Narrative Drop 1: The First Harai
Artist: Kimberyl Pantoni
As Izanagi walked through the forest, a cool breeze blew his long hair over his shoulders. Leaves rustled on the ground and the tall blades of grass leaned and whispered to one another as the air moved through them. Light filtered through the treetops, forming patterns of shadow and light that danced on the ground as the branches rocked steadily back and forth, swaying gently with the soft wind.
Izanagi took a slow deep breath, but the sight of his surroundings still caused him to tear up. Everywhere he looked, his mind was drawn back to his beautiful wife, Izanami. Everything he saw, they had created together. From the churning seas they had conjured lush and bountiful islands, but for all their natural beauty, they still did not compare to the sight of Izanami.
She had long black hair to match his own and was more graceful and elegant than any being he had ever seen. All the beauty in the world he now inhabited alone came from her. He wiped his tears away as he thought of her radiant smile, a small wistful smile forming on his own face. He would do anything to see her smile again.
The woods were quiet. As he walked along the stone path through the forest, all that followed him was the soft sound of his own footsteps against the rock. The air was growing colder as he continued along the trail. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but now a chill that seemed to come from the inside out pierced him. It was only when he noticed this first phenomenon that he noticed the second.
The shadows were growing darker and thicker. In fact, they were becoming so dark and thick, it seemed almost as though you could pick them up. They looked less like shadows and more like tar coating the ground and rocks. Chills raced down his spine, and he tore his eyes away from the ground to continue looking ahead of him on his journey, but there was no need. He had arrived.
Artist: Aleksei Shatunov
Before him stood Yomotsu Hirasaka, the gateway to Yomi, the land of the dead. Strangely, it was bathed in the heavenly light of the morning. There was a parting in the forest where the gateway stood, allowing the light to shine through unimpeded, as though none of the trees wished to stand too close to the realm of death, all shying away to a safe perimeter.
The archway of stone and wood loomed before him. Moss had begun to grow along the aging wood. The bells adorning the gateway tolled softly in dissonant tones as another cold breeze ran across the landscape.
Izanagi’s eyes were glued to Yomotsu Hirasaka. He looked not back. He would see the land of the living again. Taking one last deep breath of fresh air, he moved forward, putting one foot in front of the other as confidently as he could manage. As he approached the entrance to Yomi, images of what awaited him on the other side coalesced out of the murk.
The atmosphere was a deep red. Cobwebs and bones piled like boulders lined the sides of his path. Still, he continued towards the foreboding realm. As he passed through the threshold of life to death, he held his breath. Though no physical sensation accompanied his crossing, he felt a deep sense of unease throughout his body. He kept his mind solely focused on Izanami. He would see her again, no matter the cost. One step at a time, the light of the world dimmed, its warmth too scared to follow into the realm of the dead.
The green vines and roots that had run along the ground in the world of the living had become a scraggle of dried up and dead wood in Yomi. The splintered wood reached out like blades at Izanagi’s ankles, forcing him to walk slowly, lest he have his blood drawn by the realm of the dead, even when every instinct was screaming at him to run.
Artist: Adrian Virlan
Though he could see, it felt as though the darkness was suffocating him. Everything before him was bathed in a blood-red light. He tried to imagine the green leaves of the trees swaying so joyfully before him just moments ago, but he could not. All he could see in his mind’s eye were barren and dying branches, devoid of all life. The world before him consisted entirely of red and black, and it precluded his mind from remembering any other color.
After what seemed like a lifetime, he reached the bottom of the stairs, the vast expanse of Yomi spreading out before him. Thick clouds drifted across the skies, some low enough to caress the tops of the dilapidated structures that littered the realm. The ground was muddied and foreboding. There was not a single rock or solid space of which one could get a comfortable footing.
He scouted the area ahead of him, meticulously attempting to plan out the best possible route. Deep down, he knew this was a futile endeavor, and he was just procrastinating moving any further into Yomi. The stairs leading back to the land of the living were still right behind him. He could just turn around.
His thoughts of leaving were overpowered by thoughts of Izanami. He had only just arrived in Yomi. What horrors had his beautiful wife been suffering all this time? The more he thought about his beloved wife, the stronger his will became. It seemed not even a place as cursed and squalid as Yomi could wring out true love from one’s heart. His resolve renewed, he set forth once again.
