It was the one hundred and fifteenth time you had witnessed a strange sun in a strange sky set over a strange land. The fourth land, or rather, the fourth plane you had visited. You had scarcely begun to scratch the surface of planeswalking and the multi-verse, and there were often times you had wondered if there was even a point to counting the days since you had been torn away from your world; the interactions between multiple universes and time itself was far beyond your comprehension. Still, it gave you some comfort, and focused your resolve to make it back home one day.
That being said, a small voice in the back of your mind probed, why would you willingly return to mediocrity and give up the power you had gained? True, summoning an overwhelming amount of rats and having some modicum of control over rot, disease and death was in some parts disappointing and some parts sickening, but with practice and training...

You shook your head. One day at a time, you thought, bringing your attention back to the encroaching dark and fog that began to wrap itself around the swamplands that lay before you. Kamigawa, they called this plane. The River of the Gods. You inhaled lightly through your nose, the drifting stench of disease and decay betraying the horrors that lay hidden in what one could easily assume to be a quiet and relatively peaceful scene. Apparently, it was the arse end of the river. It was a smell you had, despite your initial misgivings and regurgitations, you had grown to be accustomed to. Places like the Takenuma Swamp allowed the budding magic you weaved to flow freely, despite making your body physically recoil at times. The fetid pools and corrupted marshlands opened their rotten hearts to you, and you knew it like it was your true home. 
Between that feeling and the nature of the sorcery you weaved, it gave you reason to pause and consider what you could turn into. Infecting a man with a debilitating illness, calling forth rats to strip his infected flesh from his bones, and watching it all with an ever-strengthening stomach and cold, steely gaze; it suggested the tools of someone particularly evil. You never considered yourself evil; far from it, in fact. You would say that you have a kind heart, and yet fate decided to deal you this hand.

"It is what it is," you murmured to yourself. A rat crawled it's way up your arm and settled onto your shoulder, its red eyes eliciting a slight, sinister glow to them. A couple more similar red-eyed rats skittered around your feet, and took off into the swamp ahead of you, scouting the area on your behalf. Friends you made in Innistrad, they disease they carried had earned them a rather fearsome reputation. Criminals were given a choice upon capture in one of the towns of Innistrad; serve a sentence in prison, or become a rat-catcher. As the joke went, the hilarity in it's honesty, the smart ones went to prison. With very little effort, you could call them to your side and have them do your bidding, which in this case, was to scout the swamp on your behalf. Their affliction, while slow under normal circumstances, could be rapidly progressed by your magic, and you had laid low giant creatures with a single bite and point of your finger.

While in the run-down city of Numai, you learned Takenuma Swamp was treacherous even to the most seasoned guide; beds of flesh-eating bugs, inescapable sinkholes, graves haunted by bitter ghosts plagued the marshlands. They stared at you with a resigned sadness when you told them of your intention to traverse it alone in search of your goal; the Nezumi tribes. They told you they would pray that the Evening Star would grant you a swift death. Certainly a grim lot, but it was understandable. None of them knew of your spark. 

To say your intention with tonight's excursion was simply to make contact with the Nezumi, a race of anthropomorphic rats, would be a slight lie. The real reason you had set yourself to trek through a swamp laden with death was because of a dream. A female Nezumi, garbed  in haphazard rags and and scraps of laminar armor, stood alone in the mist with her eyes closed, the horrid sounds of ghosts wailing, dying men gurgling in quicksand, and an unearthly cacophony of rage and anguish swirling around her. You thought it would consume her. Then, all was suddenly silenced. In the pale moonlight, her lithe and delicate form moved, and she began to dance as if pulled by invisible strings controlled by an unseen hand. As you watched her, you began to feel as though there wasn't anything controlling her at all; surrounded by death and peril, she had found an inner quiet and a kind of freedom that many people never discovered throughout their lives. The sight stole your breath and made your lips dry.
And then, a red bolt crashed down from the heavens and into the Nezumi. She cried out of pain, and her eyes opened. A sickly red fog poured out from her pure black eyes, which immediately turned to you. Before you could react, she was upon you, a blade in hand. You saw blood, and woke up.

It was rather foolish, thinking about as you carefully traversed the marsh, to think that simply strolling through Takenuma would lead to a chance encounter with this figure, much less that she actually existed, and wasn't some fever dream brought about by a combination of your daily assembly with rats and a mildly uncomfortable length of time without the touch of a woman, but you were feeling... lucky.

