areas, learning little bits of information here and there, and once even considered becoming something of a historian (as he knew of many events from firsthand experiences.)
Niaraw smirked to himself, checking his reflection in the mirror; he supposed he looked decent enough. He'd pulled on a sleeveless shirt, and wore a silver cross around his neck, a masterpiece in itself. Small, fake diamonds were inlaid in the piece, and small, intricate details could be seen if you peered closely enough. He wore his black and red runners, though he much preferred the combat boots (even if they weren't as easy to run in). He strapped his one katana to his side (as he rarely carried all his swords with him these days), checking that he had his tantō strapped to the inside of his leg. As he made his way towards the door, he grabbed his long, black and red trench overcoat, as a last thought. It might get a little chilly outside, as the weather had slowly been cooling down recently. And he wanted to keep his colour theme of red and black (also know as gore and death) going - the colours seemed to work well on him, as well.
Soon enough, Niaraw found himself standing amongst the other people, the other humans who prowled the night clubs at night. For a few moments, he leaned against the counter of the bar, taking in the sights, sounds, and more importantly, who would be his victim. It only took him a few minutes to spot her; a lone female, with dusty blonde hair, and a rather sullen look in her eyes. He could clearly see that she wasn't in the best of moods - he was assuming she had been stood up by a date, or had escaped to the night club to get away from a cheating boyfriend. Whatever the case was, Niaraw could see that she needed comfort. He sneered to himself, for she would receive anything but - some false kindness and pretend smiles, a loss of a bit of blood, and no memory of the night. It would work out quite well.
He walked over to the woman, who appeared to be moping at the one end of the bar. She looked to be about twenty years old or so, which meant she was well over the drinking age. Perfect. He smiled charmingly at the woman, standing near her. "Est-ce que se peux je repose ici?" he asked,
May I sit here?. Her eyes skimmed across his form, as if lost in thought. He smiled once more, trying again. "Est-ce siége occupé?" he queried, asking if the seat was taken. Finally, a response was seen from the woman as a her mouth formed a small 'o,' and she blushed furiously, pulling her bags off the seat, and setting them beside her own chair.
Ah, non, non, monsieur, il n'est pas," she stuttered, her blush slowly fading as she returned his smile.
Bien, bien," Niaraw replied good naturedly, with a wave of his hand. "Monsieur, excusez moi, monsieur?" Niaraw shouted to the bartender, a rather pudgy man with a stout appearance, and thick fingers that resembled sausages. A mop of wiry, brown hair looked as if it had wandered along his head, and settled itself there. Had the man's frown not have been so deep, nor his arms as tatooed as they were, his appearance may have been comical.
Oui, monsieur?" The man asked, frowning. Niaraw supposed it hadn't been very well-mannered to simply shout for him, but he hadn't a clue what those in Québec called their bartenders. He knew that what he called a mechanic was called a machinist here, but in French. His French was decent, but not quite French that was made to be used in Québec. Niaraw ordered a drink for himself in French (as few this far north of the Ontario_____________________________________________________________-Québec border spoke much English), inquiring to what the woman would like, ordering that as well. After the bartender had left, Niaraw turned to the woman.
Parler-tu anglaise?" He asked, hoping that she might speak English, as it came far easier to him than French did. Granted, his Japanese exceeded all the other languages he spoke (which included English, French, and a bit of Cantonese).
Why, yes, I do," she replied at last, this time in English. She looked down at her nails, causing her strawberry blonde hair to create a shield between her and Niaraw. She fidgeted with her hands for a few moments, pushing back the cuticles on the fingers in her left hand before brushing her hair aside, this time giving Niaraw a warm smile. "I am Éloise Barclay, and you, sir?" The last portion of her sentence was spoken with a flourish, as if she were one who was accustomed to making a good appearance only moments after having met them.
I would be René Craig, Éloise," he replied smoothly, picking two names he favoured when visiting Québec. The first name, of French origin made sense when visiting Québec, and the last name of Craig (which had Gaelic roots) made it interesting to fabricate stories about his Scottish and Welsh ancestors (which had never quite existed). He'd sometimes be stopped when he told them he had Welsh roots, as he certainly didn't look Welsh. He'd simply say that his mother had been Japanese, and had moved to Canada, meeting his father there as well. They had lived in Québec for some time, and he was then, of French, Welsh and Japanese descent. It worked well enough.
