Takuma Yoshio

Herald Takuma Yoshio (a.k.a. The Ronin)

Habiki Yoshio was born the son of a baronet in Akanowa, in the land of Lithian. The Yoshio family, while not an especially renowned or wealthy one, were none the less an ancient and respected bloodline, until the disgrace and suicide of Habiki's father in the aftermath of the Second Simian War, at which point the true value of honour, duty and respect for the common people was revealed to Habiki. Turning his back in disgust on the corrupt nobility and fickle peasants of his homeland, he abandoned the name of Habiki Yoshio, and becoming "Takuma", wandering performer, peddler and all around scoundrel. Takuma survived by twisting the very skills his father had taught him, using charisma and eloquence not to serve the people, but to exploit them. Takuma dazzled and beguiled with his vocabulary and natural showmanship, all while swindling and deceiving the ignorant throngs, milking them for every coin he could before moving on, leaving only overpriced herbal tonics and useless baubles where he had promised mystic remedies and holy relics.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Very tall for a Fox, but with the characteristic litheness and slender build of his kin. He is clearly built for speed and agility rather than power or intimidation.

Body Features

Besides his uncommon height, Takuma has the same features of all fox-kind, although he would say his white-tipped tail is particularly luxuriant and impressive. He could probably convince you it was too...

Facial Features

With emerald green eyes, vibrant red and white fur and the striking bone structure produced by generations of noble breeding, Takuma is an undeniably handsome creature, capable of dashingly cavalier grin.

Identifying Characteristics

Physically, aside from his height, and beauty, Takuma is the quintessential Akinowan Fox, although his green eyes are much brighter than most.

Physical quirks

As a con-man, Takuma works hard to adopt rolls and personas, so has smothered most of his "original" quirks beneath layers of fake identities. His natural accent, however, tends to resurface during moments of intense stress, or while in solitude.

Special abilities

Takuma's physical abilities are far from remarkable, aside from his mastery of dagger combat. A life on the road has led him to piece together a less than honorable fighting style all of his own, one littered with dirty tricks and cheap shots to secure immediate advantages over an unsuspecting opponent. Furthermore, he has an uncanny ability to escape from dangerous situations via daring, reckless and often downright improbable means.

Apparel & Accessories

Takuma is dressed head to toe in a mixture of practical travelling gear and gaudy finery, that, to the untrained eye, might even pass as genuinely impressive. To the more attentive and affluent, however, his attire of brightly dyed fabrics and "exotic" costumes are cheap pantomime garbs, crudely stitched together like a vulture dressed as a peacock.

Specialized Equipment

Takuma tends to wear a wide-brimmed Akinowan straw hat, and a battered leather travelling coat he has had for many years to protect the "finery" underneath. He is also easily identified by his bull-drawn cart of wares with the colorful words: "Takuma's Travelling Trove" proudly daubed on the side. He also carries two unusual daggers he calls "Lullaby" and "Shriek". Lullaby appears to be a bladed length of metal with leather wrapped around the lower half to make a handle, while Shriek is the hilt of a katana, ending in a jagged, broken steel spike several inches after the blade starts from the guard.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Takuma was a gregarious youth, his natural charm and impetuousness making him a lightning rod for adventure among his hordes of lower class friends. Takuma reveled in their admiration, while they delighted in the thrill of brotherhood with a "noble" so far above their station. This symbiotic relationship characterized Takuma's childhood, as he fed off the adoration and expectations of his friends to attempt greater feats of audacity, ultimately cementing Takuma's hunger for attention and belief that only reckless heroics will earn him respect. The death of his father, Takuma's role-model in every way, was a complete betrayal of his world view. Takuma realized that no matter how adored you were by the public, all it took was one plausible, false accusation and a little bit of hardship for your "friends" to become a lynch mob, baying for blood, all their previous loyalty forgotten. Rage at this betrayal turned to contempt, not just for the citizens of his home town, but for the "common folk" as an entity; an entity Takuma has dedicated his life to taking petty revenge upon one scammed peasant at a time, taking petty revenge for their betrayal of his father by betraying their trust in return with a fake smile and empty promises of his own.