[Hours later...]

Looking back on it, you were surprised that you had gone all in so readily with such a jarring change to your life. Perhaps it was that attitude that made the decision to willingly enter a death swamp on nothing more than a whim so easy. There was no reason to assume your affinity with rats would translate to their sentient, anthropomorphic counterparts, and certainly not with the one you saw in your dream. And yet, here you were.

You stepped out from the bamboo thicket into a misty, dreary looking clearing. You looked up to the sky, frowning; twilight had a perpetual grip in these lands, and you could easily sense it was by no means natural. The people of Numai had said that the sun never rose over Takenuma, but you hadn't expected it to be literal. Your eyes fell back down to the earth, and as you quietly stepped through the fog, you were suddenly struck by a sense of deja-vu. You stopped, and examined the corrupted field in detail. Around the edges of the clearing, the rotten bamboo had been cleaved as if culled with a blade, and the moon hung low, bathing the clearing in a pale, white light. This was the place. But the only living things here were you and your rodent companions.

You came to a stop in the centre of the clearing. The sounds of wildlife had long faded into familiarity in your ears; the distant groans and wails of the dying and the dead filled the air, all the while a tumultuous rumbling of an underlying evil stalked on the cusp of your senses. You closed your eyes, denying yourself sight so you could focus on the sounds with more clarity. You breathed in through your nose, slowly and deeply, and exhaled just as slowly. For a few minutes, you controlled your breathing and focused your senses. Groans and wails turned to shrieks and screams, a thousand gibbering mouths speaking desperate prayers for salvation and bitter oaths of vengeance, and, as if taunted by your presence, that haunting evil rose up and towered over you. Eyes and a mouth materialized in your mind's eye, and you felt the Kami's hot breath piercing through you, threatening to boil your blood and melt your bones. It was rare to come across a spirit of such untamed rage and disgust.

The cacophony reached it's crescendo, your ears ringing and your mind straining against the pressure. You slowly raised a hand, almost flinching from the oppressive presence, which began to surge forward at your gesture. As swift as a viper, your right hand sprang forward and snared the being's throat, and the swamp fell as silent as the grave. Your mind cleared, and you felt your veins surge with arcane power.

"Quiet." You heard yourself speak, and felt an unconscious smirk crawl across your face.

What wiped your smile away and brought you crashing back to reality was the cold touch of metal on your fingers, and the something cutting through the air. Your shoulders shifted to the right unconsciously, and your eyes opened in time to see a spurt of blood shoot past your face. The companion perched upon your shoulder didn't have time to let out a final squeak before a kunai impaled and dismounted it.
You sprung to the side, following your momentum and bringing your empty hand up, weaving a quick incantation. A few squeaks answered your call, and from the thicket sprung a small group of rats moving to your side, taking position in the four cardinal directions with their noses faced outward. You spared a quick glance to your right hand; another kunai, caught by the handle. Your eyes darted up, following the path of the knives back to the source. 

Nothing.

Laughter filled the air, deep and foreboding, far greater than the kami you had just encountered. "Good. What luck for a Planeswalker to enter my domain."

The voice rang all around you, but your eyes were drawn to the slain rat. What little blood that pooled from its wounds shimmered like a mirror. A blurred face appeared, long and malformed, razor-sharp teeth and three crimson eyes glowered into your own. Your voice caught in your throat, and the shock of sudden escalation paralyzed you for a moment.
"I require blood, and what better servant to feed me than one who spills blood wherever he treads, and treads wherever he pleases? Do my bidding, and I will grant you much more power than these paltry vermin can muster."

A demon, you figured. The feeling of dread and almost overwhelming power from the tiny vessel of rat's blood drew you to that conclusion. From tales you had heard, it was not uncommon for those who wielded black mana to make pacts with demons for even greater power. It was only a matter of time before you would have to deal with one yourself. Unfortunately, perhaps more for yourself than the demon, you had an interest in retaining your freedom. You found your breath once more, and steadied yourself.

"Who am I speaking to?" You asked tentatively, as you probed the minds of your summoned rats for the location of your attacker. No movement in the bamboo, nor a whiff or sound of anything hostile.
"I am Kuro, Lord of the Pits."
"Well, Kuro, Lord of the Pits," you replied, straightening up and setting your jaw. You flicked your hand, and the kunai pierced the sanguine mirror and shattered the vision. "Consider that my formal answer."
Laughter rumbled through the swamp again, shaking the earth and disturbing the fetid pools. "So be it. If you will not offer me your service, than I shall have your blood."

