New Blood
by Saber Alexander McConnell
Rated PG13

CHAPTER 2: Epic Task

There are different kinda of immortality. Some, like Talpa and his warlords, take the impure way and preserve their mortal bodies until they are taken down in battle. Others live on through their deeds and contributions to the world. Yet others live forever in spirit, guiding those who remain.

Kaos was such a being; his spirit lived on and existed on a separate plane of reality, very like the Nether Realm in this way. But that's where the similarities ended. The realm of spirits, where one's ancestors went when they died, was a realm of wisdom, a realm of good. Kaos, the Ancient, was aware of all the went on, in the mortal realm and beyond. He had guided the Ronin Warriors through the centuries, in all of their forms. And once again, he would have to seek them out.

Not now. Not yet. But there would come a time when they were needed, and they would need to be armed and armored.

Kaos knew the location of the original Ronin Warrior armors, but there would need to be more than five Ronin, now. Talpa was massing his own forces, and they were far greater than ever before. If only Kaos could influence the Nether Realm instead of merely watching...

But he could not, and there was no use on dwelling what could not be. He would need some help; he needed someone in the mortal realm who had the ability to craft such armor, and one who would recognize the dreams through which the Ancient had to communicate. He knew of one person, a man from Anubis's family, who could help them.

Anubis had once been a warlord in Talpa's service. He, alone among the others, had realized he walked the wrong path, and that he could be a true warrior for good, instead of a mere servant of evil. He shook off Talpa's influence, and began to train under the Ancient.

Kaos sought out Anubis in the spiritual realm, preferring that he speak with his descendant, rather than Kaos. As family, Anubis had a far greater tie to him, and would be able to better communicate.

"The threat of Talpa rises again," said Kaos wearily once he found Anubis.

"I know," said Anubis quietly. "I've seen it, too."

"It is time for the Ronin to rise again--but there must be more than five—Talpa has recruited others." Anubis raised a brow in surprise, but said nothing, only listened. "Yasuo Toshitada, a part of your family clan, has the knowledge and power to help us. We must create new armor."

Anubis's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he said nothing, thinking on the significance of Kaos's words. "Family of mine?" he finally said. "I didn't know...any of my family were mystics."

Kaos just looked at Anubis for a moment, and smiled. "My friend...you are a mystic." Anubis blinked. "How else could you have learned the things I had to teach? How else could you have helped the Ronin, even after your death? You are not of my clan, Shuten, but you have your own power." The old man smiled at the look of self-disgust that crossed Anubis's face on not having seen the obvious, and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Sometimes things are most difficult to see when they're out in the open."

"That must be it," Anubis grumbled, and then laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "How can I help?"

"You must contact him. It will be far easier for you, and he will accept your contact far better than he will accept mine. You must tell him it is time to build the armors. He is both a mystic and a scholar; he will know what you mean."

"I see," said Anubis, suddenly understanding. "He has studied the legends...like Mia Koda did. But he has the power to get involved, rather than simply advise."

"Exactly."

"Will he know with what virtues he must imbue the new armor with?"

"He will," said the Ancient. "When the time comes. Even I do not yet know--he will need to meditate and get his visions that way. Have faith in him; he will know what to do."

"Hai, Kaos," said Anubis, smiling up at the old man. He remembered a time when he would rather have slain the Ancient where he stood--and it hit him at different times how much he had changed. It astonished him how a hated enemy could become his greatest friend. He shook his head and bowed to the old man, and went off to perform his task.

---

Dawn had grayed the horizon when the dream came. Yasuo Toshitada was not alarmed at the dream; he was quite used to his signs and teachings coming to him through dreams, but this one was different. Normally his dreams were vague and symbolic, and he had to puzzle out their meaning, and if he misinterpreted, it was usually to the worse. This vivid vision left no room for error.

A tall man stood before him, his hair deep red, his eyes a blazing blue, and Yasuo understood right away that it was an ancestor of his. Not a direct ancestor, he intuited, but of his family tree. Yasuo bowed deeply, and the man returned the gesture.

He spoke in Ancient Japanese, a language Yasuo understood well, but rarely had the opportunity to use. "My name is Shuten," the man said, smiling on Yasuo. "As you have already guessed, you are one of my family, though we have never met. I have a task for you. You know the legends of the Ronin Warriors."

Yasuo's eyes widened, and he said that yes, he knew the legends well. In fact, the latest warriors had only recently passed into that legend.

Shuten smiled. "It will soon be time for them to come once more. But there will be more than five--you must create armor for the new ones. Three of them."

Yasuo stared rudely for several moments before managing to get a grip on himself and apologize for gaping like a hooked fish. Shuten only chuckled, and Yasuo was relieved he wasn't more upset. It wasn't as if he had practice talking directly with his ancestors, after all, and after a bombshell like that--! "Me, Shuten-san?" he said incredulously. "I am to create the armor of the Ronin? I do not know if I am up to the task!"

Shuten only smiled and put a hand on Yasuo's shoulder. "You are," he said. "Indeed you are possibly the only one who can do this. You have the knowledge, and you have the skill. Most importantly, you have the power of a mystic. You know this."

