Bio
Featuring in a one-shot with Lora and Woxlin, Shou Hokorashi was a monk/rogue/fighter multiclass human with an enchanted blade called The Ember Shadow.
Shou Hokorashi was an arrogant and vicious assassin, acting across the world, working for whoever paid the best. He called himself the Ember Shadow. His blade allowed him control of the shadows, to allow him to morph into the darkness, or create shadow clones that fought for him. He believed himself to be a one-man legion, and that he should prove himself to be the best warrior in the world.
Backstory
Shou was born into a vicious mercenary crew ran by his father. From the age he could walk he was trained in combat, and when he reached his teenage years, he was trained in skills he showed particular talent at. He hadn't inherited his father's strength, but he was faster and more agile. As such, he learnt to sneak, to strike from the shadows, and in a straight fight, to cut his enemies down before they could strike. In addition to his daggers and poisons, he learned to fight with a katana and wakizashi, emulating his father's style. But it was never a happy childhood, and his training was painful. Always the carrot, never the stick. No love, no affection. When Shou was 17, the mercenary crew was enlisted to burn a temple to the ground. The job was supposed to be easy, but the info was bad. The monks inhabited the temple were warriors, each one a master with their respective weapon. The battle was bloody and chaotic. In the chaos, Shou was separated from his group. He found himself in a sub basement beneath the temple. There, he found a sheathed sword, bound to a stone dais with heavy chains. He touched the sword, and all around him, shadows took physical form, exact replicas of him that responded to his every command. Using the shadows, he cut the sword from it's chains, and drew it from its sheath. It was slightly longer than a normal katana, it had a twisted black hand guard, and it's blade had a brass-coloring that made the light refract from it like a live flame. Shou laughed as he discarded his old sword, picked up his new weapon, and walked out from the basement. He continued laughing as he began cutting down every combatant on the battlefield, mercenary and monk alike. When he found himself outnumbered, shadows would flood the battlefield, passing through walls and armor to cut down his enemies. He found his father, surrounded by dead monks. Shou leveled his new blade at his father, beckoning a duel. The two fighters bowed to each other in the burning wreckage of the temple, and began pacing around each other. At the same time, they dashed forwards. There was a flash of steel, a flash of flame. Shou sheathed his sword and walked away, leaving his father on the floor of the temple, dead.
Afterwards, Shou made his name as an assassin and mercenary, his living shadows allowing him to act as a one-man army.
A Long Time Ago
Long before the Wards' time, an unlikely group of people came together to break into a legendary vault. These people included Woxlin, Lora, Shou, (that one bard npc), and (their bodyguard) who did not speak. To enter the vault, the group needed to aquire several items of import, including a brazier. Several NPCs were in possession of these items, and through bargains or theft the party managed to get their hands on the items. One of these NPCs was an inkeeper with a pet Bulette, whom the party fought. Another was a woman who asked the group to remove an encampent of goblins just outside town, and in reward she handed over her item. Once the three items were gathered the group ventured into the dungeon, making their way to the center and defeating the guardian of the vault. Once the guardian was defeated, however, (the bodyguard) turned out to be a celestial dragon in disguse, and a fight commenced.
Once the dragon was slain, the group realized that someone needed to stay behind and become the new guardian of the vault. Since neither Woxlin or Shou was willing, the task fell to Lora, who stayed behind as the vault closed.
Afterwards, Shou eloped with (the bard) and Woxlin took the inkeeper to bed, after which they all faded into the annals of history.
Short Story: An Easy Job
The night was still. The air had the fresh, crisp quality only enjoyed during early spring nights. Stars shone above, and the moon cascaded gentle light over the surrounding valley. The night would have been perfectly silent, if not for the gentle hum of the river beneath the old wooden bridge, the crackling torches of the men who sat perched on the bridge railings, and the soft, rhythmical footsteps of the man currently approaching the bridge. He wore dark, plain pants, carried a large cloth bag slung over one shoulder, and his upper body was bare, except for a roughly-woven poncho of burlap cloth. When he was about fifteen feet from the bridge, the men called out to him, and he stopped. They wore black-leather armor, and all bore the body language of those ready for a fight. Of the three of them, only one wore a helmet. He stepped forward.
