Role

Chapter 1

Hailing from the northern plains, beyond the reaches of any common city or
civilization. These barbarians lived in tribes. Tribes in the open plains,
in tents, where campfire was what they cooked with, and where the stars were
their ancestors. They lived by the hunt. Tribes warred amoungst eachother
for supplies--food, weapons, women. This was their way. By the sword each
barbarian grew into a man. Forging themselves into powerful adversaries.

Kutori followed the Tribe of the Panther, a Tribe better known for its tact
on the battlefield. This Tribe honored the Spirit God, Ordasen. The fierce
cat is a strong symbol of instinctual prowess. Instinct--a word lost amoung
the tides of man and civilization, where this sixth sense void and carries no
weight with its meaning or volume. Instinct--to act upon the ancient callings
of survival, where war and rage flowed freely through the veins and of man.

Even though he is not yet a victorious or seasoned barbarian on the fields,
young Kutori carried and trained with the sword with pride. Each member of the
Tribe of the Panther brings their own light, or flame. To ensure that each
flame remains burning, they cast their own into the raging fire--The Tribe of
the Panther. Though filled with a great sense of pride and strength, Kutori
never felt as if he brought his own flame. He felt like he was a traveller
stopping by the bonfire only to warm himself...Which caused him to set out on
his own path. To be cast away from the Tribe of the Panther.


As long as he has his sword to fight with, he is sure to survive. Year after
year he proves it to be true. Even before joining the Tribe of the Panther,
Kutori survived by the sword, no matter the odds, no matter how hopeless of
loosing battle. Kutori was only taught one thing, how to wield a sword...
Never having anything, except his sword. Not wanting to die, Kutori keeps
fighting. And he keeps fighting, because he knows nothing else...