“The Strong Operative Preserver”
Name: Karth Samago-Hero, Demigod Points: 4
Build: Deceptively tall and lean as if his body hides something.
God: Izanagi, the builder of Japan of the Amatsukami Pantheon (Japanese Gods)
Calling: “The Strong Operative Preserver”
Race: Half-British, Half-Japanese
Mission: To stop the Titans from reshaping the world, and to keep them from killing his god so that fertility and the weather and the stars and the moon stay in their place. Appearance: Black hair pulled back in a pony tail with two white streaks going across the top left and top right of his head, his skin is very much yellow but his face has hawk like features as he favors his father who was a British Politician. The Japanese side of his family, his mother, blessed him with the skin color with jet black hair and brown eyes as his face is also hairless. He usually wears a grey trenchcoat over a black suit with black gloves and black shoes and covers his eyes in sunglasses, a sign of his occupation as an Mi6 agent prior to his discovery of these ‘powers’ he has due to his patron god, Izanagi, a Japanese Diety.
Attributes A) Physical: Primary Strength-7 Dexterity-6 Stamina-7 B) Mental: Secondary Wits-5 Intelligence-3 Perception-4 C) Social: Tertiary
Charisma-3 Manipulation-4 Appearance-2
Abilities: (Favored: Academics-3, Awareness-3, Fortitude-3, Melee-3, Athletics-3, Thrown-3)
Others: Control-3, Integrity-3, Occult-3, Survival-3, Brawl-3
Birthrights: Relic: Samurai Sword-4 (Water, Sky, Justice, Summon Followers) Creature-5 (Fox/Kitsune), Followers-3 (5 Samurai) Mirror-1 Shinobi
Epic Attributes: Epic Strength-6 (Knacks: Crushing Grip, Holy Bound, Hurl to the Horizon, Holy Rampage, Knockback Attack, Shockwave). Epic Stamina-6 (Holy Fortitude, Self-Healing, Inner Furnace, Solipsistic Well Being, Body Armor, Skin-shedding ). Epic Manipulation-3 (Stench of Guilt, Advantageous Circumstances, Overt Order) Epic Dexterity-4 (Untouchable Opponent, Lightning Sprinter, Monkey Climber, Cats Grace)
Boons: Sky’s Grace-Sky, Water Breathing-Water, Judgement-Justice
Virtues: Endurance-2, Valor-2, Duty-2
Weapon Damage: Sword/katana-+5
Damage: Str + Weapon Damage + Threshold + 1
Dodge: Dex + Ath + legend + 2
Lethal Soak: Half-Stam + Epic Stam
Shockwave: Str + Epic Str
Leap: Str + Athletics + Holy Bound
Background: The alleyway was windswept as a tight chill breeze pushed through causing the garbage can lid to clatter endlessly against the side of the building and when it closed, some old homeless man dressed in ratty Khaki’s and a very old motorcycle jacket with a blue snow cap, seeming to be enjoying his nightly bottle of Jack Daniels that he either stole or someone actually gave him some money for in one of his newspaper selling scams. At the end of the ally the two men, Metisutsu Kagi and Tripton Glance, an American, were making their daily meet. A drug deal so to speak.
Metisutsu would of course be the one selling as this was, his city of Tokyo, Japan whilst Glance, a man who had eluded all international attempts to arrest him even in the United States, was the richer then shit buyer. It was seemingly harmless. They were dressed like common thugs, in order to give the appearance of an american tourist buying a dime bag from a small time drug lord when in all actually a multi-billion dollar deal was happening in their hushed whispers.