Yasuo felt as if he been punched in the stomach. He understood the tremendous honor he had just been given, and the tremendous responsibility. He also understood that if he were to make even one mistake, the results would likely mean the death of the one wearing the armor. His first, half-panicked reaction was to refuse, to entreat Shuten to give this privilege to someone more worthy, but he did not. It would have been exceedingly disrespectful, and Yasuo was not entirely sure there was anyone else as familiar with the legends.

"These...these armors," he finally said. "They will each bear a virtue--how will I know what virtues they are to bear?"

"You will know," said Anubis. "You have your ways. I think...I think that you will see the ones who will eventually wear the armors, and will be able to use knowledge of their own virtues to imbue the armors. They will not be tied to the elements, nor the seasons as with the masho armors. I don't know what they will be tied to, but again...you will know." Yasuo said nothing, and Anubis grasped his shoulder once more, looking into the young man's eyes. "I have faith in you, Yasuo-chan." Yasuo blinked at the title of affection, not offended by it, but pleased. He felt this man truly cared for him, even if he'd never seen him before. "You will see me again."

The man, Shuten, faded out as if he had never been there to begin with, and Yasuo woke with a start, his eyes wide, and sat bolt upright in his bed. The first thing he felt was fear; the responsibility that had been bestowed upon him was frightening, and he was far more intimidated than he would ever admit. He closed his eyes and took a big breath, letting it out slowly. He took several moments to calm himself before opening his eyes and getting up from his bed. He had a full day of research and meditation ahead of him to begin to gather the information he would need.

---

When Vittorio Digaetano woke that morning in 2068, he had no idea that it would be the last day of his mortal life. He would have liked the idea, had he known; however as it was, it took him completely by surprise. The man walked to work along the streets of Palermo, wondering why the hell the skies were stormy and dark when they had called for fair weather, when he was approached by some crazy, green-haired guy wearing some weird kind of long-underwear armor. Not much shocked Vittorio, but this definitely got his attention. He wondered briefly if he hadn't been overdoing it a little bit in the wine department of late.

"Doubtless you won't believe what I'm going to tell you," said the green-haired man in greeting, "but I understand that you like power."

The man smiled, and Vittorio regarded him skeptically, his eyes narrowed. He had spoken in Japanese, he understood that, but for some reason Vittorio could understand every word. "Sure," he said in Italian. "Who doesn't?"

The green-haired man snorted, obviously able to comprehend this language in turn. "Who, indeed? You crave it just a little more than the average man--yes, I know that. It's why you side with your...Mafia..." The word was spoken in awkward Italian, and Vittorio's eyes widened with shock. No one, not even his parents or his lover, knew that. Was this a rival? Was he a government agent? Contemplating killing the man, he didn't realize he'd gone on speaking. "...can offer you far more than your bosses."

Vittorio winced, glancing quickly around him, then glared at the man. "We can talk about this elsewhere, fool," he hissed. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

The man shrugged nonchalantly, and let Vittorio lead him back towards his home, which was on a large bit of land. They would have privacy there.

"Who are you, anyway?" Vittorio demanded once within the gates of his estate. "And how the hell do you know about me and my...Family?"

"You'll know the answers to those questions if you accept my invitation," said the man curtly. "However as to my name...you can call me Sekhmet."

Vittorio snorted. "You don't look Egyptian to me."

"Nazaa if you like, then," said the man impatiently. "It doesn't matter. What matters is this: my master has extended an offer of hospitality to you. We're recruiting for our...army, I suppose you'd call it. We search for lieutenants--and you were identified as a hopeful. Though why, for all the world, I can't see."

Vittorio bristled at the insult, dropping his shoulders and narrowing his dark eyes. "Get the hell off my property," he said in a low tone, "and hope I don't decide to kill you where you stand. I don't take insults from a mi--"

What happened then was almost too fast for Vittorio to follow. Sekhmet leaped backwards, shouting out something in Japanese, and Vittorio was not quite sure how...but Sekhmet was suddenly wearing a full suit of strange armor, armor that bore the resemblance of a snake, down to a face mask that pointed down like a serpent's head. Vittorio stared as the man drew six katana, setting them to hover in the air in front of him. "Try and kill me," the man invited, his tone taunting.

Again Vittorio fumed, anger bursting through his astonishment, and he reached inside his suit coat for the dagger he kept there. Most of his colleagues wore laser guns, but Vittorio did not like firearms, preferring instead to use more primitive weapons. However he didn't get the chance to draw it.

With a lightning-quick motion, Sekhmet grasped the hilt of one of his swords and jerked it to the side, somehow linking all of the swords into one long chain. As Vittorio stared once more, Sekhmet brought the sword-whip forward and struck Vittorio in the arm.

Vittorio screamed. He had never screamed in his adult life, not even when he was shot in the chest by a cop, or stabbed in the back by an irate business partner. But this, this was pain like he had never before felt. He staggered backwards, staring at Sekhmet in horror, as the green-haired man struck twice more, like a snake himself, then somehow banished his armor and his weapons. "Still want to kill me?"

