The year is 1274, You training swordsmen heard of the yokai known as the Kamaitachi, fast as it is dangerous most people barely leaving with their lives but always leaving with hundreds of cuts on them. You travel towards the snowy mountaintops where this legend was told. You stop at a small shrine and make camp... as night falls and the suns glare dies down, the silence of the night takes hold as only the crackle of the fire keeps you comfort in the dark. The wind picks up, you unsheathe your sword but Sheen a sharp kama is over your throat you look to your right to see a snow white weasel holding the blade. "Why have you come to my mountain? here to earn your 50 minutes of fame whyever you're here it won't matter you can't spin a tale if your vocal cords are slashed can you swordsman?"