Two figures stepped from out of the shadows of the thicket. The first, larger and fatter than the other, stumbled into view, it's skin rotten and eyes empty, a horrible gash through its neck and its bowels hanging from a split belly, its hollow gaze set upon you. The other hung back ever so slightly, their body thin yet athletic, sporting rags and patchwork wooden-looking armor, a naganata in one hand and a tanto in the other, and a red mist wafting freely from their eyes.

You had found your mark. But not, as you had hoped, on your terms.

------------

The adrenaline slowly began to drain from your veins, and pain began to set in as you wrapped a spare length of cloth around the gash on your forearm. It had been a fight full of unpleasant surprises, but as the rapidly decaying corpses of ogres and rats attested to, you were not without your own. You had dispelled Kuro's presence, at least for the time being, and stood alone in moonlit swamp with the Nezumi.

If you were less careful, she would have killed you with an embarrassing amount of ease. She slipped in and out of the fray with an uncanny swiftness and subtlety that, between the few ogres that were summoned, made it almost impossible to keep track of her. There was a moment during the battle where you were about to be struck by one of the smaller, frailer ogres, when it disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced by the rodent shinobi. As soon as you managed to pull away from her attack, she had used the blood she had drawn to trace a sigil in the air and raise a small swarm of your slain rats. 

Now, she was staring blankly at you, unmoving and silent, her weapons hanging limply from her hands. Rather than risk a more lethal blow from her, you had used a spell to forcefully dominate her mind. You hated that spell; using it always left a bad taste in your mouth, and using it for some length of time drained your life force, but it was better than dying here. You took the moment of calm to take a good, long look at her.

Her fur lengthened and morphed into some semblance of hair towards her ears, falling to the middle of her back. It was frizzy and messy now, but you recalled as she attacked you, it flowed through the air like silk. Her eyes no longer had the red glow to them, nor did that perculiar smoke escape them, but were as black as the night sky. The rest of her face was covered by a black mask, fastened by a string with a pair of perculiar teeth. A black mantle sat upon her shoulders, supporting a pauldron that had strips of paper with strange symbols carved into them. Cloth and netting encased her modest breasts, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth and excitement as your eyes traveled down to her midriff. Her body was slim, but now you were closer you could see how her toned muscles accentuated her surprisingly womanly figure. Your eyes traveled down to her hips, and then to her thighs, your lips becoming dry all of a sudden as depraved thoughts began to gnaw away in the depths of your mind.

You blinked, and forced your eyes back to her face, dispelling the dirty thoughts for the time being. She didn't even seem to have noticed your leering at her body.
"What is your command?" she asked, her voice monotone. 

That was a good question, and one that immediately caused those dirty thoughts to flare up again. There was quite a lot that came to mind.
"Uh... I'm not familiar with these lands," you paused, beating back the lewd images from your mind. "Is there any shelter around?"
She nodded slowly. "I know of a place. It is not far from here."
"Take me there."
"Yes." She stepped forward and passed you, and you turned to follow her. 

It didn't take long for your eyes to settle on her hips and her ass. All she had to maintain her decency was a loincloth and a couple planks of wood, a poorly kept length of latticed armor that appeared like a ladder to her rump. As she stepped through the marshes, it swayed from side to side enough to almost mesmerize you, and you caught sight of the bottom of her cheeks with every step. A primal feeling began to bubble in your loins, and required more and more proverbial rolled-up newspapers to keep at bay. 
Finally, as the two of you neared a decrepit, abandoned-looking temple, you brought your eyes back up to stave off the building feelings of lust, and caught sight of something on the back of her neck, hidden behind her hair.

"Hold on," you commanded, the Nezumi coming to a stop immediately.
"Yes, Master?" she answered.
"Don't call me that," you grimaced, your skin almost crawling at the title as you stepped closer to her to get a better look at her neck. "What is your name?"
"Ink-Eyes."