Éloise giggled to herself, covering her mouth with her hand (which, Niaraw noticed, boasted perfectly manicured nails, with a hint of gloss shining on them). Niaraw smiled warmly, and ?loise looked at him with a more serious, but open -disallowed_word- his face almost as bright as his hair) strode over to Niaraw, his steps long and menacing. "She owes me a lot of money, and I swear if you killed her-"
Mes affaires font mal au cu|," Niaraw said boredly, asking the other man to mind his business (well, with a few choice words thrown into the mix), cutting off his speach. The other man growled threateningly, and at this, Niaraw laughed, which caused the man to become even further enraged.
Je n'y crois pas!" The man declared.
I don't believe this!
T'es reulou," Niaraw informed him.
You're annoying. "What is it you find so difficult to believe?" He queried, standing up slowly, his hand moving to his sword.
Oh no you don't," the other man hissed, pulling out a gun, and pointing it at Niaraw. "That woman owes me a decent amount of money. If I find you've killed her, you'll be the one paying off her debts, got it?"
Je m'en fiche complètement! Con, she's not dead! Look at her, she's still breathing," he said, moving his head in the direction of the woman. Indeed, he hardly cared if the man was short a bit of cash - if the idiot decided to come after him, he was rather confident little would happen. The gun could be a problem (and he was unsure if the man had any other weapons, or friends waiting, so treading lightly sounded like the best option. However, tonight, after getting a good meal, he was pumped, and ready for some sort of action. It was boring just standing around.)
N'en rajoute pas!" He warned Niaraw.
Don't push it! He bent near the woman, and knealed slowly, keeping his eyes on Niaraw, and his hand on his gun, with his finger on the trigger. Niaraw doubted he had the safety on. He checked the women's pulse, fingers roving over her neck, a small frown flickering across his features before nodded slowly, and standing up. He kept the gun level with Niaraw's heart, and backed away slowly. "You're lucky," he said, with a vicious grin. "Very lucky."
Too bad you're not," Niaraw said, and leapt forward, unsheathing Kin Kasumi, taking a few large steps, so he was standing at the other man's side, his single katana pressed against his neck. "In a sense, you're fortunate I only have one sword with me. However, as I'm sure you've guessed, I'm a vampire, and after we drink, our power skyrockets. I'll have something similar to a buzz for the next hour." With those words, he laughed, and the other man gulped. Niaraw could see his eyes in the close proximity, bright silver ones that looked anything but relaxed. His face was composed, and his breathing was slightly steady (allowing himself a few frightened gasps every once in a while). He obviously had practice with making himself look calm and collected when he was anything but.
I'll make you a deal," the man said at last, seeming to be gathering his wits as he tried to formulate a plan. "You don't kill me, first," he said, choosing his words. Niaraw hissed in annoyance and impatience, pressing the blade closer to his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. "What is it you want anyways?" He asked, clearly flustered now.
Violence," Niaraw said with a grin, allowing him a little laugh. "This era is boring; the only peace is on the other side of the pond," he continued in a bored tone. "What's one like me to do?" He continued, yawning widely.
How about this. I mentioned that you refrain from killing me - how about you work for me? I tell you who, you have your fun, and you make some cash?" He was clearly grasping at nothing, trying to strike up a deal that we both knew wouldn't work.
I liked him.
I'm no common criminal, nor will I lower myself to be some petty yakuza yojimbo," he said, disgust lacing his every word. He? A hired hitman? "How about this? I don't kill you, but we see how long you can hold out." Niaraw stepped back, returning the katana to its saya, and unbuckling the belt that kept the saya secured to his waist. He held out the belt, and set it on the ground. He kept the tantō, not trusting enough to be completely unarmed - old habits died hard.
You expect me to believe you won't go too far?" He laughed, his throat raw, and hoarse from the blade being pressed against his throat for so long. "I stand no chance against you. We both know it. How much do you plan on toying with me before you grow bored?" He asked, each word uttered with more loathing than the last. It was clear to see he disliked finding opponents far more powerful than himself.
