Post by EriChar on Jul 8, 2012 8:04:20 GMT -5
((Apologies for the delay, been a busy few days.))
Calmness, almost a sense of serenity followed the Chuunin’s attacking movement, and the hazy blur that his environment had become during his high speed motions never really returned to focus. The anger he had felt only moments before seemed to have been quelled, like pouring ice water onto a fire, the man’s rage was snuffed out by a cool flood of enlightenment. The shinobi felt nothing of the pain that his blood loss should have caused him, in fact, he felt nothing from his body at all; like a floating, almost-omnipresent consciousness, the Shinobi seemed to exist in every area of his island, and even every corner of the world, if only for the briefest of moments.
Well met, Samurai… This was the last thought that crossed the mind of the ailing ninja; a small, solemn acknowledgement of skill to his foe, as the very existence of the shinobi seemed to fade away into peace. Every facet of the man disappearing, the pride, the skill, the supressed emotion, until all that remained was the glassy eyes of a corpse, seeming to look gently at one of the glowing crystal trees of his homeland. With the passing of this warrior, a cold wind blew through the trees of Crysiland, and all around the island.
An icy breeze suddenly swept over the shoulders of Fukube Masanari, and as he dashed from rooftop to rooftop, the shinobi seemed compelled to cast an eye in land, towards the forests of his homeland. Pausing for a few seconds, the Fukube heir scanned the black treeline, unsure of what he was expecting to see, but none the less induced into doing so.
Bit weird… Shaking his head, the shinobi pulled away from his skim, returning his attention to the now towering blaze in front of him. Crouching on the rooftop a few dozen meters away from the burning building, Masanari hid himself from view, and through the shaggy locks that hid his eyes, the scruffy but serious shinobi sought the cause of the current disturbance. Another band of thugs was stood near it, attempting to make themselves appear imposing, though only one of them really seemed to be cause any sort of ‘blip’ on the Ninja’s radar; a blonde with short hair both on his head and face.
Stalwartly scanning his surrounding, Masanari would have expected to have been spotted by this man, had the Shinobi not been so skilled in the art of concealment. Flat on the high roof, Masanari barely peeked over it to catch sight of what he wished to survey, taking advantage of his high position to gain a grip on the town’s situation. From this rooftop, in the distance Masanari caught sight of an unfamiliar ship in its harbour; a foreign vessel which a smart gambler would wager was the source of the island’s current troubles. Whilst his eyesight was good, Masanari couldn’t make out whom or what was on the ship, only that it certainly didn’t resemble any of Crysiland’s own craft. Neither did it resemble the ferries and transports that routinely visited the island, or even the vessels used by the World Government, who on occasion seemed to send their operatives to train on the island, a fact that was little known outside of the secrecy of the island.
From his high watchtower, Fukube Masanari could only speculate as to the intent behind what seemed like the senseless destruction of his homeland, but he was rather surprised at the response it had brought. Ordinarily the island was usually rather well protected; thugs and your average brigand were no match for the skill of even the junior ninja, let alone the skilled seniors that commanded the island’s guard. However, it struck this solitary shinobi as an odd occurrence that despite the level of destruction rife on the island, there didn’t seem to be any visible form of resistance present within the town. It was supposition, of course, but Masanari found himself concluding that these men weren’t the only threat that the island was facing, and the defence forces had been drawn away to deal with other matters.
Left the town wide open… Fukube Masanari had no idea of the threat facing the island elsewhere, but whatever it was, he didn’t think that it was worth the pain and suffering of the island’s people; whether or not their island held a valuable resource in its crystal weaponry or shinobi arts, it shouldn’t have been the innocents that paid the cost for their pricelessness.
Looks like it’s going to be a late night… Unusually resolute in his decision Masanari had elected to protect his island, even if he had to do it by himself, and so he reached into his tool bag and pulled out a trio of items. In one hand he held the pair of crystal daggers which he had earlier used to make ribbons of the group of thugs he hand encountered earlier, and in the other a strange, orb-like article. Looking like something patched together out of random assortments, the ball had parts that glistened like the quartz in Masanari’s knives, and others that were dull and dark, with a small section of what looked like rope protruding from it.
Placing one of his glimmering kunai between his teeth and pushing the other into the rooftop in front of him, the shinobi pulled another match from his pouch and lit it, pressing the flame to the stubby section of rope in the mashed-together ball. After a few seconds, the rope sputtered into flame, so Masanari dropped the match and snapped back up the knife he had stored in the roof.
Hopping up quickly with the burning ball in hand, Masanari tossed it down from the roof and into the middle of the gang by the building.
If you want some of our crystal, take it. Pausing, the shinobi waited a second or two until there was a loud explosion, forcing fragments of the glittering glass outwards. With his counterattack begun, Masanari dropped the knife from his mouth as he dove from the rooftop, snatching it from the air with his now free hand as that white scarf of him fluttered behind, the twisted white flag of a devilish reaper.