Whispers: Part IV
All events taking place here cannot be used for in-character knowledge.
His head felt heavy, dazed as if awaking from a drunken induced hangover. The room was dark, or perhaps he hadn't even opened his eyes yet? The Shogun wasn't sure. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he was moving his head or if it was the dizziness he was experiencing. All he knew for sure was that there was a painful ringing sound in his head parallel to the daze. When he first felt consciousness the ringing began as a simple buzzing in the background of his mind. But it quickly evolved into something much more unbearable, and at times even spiked to be deafening. At the very least the ringing was overpowering the drunken hangover he felt. Had he been drugged? Where were his men? Was he in danger? Could he mov....****. His train of thought was interrupted by the sounds resonating in his head. Takauji couldn't even move his hands to head his to abate the pain in his head. He felt bound to whatever surface he was attached to, but he couldn't even feel by what.
Suddenly and surprisingly the Shogun could feel a hand brush against his head, and gently move his tattered hair back over his forehead. The touch came at a surprise; he had been unable to see, hear over the ringing, and feel his limbs. Yet when the hand touched him all of his suffering seemed to diminish. He could finally see the room he was in, even though it was dimly lit, the painful resonance diminished back to a soft buzzing, and his daze dissipated. But worst of all...he could feel his bindings. But they weren't bindings exactly, and he wasn't attached to a table. In fact, his entire body was lodged in a wall of thick flesh and mud. It was something out of a horror story that children were told in Chungsu. The Shogun's eyes darted around the room; it was all more of the same. Torches of black and white flames dimly illuminated the dank room. But much to his horror he could see a number of other fleshy mud-like pods protruding from the walls. He couldn't deduce what they were exactly, but he had a dreadful suspicion that his men were trapped within them. He shivered at the thought.
"Lord Ashikaga, you wake. Good." It was the first voice he had heard in quite some time. The first sound to pierce the dreadful silence of this spine-chilling room. The second sound was a distant set of footsteps; the Shogun tried to focus his hearing to discern how many sets of unique steps he could hear, an attempt to figure out how many enemies he was dealing with. But it was a fruitless endeavor. The buzzing in his head, while it had abated, made it impossible for him to fully concentrate. All he could do was buy himself time, for now.
"How...how did I get here?" He managed to stammer in response. It was an honest question: he didn't remember. The last thing he could recall was anchoring his flagship off the southern coast of Tobusekai. Everything after that was just a void in his own mind.
"We invited you here, of course." The voice was raspy and deep. The Shogun's eyes drifted to the left to view the person that was speaking. He expected something far more menacing, given his surroundings. But instead he only saw something unremarkably average. He was a man, at least he thought, of average build. He was shrouded in a red and black cloak that did remarkably well at concealing his face from direct view. But he could make out his eyes. Two average blue eyes that seemingly glowed under the dark robes.
"So this is how you treat your guests!?" The Shogun snapped, it was his short-tempered nature after all. But his anger, while directed at the man, was also directed at himself. His advisers were right: it was foolish. But he couldn't regret that now. He had been in worse positions before. He had faced the damn Kyuubi when his home city was razed!
"You misunderstand, my lord. You are more than a simple guest. You are our chosen. Nay, you are Her chosen. For you see, I am Her chosen Voice. And you are Her chosen body." Was it a title? It must be. Her chosen Voice...whatever that meant. The situation was becoming more and more dangerous. But before either could continue, the footsteps from earlier had become louder. Within moments four new individuals shuffled into the chamber, each cloaked in black.
"He took our lure. What a predictable beast..." One cloaked woman spoke. The Shogun spat in her direction as a response to her insult. A beast? No. He is of a pure bloodline; a descendant of Hangurian men and women that forged the greatest empire the world had ever seen. The buzzing began to worsen again. His left eye twitched as a result.
"These humans are so enamored by their empires and history. They see glory in the material. They were truly forged in the flawed image of their creators." Another black robed man spoke. His voice was gentle, yet menacing at the same time. Like an innocent monster locked in a cage waiting to reveal its true form. His struck him in particular; it was almost as if he was reading the Shogun's thoughts.
"What could you possib-ahhh...." His question was interrupted; the buzzing had begun to return to its old intensity. His face grimaced in pain. "....what do you want from me?" He asked, his voice weary now.
"Perhaps it would be best if I started in the beginning, Lord Ashikaga." The Voice began. "You are Her chosen body, but yet you know nothing of this undertaking. It is an injustice of the highest degree." The fleshy bindings that held the Shogun down grew stronger, less pliable. "Humans were born long before the Sage of the Six Paths, Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, gifted humanity chakra. In fact, chakra is something that is alien to humans. Yes, all humans share its intrinsic components. That is a certainty. But life existed in a state for thousands of years before the advent of the Ōtsutsuki Curse. Yet this is largely forgotten; today humans have made chakra an intrinsic part of their existence. Chakra is as important to one man as water is to another. Humans were shaped in the image of their creators, the first Gods, over 10,000 years ago."
The Shogun narrowed his gaze. 10,000 years? It was certainly a much older history than he had been familiar with. Schools in Chungsu taught that humanity truly began when the Sage of the Six Paths distributed his chakra throughout the world. But before that? Nearly no mentions of any of humanity's activities or accomplishments. Traditionally it was just seen as an era of barbarism. In reality, the Sage had given chakra away only slightly over 800 years ago.