You don't," Niaraw said simply. "You've no reason to trust me," he said with a wide grin.
Sounds like it," the man replied grimly. He distanced himself from Niaraw, moving back towards the entrance of the alley. Niaraw grinned at his feeble attempt to escape, and closed the distance between the two, and took a quick step, lashing out with a spinning hook kick, catching the other man in the chest. He stumbled back, coughing as he tried to catch a breath.
This is no fun," Niaraw complained, waiting for the other man to fall back into a lax fighting stance, holding his fists in front of him, looking a bit more prepared than he had been the first time. "Come on, at least try to attack, or fight back," he taunted, hopping on the spot, keeping his guard up all the while. Rolenq snarled in response, but kept his anger in check, keeping a cold, calculating eye on Niaraw. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, and he suspected the worst. Niaraw lunged once more, moving his leg to make it look like he'd strike with a roundhouse kick, and dropped it at the last second, and jumped up, striking at Rolenq's jaw with his fist, and following that up with a quick strike to his cheek. Rolenq managed to evade the strike to his cheek, blocking it, and attempting a counter with a punch. Niaraw laughed, catching him off guard, and struck with a simple front snap kick. Rolenq managed to push it aside with a crescent kick, and counterattacked with a punch, lunged at Niaraw.
Niaraw was rather disappointed to say that Rolenq managed to land a hook kick right in Niaraw's abdomen. Niaraw scrambled to catch his breath for a few moments, retreating a bit. He laughed, his laughter coming out in short gasps, and he had to clutch at his side, trying to get a decent gulp of air. "You actually got me. Do you know how long I've waited for someone to appear that might be this fun?" He laughed once more, a vicious, feral grin flickering across his features. "Say I refuse your offer, but out of interest, why would you need someone like me to take out a few punks?"
Business is business," he said between gasps of air. "So-
So you
are like a little yakuza gang in Québec! How ironic!" Niaraw chuckled, Rolenq's angered -disallowed_word- knowing fully well that even if Niaraw
hadn't whupped him, that if he said he'd had, he was certainly intimidating enough for others to believe).
How about I agree to it, but you'll return the favour? Someone's bothering me, go have some fun. Do what vampires do best, hmm?" He was still trying, and Niaraw admired the courage he had (and not to mention the foolhardyness of dealing with a vampire. Niaraw, like all vampires, tied themselves to no one, and worried only of themselves. Some gathered in groups, and stuck together, but after a few hundred years, they oftentimes grew tired of one another).
Deal," Niaraw said, with a wicked grin. He stuck out one hand, and Rolenq grasped his hand quickly, and shook it.
Deal."
S a m u r a i
At the core I've forgotten
Niaraw began studying the style of the Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū, exploring much of Musō Shinden-ryū at the time. He began studying the iaido ryu style, but soon began to the Battojutsu style, which contrasted as it focused more on cutting and slashing, as opposing to the iaido ryu, which focused on drawing and sheathing.
Niaraw's technique focuses on the element of surprise, and encompases speed and strength into his attacks. He is rather light on his feet, and has a rather light build, which he uses to his advantage to strike quickly and defend if needed.
Niaraw began learning with an O-katana; a Tachi he had stolen from a government official. He soon abandoned his O-katana in favour of a wakizashi, and soon came in possession of an Iaito to practice with. After setting out to learn more about the art of swordsmanship, Niaraw acquired a new wakizashi, two katanas, and an odachi. His wakizashi was named Yaso Yuki, meaning Calm Snow, due to its colouration. Yaso Yuki is a sword that is completely white, with the exception of the bits of red on the tsuka. His one katana is named Takeshi Suzume, which means 'Brave sparrow,' due to its light weight, and ability to 'soar,' as Niaraw likes to say. Both his katanas are white, with bits of red on the tsuka. His other katana is named Sango Ryuu, which means Coral Dragon. His odachi is named Kin Kasumi, which means golden mist, and is white with bits of silver in the tsuka. All of his blades have identical crossgards, a swirling spiral that encircles the blade.
W o r d s o f W i s d o m
In the middle of my thoughts
In much of Niaraw's history, there are a lot of words and terms that are extremely important. Era's, periods, weapon names - all have a certain meaning that I think need to be explained even a bit.