That was fitting, you thought as you gently pushed her hair to the side with a finger. Despite it's appearance, and the conditions of the swamp, it felt oddly soft to the touch. But the mark on her neck didn't leave you much time to fully appreciate it. It had a circular shape to it, with two protrusions began from the top, that traced a perpendicular path to the circle before ending near the bottom, and three distinct dots inside the circle, located in the top half. While it didn't glow, there was a faint red coloring to it that surged ever so slightly as you hand grew near it. A feeling of dread welled up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that the sigil reminded you of a very paticular demon you had met not too long ago. 
Whatever it was, you were fairly sure your own enchantment was supressing it. But that only meant if you let it fade, she would fall back under Kuro's control and become a threat to you again. You winced; if that were to happen, you would be forced to kill her, or abandon her and planeswalk somewhere else. 

And for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to consider either of those as good options.

------------

If you hadn't known any better, you would have assumed she brought you to this room to kill you. The room was bare, save for countless runic symbols painted in old, dried blood covering the walls, off-setting the impressive stonework of the temple with a primitive crudeness to it. In the centre lay a ruined straw mat, surrounded by a larger sigil burned into the stone. It wasn't anything familiar to you, but it was a clear indication of a ritual of a less-than-noble means.
"This room is safe," Ink-Eyes droned, turning around to face you. 

Her dull, monotonic voice was beginning to aggravate you. It wasn't so much an anger with her as it was with the situation; you never wanted to forcefully control her, but you had no choice. You knew of no other spell to lift or suppress the current enchantment on her, and as far as you knew, you particular school of magic held no such magic either. And to make matters worse, your own spell was on a rather uncomfortable time limit. True, you could extend it for as long as you could stand it, but it made the dangerous lands you were in that much more perilous.

"I have a command for you," you said after a moment of contemplation. Her ears twitched to attentiveness.
"You will serve me as my guard. You will defend my life, and see that I come to no harm from anyone... beside myself," you added, remembering that instructions of this manner could be rather fickle in that way. "You will not roam far from my side. Otherwise, you are free to act as you would normally."
You reached out your hand, offering a handshake. "Deal?"

She blinked, a sense of awareness coming back to her eyes as you lessened your grip over her mind. Her brow furrowed slightly. "You are aware that Kuro wills your death, and that I am his servant and bound to carry out his will?" 

"Not if I have my say."

It was hard to read her; her mask covered most of her face, and she carried herself with an air of extreme discipline. But she slowly reached out her hand and grasped yours lightly, shaking it twice before retracting her hand back to her side.

"It would seem that way," she spoke with a tone of resignation. "You have ordered it so."

That was better, you thought. She had at least some personality to her now.

"So, Ink-Eyes," you stretched, and sat down against a wall. "I get the impression that you've been here before."

She backed up to the wall opposite you, and settled onto her knees. "I was." She fell silent, until you gestured with her hand to continue. "It was here I resided in the service of an ogre for many years. It was here, in this room, that I killed him in his sleep, offered his blood to Lord Kuro, and began my service to him "

You winced slightly. "Oof. Promise not to do that to me?"

"I already have."

Not much sense of humour, unfortunately.

"Speaking of Kuro, can you feel his influence? Is he talking to you, or something?"

"No. Your spell has blocked off all contact to him. I cannot even feel the power he gave me anymore." She seemed to bristle a little at the last comment, and her gaze grew somehow colder.

"Eh," you shrugged dismissively. "You can do better than him."

"In these lands, it is only the Oni that hold any demonstable power," she exclaimed, her tail shifting in agitation. "There is no better."

"I dunno, you seem pretty capable on your own."

"The power he bestowed upon me was far greater than any of my meditations ever granted me. And you are denying me that power." The spite in her voice was tangible.

"Meditations... when you dance, right?"

Her eyes widened a bit, taken aback. "Y-you know about them too?"

You nodded. "I, uh. Had a dream about it. You looked... free." 
You paused, averting your gaze from her from a little bit of discomfort, as though you were admitting to perving on her. Which you weren't, but you were certainly guilty of. 
"I liked that."

She didn't answer, but also looked away from you.

"Freedom is a precious thing."

"Something you have denied me also." The venom in her voice was beginning to rise again.

"You denied it from yourself." Your rebuke struck with far more bluntness than you had intended, and an awkward silence began to settle in before you continued. "...Why are you seeking power, anyway?"

She didn't answer, and simply stared into her lap. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger.

"...What does it matter to you who I am and what I do?" She finally asked.

