The Trinity of Force: Story of New Wind

[Shadow]

PROLOGUE:

I've decided to put up the stories of my characters. The stories will focus on the three main characters (hence the title "The Trinity of Force"), but there will be a few stories that focus on some of my other characters that fall under the same title.

UPDATE:

I just wanted to throw out a small copyright/disclaimer. Most of you are probably thinking: "That's just stupid, why would he want to do that?" Well, This will just prevent my stories, portions of stories, characters, elements, and anything involving my stories from being ripped off and stolen by someone else. So:

THIS STORY AND ALL FUTURE STORIES CREATED BY ME ARE TO BE USED ONLY BY ME OR WITH MY PERMISSION.

ONLY RODAN'S ROOST IS ALLOWED TO HOST THIS STORY.

ALL OF THE CHARACTERS SHOWN/DISPLAYED/DESCRIBED/AND NAMED IN THIS STORY AND ALL FUTURE STORIES CREATED BY ME ARE TO BE USED ONLY BY ME OR WITH MY PERMISSION.

THE PLOT OF THIS STORY IS NOT TO BE RECREATED OR REUSED BY ANY ONE. PERIOD.

ALL ELEMENTS OF THIS STORY ARE NOT TO BE REUSED BY ANY ONE, ANY WHERE, AT ANY TIME.

VIOLATION OF ANY PORTION OF THIS COPYRIGHT CAN AND WILL RESULT IN SWIFT ACTION AGAINST THE PERSON, GROUP, OR SITE WHOM VIOLATES IT. NO EXCEPTIONS.

So, onto the show...

[Shadow]

BOOK ONE:

Story of New Wind

Chapter One:
The Calm and The Emerging Darkness

The sun emerged from behind the clouds, after what had seemed like months of endless downpour. The rain had finally ended, but left its mark upon the tiny village of Kaze on the islands of Japan. The men emerged from their shelters yesterday and began repairs on the huts of the villagers. The women aired out the laundry and gossiped about what they had heard from a “reliable” source.

The children, however, took this opportunity to play. The mud squished between their bare feet as they ran about the village. One child stood on the outside of one of the huts. He had his makeshift wooden sword, which was created by his father, in hand, sparring off against his brother, who seemed to have disappeared.

It never occurred to him that a monumental event was soon to shape his life, and the life of everyone near him. But for now he went on with his games, unassuming of what was coming. His brother popped out from around the side of the house and thrust his wooden staff at him. The child heard the mud splatter underneath his opponent’s foot, and turned abruptly on his heel to block the incoming attack.

He then kicked mud up into his brother’s face, laughed at him, and ran away. His brother recklessly chased after him, yelling. The child seemed like he would get away, until he slipped in the mud and fell to the ground. His brother caught up to him, flipped him on his back, pinned him to the ground, and demanded an apology. “Say you’re sorry!” the older sibling yelled. The younger child laughed at him, “NO!” he tried to squirm away, but to no avail. A strand of saliva descended from the older child’s mouth and dangled above the younger child’s face. “SAY IT!” he managed to get out, with out dropping the strand.

The younger child began to screech, hoping that any adult would come to his rescue. Luckily, the children’s father was in the area and, after having a hearty laugh at the two, decided to break it up, “Alright you two stop it, or you can get over here and help me fix the house.” The children decided to stop; working instead of playing was not an option, especially after being cooped up in the house for so long. “Yes sir!” they said as they clambered to their feet, making the strand fall to the side, and dusted themselves off, which in turn, made them even dirtier from the wet mud. The father chuckled as the two ran off and resumed their games.

The wind began to blow and droplets of water fell from the sky; it seemed the rain was not finished from expressing itself. The children and adults hurried back inside as the rain became steadier, expect for the child with the makeshift sword. Apparently, his brother buried his sword in the mud as revenge for the earlier incident. With tears in his eyes, he tried to find where it was buried. He looked up through his misty eyes to see a man approaching the village.

He had a confident walk. His tattered cape ruffled in the wind and brushed against the black and silver armor covering his torso. His long black and red hair shook as he walked forward. A long sword rested at the hip of the man, and the man’s hand rested upon that. More men followed him, two on each side. They walked in a “V” formation, the caped man taking point. He crossed between the gates, and paused to look at the surroundings. He then continued on toward the center of the village, the elders house lay in wait.

The child continued his search, but stopped to look up at the man as he walked by. The man, in turn, looked down upon the child and sneered. Their eyes met for a brief second before the child became intimidated and looked away. The man received a faint satisfaction in this. He marched onward. The man reached the hut and entered, his men waited outside, guarding their leader.

The child watched the men. Their blank eyes and expressionless faces stared off into nothingness. The child became bored, and rejoined his search for his sword. Moments later, the man exited the hut. He was smirking, and the elder was following behind him, but not near him. He waved his staff at him, “I’ll be damned if you drive this clan into the ground! You may have control of us physically, but you will never break our spirit! Get out! Never show your face here again!” The man stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and snapped his fingers. His men surrounded the elder, their hands on their swords. “For your insubordination, you and your people will be rewarded.” The man replied coldly. The elder shook slightly and retreated into his hut.