Battōjutsu (抜刀術) - Battōjutsu focuses on cutting techniques, and techniques often involve drawing the saya back and the sword forward, allowing the wielder to begin and complete the cut faster than would otherwise be possible, generally half to three quarters of a second.
Daishō (大小) - The katana and wakizashi together is called the daishō (which literally means big-small), and were the traditional weapons used by the samurai. Only those of the samurai rank could use the daishō set, and it was a symbol of their rank, and came into use during the Muromachi Period. The two swords could be used together as a variant of fighting, though this could slow a samurai's speed, and would require extra training to use.
Iaido Ryu - Iaido Ryu is the way of drawing a sword, and trains the motions of drawing the sword from the saya (scabbard), and striking or cutting the opponent.
Katana (刀) - A curved, single-edged Japanese sword that came in use after the 1400s. The katana is usually seen paired with a wakizashi, and sometimes worn with the tantō The katana was used for man-to-man combat.
Kodachi (小太刀) - The kodachi literally means 'small or short tachi' in Japanese. This tachi was too short to be a long sword, but too large to be a dagger. It could be drawn and swung quickly due to its size (It was 2 shaku in length, which is roughly 2 to 2.7 feet long). It could also be used as a shield, while using a hand attack with the other hand. The kodachi is much like a wakizashi, but differs in the way it is made.
Musō Shinden-ryū (夢想神伝流) - A form of Iaido, Musō Shinden-ryū can be traced to the originator of Iaido, Hayashizaki Jinsuke Minamoto no Shigenobu. This discipline grew in the Edo period, and continued throughout the years.
Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū - Now one of the most widely practiced forms of Iaido in Central Japan, Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū means "Peerless, Direct Transmission, True-Faith Style." The Eishin-ryū has a history of 450 years, making it one of the oldest forms of Martial Arts in all of Japan. Musō Jikiden Eishin-ryū has many notable characteristics, including large overhead cuts. The sword is executed with the cutting edge pointing upwards during the entire resheathing session, and is simpler when compared to Musō Shinden-ryū.
O-katana (太刀) - A katana slightly larger than a regular katana - the O in the name indicates its length, as it means great, or long in Japanese. These blades were more common between the years of 900 and 1530, usually made for a person of great stature (In Niaraw's case, he had stolen the sword from a well-respected government official).
Wakizashi (脇差) - The smaller of the two weapons used by samurai, a single-edged sword used for closer combat than the katana. The wakizashi is a shōtō blade (that's one to two shaku in length, a measurement for measuring Japanese swords). The wakizashi is much like a katana, but smaller in size, and usually longer than a kodachi.
The Japanese Periods
All the periods are relavent to Niaraw's story, as each is a time in History where he was defined a bit more, as who he was, and who he will be. Each period marked a change for Niaraw, and a change for the world, some more than others.
Kamakura Period (1192-1333) - A new, militaristic government was established, with the shogun as the highest form of governing.
Muromachi Period (1333 - 1573) - The Era of the Warring States, a time where the various states constantly fought, making the demand for samurai quite high. This was Niaraw's golden time, as the need for samurai grew, bloodshed did too.
Azuchi-Momoyama Period (1573 - 1603) - Toyotomi Hideyoshi reunited Japan, and forced Samurai's to choose to return to farming or a life as a warrior in castle towns. Only samurais could carry arms at this time.
Edo Period (1603 - 1868) - In the hierarchy of social classes, Samurai were at the top. They lived in castle towns, and their income was paid by their lords in the form of rice. With the fall of the Osaka Castle in 1619 (Tokugawa's last potential threat) having been eliminated, there was peace in Japan for 250 years. As a result, the need for samurais made its decline, and martial arts skills soon followed. In 1868, the Samurai class was abolished.
H i d e a k i I s a m u
Taken far from my safety
Hideaki Isamu, a small tasu who looks quite a bit like me, has been a companion for years. His name, meaning 'excellent and bright bravery' suits him quite well. Ever since turning him into the first vampiric tasu, he has followed me from place to place, and rather dilligently might I add. He was the very one who held my o-katana when I used it. Due to its size (and the fact that the o-katana was more of a odachi in the first place), he held the sword when I drew it, as I could not use it the same way I normally would.