"You are unfamiliar with this history. And that is of no surprise. But before gods and man existed, there was only our Mother. If the Ten-Tails Beast is the Primordial Chakra, then our Mother is the Primordial Life. After she shaped the lands, Mother birthed the first gods. But they were flawed and envious creatures. As they grew older so too did their hubris grow; they soon came to see themselves as greater than Mother. And so they overthrew her. The gods' leader, Marduk, started a war against our Mother. But the gods were outnumbered, this they knew. Our Mother is the Primordial Life, the Mother of All Animals. In her defense she birthed the first beasts to fight against the arrogant gods alongside her. In response, the gods used their flawed powers in an attempt to mimic Mother. And so, in their image, they created the first humans. And so the first war was fought in these very lands. The gods and their humans battled against Mother and her first beasts. But Mother loved all her children, including the humans and the gods. And she, in her moment of vulnerability, was struck down by Marduk. The gods imprisoned Mother in a slumber deep below the earth.
The war was over. Our Mother had fallen and the gods emerged victorious. You would believe that the gods would then go on to lead their newly conquered world. But no. Instead the gods abandoned the humans on their earth and left them to their own devices. With the unity that the gods forged now broken, the humans devolved into fighting among themselves. Thievery, misery, and murder had become the norm. Nearly 2,000 years of war, bloodshed, and tragedy led the first humans to desperation and near extinction. They despaired in the hopeless cycle that had been created because of the gods indifference. Humans had been, after all, a mere tool used to fight against Mother. And so a group of twelve humans came together; they were determined to release Mother from her imprisonment. For if the gods did not care then perhaps the Primordial Mother would. And so these humans set about using a ritual to release her back into her world. But within days humanity had seemed to reject the Harmony she sought to impose on their warring nature. Perhaps it was something that the gods had built into most humans intrinsically; to seemingly reject Mother on an instinctual level. And so the twelve humans that released her, the same that were initially hailed as heroes, were no reviled by their society. They were hunted down and murdered and Mother was thrown back into her dreams before she could return. You see, Lord Ashikaga, Humanity is nothing but a plague upon this earth. A twisted and flawed species created by envious warring gods. And so we set out to create a New Humanity in Mother's image. And you are Her chosen body. Do you understand now?"
This man was surely crazy. During the story the Shogun's breathing had intensified. He was struggling to free himself, but the fleshy mud bindings had grown even tighter against his skin. Gods? Nonsense. The Juubi was worshiped as a god, but it was no divinity itself. Marduk and other gods? An impossibility. But this man truly believed in these stories. And that was dangerous in itself. Fanatics, even if their beliefs are untrue, are dangerous true believers nonetheless. He had to escape...but--- ****. This ringing made any thoughts unbearable. He needed more time.
"S-so...you're one of these first beasts?" The Shogun struggled to even say that. The ringing in his head devolved into a constant high pitched screech. He was growing dizzy again, and it became extremely difficult to focus. Even his vision of the four necromancers and the Voice was growing blurry.
"Hah. Hardly, although that would be an honor, Lord Ashikaga." The Voice laughed, amused by the idea. "No. I am the only surviving human that revived Mother 8,000 years ago." The Voice squared himself with Takauji and, with one gentle swoop, removed the hood covering him. The sight was...shocking. The Voice was an emaciated bald man; large grey bags were formed under his thin, light blue hollow eyes. His gaze was glassy, the appearance of a weak feeble old man. He had dark skin, but the skin itself was so dry. His collar bone protruded from his neck significantly, almost as if it could be pulled off his body with ease. The body itself was littered with scars and scar tissue. Of this the Shogun was certain: this man was old. It gave some veracity to his story; how else could a man outlive even the Sage of Six Paths and the other Ōtsutsuki in Tobusekai 800 years ago.
The Voice once again brushed his hand against the Shogun's forehead. The buzzing died down, but now was replaced by something drastically different... "You see, Lord Ashikaga, you are Her chosen body. You are to become one of the first of the New Humanity." As he said this, the high pitched ringing turned into the sound of a beautiful woman singing. "You can Hear her voice now, can't you my lord? Soon your old humanity will be lost as you become one of Mother's true children. You can feel it now. The chakra in your body has been siphoned out, regressed into its components. It is as we promised you. We can give you what you need." Takauji couldn't keep his head straight any longer. The beautiful voice in his mind was lulling him to sleep. He could feel whatever strength he had left being stolen from him. His arms and legs went limp as he felt the fleshy wall further consume him. Before his vision went black he made one final look at the men and women in the room with him. In his despair he could see each of their faces. A gentle smile was on each, as if present for a homecoming. His head tilted downward, and his eyes closed.
The Shogun's final thoughts were directed to his past. He could see his mother and father, proud aristocrats in the Hangurian Freehold. He was always raised to believe in a higher destiny for himself, his family, and his empire. It was a proud tradition. He thought of his mistakes; he had underestimated the clans and villages that had formed in the demise of that very empire. He thought that he could impose his traditions upon them. But he was naive. And now he saw that. All he could hear was singing and heartwarming harmonization. It was peaceful.