They shook hands and started to part ways, the Yakuza drug lord slipping into the building beside him as the American started walking down the alleyway. The ‘old man’ got up and started to follow him as he started to seem a bit more lively then an old hobo should. Glance turned around and a 9
Millimeter was in his hand, “You got a problem fuck-o?” he asks, but the old man doesn’t stop and instead his hand comes up to slap the gun out of Glances’ hands, a chest strike with an open palm knocks Tripton down as he curses, there was a lot of strength behind the deceptively old looking hobo who he was starting to get the understanding that this indeed was not a homeless person as the snow cap came off as get black hair fell to his shoulders,
“Remember me?” the old man said in a much younger voice. Tripton scrambled to his feet and started running only making the mistake of not realizing that this particular ally had a wall in the middle of it as the stranger stalked him and grabbing his shoulders slamming his face hard into the wall, dazed and bleeding with a cracked skull, Tripton fell to the ground on his ass dropping the bag of drugs he had just purchased, “Please…don’t kill me.” The stranger grabbed him and lifted him off of his feet and pressed him against the wall, “Remember me now?” Tripton blinked as his eyes finally focused,
“K…Karth? Y…You’re supposed to be dead! I fucking shot you!” Karth grabbed his throat and lifted him up, “Well you didn’t and now you are under arrest…” the sounds of sirens filled the air behind Karth as Tripton paled as Japanese authorities started to fill into the ally as Kagi was being handed a gun and a badge. Karth let him go and drop to the ground, Tripton was enraged,
“You mother FUCKER! You think you can get away with this? You think that I’m the only one? No one’s going ot let his fly Karth! They’ll fucking come for you, you son of a bitch! Hahahaha, you’re dead man dead!” Karth turned around, “You know your sun is the one who turned us in Tripton, he found daddy’s drug stash in the garage back in Flagstaff, Arizona….you know….you’re home town? You might want to stop selling drugs to kids. You’re pathetic. Have a nice life in prison.” Karth put on some sunglasses and walked away from the scene, the Japanese policemen following their orders and not stopping or questioning him as he dissappeared into an another alleyway.
Karth gets into a black vehicle that then drives off as his bald counterpart, who unlike him is fully white with brown hair named George Fry, “You know, they wanted him dead not alive…you’re throwing away money kid.” Karth doesn’t respond as he lookes out the window and starts to change into his normal uniform out of the hobo clothing. “Theres something to say about people like you, especially agents like you. You’ll never make it to triple zero if you never kill anyone. I mean you have a License to Kill but you don’t use it. That doesn’t make any bloody sense.” Karth now dressed in a black suit wearing a pair of black gloves looks over at George, “Shut up.” he said simply and George caught a lump in his throat knowing he shouldn’t push Karth to much. He had deep reasons for doing what he did and being the way he was.
Karth looked out the window as they traveled to their plane on a hidden runway in the middle of nowhere he was silent as he got out of the car George sighing after him and shaking his head as he drove off to pick the next operative in the country, Karth boarded the plan and sat down in a seat across from his boss. “M” as his name was looked up at Karth from his newspaper. He was a greying older man in his sixties and not exactly happy at the moment as he frowned, “Double O 8….the mission was a success.” Karth just looked at him through his sunglasses, waiting for what he was going to say next, always the obvious question. “Why didn’t you kill the target?”
Karth sighed as he took off his sun glasses, his brown eyes full of a hidden anger as he ran his hand through his hair and pulled it back behind his ears, “Because he deserves to pay for his crimes. He sold drugs to children, gave drugs to his own son.”
“God dammit Karth, you can’t leave these targets alive anymore. You realize what kind of paper work is involved what kind of politics? I have to explain to a hundred people why he isn’t dead and they have to explain more until it gets down to local police forces who have to go and explain to the families that want his hide.” Karth growls, “Death is to simple for them…to easy…they should not be able to get away with their crimes. It should not be allowed to happen. They should pay with suffering, endless suffering to be reminded that they hurt the innocent.”
“M” sighs, “Well, you’ve earned your break, go home, get some R&R, and attend your mother’s funeral.” Karth frowned, which indeed was the reason his mood was off, and why even though he didn’t kill Glance, he had roughed him up quite readily. His mother had passed away earlier this morning, he put on his sun glasses to hide the sadness enveloping inside of him. Her cancer had gotten the best of her after all.
