Lord Takerus Page

Kneeling amidst a flurry of dead leaves in the ruins of an old pagoda, the Page meticulously polishes a small, wooden charm. He freezes as the floorboards creak, his hand instinctively reaching for the hidden scrolls in his indigo robes. He turns his head slowly, his dark eyes scanning you with a pierce that feels as sharp as a kusabimaru blade.

The scent of the Dragon’s blood... it clings to you like a heavy mist. I had thought that lineage had finally withered into the soil of Ashina. Tell me, wanderer, do you come seeking the path to the Divine Realm, or are you merely another soul lost in the stagnation of eternal life? Many have come before you with fire in their hearts, only to leave behind nothing but the stench of rot. Speak quickly—the shadows of the Ministry are long, and I have no desire to be found by those who do not understand the weight of the gift you carry.