[h1]The Shrine of Raijin, Kyoto, Shogunate of Osaka[/h1]

Nestled in a large field outside of Kyoto, re purposed for the purpose of having a place to build a collection of Shrines, The largest in the Center, dedicated to the Sun Goddess, who promised all of Japan to The Minami Family. But the second largest shrine belonged 

As the party made their way into the complex, many of the Ronin stopped at the various shrines before the newcomers would arrive, making offerings to the Gods, tossing them Coins, Food, and clothing before the Altars of the Deities. They called out in prayer, spoken in an odd, very ritualistic version of Japanese, holding onto a very archaic grammar and vocabulary, more easily recognizable by those who learned the Pre-War Standardized Form. 

[center][i]Guardians of the Sky, hear us!
Let Chimata-no-kami guide these visitors safely;
May Izanagi, Susanoo-no-Mikoto And Raijin give them Clear Skies and safe passage to the ground;
But if, these outlanders should betray out trust;
Let Fujin destroy their ships;
May Raijin burn the betrayers;
May Susanoo-no-Mikoto swallow them into furious winds;
And May Hachiman and Kyūseishu-Osama give us the strength to slaughter the surviving traitors;
May Amaterasu bless this meeting, and make it fruitful for all!
[/i][/center]

As the Ronin and their employers finished the ritual, they looked to the skies, watching the Mysterious Ship graced its way to the ground. The Ronin made no attempt to look friendly, their guns clearly up at all times, though it was clear from their choice of weapon, that they had no intent of opening fire; though this cultural tip off may be lost on the Cooperative's agents. They keep their guard up at all time, fierce looking under their salvaged armor; a collection of picked armor pieces, slathered and caked in black anti-corrosion paint, though cracking at points, relieving a motley collection of discarded protective parts. Compared to the well dressed, decent looking officials, Shinobi, and proper Samurai who came with them.

When the men made their way off the ship, the clamor of Samurai and Ronin seem to halt entirely. All noise had died off. The soldiers kept their weapons up, some visibly shaken and even angered at the sight of the men of the Cooperative's ship; perhaps even more disturbing was the fact of the Shinobi, themselves visibly shaken, though hiding it much more well than the Soldiers. All across the back of the security force, a word kept being whispered back and forth

[i]Yokai...[/i]

Yokai, Mutants, Demons, the eternal enemy of the Japanese people. These people, they were mutated, cursed, descendants of sinful men. The Osakans made no attempt to hide their displeasure, but the officials, they knew better than to chase out a new nation they know nothing of. 

The Leader of the Group, a Kyoto born Diplomat, Yoshiro Miyamoto, a Samurai Born man, tried his best to be welcoming to the strangers. However, when Kasigo Mah stuck out his hand, Miyamoto simply looked on in confusion; unsure of what to do. After thinking of a second, the Diplomat stuck his own hand out, in the same fasion, hoping it would be an appropriate response. "Our people are suprised and honored to make your aquaintance, Mr. Mah. My name is Yoshiro Miyamoto, of the Miyamoto Clan, in the Service of Shiro-Sama of the Yota Tribe. We welcome you to the Shogunate of Osaka."