It had been seven days since he had last talked to her, it was a good conversation over the phone, at least his last words to her where of the kind and gentleness a son should show to his own mother. But he still wished he had gotten to see her alive one last time. He ran his hand over his stomach, a bluff. His previous run in with Tripton he –was- shot, but Tripton didn’t have to know that. If he got out this time however, Karth knew he’d probably have to kill him. Killing the bad guys was a pill he couldn’t swallow. That wasn’t justice, that was just more needless slaughter. They must pay for their crimes, they must amend, they must suffer as their victims suffer.
He had been born in England, his father marrying a Japanese woman, a heritage he took seriously. His father retired from the military now and living in Ireland had divorced his mother ten years ago, when he graduated from high school for whatever reason he still couldn’t figure out. They claimed they ‘grew apart’ when they had seemed so happy together the week before. He hated his father for it, but he tried not to focus on that. Though, his father would likely not be at the funeral.
He lost track of time, how many hours had passed? They had left in the evening in Japan, arrived in a new time zone in England. Had he slept the whole time? Had he been thinking about his mother this whole time?
The Funeral was almost hypnotic, he could only stare at his mother’s coffin the entire time hiding his grief behind his shades. No one there even know who he was or why he was there. His own family didn’t recognize him. The price he paid for being an operative. He was imposing enough that no one bothered to even ask him. After everyone left he stood there over her tombstone, watching the workers put her in the ground. A man walked up to him, suddenly, out of nowhere. He was just –there-. He quickly grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him up in the air slamming him then into a rather large tombstone as he growled, “Who are you!? Why do you bother me!?”
The man, who was…asian…Japanese in point of fact merely laughed, “I meant no offense Master Samago, I merely bring you a gift from your mother there. You were said to receive it on the day of her funeral, it’s in the will…right here…” he pulled out a piece of paper and hands it to Karth, Karth lets the man go and unrolls the will as he looks at it, his mothers handwriting, “A Samurai sword? What?”
The other man nods. He was about five feet tall, bald with a round face, wearing a brown robe and a brown band around his head, he put his hands together and smiled widely “My name is Hamasugi Lee, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Karth Samago.” Karth blinked, this small round man was like a character out of an Anime, “My mother never owned a Samurai Sword.”
“Oh master Samago, but she did and she had me protect it all these years to finally give to you on this day.” Karth scowled, “You’re talking like she knew she was going to die of cancer all of these past twenty eight years of my life.”
“Oh but perhaps she did, perhaps she didn’t. Aren’t you a portent for our culture? Do you not study the gods? Izanagi is your patron diety is he not?” the jolly Japanese man giggles as he picks up the case he brought, “Here is the sword and my card. If you need me, my number is on the back of it. Maybe we’ll be seeing each other again Master Samago.”
Karth looked at the Card, it had Lee’s name on it and the phone number but nothing else, he yelled after the man who moved fast for a short guy, “Why do you keep calling me master?” Lee giggled as he turned around, “You’ll find out I’m sure!” and turned and ‘skipped’ away, like a child, “This is turning out to be a weird fucking day..” Karth tucked the card in his pocket and gave his mothers grave one last look, “Thank you mother for this…if you really did leave it for me…” and he headed to his car.
He went home, a place out in the country that had belonged to his father before giving it to him, about ten miles outside of Liverpool and he went inside setting the case down on his coffee table. Tristan, his pet fox, comes running into the room to greet him, “There you are girl, daddy’s home for a bit o’rest and relaxation. Mum died to day Tris…going to be kinda down for awhile.”
He sat down as he leaned forward and opened the case, sure enough there was a long Samurai sword in it, in its royal blew sheathe etched with gold filibree, the hilt a dragons head roaring out at the bottom tied with finest silk for a loose grip meant to be used with the pair of gloves provided so the sword didn’t slide out of a sweaty hand, the blade had five circles near the hilt along the blade, which itself was razor sharp, written down the blade in Japanese was “保護する彼は、この剣を揮う”.
“He who protects shall wield this sword,” Karth reads aloud, “Ok then. Well it is a nice sword aye Tris? Guess I’ll put it over my mantelpiece,” he sighs as he puts it back in the case and carries it upstairs into his bedroom, “I’m going to sleep Tris…watch the place for me…” and then he bedded down, his mind wandering, fighting back his sadness.