I n H i s S o u l
The picture is there
Name: Takeda Niaraw
False Pretenses: René Craig (A derivation from the name Renatus, which is a Late Latin name meaning "born again". Craig is a rock, or crevice, and is of Celtic origins), Uchitani Raidon (The thunder god in the Valley), Matsudaira Kazuo (Man of peace of the Matsudaira house (The original house of Tokugawa Ieyasu. He was originally called Matsudaira Ieyasu, but he changed his family name and founded the new house. The hose Matsudaira was a powerful relative of the shogun in the Edo era. The house Matsudaira still exists today, though no longer as a samurai house.))
Gender: Male
Age: 691
Class: Bushi (武士), or samurai
Specie: Vampire
Niaraw: while the name may not conjure images of a swashbuckling pirate, or a hyperactive teenager, it made me think of a somewhat mellow character, with their own quirks and definite strengths and weaknesses. A vampire, basing what most know of them, oftentimes summons forth images of a malevolent being, one who preys upon the hate and greed of humans. Niaraw quite literally lives off Humans and Neopets hatred, their poor choices, and bad deeds. He dances with the criminals, hoping that more will commit malicious crimes from which he feeds. He vastly enjoys taunting others, finding great joy in making people's hate grow and grow. He feeds off not only their hatred, but their blood as well. In the dark of the night, he finds a victim, and taunts them out of pure amusement - he'll harass you and push you until he finds the opportune moment to pounce, and drink.
Tick tock" was all the clock said, was all the clock whispered as the treacherous sounds of screams echoed through the alleyway. "Tick tock" was all that was heard as the victim soon silenced, and Niaraw licked at his fingers, taking in the last few precious drops. Within a moment, he had fled, leaving his victim lying in the streets, with minute visible marks. She would soon wake up, with little memory of the night, and nothing to prove but a scratch on her neck.
All vampires often have superhuman strength and speed, but with one fatal downfall: the sun. Vampires cannot be killed with a simple stake, or by being subjected to garlic; on the contrary, each is unique. Like a fingerprint, or every human, no vampire is alike. None have the same weakness, and none have the same strengths. Niaraw, like all vampires, has his own unique strengths and weaknesses. To kill him is vastly difficult, and he can only be slain by the sword of a true swordsman. How a vampire is killed differs depending on the vampire (as some can in fact be killed with a stake, or if they step on three mushrooms at the same moment). His strengths lie in his intelligence, as he is one with a quick, sharp tongue, but knows when to keep it in check. Niaraw was always one to play with other's emotions, which can be said to be a
strength and a weakness, as he sometimes goes too far. He knows the emotions of others quite well, and never hesitates to toy with them. In a sense, he is a puppeteer, taking what others feel for granted, and oftentimes using others to his own advantage.
S p i r i t
But why should I care
Niaraw's design is quite simple, but much of it has a meaning. In quad, he is a white colouration, with four piercings in his left ear, and five in his right. He has a vine tattoo on his left arm, where it begins at his shoulder, and curls around his arm just past his elbow. This vine design is also visible on his tail, where it ends in a leaf, and begins near the base of his tail. One pointy tooth can always be seen in the corner of his mouth, just on the left. He also has pure white wings, tainted with streaks of blood. In quad, anthro, and full human, he can retract his wings at will (as this is one of the vampires powers,
as all vampires are blessed with the gift of wings. Many folkstories spoke of vampires turning into bats, however it is likely that these 'bats' were actually vampires with large bat-like wings, flying at night, and seen from a great distance.) His eyes are a deep forest green colour, intensly so. On his back, a scar runs vertically from right shoulder to left hip. In all his forms, the word hate is written
in Romanji, and fades from
#009e5d to
#C10B07.
In anthro, he maintains the same colouration, and has pale silver hair, with the same prominent forest green eyes. His wings and scar on his back would still be visible, as well. In his full human form, he has have a pale complexion, with silvery hair, and the green eyes. His tattoos are visible in this form as well, and has the same amount of piercings. In full human and anthro, there would be more, slightly visible scars on his back and torso (as such wounds can only be expected from a samurai, no matter how long some have had time to heal). His knuckles are worn, and scathed, a result of the rigorous training he continues with, and from his days as a bushi and samurai in the era of the warring states.