Gender Identity

Male, although he is not above dressing as a woman to play a role in a performance, and he has a convincing falsetto

Sexuality

Heterosexual - he lost his virginity to a servant girl he enjoyed a brief but passionate courtship with, before she turned on his father with the rest of the town. Takuma is now something of a Lothario - he delights in seduction and the "thrill of the chase", but true romantic attachment eludes him as long as his inherent disdain and prejudice holds sway in his heart, which is ironic, for one who sings about love as much as him...

Education

Takuma was well educated as the child of a lesser noble, but his impetuous nature made him selective about the subjects he applied himself to. The fine arts of court etiquette and noble tradition were thus neglected in favor of more passionate subjects: music, lore, fencing and debate. None the less, Takuma is perfectly literate and numerate, even if this education is much less well rounded and polished than the average noble.

Employment

Realizing quickly he needed money to survive after abandoning his home, he first became a troubadour, using his musical talent and broad knowledge of ancient history, ballads and poems to delight and amuse crowds for coin. When this proved insufficient to meet Takuma's lordly tastes, he became a merchant, "upselling" cheap trinkets to naïve commoners as "relics" or rare artefacts, and satisfying his irrational grudge at the same time. Takuma also discovered a love of science on his travels - a subject that had never held his interest until all restraints were removed and he was allowed free reign to tinker, experiment and brew potions and chemicals by himself. Alchemy has become a monetized hobby for him, where scamming and performance are his real passions.

Accomplishments & Achievements

Teaching himself alchemy to the level where he can concoct potions, acids and advanced chemical compounds without the aid of formal tuition is certainly remarkable, although Takuma would not consider it so. His survival, alone, on the road and mastery of his daggers are also quite impressive.

Failures & Embarrassments

There have been many, as with any performance artist: forgotten words, dud notes, songs and tales met with roaring silence or jeers. Yet Takuma is seldom haunted by these failures, convinced as he is that commoners are treacherous vermin whose approval he toys with and exploits, rather than cultivates.

Mental Trauma

The death of his father, and the sight of the people he'd dedicated his life to faithfully serving, jeering and cursing his name like he was the most detestable of criminals, haunts Takuma to this day. It has led to a deep rooted prejudice against all common folk: where other Lords might feel smug superiority or pity, Takuma feels raw, unadulterated contempt, and a belief that any of them would act the same way his former serf would have, given the chance.

Intellectual Characteristics

Takuma fancies himself an authority on every subject, by virtue of the fact that his charisma and persuasiveness often convinces people he knows more than he lets on, or is a more reliable source on any given subject than they are. This commonly manifests itself as arrogance and a patronizing tone he cannot help but adopt. In truth he is more of a jack-of-all trades, except when it comes to the arts and history.

Morality & Philosophy

Hyper-capitalist: its a dog-eat-dog world. He also believes loyalty and stupidity go hand-in-hand, and that devotion is just another type of scam, one its important to be on the right end of. That said, he's not completely heartless, and can be moved to help those in need out of pity, if not compassion, provided it poses minimal risk to himself, or a chance of profit.

Taboos

His home town - he wants nothing to do with that fetid cess-pool of treachery, and has never once entertained the idea of returning to assume the position he was born to inherit

Personality Characteristics

Motivation

Money, money and more money A desire to punish and rob the lower classes in retribution for their perceived treachery To a lesser degree, a growing sense of loyalty to Martin as a genuinely heroic figure, as well as a meal ticket to the good life and a slight fear of Magden....

Savvies & Ineptitudes

Savvies - performance, haggling, persuasion, street smarts, romance and seduction, escape, cooking on an open fire Ineptitudes - gambling and games, quitting while he's ahead, swimming

Likes & Dislikes

Likes: Attention, music, poetry, stories, myths and legends, money, the open road, adventure, excitement, debate, wild honey, open fires, mead Dislikes: Commoners, naivety, responsibility, debt (personal and financial), fair fights, brawling, injustice, pretense, fine dining, high society

Virtues & Personality perks

Bravery - While this is more to do with his belief in his own invincibility, Takuma will regularly put himself in harms way, either for others or for profit Ingenuity - Takuma will often seek unconventional, and often ingenious solutions to problems Showmanship - Why be a backing performer when you can steal the whole show? Eloquence - Takuma loves the sound of his own voice, and loves to try and talk things over