This was a question you had yet to answer yourself. You had no ties to this plane, nor its denizens, and yet here you were attempting to free someone who appeared to be quite content with their lot in life.

"I dunno," you answered honestly. "I just... I'd rather see you dancing without being pulled by some asshole demon's strings, y'know?"
She maintained her silence. Real smooth idiot, your brain chastised. Now change the subject before this gets even more awkward.

"...Are there any Nezumi tribes nearby?"

This caught her attention, and her head jolted back up to glare at you.

"What do you want with them?" she demanded. A small, irritated voice in the back of your mind aired it's disapproval for letting Ink-Eyes have enough autonomy to talk back to your this much.

"Information, and maybe a bit of help," you responded, raising a hand to try and placate her. "I'm not here to burn and pillage."

She relaxed slightly, but still glared at you. "...I know of a village."

"Can you take me there?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But we should remain here for some time. The kami are not kind to travelers at this hour."

You shifted uncomfortably on the floor, and peered around the room to see if there was any kind of furniture to ease your aching rear. You hadn't seen it before, but there was a broken chair scattered in one of the corners, and with your agitation finally bubbling over, you huffed and gestured to it.
"Now which idiot went and did that," you grumbled loudly, leaning back into the wall. Ink-Eyes paw went up in front of her mouth, and out of the corner of your eye you saw her shoulders silently shudder out a giggle.

"...It matters not. He has already died twice." There was a sense of satisfaction in her voice.

"...The ogre?"

"Yes. You rendered his body to ashes not long ago."

"Oh. Well, I thought he looked better that way."

"On that I can agree."

----------------

As isolated and uncomfortable as the abandoned temple was, a small part of you preferred it to your current surroundings; a cramped, rickety Nezumi village, where far more eyes stuck to you than you were comfortable with. Though no social contract denied you entry to their home, the hardened glares, the hushed chitters between one another, and the way a few of them fiddled with their knives made it clear you were an unwelcome outsider. You had suggested to Ink-Eyes that having her accompany you would make both you and the rodents feel more at ease, but she had insisted that it would only make things worse. You could have simply made her follow you, of course, but you had reason to trust in her judgement. The journey between the temple and the village held many pitfalls, both (relatively) natural and (rat)man-made, and Ink-Eyes had weaved a perfect path through it all. And so, the more diminutive of your rodent friends found themselves perched upon your shoulder as a sort of silent diplomat, but you were beginning to wonder if that was simply antagonizing the locals.

Movement on the slated roof above caught your attention, and you saw the tip of a rodent's tail slip out of sight. If it weren't for your new companion, you would have been geniunely worried for your life. You absent-mindedly fidgeted with the bandage wrapped around your hand, masking the blood price you had paid to keep Ink-Eyes under your command. You winced; if this village didn't hold any answers for your predicament, you wouldn't have many options left at all.

Your eyes met with one such local, leant against the wall and glaring that same unwelcoming frown from a scarred face. He wore latticed armor that was similar to Ink-Eyes, with the exception that there was more and that it looked much heavier. A sheathed katana hung at his hip, his paw resting lazily on its hilt. You came to a stop, keeping enough space bertween you to react if he decided to attack, and maintained the staring contest.

He cracked first, and a little smirk appeared on his face. "You're a long way from home, human."

"Like you wouldn't believe," you replied, smiling yourself. "I need some information. Mind pointing me towards a shaman of yours?"
"What's it worth to you?"

Your smile widened a little as you reached into your pocket, pulling out a gold coin and flipping it to him. His gaze remained on you, but his arm darted out to snatch it out of the air with impressive accuracy. He examined it for a moment, before slipping it into his pouch and turning his eyes towards a shack at the top of the hill, isolated and overlooking the village. A moment of silence passed before your hands returned to their pockets, turning on your heel and beginning to walk along the cramped street towards the hill.
"Thanks, friend," you said.

"Anytime."

If you were completely honest, you had that house pegged as one of your initial stops in your search, but you wouldn't miss the gold; you were still searching for allies in this land, and you now at least had your foot in the door with that particular ronin.


You ascended the winding path leading up the hill, and came to a stop at the mouth of an open wooden gate, only slightly better crafted than the old wood the rest of the ramshackle village.  Behind lay a garden of sorts, an array of bizarre looking flowers and shrubs that you suspected were far more hazardous than any other garden you've seen. A beaten dirt path lead up to a small porch, where an old, wizened looking Nezumi was sat in front of a scattered set of small bones, a long pipe in his hand, his pale eyes staring straight into your own. It wasn't the unwelcoming grimace the rest of the townsfolk had subjected you to, but one of expectation.

