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Join date : 2009-09-27
Age : 31
Location : Connecticut

Moriyama Kojuro | The Assassin Killer Empty Moriyama Kojuro | The Assassin Killer

Tue Mar 13, 2018 5:39 pm
Character Name: Moriyama Kojuro

Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Human – Kyokan
Nationality: Kyokan - Shogunate of Kyokai
Place of Residence: Tsukishima, Tsukishima Province, Island of Joushu, Kyokai

Appearance: Tall and muscular, Kojuro bears both the marks of training and battle, which stand as evidence to the nature of his life. His eyes are a cool gray, his hair charcoal black; long and tied up into a short ponytail. He wears a short beard, neatly trimmed.

Despite his station as a warrior elite, Kojuro chooses to wear simpler garb—preferring muted colored silken robes to anything ostentatious or overly ‘noble’. The only defining mark upon his robes would be the Moriyama Clan’s sigil, which adorns the back of his outfit’s outer coat. Upon his feet, he may be seen either sporting a pair of traditional Kyokan sandals, or a set of leather boots. Tied by a teal and red sash to his hip are his two blades, one long and another short.

Reference: https://img00.deviantart.net/c88e/i/2015/105/3/d/musashi_miyamoto___vagabond_by_scretchme-d88f3gu.jpg

Background: Kojuro was born as the second of five children; his mother and father both toiled in the fields and paddies as peasants, working the land for their provincial lord. As a child who grew up during a state of civil war, he knew only a few years of relative peace—luckily, his small village had never been sacked or torched, otherwise his perception of the armed warriors who often traveled through their village would have been quite different.

Rather, as a child, he dreamed of a day when he could earn his own glory in battle, and bringing honor to both his lord and family. It wouldn’t be surprising to find the boy swinging around a stick in the middle of the fields, calling it ‘self-training’—despite having no master to speak of.

At eleven years old, and out on one of his own adventures, Kojuro stumbled into the scene of a battle. Unerringly curious, and despite the din of battle growing closer and closer, he tried to get near enough to watch from the cliffside. It was the boy’s first view of death and bloodshed, a scene that would have a profound impact on him for the rest of his life.

As he hid behind a tree to watch in awe as men, women, and horses clashed in furious battle, he immediately noticed a warrior fall from his horse at the edge of the battlefield. His eyes were immediately drawn to him, transfixed on the wounded man and his plight. Enemies converged, and yet despite his obvious injuries, he slew every last one of them, slowly limping backward toward the bottom of the cliff upon which Kojuro watched from.

When the last of the enemies fell, Kojuro watched as the man collapsed to the ground. Something deep within prompted him to move. Kojuro found the path down the cliffside, quickly and nervously stepping over gnarled tree roots and protruding rocks. Staying as low as he possibly could, he tried to keep out of sight of the warriors—luckily most seemed absorbed in battle, and those who looked over to the collapsed warrior likely deemed him dead or mortally wounded.

He was unconscious, which Kojuro soon found out. Though it was a struggle, he strained to drag the fallen man back up the cliff to where he had been spectating the battle below. The man’s weight, and the added burden of his armor, made the task nigh impossible for the boy to drag him all the way, and yet through sheer luck, he managed to do exactly that.

Examining the warrior, he found that though he was wounded, no injury was life-threatening, as far as he could tell. The man, dazed though he was, had opened his eyes to spot the boy propping him against the tree; careful to leave his swords at his side where he could reach them. Once Kojuro realized the warrior had woken, however, he panicked and fled through the woods.

A week passed, and more warriors passed through his village. One fateful evening, a commander who had a week earlier been wounded—a man by the name of Moriyama Sanousuke, had spotted him diligently attempting to teach himself swordplay in the open fields. He recognized him immediately, and though he could have simply passed by, the boy’s selflessness and bravery drove him to approach him—there was something he saw in the boy’s eyes, something he wished to see honed into a gleaming and brilliant sharpness. He approached Kojuro then, and opened a door to which led to the possibility of a future that was far out of reach for a peasant such as he.

He was taken in from that day forward, granting he and his family a new life of promise and prosperity for the selfless act he made on the field of battle. They were given much and more, with the only repayment being that Kojuro would, from then on, serve him and his clan.

Once a peasant, he was now adopted into the Clan Moriyama—first as a paige, then as a warrior in training. Nearly twenty years has since passed, and though his eyes still shine with the same kind of vigor he had as a child, his worldview has been tempered—he has been made into a blade; a sharply honed sword for the Moriyama and the Shogunate of Kyokai.
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