Vices & Personality flaws

Prejudice - he struggles to forgive and be forgiven Arrogance - Takuma is a complete narcissist, believing himself more intelligent and more competent than anyone around him Recklessness - Takuma has never properly realized that he is mortal, and that someday there may come a time when the consequences of his actions can't be talked around or run away from. Mercenary - As far as Takuma is concerned, everyone has a price, himself included, and sometimes its depressingly low

Personality Quirks

Oddly, Takuma is really bad at swimming, to the point of being afraid of water deeper than a bucket or small stream His high class accent slips into a more low-class variant he picked up from his childhood in times of stress Deeply cares for his reliable old bull, Amber

Hygiene

For an animal that spends so much time on the road, Takuma does employ a high degree of attention to his appearance, and hygiene is a factor. He regularly washes both himself and his clothes, using home-brewed disinfectants and soaps he creates via alchemy

Social

Contacts & Relations

Anders the innkeeper (broken pot and board I owe him for) Captain Strongspear and 1st Mate Nixon of the Herald Jin-Li - cousin of the douchebag Marquis, a handmaiden of the Shogun, snow leopardess, Martin's crush Hoshio - a boatman we left a leongrim deposit with for his boat

Family Ties

None - father committed hara-kiri, mother died of some illness or other while he was young. No siblings or significant relationships with other relatives

Religious Views

Believes in the gods but only because its easier than not. He likes to be able to blaspheme and have someone to blame when things go wrong/pray to desperately when he needs help Has honestly never had the time to think about it in more detail

Social Aptitude

Takuma is a social butterfly, gregarious and outgoing to a fault, he relishes social contact of all kinds, from bawdy taverns to the thrill of musical performance and the cut-and-thrust of debate. His time on the road, however, has somewhat dulled his (already flakey) knowledge of the etiquette and manners of high society, so he is much more at home among the lower classes he needs and reviles.

Mannerisms

Has a habit of idly strumming his guitar or talking to Amber while driving the cart - habits he has picked up to fend off the creeping loneliness of a life of peddling and scamming others He also has a way of speaking that makes him come across as incredibly arrogant, even when he's not trying to

Hobbies & Pets

Amber the Bull - his elderly, reliable cart-bull His hobbies include alchemical experimentation and the brewing of potions He also enjoys collecting oddities, practicing music and song and reading about ancient history and myths

Speech

Primarily eloquent and well spoken, without a hint of his native Akinowan accent, unless he is flustered or in a state of adrenalin-high, in which case his "real" voice slips out: a much cruder, slang-ridden bastardisation of various different dialects he picked up from years in the gutters and sleazy dive bars of the open road.

Wealth & Financial state

Limited, as Takuma recently invested his savings in a new wagonload of alchemy supplies and tat to sell

A sly, silver-tongued con-artist, with a heart caught between a mercenary scoundrel and a reckless daredevil.

View Character Profile

Alignment

Chaotic Neutral

Honorary & Occupational Titles

Heir to ...... village "The Ronin"

Age

Birthplace

Akinowa

Children

Current Residence

The open road

Gender

Male

Eyes

Green

Hair

Fiery orange

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

n/a

Height

5ft 10"

Weight

130lb

Quotes & Catchphrases

"Announcing his Royal Highness, Martin Leondric Lexel Mithimanian Leongling, Prince of Callic!"

Known Languages

The common Ardan tongue. His high Ardan is rudimentary and out of practice.

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Parting Poems

The Wanderer: The Mage takes a bow From failing lips I take up His song. My encore. The Champion: Autumn in the woods Cast away your heavy blade Among sleeping leaves The King: A flame on a cliff Beset by the hateful storm Defiantly bright