T h r o u g h H i s E y e s
There's a place so dark you can't see the end
| Likes | Dislikes |
→ Forests: it is so serene, and peaceful - it is like an entirely different world in itself. For the most part, forests go untouched by man and his filthy claws, hiding away in itself, and preserving and entirely different form of life. To say a forest is beautiful would be something of an understatment.
→ Gardening: You may not believe it, but I am one who greatly enjoys plants and vegetation, gardening has become something of a past time in this century. I found myself with little to do, so I began tending a small patch of flowers deep in the forest near where I reside. This became something of a paradise as I cultured the area, the flowers and plants stretching to where a river runs through the forest. The small garden (which has now grown quite large) has become a release for me in the past years.
|
→ Cities: I greatly dislike heavily populated areas, much preferring to stay outdoors in more rural areas. Cities are noisy, and crowded, congested with smog and smoke. It is not an ideal place for me to live, however the feeding is good, and I could not thrive off a small town.
→ Bats: I have never been fond of the creature, though I may just be a bit biggoted towards them, due to the various stories claiming vampires can turn into the said animal. It is most likely my biggotry is the result of my dislike, but either way, I am not something of a fan of the winged creatures.
→ Kusarigama's: These nasty weapons were dreadful to fight against, a kama (sickle) attached to a chain, weighted down on the opposite end. They may not be swords, but they are very difficult to fight against when using a sword, and I greatly dislike the users of the said weapons. Their long range, and ability to steal your weapon, or knock you to the ground without coming too close is a nightmare to fight against.
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The B e a r a b l e O n e s
(Skies cock back) and shock that which can't defend
There are few that I have met over the years that I have been able to bear, and those I have become something of a companion to me; friends if you will. I may not have many, however those that I do befriend are oftentimes bearable, each in their own way.
Sacru is certainly a bit more different from most, however, he makes good company at times. He claims he is a moon krawk, something which I do in fact believe, despite myself. He is one who makes for interesting conversation, as he has never been one to beat around the bush, so to speak. He is a kind enough fellow, but a pleasure to be around, as he rarely concerns himself with the many petty things the world cares of these days. He knows I am a vampire, born years and centuries ago, and has accepted it well enough. Granted, like many, he was plum terrified when he found out I wasn't quite... human, persay, but we managed to work around that. I promised to try my best not to attack him, should the thirst be upon me, and he promised he wouldn't say unintelligent things while in my presence. So far, it has worked quite well, though I have had to go out of my way to be sure he is not near when I am rather thirsty, and out for blood.
Inject is as faithful a minion one could ever hope to find - for a human, at least. He's quite willing to come to my every beck and call, and has no qualms with being subjected to a torrent of verbal rage, should I be in one of my poorer moods. He's something of a well-drained dog, obeying my wishes with nothing more than a wag of his tail, and a lopsided grin (if, sometimes, drooling a bit on my persian carpet). He is somewhat intelligent (well, for a human I suppose), and is as loyal as anyone could ask for. He has managed to support me in special times, and has come to aid in a few situations. Granted, I am not reliant on him, but he is good to keep around, even if I'm more of a body guard than this watch dog might ever be.
Devil is a rather childish krawk I happened upon, and who didn't take too well to me trying to gnab a drink from him. The moment I'd sunk my fangs into the tender flesh of his neck, he retaliated, refusing to be swayed by the bliss and euphoria being vamped from brouht. He attacked me when he realized what I was, which (of course) lead to me retaliating, and instead, hurting him. We formed a grudging friendship after that, when he realized I'd make a better friend than foe. I'm not sure if he realizes that I know this is the only reason he has (as of yet) to befriending me, however, I do know he didn't choose to get on my good side because of my charm and wit. Having him as a 'friend' (as he calls himself, though I beg to differ) presents me with various opportunities to taunt him, and push him when I wish. He thinks he's an amazingly handsome fellow, and I enjoy nothing more than sneakning in jabs that he's not everything he thinks he is. Our shaky relationship is one where I love to hate him, and I know he feels the same way. In this respect, he's hardly even a friend.