Artist: Adrian Virlan
The mud below him pulled at his feet, slowing his progress. As he trudged along, he realized he had no idea how to navigate Yomi, let alone where Izanami could be. It didn’t matter. He would find her. He continued along, passing a building with a collapsed roof.
As he traveled, he couldn’t help but glancing behind him every so often. It was impossible to shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone. Yomi was the land of the dead and yokai after all, and he had yet to see one. He continued along, passing a building with a collapsed roof.
The journey was beginning to take its toll now. It felt as though the mud was all but holding him in place, and he had to pry each foot away just to take one more step and have it be stuck again. He must be getting close. He continued along, passing a building with a collapsed roof.
His stomach growled. It was impossible to tell how long he had been down in Yomi. Part of him was scared to know. His lungs burned and his throat ached for water. His mind and heart never strayed from Izanami, but his body was betraying him. One small break wouldn’t hurt. He leaned against a building with a collapsed roof to take a rest.
“If you’re not careful, you could spend eternity wandering around down here,” laughed a voice.
Izanagi was jolted upright from his slouched position. He looked up to see a floating head with long white hair smile down at him. The yokai had wrinkled red skin and massive incisors that were more like tusks jutting out of its mouth. It floated in the air about ten feet away from him. Izanagi’s eyes met the yokai’s own, which glowed orange, the first color he’d seen since arriving in Yomi that wasn’t a shade of red or black.
Artist: Patricia Pria
“Who are you? How long have you been following me?” he asked pointedly, eliciting another laugh from the yokai.
“We have little use for names here,” the yokai said, its voice quivering with laughter, as if everything it said was the setup to a hilarious joke that it could barely get out, “but I suppose you may call me… Imoy, if you would like. You caught my attention the third time I saw you trudge past that same building.”
Izanagi’s shoulders sank. He resisted the urge to look behind him.
“Tell me stranger, what have you come to Yomi in search of?” Imoy asked, smiling even wider.
“I…” Izanagi began but trailed off. Should he really be talking to a yokai about his troubles? He glanced around. It was clear that he was lost. He may have no other option. “I know you said you haven’t much use for names here, but I come in search of the one they call Izanami. Do you know her?”
Imoy burst out in laughter, making Izanagi immediately feel like he had made a bad decision.
“You must be Izanagi!” Imoy said, floating closer. “She told me you’d be joining us. Although I must say, you aren’t half as handsome as she described. I was worried I had been following the wrong person.
“No offense,” Imoy added after a bout of giggling that made it feel rather disingenuous.
“You know Izanami?” Izanagi asked excitedly, all sense of worry and suspicion being replaced by relief. “Do you know where she is?”
“I can take you right to her,” Imoy said, somehow smiling even wider. “Just follow me!”
Imoy didn’t await a response. The yokai turned and began floating away. Izanagi followed as fast as he could, though the mud still pulled at his feet. The speed and ease at which Imoy could drift through the air made it difficult to keep up. Though he had more questions to ask, Izanagi had not the breath to ask them as he scrambled after the yokai, frequently tripping and stumbling through the decay.
Though he couldn’t ask questions, Izanagi made sure to pay careful attention to his surroundings as he followed Imoy. The last thing he wanted to do was get lost again. He noticed that they passed the stairs that led him down to Yomi. He had set off in the complete wrong direction at first. He would not repeat his mistake. He took a mental note of every turn they made so he could find the exit again himself.
Before long, they came upon a river of what Izanagi could only hope was water that simply looked red due to the nature of Yomi itself. The banks of the shallow river winded towards a decaying three-story structure surrounded by dead foliage. Upon arriving, Imoy beckoned Izanagi inside. There, he came upon a hearth with meager offerings. Faint whispers beckoned him to partake. Their shadowy voices replaced the emptiness in his stomach with a pit.
“Why not have a quick bite to eat before seeing Izanami?” Imoy suggested. “You must be starving.”
Izanagi shuddered at the sound of Imoy’s voice rising above the chorus of whispers that haunted his ears. Izanagi stared at the food. It sat at the base of the hearth where a small fire still crackled. The light of the fire dispelled the red and black look that the rest of Yomi had in a small area around it. The food looked delicious. Appealing. The opposite of everything else he had seen in Yomi.