Farewell
The eve of the final battle, final entry

My dear future self, I write this letter surrounded by the sounds of bustling, military preparation, as Martin and Caerbhall martial the soldiers for the defence of…well, everything, really: the castle, the Five Realms, the Wyrd, our own lives and last but not least, the future. The future of the entire world and all the people in it. Its curious, for the first time in my life, the notion of fighting for “The People”, that nebulous, faceless mass I spent my entire life inflicting petty vengeance upon, doesn’t fill me with contempt. Why? Oh don’t play coy, you know why, my dear future self. The reason is a part of who you are, and who I have become. Anyway, I believe this will be the last time I write to you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that out of some fatalistic sense of foreboding; I have absolutely no intention of dying tomorrow! The world has too many more secrets to be uncovered and recorded by Takuma, the magical wandering poet, for something as banal as death to thwart me! No, I am ceasing these letters for the simple reason that they are no longer necessary. We both recall when I penned that first long, spiteful letter to you, huddled and shivering in the sparse shelter of the roadside bushes, freshly fled from my home with only the all consuming rage in my heart to warm me. Whether it was due to my juvenile need to fantasize about my inevitable revenge and vindication, or the pitiful desire of a lost boy to sooth his loneliness, I began writing to you. You, my dear future self, a formless entity shrouded in the fog of choices as yet unmade, who could be anything my wildest dreams concocted: a celebrated playwright, a bloody-handed avenger, a debauched hedonist of peerless wealth; all looking back at the sobbing little fatherless fox, laughing in your blissful contentment at his present suffering. But despite all those years, all those letters, all those hopes, dreams and desires committed to ink and parchment, who you ultimately are is someone entirely different. You’re brave, especially when those you love are in need, at which point your courage gives way to sheer recklessness, because against all odds, you’re also loyal. You’re kind, in your own particular way. You’re cunning, and reliable. You aren’t rich, or particularly beloved and well renowned, except for a scant handful of people, and you wouldn’t trade their regard for all the glory in every legend spoken in every tongue. And you’re sly, my dear future self, because quite uninvited and unexpectedly, you became me. So thank you, I will take it from here, Sincerely and forever more, Takuma

My Blossoming Companions

Why am I still here? When I consider the full scale of the powers arrayed against us: an immortal, relentless master-swordsman, a demon of subterfuge who has sold his soul for Wyrdian power, the sitting Queen, her incestuous lover the Lord Protector, an entire continent of brigands, beasts and opportunists, a lost race of swamp dwelling troglodytes and a literal being of world-ending malevolence (and I have no doubts this list is far from exhaustive why have I remained on this path? This quest has thrust me into more danger than I’ve faced in the rest of my life combined, nearly claimed my life several times, financially ruined me, injured my oldest friend and now reduced my home to splinters, and with it, almost everything I own. A lifetime travelling the length and breadth of this land, all wasted in a moment. I don’t know what cuts me more, the fact that Takuma’s Travelling Trove, my life’s work, has been destroyed, or the fact that all the world has actually lost is a rickety cart full of junk. Has my life really been so insignificant? I look at Caerbhall, who has given more of himself in the name of duty than even the most malicious of gods could have taken and did so willingly. Nobody has the right to ask him to take even a single step further than he has already has, yet he rises each day and chooses to face the insurmountable odds arrayed against us, to charge headlong back into peril and pain and loss. I look at Martin and watch a boy, a man and a King all wrestling for control of his young heart; all while expectation and responsibility are piled like rocks upon his shoulders. Even so, he still struggles on under the weight of a burden I have no right even attempting to fathom, smiling and optimistic, not just advancing, but leading. Then I look at Takuma. I see a life twisted irreparably by bitterness and self-absorption. I survey my petty profits and horded baubles, my tools and books, my costumes and instruments, and watch them burn with the ruins of my road-bound home. I’m not a warrior, I could barely hold off a single mere brigand while those two fought our ghoulish pursuer and his abominable mount. They can’t rely on me to fight by their side. I’m not a magician, my thrill of excitement at my blossoming Wyrdian talent has withered with the realisation that my so called “powers” are as useless and unreliable as…well, me. Why am I still here?

