鈴鹿山のために

Full name: Otakemaru Reason or meaning of name: spelled 大嶽丸, meaning “great mountain peak boy” Nickname: Waka (”Child”) or Wakasama (”Young Master”) Reason for nickname: As one of the original founders of Mt. Suzuka, Otakemaru is shown a great deal of respect by the rest of the island’s inhabitants. He’s younger than many of them though, and a great majority of them have watched him grow up, so they affectionately but respectfully refer to him as “Young Master” Birth date: ??

Physical Appearance

With as much dignity as she could muster, which was only so much given she was trying not to cry minutes before, the little lady nodded in understanding, her bows and ribbons mimicking her movements. “By all means, I’m more than happy to spread some hospitality.” By now, all earlier thoughts of self-loathing were gone, replaced with the deep-seated impulse to aid another.

Thus far, her conversation accomplished two things: she learned that this demon-man was another transplant from outside Terra, and she managed to rebound rather quickly from her earlier slump. Perhaps once he finished with his meal, she could help show him around?

Thoughts for later. Right now, the two of them were burning time. “Well then, whenever you are ready, you’re welcome to come inside. No need to wait on an empty stomach.” Lifting herself from a seated position, the sapphire turned away from Otakemaru to walk towards the building, before suddenly stopping and turning back. The motion caused her jewel to shimmer, and when they locked eyes again, her expression had brightened perceptibly. “By the way, what drew you here in the first place? Were you seeking a meal, or something else?”

Otakemaru didn’t need to be told twice to follow, and long strides caught him up quickly to his hospitable new companion as she neared the entrance to the restaurant. He hesitated at the see-through door, glimpsing figures of all shapes and sizes moving about inside, but all dressed in ways with which he was largely unfamiliar. And the whole place was so bright--

“Hm?” His attention came back to the sapphire (a doll, that’s what she reminded him of...) and he shrugged his shoulders. “Just the smell of something cooking. I’ve been wandering around this place without any real destination in mind.” Mustering up his resolution, he pushed open the doors and led the way into the candlelit (no, those weren’t candles... they were too bright), busy interior. His gaze wandered over the smooth countertops, curved backs of cooks frying something up in the back, and the booths that lined the walls. He had seen restaurants in the capital. Briefly. And he was relieved to find that this one wasn’t too different.

Maraqai was no stranger to homesickness, but the feeling was more intense than he had ever known before. mayhap it was because he knew, deep down, that returning home from this location was nigh impossible. this was a place like no other, foreign in ways he couldn’t quite articulate. he was no stranger to foreign, either; often did he travel to far lands, partaking in new cultures and meeting people of all shapes and sizes. there was always the promise of home, though. he would always make it back to the steppe, feel the plush grass under his feet, savor the comforting bustle of his market tribe. he even misses the gales that carried in sand from the nearby desert. he’d almost give anything to be brushing sand from his hair right now, surrounded by family and friends.

the best he could do was try and replicate just a little piece of home. it would never be the same, of course, but he would try. the easiest way to do that was to find a nice patch of grass, settle down in it, close his eyes, and play his dear instrument. he’d make a proper set up eventually, but for now he was content with sitting on the plain earth, legs crossed, instrument seated in his lap. the morin khuur, a two stringed instrument native to his people. for its lack of strings, it certainly did not lack versatility or personality. capable of playing the most melancholy, bewitching of melodies to the most uplifting and joyous, Maraqai could have people weeping one minute and dancing the next.

today, he did not think he had an audience, so he poured his emotions into his song. this one had no lyrics and never would (he certainly could not speak them into existence, after all), but the sorrowful melody he drew from the strings did the talking for him. if he had not been the one playing, he suspects he might have shed a few tears. so focused, Maraqai hadn’t noticed anyone approach until their applause sounded in front of him.

nodding his head towards them in a mockery of a bow, his eyes follow the strangers gesture before returning to him. while he had not expected company, he had taken to carrying a small pad of paper and writing utensil with him. writing was not his strong suit, but it made communicating outside of his community much easier. after setting the instrument aside, Maraqai taps his lips, then his throat, and shakes his head, letting him know that he did not speak. he smiles slightly and begins to write on his paper, worrying his lip between his teeth as he did so.

morin khuur. traditional in my home. he holds the paper towards the stranger long enough for it to be read, then takes it back to write a bit more. i was just playing from the heart. it was a bit sad– sorry. he shows him the paper again, and even though he just apologized, Maraqai laughs gently.

Otakemaru’s eyes follow the musician’s gestures. Mouth. Throat. Then a pad of paper. He tilts his head, examines the scribbled marks that hold little meaning to him, and puts the pieces together.

“Can’t speak, huh?” His eyes fall to the next line of words. He’d need to learn to read the human letters soon enough, it seemed; this world was full of them, and unfortunately hardly any matched the letters and symbols that filled the arcane books Uminari stashed away in the library on Mt. Suzuka.