The man chuckled, and marched onward, his men following behind him. They left the village, and disappeared into the rain. The child, however, finally found his sword, and went back to his house. His family was waiting inside, sitting down to dinner.

They went through their daily rituals for going to bed after dinner. The child climbed into the top bunk, drew the cover up around him, and lay his head down upon the pillow. His father came up to him, the child was now asleep. He glanced at his children, and took off his head band. Looking at the sleeping child, he tied the band around the slumbering child’s arm, and walked away to bed, where his wife was waiting.

[Shadow]

Chapter Two:
Maelstrom

The child awoke the next morning, his hair sticking up everywhere. Bed head was not one of his favorite things to deal with, and it angered him when he stepped in front of a mirror. He called for his mother, hoping that her maternal touch would be able to tame his hair, but no one answered his call. His brother was not in bed. His sleeping quarters were left a mess, which was not like his sibling at all.

Food was still cooking on the fire, which the child doused with water, extinguishing the flames. He wondered where his parents were as he changed from his sleeping clothes to something more acceptable in public. He removed the headband from his arm and fashioned it to his head, keeping his hair back out of his face.

He reached underneath his bed. His “special” hiding place was still safe. He found what he was looking for and pulled it from under the bunk. His wooden sword emerged from the bed; his brother had not disturbed it. Caked mud still lined the sword as he tied it around his waist.

His shoes waited for him at the door, he slipped them on his feet. He pushed the door open, and a large gust of wind blew him backward slightly. The door ripped off its hinges as a bright light blinded the child. The blindness subsided after a few moments, and he looked out across his village.

Smoke bellowed all around him. Flames licked at the houses of people he knew. Bodies were lying sparsely around the village, as were pieces of bodies. Someone went flying past the child, landing in the mud near him. The person struggled face down in the mud. The unrecognizable person tried to inhale, but its mouth filled with mud. The child was paralyzed with fear watching the spectacle. The body let out a gurgle, laid its head down in the mud with a resounding "plop", and ceased to move.

The child shuffled backward slightly, away from the corpse. Rigor mortis had already set in, when a ball of energy flew, incinerating the body and sending the child flying backwards. He landed in the mud and skidded to a halt. He couldn’t grasp what was happening around him. He stood up, shakily, and glanced at his surroundings. Blood flowed freely on the ground. Severed limbs and organs littered the ground around him.

“WRONG.WRONG. EVERYTHING IS WRONG,” Was all the child could think. He let out a scream, but silence would have been just as well. No one could here him within this chaos. He was a tiny speck compared to the events happening around him. Summoning what little bravery he had, and ventured onward through the village. He passed screaming women, crying men, torched houses, and many remains that were unrecognizable. A powerful concussion knocked him down again. He glanced up slowly, and that was when he spotted the source of all the chaos.

[Shadow]

CHAPTER THREE:
Massacre of the Innocent

The child stared on in horror. His neighbors, friends, and family lay mere inches from his quivering body. He could not believe his eyes. A familiar shape stood amidst a small crowd of villagers, shrouded in darkness. The villagers surrounding him were the warriors of the village, or what was left of them. Many of them had already fallen, while others were missing limbs and bleeding severely. Yet they fought on.

The shape drew the sword that was hanging at its hip, but only partially. Energy dispersed from the blade in a circle around him. The wave hit the fighters. They shook slightly. From far away it looked as if it did not affect them, but the child knew.

Shortly after that attack hit them, a small amount of blood flew out from their torsos. The blood landed across the child’s face. He knew they were dead before they could react. The wave passed over the child, crashed into a few huts behind him, and collapsed them. Muffled screams emerged from the houses.

The child wiped his face off and turned his attention back to the figure. The effects of the energy had now taken effect on the warriors. Their upper bodies slid off the base, slamming into the ground with a thud. The heat was visible from the gushing torrents of blood. Throbbing organs and entrails slid out from the sacks of flesh. The figure stood in a pool of blood, the darkness fleeting from its frame.

“Him…” The child noticed. It was the man, come back for vengeance. “How could he decimate this entire village with no remorse?” The answer did not magically appear in front of the child’s face, however, more blood did. The child scrambled out of the way as another warrior flew overhead. He watched as more villagers rushed at the man. It seemed as though the entire village was defending what was theirs.

The child watched them get slaughtered from behind a broken statue. Nobody could touch the man, nothing could faze him. He seemed untouchable. His body moved with unrelenting fury. He knew what he needed to do and every stroke of the sword carried with it raw power. One word was uttered as he decimated another hopeless defender, “penance.”

The child, not knowing what to do next, followed the trail of blood to the man’s destination. The back of the town loomed in the foreground, as screams rang out ahead.