The Enemy's True Face
9th Julyeth

So, my dear future self, how are you handling the nightmares? Has the seeping, bone chilling horror of that entity from the tower finally thawed, or are you still just as paralysed by terror at its memory as I am now? It would seem I am the first of our party to glimpse the true face of our enemy then: The Other King. I was always aware he was a world-ending monstrosity of a creature, of course; but its one thing to know that, and quite another to stand in front of it, eye to eye. Ram preserve me, those eyes… I know just who I have to thank for this unpleasant revelation too, although why he chose me from our little party to be the witness rather than, say, the future King or the Legendary Warrior, I have no idea. Bravery and heroism in the face of insurmountable odds are rather their department: I’m just here for ceremonial and record-keeping purposes after all; as my utter uselessness in the face of the Other King’s champion testifies (did I mention we’re now being pursued by an invulnerable, undead Bobcat?) Still, the old wizard must have had his reasons, and since he also saved me from that haunting vision, and was good enough to let us borrow his spell book, I suppose I owe Magden the benefit of the doubt. Ah Magden… If ever there was a fellow I misjudged more! A mentor and surrogate father turned manipulative traitor – it’s a classic character right out of one of my more melodramatic ballads! And yet, would a true traitor knowingly allow his home to be pillaged? Or moreover, supervise and protect the burglars? I think, perhaps… Well, you know what I think don’t you? Doubtless whenever you’re looking back on these scrawling’s you’ll laugh at my futile attempts at empathy having discovered the truth of this and so many other matters, you lucky bastard. We’ll be moving out of the capitol, again, soon; so I must wrap up this little chat. Suffice to say, Martin’s power, reputation and legend grow daily (and for the benefit of any scholars not convinced by the epic poem I will doubtless someday pen on the matter, YES, Martin genuinely did teleport the population of an entire town almost single handed while Caerbhall and the Late Sir Takawana held off our immortal assailant), and Caerbhall’s strength of arms continue to be surpassed only by his strength of will. And as for me… Well there’s nothing much to say in contrast to them, is there? Onward they go, and I follow.

Unwanted growth

My dear future self, I'd make apologies for my negligence to you, but as I'm sure you'll remember, its been an eventful few weeks. Between our day-trip through time and space (which for both our sakes I will now move on from forever), our mad dash back across the continent, parting ways with Jun=Pei, reuniting with Caerbhall and the Marquis' entirely anticipated attempt on my life, matters of literacy and music have fallen lamentably by the wayside. And, of course there is the small matter of my blossoming...talents. I think I've always been aware I was a little Wyrd-Touched, and looking back on some of the frankly insane misadventures and escapades I managed to get away with in my youth, its no small wonder magic was involved. So, it seems I have the capacity to be a magician, and given that I held my own against the dear Marquis (who, for the record, appears to have sold his soul to the Otherking in exchange for power and prestige), one of not inconsiderable power either. That troubles me - for all Magden's alleged deceptions and manipulations (how embarrassing that a dab hand at deception like myself couldn't spot them) I genuinely believe everything he said about the Wyrd was true: that its an all-pervading, near-sentient force, and thus not prone to whimsy or caprice. You've been chosen, Takuma. Chosen by Magden, chosen by the Wyrd, chosen by fate, and most importantly, chosen over and over again, despite your personality, your failings, your past, by Martin. Being relied upon and wanted, genuinely wanted, does not sit comfortably with me (my speechlessness in the face of Jun-Pei's adoration is proof enough of that), and now that I apparently have the power to discharge the very duty they rely upon me for, all that I lack is the resolve. You do lack the resolve to be relied upon, don't you, future me? Because to tell you the truth, a horrifyingly significant portion of your present self is relishing it. This whole "companionship in the face of insurmountable odds and heroism" thing. Its making me forget that deep down we're selfish cowards who are only in this for the money and fame, and that we don't owe anybody anything. Except for Jun-Pei, who our negligence may very well have cost his parents. Guilt, responsibility, loyalty, friendship, even? Its all happening so quickly.

The Mountain
25th Aprileth

Cold. Can't feel my fingers, can barely hold quill. Doubt I'll be able to read this back. Must remember: You did something out there. The warmth. The song. The Magic. You helped.