“Who goes there?” He asked, one hand settling on his sword. The stranger raised his head, leveling a stare at the armored man.
“A traveler with little time to spare,” He said, using his free hand to sweep his hair back from his face. It was dark-grey in the moonlight, and messy. When swept into place, the utmost strands of it fell to his lower back.
“Well, traveler,” The man said, stepping forward, “It’s our duty to protect the village beyond. If you would please allow us to search your bag, you will be back on the road in no time.”
“What if I tell you to get lost instead?” The stranger asked. In response, the armored man sneered and whistled. The two men with him drew their blades, and ten more stepped from the shadows of nearby trees, leveling their blades at the stranger. He looked around, taking in details. Their stances were unbalanced, their blades unkempt and mismatched. A guard force this large would have better weapons, better training. These were simple road bandits. The stranger sighed and placed his bag on the ground. The man in the helmet didn’t draw his weapon as he approached.
“Good man,” he said, smiling. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. He opened the sack, rummaging around. When he drew his hand from the bag, it was clutched around a longsword. It’s handle guard was made from a single piece of black, twisted metal, its long handle made for a versatile grip. It’s scabbard was made from brown leather with silver inlays, forming twisting shapes of flame. The man in the helmet unsheathed the sword. The brass-colored blade caught the moonlight, making it dance like a wildfire. The helmed man whistled, low.
“Where did a poor wanderer like you come across something like this?” He looked to the stranger, sneering, “Stole it, of course. The only right thing to do would be to return it to it’s rightful owner,” He turned to his men, raising the sword. “Have you seen such a beauty in all your life?” He asked. He didn’t notice that the darkness around him had deepened, his dark armor blending with the night around him. He didn’t notice the darkness coalescing into a human form. If he did notice a blade, dark as night, cleaving him from collarbone to waist, he couldn’t react. He was dead before he hit the floor. The stranger stepped up, snatching the brass-sword from his grip before it could fall to the ground. He discarded his poncho, throwing it to the ground.
Shou smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
Untrained as they were, the men were not cowards. They gave up mighty roars and dove towards Shou, blades raised. He let them come. The first to arrive came from behind, swinging a greatsword towards Shou’s neck. In the very last second before the blade connected, Shou dissipated into a cloud of black smoke. He slid past his enemy, materializing on the opposite side of his foe. His blade made a single clean cut, separating the man’s head from his shoulders. A bandit with a spear lunged at Shou. With a casual flick of his wrist, Shou severed the spear in two, before lunging for the now unarmed bandit. Three down, he counted. He spared a quick glance around him. Three bandits were rushing towards him. Another three were hanging back, ready with bows and spears. Four others were dead on the ground, slain by shadow clones in the first seconds of the fight. Shou swept his hair back, laughed, and plunged into the fray.
He dodged a blow, using the momentum to go into a spinning crouch, cutting one man’s belly open. He became a cloud of shadow for a split second, to let a shortsword pass through him, then materialized again. He brought his foot up in a spinning kick, stunning the man who had tried to strike him. The third man swung at him, and he deflected the blow with his blade, causing the other man’s sword to plunge deep into the shoulder of his stunned companion. As he reeled from his mistake, Shou stabbed his blade through the man’s belly. As he withdrew his sword, he used the same motion to slash the stunned man, and the two bandits hit the ground at the same time. Ten down. An arrow flew through the night. He snapped it out of the air, crushing it in his fist. The three remaining men huddled together in a tight circle. Shou simply stared them down, sweeping his hair back again.
Three dark shapes dashed from the darkness. They bore the exact likeness of Shou, but they were made entirely from shadow, fluid and ethereal. Their blades, despite appearances, were very real, executing their targets with simplistic efficiency. They hit the ground in sync. Shou paced over to the bandit leader. He picked up his helmet, and a spear. He rammed the spear into the ground, placing the helmet on top. He took his poncho, sheathed his blade, threw the sack over his shoulder, and walked across the bridge.
The night was still. The wanderer continued his path, as always leaving a trail of bodies behind him. Shou Hokorashi smiled.