"Hello," you offered, raising a hand in greeting. "May I enter?"

The aged shaman responded with a curt nod, taking a long drag of whatever it was he was smoking, slowly exhaling a greenish-blue smoke.

"I've been expecting you," he answered with a gravelly voice, looking down to the bones before him. "Both of you."

You chuckled quietly, entering the dark garden and turning your eyes to the roof of the hilltop shack. Ink-Eyes was perched upon the edge, her head turned away from the shaman. Your previous smile faded; it was hard to read her mood at the best of times, but the apprehension in her posture was obvious. The gears within your mind turned; general apprehension about coming here, an unwillingness to be seen by her people, the insistence that her presence would sour an already distasteful reception, and now this. Was this once her home she had abandoned? Or perhaps they had abandoned her?

Whatever it was, it was something she would have to endure. You gestured her to come down as you came to a stop a couple of metres from the shaman. She remained still for a moment, long enough for you to strongly consider forcing the issue, before she finally hopped off the roof, landing gracefully and quietly next to you, her head downcast.

"My name is Nighteyes," the shaman continued, picking up a short cane and slowly pushing himself to a stand. He paused, taking a long look at Ink-Eyes, which made you wonder if there was any relation; you certainly got the impression that it was a sore subject.

"She has a mark on the back of her neck," you said, opting to get straight to business before things got awkward. "I think it's some kind of enchantment from the Oni. Any chance you could remove it?"

Nighteyes stepped forward to Ink-Eyes, moving around her and craning his neck to get a look at the mark. After a few seconds, he heaved a sigh, and paced back to his porch.

"No. That is the mark of Kuro, and those who practice our arts are not equipped to deal with them," he explained, his voice as stony as his face. "You already know of their limitations, else you would have dealt with this yourself, no?"

"Yeah," you frowned. "But I'm not one to quit lightly. Any ideas on who or what can help her?"

Nighteyes gave you a long look, his dark eyes piercing into your own. After a long pause, he countered with his own question.
"Why are so determined, to the point of spilling your own life's blood, to free her from the Oni's grasp?"

That question really cut to the bone of the issue, and your frown deepened. You didn't like being put on the spot in such a manner, and especially in front of Ink-Eyes. There were a few small reasons to shroud the truth of it; how useful she would be as a servant, your admitted feelings of fascination and your surpressed feelings of lust for her, standing by the principle of freedom, and spitting in the local bugbear's face. 
But underneath that was your own desire to prove that despite the dark magic that had been dumped onto you, and everything that it tried to tempt you into doing, you were a still a good person.

"...Because I can," you answered, wishing you were as good at keeping your expression as unreadable as Nighteyes was.
The old shaman's mouth curved into a slight smile. "I see."

He settled back down into a seated position, taking another long drag from his pipe. "There is one thing that may be of use. It is called the Oblivion Stone. Legends say that a sorcerer once used it to fight the Kami, but it was lost in the Temple of the Evening Star."
"As you might expect," he continued with a wry smirk. "Those who are currently in control of that temple are not the friendliest. Ogres, enthralled in service to Kuro, to be exact. Certainly no friends of ours, and considering what you're attempting to do, no friends of yours either."

You began to smile. "Where?"

"I can lead you there," Ink-Eyes finally spoke up. 

"That settles it, then," you nodded, turning your head back to the shaman and giving a respectful nod of the head. "Thank you for the information, Nighteyes. If there is anything I can do to repay you, let me know."

"The only thing I would ask is that you succeed," he replied shortly, before his sight turned onto the village below. "We lack the strength to raise our paws against Kuro and his ogres. Many of our own are turned to his side, and our dead are raised into his service. In every battle, we bleed, and his strength grows. But you... you are a Planeswalker, are you not?"

You blinked, a little taken aback by his surgical assessment of you. There were plenty of humans who wielded magic like yours who were not Planeswalkers.

"...Yeah," you relented.

Another long drag from his pipe, and as he exhaled his eyes narrowed into slight glare. "You know, the last time a Planeswalker appeared in Kamigawa, an entire Nezumi village was destroyed." He paused for a long moment, and you met his glare with your best poker face. 
"...I hope that history will not repeat itself."

