Ivory skin glinted in the sunlight, showing a beauty like that of the rolling fog that was approaching a small, rocking boat. The boat moved as the waters around it churned and made the wood groan, but still the dinghy went on about it's way. Rowing away on his lonesome was the porcelain skinned man himself, his skin showing a bright color to the otherwise drab surrounding and an outcast amidst the blue waters. As the fog rolled over the boat, he would disappear periodically from view, appearing only through breaks in the fog. The male was wearing a soft, ocean blue jacket with reptillian themed scales upon the sleeves, a blue t-shirt with a dragon logo upon it and underneath it he wore a normal shinobi netted shirt. If one could see in the boat he was found to be wearing navy pants with matching shoes, and his socks in the shoes were black. If one looked closely at his neck, they'd see a tattoo of a dragon eating its own tail. Rather curious.

The boat smacked into the dock of an island, or rather a destroyed bridge used as one, and the male stepped off onto the platform, being met by a gaunt old ferryman. Without a word, he went to attend to the dinghy, tying it to the platform to keep it from drifting away, completely ignoring the young wanderer's presence. With a silent shrug, Rogue moved on to the dirt road he was met with, following it along curiously. He hadn't the foggiest (haha, get it?) idea of why he'd come to this place and didn't much care. This was very curious and had the young male's attention in the fullest. He was so absorbed in taking everything in that he almost didn't notice. The dead trees on either side of the road, the dead branches extended like claws at him, but this didn't interest him. What did was that even through poor visibility, the male could make out spider webs among the trees and they looked rather, well, large. Too large for normal spiders, but there was no way there could be something that large, right? This would take some investigating.

As Rogue made it deeper and deeper into the trees, there was an overwhelming feeling that he wasn't alone. That at any moment something could come out and feast upon him. It was a rather unpleasant feeling to say the least and one he did not want to continue having. He heard a rustling and turned just in time to see a dog-sized form sprint across the treeline. Strange, but that animal almost looked to have eight appendages. Shaking this thought from his head, Rogue continued on, eventually reaching a black gate missing a lock. Before he pushed it open, Rogue noticed a sign written in a type of red paint that stated 'Keep Out!' It's funny, the paint kind of looked like dried blood. Perhaps..? No, it couldn't be.

He pushed the gate open, the loud cry echoing into the distance, singing to the trees for lack of other listeners that it needed to be lubed by something, perhaps a nice can of oil. Shrugging a bit, Rogue made his way through the gates and into the fog, deeper through it until he came to the base of a large hill. There was nowhere else to go so the wanderer, well, wandered his way up the hill. The steep incline was almost a bit too much for him to deal with but after a few minutes he finally reached the top and was greeted with the sight of an old rundown, yet still beautiful manor and a greenhouse off to his right. Rogue quietly approached the manor, taking in the details of the three story building. It had a bell tower with no bell, strange. He reached the steps and moved up onto the porch, approaching the double doors. On the doors were knockers in the shape of wolves' heads and Rogue cautiously reached out, and lifted the knocker and banged it on the door, awaiting an answer.

"What the hell am I doing?"

WC: 705

Sero sat upon his chair in the main hall. The hall empty save for himself in a dark wooden chair with nearly black red cushions. The back of it towering far higher than any man that might sit in it with horns rising from the top. The arm rests stretched out and at the end of them was a pair of snarling wolf heads. That was something Sero rather enjoyed, wolves. Certainly not the strongest of creatures under the sun or moon and yet they were perhaps the most dangerous. If one met one wolf there was always at least two others nearby. A whole pack could overwhelm even the strongest of enemies. Perhaps that was what he was building here. Teru, Hanta, Yasuo, all his pack. He himself was the alpha of the group. The world around Kiri was a rotting corpse that only sought to take the riches from Kiri. His pack had but one purpose. The manor was a front line against the corpses yet to realize they were dead. Slayers trained to take down and eliminate the enemies of Kiri that would approach her. In as much they were like a wolf pack. Simply far more monstrous.