“Where’s Izanami?” Izanagi turned to ask Imoy, but he was gone. Izanagi’s heart skipped a beat.
“Izanagi?” a beautiful and familiar voice asked tentatively.
Artist: Kimberly Pantoni
Izanagi turned to where he heard his wife’s sweet voice. She was standing in a doorway, silhouetted by shadow, but he could see her long beautiful hair.
“My love,” Izanagi said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I have finally found you again. Come to me, please! Together we will leave this place.”
“I cannot, dear,” Izanami said, her voice sweet despite the gravity of what she was saying. “For I have eaten of the food of Yomi and now must remain here forever. It is my only wish that you would join me here. You and I will be happy together in this place. Please, dine with me.” Her hand, still obscured in silhouette, gestured to the food by the hearth.
“We will find a way to get you out, I promise,” Izanagi said, holding out his arms. “I have been so lonely without you. I just want to see your smiling face again. I can think of no more beautiful sight.” When he didn’t get a response, Izanagi put his arms down and began walking to his wife.
“Come no closer, I beg you,” Izanami pleaded.
Izanagi stopped. “As you wish, but I must behold your beauty again,” he said as he bent down to the hearth and removed one of the flaming logs, holding it up as a torch.
“NO!” Izanami screamed as the light of the torch swept across the room and dispelled the shadows from her.
Her once pale and beautiful skin had necrotized into a ghastly white. Cracks in her dead skin ran along her face, putrid sores of yellow and red contrasting against the deathly white. Maggots crawled from sore to sore, burrowing and making home within her rotten flesh. Her brown eyes had rolled over white, bloodshot and bulging. Long and yellowed fingernails adorned her thin bony fingers, and she threw up her hands to cover her face.
Artist: Sandeep Karunakaran
Izanagi staggered backwards, appalled at what had become of Izanami. Horrified, the torch slipped from his hand and hit the ground, casting Izanami back into shadow. The flames from the torch quickly caught on the dead and decaying wood of the rickety building and fire began to spread.
“You’ve ruined everything!” Izanami screamed, her sweet voice now a screech.
Terrified, Izanagi turned and ran as flames consumed the room where they stood.
“After him!” Izanami screeched, giving chase herself. “Do not let him escape Yomi!” A host of undead women emerged from other rooms, furiously sprinting after Izanagi.
Izanagi ran as fast as he could, but like in a nightmare, the mud of Yomi was clinging to his feet, slowing him down. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see the building where they stood just moments ago collapse to the ground in a ball of fire, spewing embers and smoke around it. Izanami wasn’t far behind him, leading the charge of undead women. He could hear her screams of agony and rage as she chased him.
He jumped over the shallow river, stumbling as he didn’t quite reach the far bank. The water stained the bottom of his clothes blood red. He tried not to look down and kept running. Was it a left here or a right? A right! He could see the stairs leading out of Yomi ahead of him. He had almost made it.
As he ran up the stairs, the screams of Izanami and the other women behind him echoed off the tight walls, making it impossible to tell how far behind they were. His gut told him it wasn’t far. He would not risk a look back. A stumble here would spell his doom.
He could see the light of the world trickling through the gateway now. The sight redoubled his effort. His legs burning, he burst through Yomotsu Hirasaka, back into the land of the living.
He hadn’t yet time for relief. Quickly, Izanagi grabbed a stone and laid it across the entrance of the gateway just as Izanami approached, forever sealing her inside, and breaking their union. Husband and wife stood face to face, separated only by the thin plane of life and death.
“You have abandoned me!” Izanami wailed, “After swearing to always be by my side. You have chosen the world we created together over me. For your insolence and betrayal, your precious land of the living will suffer! I will kill one thousand a day!”
“You are not the same woman I made my promise to,” Izanagi said sadly. “However many you kill, I shall birth five hundred more.” And with that, he turned and walked away, for there was nothing more to be said.
