The Battle for the Isle of Winds

The peasants had long forgotten the Celestial Order. The ragged skeletons of the magistrates still hung from the wharfs. They quarreled amongst themselves over petty slights, while the rice fields law fallow the and merchants docks were silent.

“C’mon, lets go for a glass of Sake. It’s colder than Fu Leng’s heart this morning!” said the ragged man holding the spear.
“But what about our post? The signal fires?” asked his fellow guard.
“No man could sail through this fog. Only a fool who would want to meet the rocks,” laughed the first. As they walked down the docks, the wavering shapes of ships began to fade in from the mist.

By the time the alarm bells were ringing, the shores were full of Mantis soldiers. Yoritomo Toyotomi looked around at the ragged men running pell-mell to meet them, holding spears, slings, staffs, and farming equipment. “There is no leadership here. No one worth challenging,” he rumbled as he raised his kama.

The peasants did not know what was happening. Even though most of the Mantis were still disembarking from their craft, they cut into the irregular ranks of their enemy. Ashigaru screamed and died at each other’s hands, impaled on spears or just beaten to death by the bare hands of a dozen others. Toyotomi leapt into the fray, his Kama trailing a haze of blood that seemed to turn the mist about him crimson.

With a few bellowed orders from atop a dock post, the Mantis troops demonstrated their experience by flanking the faltering peasant force.

It was over in less than half a hour. The peasant rebels had no chance. Those who were not fleeing to the hills were either food for the worms or swearing loyalty on their knees.
“A good battle,” said Yakuni, unstringing his bow.
“A good beginning,” agree Toyotomi, who looked through the thinning fog to the horizon, and the outline of Yoritomo island.