Sero himself sat upon his chair comfortably. His back straight with his posture perfect. Many would slouch in their privacy but he did not. He was wearing a long black kimono on his person. The under kimono stretching to his ankles where he was wearing black socks and padded shoes. The dark cloth of the under robes held close to his waits while the outer layer only tucked into his belt. A black top with golden patterns across the chest and wide sleeves with a white fur across his right shoulder down his front and back. His hair hung loose in long white strands like silk thread about his face. In the center of his forehead was a half moon shape like a sideways turned closed eye. Beneath it dead grey eyes looked down the long hall with pillars lining both sides and a red carpet between them. The windows themselves were designed to depicts ancient battles between angels and demons or samurai and shinobi. Changing the light that came in to a darker red glow. To the right side of the chair leaning against the arm was a single sheathed Katana of exceptional make. Sero was not one to sit idly and be unarmed in the same stroke.

Sero had been taking a break from his normal reading in the library as his studies ever continued when on his way to morning tea he had been interrupted. A small spider landing on his shoulder as whispers seemed to echo across the hall. An intruder approached. Sero had invited no one to the manor nor had any of his people informed him of such. A trespasser was coming his way. So he had made his way to the chair in the main hall where it was just two doorways from the stranger. He left the twin doors to the main hall open so he could see the twin doors leading out to the garden. He could almost taste the young male on the air. As Rogue would approach and touch the door. The moment he knocked he would feel a pressure all around him. Something darker than a starless night had turned its attention to him. It would feel like it was coming to claim his flesh and consume it while imprisoning his soul. He had stirred something to wakefulness in his curiosity. A whisper seemed to pick up on the wind as if it warned him away.

"Flee trespasser..."

A barely audible whisper and yet there was no one around and no one way it seemed to come from. Something strange settled around him as if the beast that watched him had slowly smiled. Happy that he was so close. He could tell now it waited within those doors. The direction of it very prominently straight ahead. Two loud taps could be heard on the other side of the door before the door latch clicked open and readily swung inwards. He was met there with no one but an open set of doors before him. Leaves shifting in with him and scattering across the floor from an assortment of garden plants. Should he enter the doors would slam shut by something unseen behind him. Leaving him in a dimly lit entry way. Stairs on either side spiraling each other to all three floors of the manor. The leaves around him would suddenly spark and light aflame burning to nothing for their intrusion. Leaving merely blackened ashes behind. The thing waited for him beyond the doors. Should he step through those as well he would see Sero sitting there. His eyes like those of a man beyond the grave and the sensation of a smiling beast waiting behind his plain expression. Waiting for him to approach down the long hall.

831

It was rather strange, because as he knocked, Rogue noticed a feeling of unease wash over his form once more. He felt as though this was a place he didn't belong and was not welcome. His curiosity had gotten him somewhere where he really should not have ventured and he couldn't remember what drove him to this island in the first place. He had no inclination as to why he'd trekked not only to the island, but all the way to this manor on a hill, far away from where he'd started, only to knock on a foreboding door. This feeling wasn't going away and it was heavy with austerity as well as hostility. Rogue wanted nothing more than to turn now and leave before it got worse, maybe get off the island and go home for a nap. It was all he could do to stay in the spot once he heard a whisper on the wind, a voice from no source in his ear. 'Flee trespasser..' That was it. That was all the encouragement he needed to turn around. But as he made the decision to do so, he heard two loud taps on the other side of the door, and watched to see it swing inwards on it's own.

"Guess there's no turning back, rather confusing message"

Flee, but the doors opened to allow entry? Quite the queer prospect if he was any judge, but perhaps there was something more at play here? Whatever it was, as he stepped inside he'd notice no one was behind the door waiting, it was as though an unseen force guided the door open and this same unseen hand was pushing him further inside. With each step echoing off the fine stone, he took in his surroundings. Leaves blew in with him, following as he passed stair cases on each side of another set of double doors, these already open for his entry. When he continued to walk, there was a slam, and he turned back to see the doors closed behind him, leaving only the inner double doors open now. Strange, but perhaps the wind? As he walked, the same feeling of unease he felt outside magnified, and the leaves that had come with him on his journey inside the house burnt to nothing, not even ash was left. It was as though once they crossed the thresh hold their intrusion was not suffered any longer, and they were taken out, much as he imagined he could be by this same feeling.