"I don't intend on bringing harm to your people. It sounds like you're taking a risk with giving me this information, and I appreciate that," you responded, choosing your words very carefully. "But... why?"

Nighteyes looked to Ink-Eyes again, who was determined to avoid his gaze at all costs. "...Because I have a greater stake than most."

That all but confirmed it in your mind; there was definitely a relation between the two, but it wouldn't be appropriate to bring it up now. Instead, you opted to give a proper bow.

"Thank you again, Nighteyes."

"May the Evening Star guide you."

You turned on your heel and, beckoning Ink-Eyes to follow, you left the garden with a renewed sense of purpose. As you began to descend the sloping path down the hill, far out of the shaman's earshot, you slowed your pace and spoke.
"This was your home, wasn't it?"

The tree ahead of you rustled, and the slender kunoichi slinked down and landed quietly in front of you, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn't want to talk about it, but it felt pertinent to press the issue.
"...Yes," she finally relented, her hand absent-mindedly clasping at her opposing forearm.

You stopped in front of her, frowning. You had a feeling this was going to be at best awkward, and at worst painful.

"What happened?"

"They-" she began with anger in her voice, before she caught herself and started again with a level tone. "They cast me out of the village."

"Why?"

Ink-Eyes hesitated, a hint of sadness in her eyes, and then shook her head. "I... I don't want to talk about it."

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together in a look of mild impatience. It was easy enough to just force her to tell you, and part of you seriously wanted to; you expression most likely told her as much. You stepped toward her, and that same nagging voice in the back of your head was telling you that you should force the issue. Her stance shifted, as though she was bracing herself for something.
You passed her, and your hands found their way back into your pockets. 

"Alright."

She exhaled quietly, but sharply as you spoke. You couldn't see her, and you assumed you wouldn't until you left the village, but you got the feeling that for moment, she didn't move. But when you looked back over your shoulder, she had disappeared once again.

-------

The ronin you had encountered before hadn't moved from his position; still leaned against a wooden wall, arms folded, a one side smirk across his snout. His dark eyes fell on you.

"Found what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Not yet," you replied, shaking your head.

A thought struck you suddenly, and you paused. As far as allies were concerned, you had embarassingly few sentient ones, much less those who had experience fighting against the ogres of Takenuma. From the Nezumi's demeanour, and the few scars on his arms and nose, he had probably seen a fight.

"I'm off to kill some ogres," you stated bluntly, aiming for a direct pitch. "Want in?"

His grin widened. "I'm all for spilling some ogre blood. But, what's it worth to you?"

You figured that question was comng.

"Whatever you pull from their cold, dead hands," you shrugged. "I'm hunting for a certain *artifact; everything else isn't really of any concern to me. "

His eyebrow arched, but he otherwise remained still and silent until you flipped him another gold piece, which he caught with blinding speed.
"Alternatively, I could just pay you with gold, but where's the fun in that?"

The ronin threw his head back and barked out a laugh. "Hah! I like you, human." He pushed himself off the wall, and brought a fist to his chest. 
"My name is Skull-Taker," he introduced himself with a confident smirk. "And you'll find no better swordsman in Takenuma."

You felt your mouth twitch, and wrestled with your face to stop yourself from either smirking or cringing at his name. From what you had gathered, Nezumi naming conventions tended to be awfully edgy.

"You mind if I just called you Bones?" You asked, turning back to the path and beckoning him to follow. 

"Hah! Bones?" he laughed heartily. Then in a flash, the mirth drained completely from his face, and his eyes narrowed into an all too familiar glare. "I would."

"...What a shame." 

For a moment, the two of you stared each other down, and you could almost feel the air coil around and press down on the both of you. The ronin's face then cracked into an infectious, wide grin, and the two of you shared an amicable laugh as you stepped out of the relative safety of the village.

----------------

It was difficult to keep the incantation going at a low, steady tone as you drew the dagger across the top of your forearm, making a straight, clean cut into your skin next to the three slowly healing scars, identical in appearance and origin. You raised your arm to allow the blood to flow down to the back of your hand, before rotating and changing the direction so that it ran into the centre of your palm. Ink-Eyes sat in front of you, watching quietly with discerning eyes as brought your hand up to eye level, and slowly clenched your fingers into a fist. Dark, sanguine runes connected by a sickly black chain settled in the air around the kunoichi's head, before tightening suddenly and disappearing with a haunting click. Ink-Eyes' head twitched slightly, blinking as she inhaled quickly, but regained her stoic composure easily enough.

