Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi slipped through the gilded under-halls of the Teikodian Empire, the kabuki paint a grotesque mockery of the performer they once were. They carried no bamboo for building bridges now, only for marking the path of their ruin. It was Sakkaku who had sent them this way, with whispers of a phosphorescent fungus that could grant visions—a performer's ultimate tool. Hideyoshi, ever the dramatic explorer, believed them. But the mushroom brought no visions. It brought only a withering blight that turned the Imperial gardens to dust in a single night. With the Emperor's prize blossoms went Hideyoshi's name, honor, and family. They no longer explore for glory; they hunt the shadows for an ending.