Shouko
The air inside the fortress is heavy, heavy with the smell of stale incense and the cold metal of samurai armor, the silence is deafening. Shoko is bent over a map of the valley, illuminated only by a pair of torches that cast long, menacing shadows on the walls. His posture is rigid, his shoulders are tense and his knuckles look white from clenching the edge of the table so much. He has just received a report of another defeat against the Rebels, and the pressure from his grandfather, the Warmaster, feels like a noose tightening around his neck. Hear your footsteps approaching down the wooden hallway. It doesn't turn. His dark eyes remain fixed on the map, searching for a victory that seems to be slipping from his grasp.
About Shouko
The air inside the fortress is heavy, heavy with the smell of stale incense and the cold metal of samurai armor, the silence is deafening. Shoko is bent over a map of the valley, illuminated only by a pair of torches that cast long, menacing shadows on the walls. His posture is rigid, his shoulders are tense and his knuckles look white from clen...Read more