Hostility is absent in the other’s body language, so Otakemaru lets the mantle of cultivated self-assuredness fall from his own shoulders. There wouldn’t be a fight here, and he has nothing to prove to someone who simply wishes to enjoy their time with their instrument. So instead he settles down in the grass, legs crossed, hands on each knee, and golden eyes bright with curiosity as he leans forward to get a better look at the strings of the morin khuur.

“It looks like a— what did she call it again…” Eyes close as he taps his hand to the side of his head in recollection. “A sha— shamisen.“ But he’s pretty certain that it isn’t. “Never seen it played with that thing though.” A clawed finger flicks toward the bow. He sits back again and crosses his arms as he thinks, then glances up toward his new (unwilling or not) companion’s face.

‘Don’t let your disappointment show.’ The lady thought as she waited. For a reason she could not discern, a local she met some time ago invited her here so they could get to know her better, yet it seemed that her fair-weather friend had left her in the lurch. If only she still had her powers, she could’ve seen this coming.

While she was making to head back, a young man came up to her from behind, startling her out of her reverie. Then the… demon? He had the horns, but looked unlike the demons she met in the forest. Nonetheless, it seemed wrong to answer his casual question with an unrelated one managed to calm her down slightly, and she was able to answer him in kind.

“Ah y-yes. I’ve tried this shop before, and its dishes are quite lovely.” Cornflower tried to ignore the stutter in her words, and instead focused on the shikigami. If the smells from within lured him here, it was likely he was hungry. And she still had the money she brought for her ill-fatedmeetup…

“Would you mind if we stepped inside? My treat.”

It had been a long shot: firing arrows off into the darkness, hoping one would strike something. And fortunately it seemed this one found its mark. The blue thing (another spirit, perhaps? though she didn't smell like the demon force he was used to - in fact, she smelled more like the earth than anything alive) actually seemed to understand him and answered his question with a courtesy he had not quite expected. This was something. A step in the right direction, at least.

"Huh? You'll pay?" Otakemaru had never been one to hide his feelings, so the surprise shone clear across his face. But he also wasn't one to turn down an offer either. Though proud, Sealanders were also opportunists, and a smirk quickly took the place of his astonishment.

“Magic?” the Doctor looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. What an…odd question. Honestly, before he came here magic didn’t exist to him other the in the form of fiction and stories. You know, tales of the Earthen kind. Magic was a foreign concept to him, if he was being honest.

Until he decided to do some research in the magical library and thought ‘oh. okay. That would explain some things. Somehow he was blessed by the sage ‘Luna’ of Space and–this is some kind of irony isn’t it? A Time Lord with space magic of all things?

…Well, there’s a full circle, he supposed. Besides, if he were to have control over time then that…that would lead down the path of the Time Lord Victorious, now would it?

“…I suppose I can do this ‘magic’ you’re talking about, but not originally.” he answered as he stepped closer to the strange man,

“I never knew magic could exist outside of fiction if you know what I’m talking about. But now I can do some strange things like grabbing my Sonic when I’m not near it or…float. I thought, you know, being a Time Lord would be all weird but this is even stranger… ” 

“…Why do you ask, though? I know I’m an odd fellow but magic would be the last thing anyone would ask me if we’re being honest.”

Time Lord. Sonic. Strange words with little context, but Otakemaru had resigned to understanding very little of this world already. The furrow at the center of his brow deepened, but he sat back a little as the oddly-dressed person approached. His chin lifted from his palm and his hands came down to grip the edge of the stone wall on which he was sitting. Gold eyes appraised the man from head to toe, wary but not hostile.

"You can only do those things here?" he asked, referring to the ability to float and... "grabbing his Sonic." It seemed this person had little idea of what he was talking about otherwise. So he probably wasn't an onmyoji. Otakemaru wrinkled his nose again as he sniffed. Such a strange smell though...

"Well, you remind me of an onmyoji," he answered candidly. 

"But maybe that's just because you seem different than an average human..."

The stone was cool beneath his palms, but when he closed his eyes and tried to focus his energy into it, it remained silent and inert. He glanced up at the odd human again.

This place had an odd smell to it. The scent of hot oil had enticed him at first, but the closer he came to the source, the more acrid the stench became. It was old oil, faintly mingled with the trash collecting behind the building, but someone was certainly frying something. Strange letters in red marked a bright yellow sign above the entrance, where glass doors allowed Otakemaru to see into what seemed to be some sort of restaurant. Cautiously, he approached, but his eyes caught something vibrantly blue and out of place nearby (but what could he really say about “out of place.” So far nothing seemed to be in place at all here), and he redirected to speak to her instead.

He’d been staring for a while, chin in the palm of one hand, elbow propped firmly on his leg, and a shadow of consternation across his brow. This one looked human, and yet... he didn’t feel human. Otakemaru couldn’t quite place what it was, but there was a sensation emanating from this strangely-dressed person that almost - but not quite - reminded him of the onmyoji in the capital. A mysticism, perhaps. An inner magic. Something like that. Whatever it was, he was clearly not like an ordinary human.

Otakemaru sniffed at the air and wrinkled his nose, hardly bothering to hide the expressions he was making as he watched - he had received no such lessons about staring and being rude, after all. It seemed he wasn’t going to learn much this way though, and he was getting bored.