As he walked away, the curses and threats of Izanami faded away. He proceeded back through the forest, his head hung low. This time, he did not notice the beautiful patterns of light and shadow made by the leaves of the trees. He did not hear the birds chirp their songs or the wind whisper its secrets among the grass. Izanagi walked solemnly until the land yielded to the ocean, stripped of his tattered and stained clothes, and descended down the sands into the gentle embrace of the sea.
The post Narrative Drop 1: The First Harai appeared first on Upper Deck.
Narrative Drop 2: A Ruinous Raid
Artist: Jacopo Shiavo
The ringing of steel and the screams of battle echoed throughout his mind, making it impossible for him to think. It should have been simple. Secure the Ikorr onto the ships and sail home in glory. Their scouts had detected no enemy presence. They believed they were the only ones who knew the Ikorr was here. But as Stavros stood watching his men engage with an army of samurai, it was clear that they had been mistaken.
“How should we support the left flank, commander?” his second in command, Athanasios, asked again, but Stavros’ mind was empty.
For days he had prayed to Athena, asking for strategy and wisdom in the battles he knew would face him, and for days he had received nothing. None of the brilliant tactics that earned him his command would spring to mind. “They fight like demons without mercy,” was all he could murmur as he watched another of his men fall at the hands of a samurai.
Athanasios stared at Stavros, who surveyed the battlefield in silence. Athanasios shifted uneasily on his feet, desperate for an order. He could think of no recourse himself.
“We must retreat,” Stavros said at last.
“Surely we can stand and fight,” Athanasios rambled, “They do not carry shields. Perhaps our archers could be positioned to take advantage of this. We are the greatest army the world has seen—”
“—When Athena is with us, yes,” Stavros cut him off, “But she is not. Perhaps it is a sign. There was more Ikorr here than we had hoped. If we retreat now with what we have already secured and leave the rest, our mission will still have been a success.”
Athanasios looked out over the battlefield. Though their line was holding strong and fighting determinedly, little by little, they were losing ground. “I’ll give the order,” he said.
High above the two officers, a falcon circled. Its wings outstretched, it effortlessly soared through the hot summer air. Gliding amidst the sparse clouds, the cries of men below faded to near whispers, dying out before reaching to the heavens. Tilting one wing down, it turned to fly back across the battlefield.
Its shadow passed over the ranks of men fighting with all their might. Bodies littered the front lines of both sides, and still men charged over them to add to the collection, or to join it themselves. Xiphe clashed with katanas, ringing out in a symphony of battle. Spears passed arrows in the air, each hoping to find a new home in the heart of a soldier. The ground was stained red as the Ikorr with the blood of each army.
Artist: Sebastian Szmyd
Reaching the other side of the battlefield, the falcon swooped down and spread its wings to land, taking up a familiar perch on the arm of the fearless leader, Oda Nobunaga. Though his army was beginning to win the battle, he stood watching over it with a frown. Something was not right. The Greeks had begun to give ground but were sending no troops to reinforce their line. He stroked the wings of his falcon, not taking his eyes off the battle in front of him.
A tall thin man, Itakura, ran up to Oda and gave a curt bow. “Sir, our scouts have confirmed that the Greeks are retreating. Their main fighting force is only trying to hold us off long enough to load their secured Ikorr onto ships,” he said.
Oda did not take his eyes off the battle to acknowledge his subordinate. He raised his arm, and his falcon once again took to the skies. “Is this not the largest deposit of Ikorr that has been discovered?” he mused, folding his arms behind his back. “Why retreat from the largest source of the most important and powerful substance on Earth?”
“Perhaps the tales of Athena’s strategy we have heard were overexaggerated. She is no match for your brilliance, if this is the best she has to offer.”
“And yet, like a hound shackled to a short leash, an army’s brilliance extends only as far as its most foolish officer will allow. Do you really believe this mess could be orchestrated by their most brilliant strategist?”
Itakura stared at the ground, his attempts at flattery having failed miserably. “I suppose not. But if she is not here, where is she?”
A hint of a frown touched the corners of Oda’s lips, though his gaze remained steady on the battlefield. “You’re skipping the more important question. The question whose answer would answer yours.” Oda paused for a moment to give his subordinate a chance to answer, but hearing no attempt, continued. “Why isn’t Athena here? The Ikorr has spawned a frenzy. It can bend time and space to its whim. The gods demand it be gathered in their name, and yet, Athena, the greatest divine strategist the Greeks have, is content to lose out on the largest share to have ever been concentrated in one place.