Haiku of Mortality
23rd Aprileth

Sunshine, open road, The ageless woods surround Countless hidden ends

Home Again
18th Aprileth

Well, that was quite the experience was it not, my dear future self? Have you yet managed to sort out the twilight of emotions visiting that vile tombstone of faithlessness? I suppose I should be overjoyed at the suffering of my treacherous former vassals, or the expression on the Shogun's face as her own folly was revealed to her, or even elated that my father's name is now clear. That's how it was supposed to go, wasn't it? The mocking hypocrites finally silenced by the revelation of the truth? Their treachery revealed, the weight of their guilt crushing down upon them like a tsunami... How many nights did such thoughts keep me warm during those dreadful early years after I first left home? But instead I feel nothing. The truth is out, my song is sung, my hated people are suffering exactly as I hoped. I am vindicated, my vengeance is achieved and yet it all seems so...banal. Why? Didn't I want this? I suppose my years on the road must have cooled my rage and blunted my hate, even towards the miserable peons I once called friends. Even still though... this apathy is unlike me. What's changed? And when?

The Legacy of Heroism
4th Aprileth, 1062 AF

They say you should never meet your heroes, and my dear future self, we can now both see why. I have always been an eloquent man, its something I pride myself upon, define myself by even. For me, words come to my tongue as easily as blood come to my heart. And seeing Cearbhall Kingshield like that... I still don't know what he meant to tell me when he fixed me with those burning, red eyes. Probably, I fear and suspect in equal measure, the same thing he's been trying to tell all of us from the very beginning, in his own way. To tell the whole world maybe. And therin lies the real tragedy of being a living Legend I suppose: The world sees Caerbhall, the Hero of Berwick. Cearbhall just sees Caerbhall, the drunk old Goat who couldn't protect his squire; among a thousand other failings, I shouldn't wonder. There's probably a tragic poem in that somewhere, but I'm too melancholic to write it now. Hopefully you, Takuma of tomorrow, will come up with some cunning salve for Caerbhall's ailing soul, for it is well and truly beyond the Takuma of the present. In the meantime, Martin is infuriatingly correct, we have a Cloak to pluck out of thin air and a world to save. In other news, as I'm sure you will remember with tail-bristling shame poor, long suffering Takuma of tomorrow, I kowtowed today for the first time in twenty years; so now that I've utterly humiliated myself, we have even more reason to succeed in our mission: The expressions on Lu Bei and Jun-Liang's faces will be DIVINE. And we'll be one step closer to preventing Armageddon, of course. On a final note, I am increasingly convinced our adorable lady Shogun either reviles me to the very core of her being or is madly in love with me. Probably both.

Haikus of War
1st Aprileth, 1062 AF

Victory: The noble slain sleep Dreaming of the perfect world Their deaths surely won Mourning: A peaceful day dawns With patient crows saying grace To honor their meat

The aftermath
30th Marcheth, 1062 AF

What a month its been, although you probably know that better than I do, my dear future self, who is no doubt reading this from atop his mountain of gold, treasures and adoring, voluptuous servant girls when this quest of ours pays off and I become the personal Herald of the King. Or you're dead and your body has been devoured by Simians. Either way, Takuma of the future, you've successfully survived your first battle. I don't much care for describing it as my *first*, of course, it implies I'll have the pleasure of witnessing more of them. I had hoped my role as a Herald would excuse from the more barbarous of the chivalric duties, but it seems for now my lot is alongside the other meat-shields on the frontline, Ram preserve me. That said, my wound, if I dare call it that compared to what poor Caerbhall suffered (note to self, pack extra ginseng root and wode petals for the road, the wretch will doubtless need pain relief and alcohol can only do so much), is healing cleanly, and more importantly so is my reputation with Martin. Maybe it was just the pre-battle nerves, but he actually took my hand in fellowship, can you believe? Of course you can, you were there too, but I can't, not yet anyway. I keep catching myself cringing around him like an abused bull whenever our eyes meet, only to remember "oh yes, he's forgiven me" and he then comes along all smiles and infuriatingly good-hearted naivety as if I never attempted to sell him out to a group of brigands. I'll have to tread carefully here. At this rate I might end up feeling a genuine sense of loyalty to that lion, and as dear old Caerbhall can attest, loyalty's a bitterly cruel virtue. I suppose, now that the threat of imminent death by Simian has passed, I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I'm "home", although the word feels empty even as I write it. I find my mind straying to Lithian more often than it has for decades, but I'm pleased to find the hate it inspires is unmoved.