“Oy,” he called, lifting his chin slightly from his hand. A frown pulled down the corners of his mouth and he pointed with his free hand as if it wasn’t clear enough to whom he was speaking.

“Do you know any spells?”

The world outside of Mt. Suzuka was as vast as it was strange, but that was a lesson Otakemaru had already learned. Even the demon tribes that made their homes on the other mountains surrounding the capital were far different than his own sea-born family. However, there still ran a vein of familiarity beneath the wooden structures, the pavilions, the red-painted torii, and other such monuments, which Suzuka Gozen had brought to their island from her time spent on the mainland. Here though… it was a different world entirely, and from a low wall near a greenspace in the city, Otakemaru marveled at the sky-high buildings that surrounded him. Lights glowed from them as if by magic, and instead of wood, their sides were solid and smooth like some sort of stone. Likely they made a formidable defense against attack - most importantly, fire - and for a long while he contemplated how they might be reconstructed with the materials he knew on Mt. Suzuka. As if he would be able to return home…

If this realm was the underworld, it was nothing like he had expected it to be. For one, he had not caught even a glimpse of the Sanzu River, across which he was certain he would be led to hell. He didn’t believe that Enma would have any reason to pardon his senseless war, and an eternity of suffering was one he thought he was due. But he hadn’t received… anything like that. The ruler of the realm had instead housed him, and offered him a strange, pliant card. Gold eyes dropped away from the streak of pale blue that snaked between the buildings overhead to examine the gift he still held. With clawed fingertip, he plucked the corner and watched it flicker, no closer to understanding its purpose. Then he let his hand come back to the edge of the stone wall, desperate for the sensation of something familiar beneath his palm again. A sigh slipped from his lips and he lifted his gaze skyward again to think.

His ears perked. On the breeze came a bewitching melody that drew his attention away from his contemplation. It was a sound unlike any he had heard before. Though Suzuka Gozen enjoyed her trinkets, and collected instruments just as she hoarded everything else she discovered at sea. Even so, there was a quality to this one that was absent from the strings that collected dust in the treasury on Mt. Suzuka, and Otakemaru searched earnestly for the source.

There, a short distance away. The dark horns that curled out from the sides of his head, and the tone of his scaly skin were somewhat reminiscent of a Sealander. The shred of familiarity was perhaps what held Otakemaru’s gaze so firmly, and he watched the solo performance for a short while from his perch on the wall. He felt like a timid child again, waiting for Suzuka Gozen to take him by the hand and lead him to where the others of their growing family gathered, before he had earned their esteem and friendship as the Young Master of the mountain. But Suzuka Gozen wasn’t here to make his introductions for him. And neither were his friends who had contributed so much to the confidence he had developed.

He couldn’t let that stop him. Resolutely, his feet hit the grassy earth and carried him to the musician as his song reached its end. By now, his shoulders had squared, his chin had raised, and a lopsided smile had slipped across his lips. This was strange. He hadn’t done this in so long, but he wasn’t about to show it. Alongside the echoes of the instrument’s final notes, Otakemaru offered his applause.

Who is Otakemaru?

A summonable shikigami from the mobile game Onmyoji, loosely based on the mythological character by the same name. He is a powerful oni, or a mountain demon, who has very rarely had contact with humans. Known as The Lord of Mt. Suzuka. He’s still relatively young, however, and tends to be headstrong, stubborn, and brash, but also curious and loyal to his family. In Vraelgard, he will be looking for ways to continue testing his strength, so fights with otherworldly beings are always welcome. Humans are especially interesting to him, however, as his closest friend often regaled him with stories from her time living with them.

Monsters running amok, fellow oni (although they didn’t smell like oni), bloodied corpses still shuffling through the streets, fairies, and people with what looked like cats’ ears sprouting from their heads...

              hello, call me ree               I’m bringing otakemaru from onmyoji to vraelgard               onmyoji is a game steeped in folklore and this otakemaru               bears several similarities to the one of myth, however,               he’s also very much his own character               below are a few key points that may help jumpstart               ideas for interactions:

otakemaru is an oni from the sealands, meaning that despite being a mountain demon, he is amphibious and commands a pirate fleet of sea monsters back in his home world

he loves to fight, and putting up a good one is a surefire way to gain his respect

up until the war that led to his death, he’s had minimal contact with humans but holds a passing interest in them. suzuka gozen, the sealander who more or less raised him, had lived with humans for a time herself and he’s eager to learn how they had so easily charmed her

while I’ve taken otakemaru from the point immediately after his death, his memories of this event are currently spotty. once he gathers his bearings in vraelgard, he will believe that this is a new opportunity to save mt. suzuka, his home, from the contamination that had drove him to war in the first place

he’s been relatively sheltered from the world outside of mt. suzuka, though that outside world is still that of the heian era (roughly 794 - 1185 AD), so almost everything in vraelgard is going to be bewildering and surprising to him

he has retained his ability to protect himself against physical attacks through the use of rocky spines that rise from his body when threatened; he will be eager to test how well he can fight without his other powers and weapons