Post by Foley on Jun 3, 2013 16:23:39 GMT -5
The droplets of water that made up the light tropical rainfall beat themselves against the stained glass window pane of the library in the tallest tower of the mighty fortress while the master of the fortress, Muramasa Al Gul sat in his large chair by the roaring fire and listened to each drop bash itself to oblivion. The fortress dominated a small island that appeared on no map of any kind in the middle of the Sea of Japan. It rose high above the island on the rocky mesa in its center that in itself loomed over the treetops of the tropical forest area the hugged the interior of the island before giving way to its white sandy shores. The fortress also extended deep beneath the surface of the island and extend out to the sea walls. It was not of one type of architecture as it mixed modern technology with ancient parts plundered, like the stained glass window in the library, from conquests and missions around the world. This hidden fortress served as not only home to Muramasa Al Gul, but to the ancient society of assassins known in fearful whispers as the Hand-In-Shadows.
A knock on the solid oak door of the library distracted Muramasa from the symphony that the raincloud was playing for him. He opened his eyes and called out, “Come.”
The door creaked open to reveal the massive presence of one of the few people that could disturb Muramasa while he was alone in meditation, his most faithful servant Ubuwong. “Forgive me, Master,” the mammoth of a man said fearfully and with his head bowed in utter respect, “I bear news that you insisted upon hearing once it came in.”
“Close the door,” Muramasa said simply. Ubuwong did as he was told and then stood in front of the seated man like a child who had misbehaved in front of a scolding parent. “You received word from the Agent?” Muramasa asked softly before taking a sip from his tea that he had been drinking before Ubuwong arrived. He did not bother to offer the man any since Ubuwong was forbidden to eat or drink in the presence of the master.
“Yes, Master,” Ubuwong said with his head stilled bowed, “He reports that he is set up in Gotham City and ready to proceed with the plan against the Warrior. He but awaits your command.”
“Excellent, Ubuwong,” replied Muramasa, “For too long the Warrior has been a hindrance to the Hand-In-Shadows and my overall plans. Our Agent will set things into motion that will break the spirit of the Warrior and then once that is completed we then shall break his will and make him one of my servants. With the Warrior one of my disciples none of these self-described heroes will be able to prevent my taking over the world and ushering in a new golden age with myself as Immortal Emperor!”
“Forgive me, Master,” Ubuwong started as he looked anywhere but at Muramasa, “But what if we cannot bring the Warrior into the fold even after the breaking of his will?”
Muramasa smiled a wicked smile, “Then, Ubuwong, the warrior-hero known as Dark Claw will have to simply die ten thousand deaths before I allow eternity to calm whatever is left of his soul. Inform our Agent that the word is given, and remind him the price of failure.”
Ubuwong bowed deeply. “As you command, my master,” he said before leaving the room.
Muramasa returned to his meditation knowing that Ubuwong would not let him down. After all the price of failure in the Hand-In-Shadows was death.
A knock on the solid oak door of the library distracted Muramasa from the symphony that the raincloud was playing for him. He opened his eyes and called out, “Come.”
The door creaked open to reveal the massive presence of one of the few people that could disturb Muramasa while he was alone in meditation, his most faithful servant Ubuwong. “Forgive me, Master,” the mammoth of a man said fearfully and with his head bowed in utter respect, “I bear news that you insisted upon hearing once it came in.”
“Close the door,” Muramasa said simply. Ubuwong did as he was told and then stood in front of the seated man like a child who had misbehaved in front of a scolding parent. “You received word from the Agent?” Muramasa asked softly before taking a sip from his tea that he had been drinking before Ubuwong arrived. He did not bother to offer the man any since Ubuwong was forbidden to eat or drink in the presence of the master.
“Yes, Master,” Ubuwong said with his head stilled bowed, “He reports that he is set up in Gotham City and ready to proceed with the plan against the Warrior. He but awaits your command.”
“Excellent, Ubuwong,” replied Muramasa, “For too long the Warrior has been a hindrance to the Hand-In-Shadows and my overall plans. Our Agent will set things into motion that will break the spirit of the Warrior and then once that is completed we then shall break his will and make him one of my servants. With the Warrior one of my disciples none of these self-described heroes will be able to prevent my taking over the world and ushering in a new golden age with myself as Immortal Emperor!”
“Forgive me, Master,” Ubuwong started as he looked anywhere but at Muramasa, “But what if we cannot bring the Warrior into the fold even after the breaking of his will?”
Muramasa smiled a wicked smile, “Then, Ubuwong, the warrior-hero known as Dark Claw will have to simply die ten thousand deaths before I allow eternity to calm whatever is left of his soul. Inform our Agent that the word is given, and remind him the price of failure.”
Ubuwong bowed deeply. “As you command, my master,” he said before leaving the room.
Muramasa returned to his meditation knowing that Ubuwong would not let him down. After all the price of failure in the Hand-In-Shadows was death.