“Which means,” Oda said, finally turning to face his subordinate, his direct gaze causing Itakura to flinch under its intensity, “That there is something out there far more important than the Ikorr. These gems are just a piece in the puzzle. Where we find Athena, we find the true secret to power. So, I am relieving myself of this command to hunt down Athena myself. Mount the calvary and send them after the Greeks to hasten their retreat. Give up only 80% of the Ikorr we secure to the gods and hide the rest.”
“You cannot be serious! You ask me to commit blasphemy—” Itakura’s protest did not continue, as Oda quickly drew his katana, slashing it across his subordinate’s chest as he unsheathed the blade. His former underling crumpled to the floor, his hands feebly clutching the gash on his chest.
“Niwa,” Oda barked, catching the attention of another officer. “Please inform our armies that I will be taking a leave of absence. Mount our cavalry and have them hasten the Greeks’ retreat. Continue to hunt the Ikorr as the gods demand, but do not give it all up. Understood?”
Niwa stared at the body between him and Oda, who was now casually cleaning his blade. Realizing he had not given an answer yet, he snapped back to attention. “Yes, commander! It will be done!”
Oda gave a quick nod, sheathed his katana, then turned on his heel. He would need a small force of men to accompany him and a stash of Ikorr. As he walked, he mulled over possible locations to find more information on Athena. No matter how long it took, he would find the goddess. Whatever she discovered could be the key to controlling this new, strange world.
As he reached the Japanese backlines, the cavalry he ordered galloped past him. Samurai mounted on horseback nocked arrows to their bows. As their horses galloped, they stood up in their saddles, knees bent to move with the up and down motion of their horses’ stride. As they got into range, they drew back their bows and let the arrows fly. They found their mark with deadly precision, as the archers were all well-practiced in Yabusame. One of these arrows slammed into the mast of one of the Greek ships, just inches from Stavros’ head.
Artist: Tony Foti
Athanasios scrambled over to him with a shield over his head. “Commander, you need to stay down! Their archers are targeting officers!” he yelled. His warning was underscored by another arrow bouncing off his raised shield.
“Are we ready to set sail?” Stavros asked.
“The last of the men are coming aboard now!”
Stavros looked out to sea. Two of their ships were already on their way. His ship was the last to leave. Turning his gaze back toward land, he saw the last of his men stagger aboard. They collapsed on the deck, most clutching at injuries. Even the strongest of his men wailed, an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Stavros glanced to the Ikorr they had stored. Though they had managed to secure a healthy amount of the red gemstones, it had come at a hefty price.
He let out a sigh as the wind inflated their sails and the oarsman brought their paddles against the water, propelling them out to sea. Hippocampi breached the water, joyfully jumping up and surfing on their wake, either oblivious or uncaring of the loss he and his men had just suffered. A victorious cry erupted from the Japanese army, now free to secure all the Ikorr that remained on the battlefield. For the first time in his career, Stavros had been defeated.
There was no time to mope. His men’s morale was already low. Seeing their leader brood would only hurt it more. Stavros put on a brave face and walked over to the injured men. “You fought well today,” he said. “Thanks to you, we have secured more Ikorr than we ever have. You’ll receive care from the finest healers and be awarded great honor when we return home. The gods will be pleased.”
“Even Athena?” one of the soldiers asked. “Will this be enough for her to break her silence?”
“I hope so,” Stavros said, giving a half-hearted smile. As he turned to leave, he caught Athanasios’ attention and waved him over.
“Commander,” Athanasios greeted, joining him in stride.
“We need to find out what happened to Athena and fast. Without her help, we cannot compete against armies blessed by other deities.”
“Sir, we’ve had scouts looking for weeks now. Not one man has even an inkling of where she may have went or what happened to her. You don’t think she may have been…”
“No, no of course not. I refuse to believe that. If that were true, there’s no chance it could have been kept a secret for this long. She must be somewhere. We just need to—”
“—Starboard, ho!”