"No," said Vittorio, making great effort to speak. The slash wounds burned like fire, and he suspected the blades had been treated with drug or poison, because he felt like he'd been given a dose of nerve gas. It wasn't true; Vittorio very much wanted to kill this man, but was certainly not up to making the effort.

"Good." Sekhmet stepped forward and grasped Vittorio's arm firmly, holding it fast when the man tried to pull back, and did something--Vittorio didn't know what he did, but when he was done, the burning pain was gone. The slashes were still there, but it was bearable--somehow this man had taken the drug from the wound.

Sekhmet stepped back, and Vittorio regarded the man with grudging respect. "You mentioned power," he finally said, still staring at the man as if he were an alien.

"I did," said Sekhmet, his voice calm, but there was an odd glint in his eyes; he had enjoyed giving his little demonstration. "You've now seen the sort of power my master has to offer. Are you interested?"

"Yeah," said Vittorio, clutching his arm and slowly nodding his head. "Yeah, I am." He never regretted his decision. He followed Sekhmet into the Nether Realm, and became the Warlord of Power.

He was not the last. From the Dark Continent in 2070 came Haazita Mushota, Warlord of Enmity and Discord, a woman both quick to grin and quick to kill; and Moral Sullivan, a nineteen year old youth from the United States of 2086, whose talents lay in spying and swindling. He would be the last of the lesser warlords; Talpa now had three generals and seven lieutenants.

The new recruits were a bit more difficult to break in. While Shuang was as stubborn as ten mules, these new ones had qualities that did not fit in nearly so well with the others. Vittorio seemed to adjust the best, accustomed to doing what the "bosses" said. Talpa needed to discipline him only once, demonstrating his power and thus earning Vittorio's respect.

Moral Sullivan, however, was a youth with no sense of honor. His spying skills and his gift for trickery were great, but his tendency towards backstabbing was difficult to monitor. He was expert at keeping his doings a secret, even from Talpa, unless he used mystical means. He'd disciplined the boy, but it did not seem to deter him right at first. He would be slow to integrate.

And Haazita, she enjoyed pitting people against one another—again her skill would be quite useful for Talpa, if he could only stop her using her skill on his others. It took a great deal of contemplation before he decided not to simply kill the both of them and seek out someone else. His patience paid off; once he realized that he could easily keep Haazita satisfied by letting her go covertly into the mortal world to use her powers, she was far easier to control. Moral was a little more difficult; he never did get along with the other warlords, and Jin outright despised him.

There was some fighting that Talpa had to allow among his warlords, for it wasn't in human nature to repress their urges and their rage all the time. When Moral scoffed at the idea of honor to Jin, and she laid him out with one kick to the solar plexus, Talpa did nothing. Moral needed to know what the others would and would not tolerate. When Vittorio tried to overpower Dais during a training session, he didn't stop Dais from pinning him to the ground with his web and half-suffocating the man.

Eventually, though, the new group began to settle down into routine, slowly and grudgingly accepted into the group. Once he could be sure of their loyalty, Talpa gave them their armors; the spy, Moral, received armor that rendered him invisible, and a laser pistol stolen from the mortal government. For Haazita, armor that would charge any weapon she wielded with enmity, causing people affected by it to turn on his friends. Vittorio's armor could recharge by wind, water, sun, or electricity, and could fuel his body for days on end without food or sleep. As his new additions became familiar with their armor, and grew proficient with their weaponry, Talpa was pleased.

Soon the world would know him once again.

---

The years passed, and for Yasuo Toshitada, they were busy ones. The crafting of Ronin armor was not something one could take lightly, nor could one hurry in making. He also was able to locate the hiding places of the original armor, foreseeing that they would all eventually make their way to their new owners, except for one—the Halo armor. Yasuo would have to retrieve that one mystically and ensure its new owner received it.

Days of meditation and vision-questing had brought him the names and visages of those who would bear the armors, and weeks upon weeks of research had given him the information he would need to begin work.

It took years to perfect the Ronin armor--aside from the physical crafting, the mystical imbuement of powers, virtues, and renewal characteristics took both time and life force, and there was only so much a mortal could do at once. He crafted them that they looked very similar to the original armor, of course using Japanese legend and history as a guide for their design. They were created for maximum use of their abilities, as well as best protection against weaponry.

The world had celebrated the beginning of 2091 when the armors were finished, and Yasuo had prepared himself for a long, arduous journey. He had to travel all over the globe to contact the Ronin Warriors--as always, the Ronin did not realize their destiny until it fell into their hands, sometimes quite literally.

The orbs that contained the essences of the armor were stored in a pouch protected with the strongest magic Yasuo could summon. He did not think the demon Talpa knew of him, but there was no sense in being careless.

When Yasuo left his home, he carried several changes of clothing in a backpack, clothing that would help him to fit in, in the countries he visited. As the years passed by, so many of the countries had adopted similar styles of dress, one culture bleeding into another, but there were enough differences that he wanted to be prepared.

The first of the youths lived in Japan. Yasuo had a vague idea where he was to look, but even so, Japan was a big place, and it had a lot of people...now more than ever before. His journey would not be a short one.

And here are the rest of the new warlords:

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