Shar is a nice enough fellow I suppose, though not overly so - he seems to know that there is a limit to kindness, even if he doesn't believe in it himself. I have come to find that many judge him solely on his appearance (which I do say may frighten some of the weaker hearted (though, it hardly bothered me in the least)). Nonetheless, I too found his appearance the reason I was drawn to him - so many disliked him solely on his appearance that I felt like seeing what lay beneath it all (and I was not disappointed). He is a worthy comrade to say the least, and I'm glad I've not made an enemy out of him, as he would make not the most formidable of foes, but a strong one to say the least. Contrary to his looks, he can be quite gentle, though this can be ripped away in an instant should he find reason to protect anyone. That being said, I've had many the good conversation with him, and thoroughly enjoy his company, and as he not too much of anything all at once. He's neither too kind, nor to unkind, and is a wonderful balance of fierce loyalty and gentle compassion.
As much as
AzumaKamis name amuses me (volcano god?
Hah!), he is still a worthy friend. His fierce attitude, and uncompromising arrogance can hinder him sometimes, but it is what really makes him who he is. He has a rough way with words, and has a way of wearing his heart on his sleeve - if he were to be upset, or angered, all would know (mostly because if he
were angry, someone would be hurting). Many claim he is rather mysterious, however, I think its simply his way of not giving out information he wishes to remain a secret, something I admire his cunning for. He can be rather sweet at times (as inpossibly annoying that can be, once you get to know him), but is usually just rather loud and obnoxious (if a bit conceited as well). Nonetheless, you can carry on a rather interesting conversation with him (as he always seems to find something out of the ordinary to say).
Sonte, upon meeting me, had been under the impression I was from an insane asylum -
the nerve! Nonetheless, we eventually disproved that urban legend (though, I can't help but wonder if he still thinks that. I do hope he doesn't). Of course, Sontey-kins is a little strange in his own way - he enjoys wearing tacky fish-print yakutas and dresses in his spare time, as well as being mistaken for a female. Sonte (or Son-chan, Sontey-chin, Sonson-san, and Sontey-kins to me) is a quirky guy who's even got an alter ego, V (an amusing, blood thirtsty guy who makes for good conversation (when he's not throwing people off my balcony )). Of course, there's more to V than throwing sharp objects at people and hauling them over the side of a balcony (I think), and finding that other side has proved to be far more amusing than pestering a weird Sonte.
I suppose
Ero is more my arch enemy and loathed nemesis than my friend, but its hard to hate a guy who has so much in like with you. We both like pestering small, defenseless Sonte's and, well, causing trouble. Ero is the one to blame for Sonte's bad taste, as he makes poor little Sonte dress up in the most womanly clothing he can find (and, of course, its not like Sonte can say no. I mean, just about
everyone is so much bigger, scarier, and stronger than him, including Ero. Though, I'm bigger, scarier, and stronger than either of them).
T h e H a t e d
The rain then sends dripping acidic questions
Danovi is not one of the few I find myself drawn to. In fact, he is one of the many I cannot stand, with his blissfully calm exterior, and stubborn will to let few know who he really is. He presents himself as a mysterious stranger (most likely thinking this in his mind, with the words 'handsome' and 'riveting' accompanying that advective and noun.) Because of this, I spent some time digging up things that were left buried, and taking a bit of time following the rumours that claimed he was a ninja. Indeed, the said rumours were true (and I made a good amount of money selling the information), however he eventually traced the act back to me (it only took him a good five years to do so), and upon our encounter, it did not go too well. He was stubborn and rash, unwilling to see the truth I presented to him: he was not
really a ninja, nor was that amazing. He was a mere child, but challenged me to fight him, anyways. I, of course, refused (knowing that he would be unable to measure up to anything I could conjure), but I was slightly mistaken. He managed to lodge a kunai in my calf when I was attacking him, and for that, I have never forgiven him. Until the day I die, he shall remain my enemy, my foe, and never a friend. A mere child, of only a few years of age managed to successfully attack
me. We shall meet once more.