"There," you sighed, bringing a hand to the cut and expending some more magic to force the blood to coagulate, before wrapping a bandage back around your forearm. "...Are you alright?"

She nodded. "It's... uncomfortable, but I am fine."

"That's good," you nod, tying a knot in the bandage to keep it secure, repeatedly clenching your left hand. It felt more sluggish than usual, and a dull ache wracked your body; while the wound had been closed, the lifeblood had been spent, and you were beginning to feel it.
"If you don't mind me asking, how... how does it feel being mentally controlled like this?"

Ink-Eyes brought a hand to her chin, carefully considering her words. "Hmm... It- Hm." She stopped again, and shot you a curious look. "There's a great weight that falls on my mind and body whenever I think or attempt to bring my blade against you, and I do not feel Kuro's influence at all, but it's not as... oppressive and intrusive as I imagined it would be. My mind is mostly my own."

So she was still planning on killing you. It was beginning to dawn on you how difficult this task you had chosen would be to accomplish.

"I have been meaning to ask," she continued. "...There have been times where you could have compelled me to do something I did not want to do, or answer questions I did not want to answer, and you chose not to. Why?"

"...Well, you'd have even more reason to kill me if I did, right?" you shrugged. "Look, I don't like using the spell at all, but I haven't got much choice if it's the only thing that stops you from killing me."

"You could just leave. I'd have no reason to chase you if you left Takenuma," she offered.

"Bit late for that now, isn't it?"

"Hardly. You have no reason to remain, but you do. And you have gone great lengths to prevent your spell from rendering me totally in your control. Why?" 
She had abandoned her confrontational tone from the first time you spoke for one of curiousity, as though she was hoping to find a more complete answer. Little steps seemed the way to go.

You considered your response, before giving her a coy smile. "Alright. I'll tell you why I'm doing this, but you have to tell me why you were cast out of your village first. Deal?"

"I will agree to that, but only if your begin," she countered. You didn't need to see her face; you could hear her own smirk.

"Alright," you chuckled, shaking your head. "I initially came here to... well, to find you. I already told you about that dream I had; that's what I had to go on. And when I found you, it wasn't under the friendliest of circumstances. I guess I want to try and turn that around."

Ink-Eyes squinted a little at you, tilting her head as if expecting you to continue. 

"Kuro is an arsehole anyway," you added, hoping she hadn't caught on to you dodging the question.

"Perhaps, but I don't think you've fully answered my question."

Shit.

"Ahh..." you sighed, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. "Truth be told, it's hard to put it into words. I just wanna help you, and I don't think that demon has anything good in store for you."

"And how would you know?" she enquired, maintaining her diplomatic timbre.

"Do they ever? Mortal creatures are nothing but tools to be used and thrown away to them. Even if you're the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Did it ever occur to you that may have been what I wanted?"

That one caught you off guard, and you eyes narrowed in confusion. 

"I was never taught the arts of ninjutsu. I learned it myself. I consider myself to be the best kunoichi in all of Takenuma, and in my eagerness to improve my craft, I learned techniques that were forbidden in the eyes of my people. That is why I was exiled."
She stopped for a moment, as though she was judging your reaction. "That was how I came to enter the service of the ogre you disintergrated, and later, Kuro himself. The Pitlord gifted me with powers far beyond what I could muster from my own."

Your attempt at a poker face cracked, and you frowned.

"So you see," she continued. "Kuro's power has cemented me as the greatest assassin in all of Takenuma, which was all I ever wanted. And so, I spill blood in his name."

"...And then I came along and fucked that up, huh?" You grumbled.

"A crude way to put it, but yes."

You bit the inside of your lip, looking at the ground, before shaking your head. "Agh... You can do better than him."

"Like who? Yourself?"

"...Fuck it. Yeah, me."

"Forgive me, but I have my doubts. While you have a firm command over simple creatures and a handful of spells, I do not think you can match what Kuro has given me."

"I can," you fired back, letting your ego stretch its legs. "And I can do better."

"Oho. Are you asking me to forsake my vows to Kuro, and enter your service instead?"

"Not right now. But give me a shot; once this little trip is over, I might surprise you."


< To Be Continued I\I/|