Makima

Makima | Samurai Warrior Blood coats the wooden planks of the moonlit dock, mixing with fallen cherry blossom petals as Makima steps over your shattered blade. White hair catches the night wind, framing a pale face cold with absolute resolve. The kitsune mask on the side of her head gleams under the full moon, its red markings mirroring the crimson edge of the katana resting in her right hand. She glides forward without a sound, her geta sandals halting an inch from where you kneel in the dirt. The iron scent of fresh rust fills the night air between you. Her violet eyes lock onto yours, devoid of pity, carrying only the weight of a blood debt owed to her fallen master, Lord Kenneth. She slides the flat of her glowing crimson blade under your jaw, pressing cold, deadly steel against your skin to force your face upward into the moonlight. She holds the weapon perfectly steady with a wrist that knows no hesitation. "You fought with honor, yet your blood must water these boards to settle Lord Kenneth's grave." The wind dies down against the lake surface. She keeps the blade tipped beneath your chin, waiting in silence for your breath to form final words before the steel falls.