Stavros was interrupted by the cry of one of his sailors. Stavros whipped his head around to see a massive column of water erupting from the ocean’s surface. As the water fell back to sea, it revealed a towering monster. The giant figure of a lady with red eyes let out a hideous shriek. As she rose out of the water more, she revealed that her torso was a horrid amalgamation of creatures. The heads of dogs lining her waist snarled, spittle flying everywhere and dripping from their sharp teeth. The heads of serpents writhed about, hissing and snapping in all directions. The nightmare began moving to the ship closest to her.
Artist: David Roterberg
“Scylla!” Athanasios exclaimed. “That’s impossible! What is she doing here?”
“Port! Hard port! Get as much wind into the sails as you can!” Stavros ordered.
One of the other ships in front of them followed suit, its wake arcing towards the left, but for the other, it was too late. Scylla was upon them. The serpents darted out and plucked men off the deck in their fangs, shaking them about as their limbs flailed wildly before swallowing them whole. The dog heads howled with delight, biting into the hull of the ship and tearing it apart. A swing from the rusted blade Scylla held in her hand took down the mast, timbers creaking and splintering, and the whole ship rocked wildly from the impact.
“What do we do?” asked a panicked Athanasios.
“There’s nothing we can do to help them. The only thing we can do is escape along with the other ship and tell stories of their bravery,” Stavros said solemnly.
But as he looked out to the other ship, he noticed it was turning further to the left than it should. It was moving nearly diagonally, almost like it was being dragged. He looked at the ocean currents and saw that they were beginning to churn violently. The water moved
Artist: David Roterberg
more rapidly now, swirling about in a great circle. The ship caught in the current was listing sharply, nearly capsizing as it helplessly spun around with the whirlpool.
“No, no, no,” Stavros muttered in disbelief.
“Charybdis, port!” screamed one of his sailors.
The ship had been dragged to the center of the whirlpool now, and it spun wildly before rows of sharp teeth emerged from the water, biting the ship in half. Sailors aboard futilely jumped overboard in an effort to avoid being swallowed whole.
“Turn back starboard! Turn back starboard!” Stavros screamed, the horrible sight of his other ship sinking snapping him out of his daze.
Stavros looked over the port side of his ship and watched as the last part of the other boat sank below the surface. Having finished off the vessel, Charybdis now started moving towards Stavros’ ship. Stavros ran to the starboard side and saw that Scylla had finished tearing apart the first ship and was also moving in on him. His ship wasn’t fast enough to escape before she cut them off. Stavros and his men were trapped.
“We’re going to die!” Athanasios wailed. “What do we do?”
Stavros looked back and forth between the two monsters encroaching on either side of them. His eyes lingered on one of the hounds adorning Scylla’s waist which had Ikorr in its maw. He looked closer and noticed that Scylla was clutching one of the larger shards herself.
Stavros ran to where the Ikorr was stored on deck and began tossing it overboard. “They want the Ikorr! Help me toss it!” he yelled at his men.
“Are you crazy?” Athanasios yelled. “If we lose the Ikorr, then all our men died for nothing! This mission will have been a complete failure!”
“This mission was a complete failure. The Ikorr is no use to us dead! Now help me throw it over, all of you!”
Athanasios and the warriors still healthy enough to help rushed to the precious gems and began throwing them overboard.
“Throw them far and scattered so they have to chase after them!” Stavros ordered.
Sure enough, Scylla and Charybdis abandoned following the ship to collect the Ikorr as it sank to the bottom of the sea. Stavros and his men breathed a collective sigh of relief as they threw the last of the Ikorr overboard, the monsters no longer tailing them. There was silence for a long time as the men watched the two monsters grow smaller in their wake. Finally, Stavros broke the silence.
“We cannot return to Greece. We will be disgraced,” he said looking at Athanasios.
“But where will we go? We have no god to follow,” Athanasios replied.
“I have heard whispers of a god recruiting an army from around the world. He cares not about loyalty or creed. We must join him. It is the only way we stand a chance at surviving this war.”
Athanasios was quiet for a moment. He then produced a gem of Ikorr from his satchel. “At least we will have some small offering to appear before them with. What’s their name?” he asked.
“Seth.”
Artist: David Roterberg
The post Narrative Drop 2: A Ruinous Raid appeared first on Upper Deck.