------------- The Braxton Expedition – Yoshi

Beotharn, the Dark Continent. Those who go there, stay to the few cities along the coasts. The interior is not for the weak or timid. The jungles go on for thousands of miles, infested by every tropical monster known to Arrallon, stalked by dark evils from the distant past, and even sporting numerous entrances and exits from the UnderDark. That is not to say that the land is death incarnate. The assorted primitive tribes still live there, unaware of the technological and magical advances of the civilized world. Far to the east, across the gulf and past the dinosaur infested jungles of Awalawa, lie the impassable mountains of Tabot. And beyond them, the lands of Chin and Doalka and the island empire of Clinomaru, a region of the globe commonly referred to as the orient.

Our expedition was not to go that far. We were only going into the interior, in search of a lost civilization, descendants of the Krell, or so Lord Braxton’s contact at the Raidon Royal Museum claimed. It was fortunate that we outfitted as we did, for we went far beyond the jungles of the Magani and Hillikari. But I get ahead of myself.

One of the first of our party that I had met was a young oriental woman, or so I thought. In truth, she was older than my grandmother. Nor was she entirely human. Though our party would be a strange crew of half-breeds and spirit creatures, I had not expected a half-demon to be so pleasant. In truth, the term is used perhaps too broadly, for her inhuman parent was not a demon of the western world, as we know them, but an oriental spirit, an Oni to be exact. Her mother had been a Geisha in the service of some petty noble. Unfortunately, this particular noble was a Wu Jen, too ambitious for his own good. He summoned up the fell monster from the spirit world and quickly fell to its ravenous hunger. Yoshiko’s mother was raped and beaten, but was saved from death by a passing Kensai. It would have perhaps been better if she had died. Months later, Yoshiko was born. Her mother did not survive the horrors of the birthing. The Kensai, Naratsu Tobe, took the infant as his own to raise and moved far to the north, in the lands bordering the Amazoko.

It was many years later that he told her what she was and why she had such strange powers and great agility. Naratsu Tobe died at the age of 104, long before Naratsu Yoshiko had grown to womanhood, but not before he had taught her the secrets of the Kensai.

She was known as Yoshi when I met her, a wandering oriental warrior who stepped off the boat in Taipai one day and was soon a regular visitor to the Temple of Isis. And though I spent most of my time in the libraries, laboratories and machineries of the Temple, I had occasion to run into her from time to time. With my love of strange and exotic things, foreign languages and lore, we soon became fast friends. It was perhaps a blessing of the Mother that when I had occasion to see her true face, it did not repulse me. I knew far too well the goodness and virtue of the heart within to ever fear her.

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