Azeone is yet another wretched soul I've had the annoyance of meeting. She cares nothing for others (well, that I can relate to I suppose, but I think I might have a touch more compassion), and wants nothing more than to take over the world (a dream I find questionable in itself). She attempted befriending me, but to no avail, as her plans were as transparent as air. She wanted me nothing more than for my skill with the sword, and wanted to use me like a yakuza gang might use their hitman - I refuse to do anyone's bidding I disagree with, and her very appearance made my head hurt (disco? honestly!). Summed up, she's a fool whose desires will never come true. Her ambition is there, but she's not the person to take over the world. And looking at her makes my head hurt.
I'd had the unfortunate 'pleasure' of meeting the one known as
Solarialon, aka Azeone's bothersome little sister. If it weren't for that blindfully bright-hued meddling hissi, I'm sure Solar would have been something of a decent being. Unfortunately, she's always trying to prove herself to her older sister, always eager to show how evil she is (and oftentimes, her acts of 'evilness' fall to me, and involve me in the most bothersome ways), always wanting to prove her worth. She may not share her sister's outright wish to inflict pain and suffering on others (as I've found that its simply how Aze is - Solar on the other hand only wants her sister's approval), which makes her all the more pathetic. She's like a little lap dog, panting and rolling over only when he master instructs. She's pitiful, and I can't stand to be in her presence.
p a s t r o l e p l a y s
Forcefully, the power of suggestion
Vivid green eyes flickered from one building to another, taking in the surroundings in a matter of seconds. Niaraw's nose flared, inhaling the scents of the city and the world around him. He clenched his hand, as it hovered just above the pommel of his sword. At his waist, he had his two katanas and wakizashi, with his odachi strapped to his back. It wasn't too convenient for him to have to keep his odachi on his back, however, since it was no longer the Edo period, he couldn't have someone following him for when he wanted draw it. He also had little need these days, to draw his swords as quickly as he once did. Even if the days of the samurai were over, bringing much of the threat of death with it, Niaraw couldn't help but miss those days.
A feral grin stretched its way across his features as he moved silently down the alleyway. It was time to hunt, as he had gone nearly a week without preying upon anyone. He peeked around the corner of the wall, eyes searching for a human wandering through the backroads of the city. The hunt was on.
Hey you! You there!" Niaraw snarled, turning around quickly, and falling back into fighting into fighting stance quickly, his hand twitching in anticipation. He frowned, drawing his brows together as he examined the man standing before him. It was a police officer, and Niaraw could see his car a little ways back at the end of the alleyway.
Yes, officer? Is there something I can help you with?" Niaraw queried smoothly, coating his words with sugar, and relaxing his stance, letting his arms fall to his sides. Make no mistake, he was not relaxed in the other man's presence, but simply strived to make himself look less threatening. He was ready to run at a moments notice, or draw his sword if need be (however, he doubted such would be the case, as the cop could simply, and quickly shoot him).
What's your purpose for carrying swords in the city?" He asked, looking slightly baffled that he had even come across someone who would do such a thing.
Why, I am on my way to where I will partake in a martial arts tournament," Niaraw began, knowing how some Karate places, like Tae Kwon Do studios used the Chuka, Bo, and Nunchucks, and occasionally the sword. "I simply need to drop off my weapons beforehand, as I don't trust my hotel room. I'm out of town," he continued, the lie coming easily.
Ah, well, have a safe night - these parts are pretty rough." The cop paused, examining Niaraw for a last time before heading back to his cruiser. Niaraw could hear someone shouting over the radio in the car, requesting backup for a man who refused to pull over. As the man began making his way away, Niaraw quickly left the alleyway, disappearing into the night. The hunt continued.
A r t o f N i a r a w
Then with the eyes tightly shut looking thought the rust and rotten dust
This is a bit of artwork I've done of Niaraw, some a few sketches, and some a few finished pieces. To view the pictures, copy and paste the URL in the text box below the thumbnail into your adress bar.
F a n A r t o f N i a r a w
A spot of light floods the floor
Let's face it: Niaraw has got to have fans. I mean, his annoying fan girl base has already probably begun, establishing itself in Japan and Canada, and soon, around the world. This is all so that Niaraw can someday take over the world and totally rule the world. Or not :D
A d o p t e d
And pours over the rusted world of pretend