Malice was on the air as he stepped onto a long red carpet, leading down the long hall towards the end. Pillars on either side of the hall erected, and Rogue could see windows with beautiful artworks upon them. Battles of shinobi versus samurai and the demons and angels' wars flooded his eyes as he struggled to take everything in. There was so much beauty here that it was almost impossible to remember the uneasy feeling and the malice that was present. He wasn't welcomed here, an unwanted intrusion into another's home and this was still felt no matter how beautiful everything was to him. He turned to look ahead, and saw possibly the highest backed chair he'd ever seen in his life. The back was tall, taller than any man would ever fill, with horns at the top, it had nearly black red cushions and extended arm rests with wolves on them, perfectly tying everything together as though only a king would sit here. But what really drew the eye of the wanderer was who occupied the masterwork chair. A man clad in kimonos that seemed to step straight out of the history of the world, the black kimono accented perfectly with golden details. The under kimono was also dark, but harder to see for Rogue. What was easier to see was the fur strewn over shoulder to front and back on the man and his beautiful white hair that shone like the moon. Upon his forehead was a crescent moon that was turned on the side to appear as though it were a closed eye. Or it was a closed eye made to look like a crescent moon on its side. This man was something else, and Rogue almost didn't notice the unsheathed katana at the side of the chair.

A king in his own right, a leader of the pack.

So much came to mind about this man, and the power he gave off. Rogue was no sensory ninja but the power emanating from the man in the chair in front of him was like standing in front of a furnace. Rogue stopped five meters from the man, quietly looking at him, studying him. His eyes, with grey circles underneath him, felt like the dead gaze of the afterlife to the wanderer and there wasn't much else it would look like to any other person in this situation, unprepared to have intruded into someone's home. There was so much running through his mind, and the main thing that came to him was that this power was something he himself would covet. He wanted to feel as this man probably felt. Powerful, as though those other ninja about were simply bugs to be squashed, lambs to the slaughter. Something of this man made Rogue want to learn from him and be like him. First, though, he'd have to live through the introduction.

"I uhm.. I am Ryos. Hello. I didn't know you lived here, or that anyone did. You see the door opened and I.. I have no idea what brought me to this place."

WC: 955 + 705 = 1,660

OOC: Trying to flesh it out but I've never had to play the timid character lol

Serro sat quietly upon his throne. His body like a statue as only his eyes traveled after the boy. Motionless as was the rest of the hall. Not a single fly flew nor did a bird pass the windows. The light that filtered through the painted windows dimmed as if the pictures depicted there absorbed the light so it might not touch those that stood within. As the man in the thrones pale skin seemed to depict not much natural light seemed to gather within the walls. To the wall behind Rogue was a set of stains upon the wall. As of yet no one had bothered to scrub them. Outlines of men burnt into the stone there. Still the young man would progress further within. Each step an echo like an approaching storm. He had a spirit about him that seemed to be filled with a sense of hunger. Many who came to the island had that trait but few made it this far. The desire to grow not as strong as the need to remain safe. However this one moved within five meters of him and seemed to study him. Certainly an oddity if he had ever witnessed one.

Still the man would speak. His voice echoing like a thing out of place within the hall. As if nothing dared utter a sound in that space less it be hunted and consumed. As he named himself and explained how he came to be there his voice stirred something else within the hall. The dark ceiling seemed to shift and skitter as out of the black mass a few spiders broke off and skittered across the ceiling into small holes and out of sight. If he noticed this and looked closer he may know then the ceiling wasn't simply dark in the height of it. The entirety of it was moving and made of spiders. Hundreds of eyes watching him. They could rain down at any moment and cover the whole hall. However for the moment they refrained. Something else within the hall held dominion here even over them. For the moment Sero shifted finally. Tilting his head and studying the boy more now. His words of interest to him. The island was a place even he did not fully understand yet. At times it lured prey and sometimes would be predators. It interested Sero to know which of these the boy was. Still when Sero's lips parted his voice emerged. Like gravel scraping across the floor. Dull and deep.

"I have heard it spoken that this place is one of fate. That you would be drawn here was but a destiny bound to happen. That the manor would let you in to greet me without you knowing who you stand before surprises me."

Sero would rise then like a spirit from the grave. No discernible shift of his arms or legs but in a shift of mist he was sitting one moment and standing the next. In the blink of an eye his positions shifted. His right pale hand reached down and collected his blade. Pulling it close to his side. Even as his fingers touched the weapon a deep growl emanated from the entire room but not from his throat. The weight of Sero armed seemed to darken the room even more until it was like the sun setting outside as mist covered the grounds and splashed against the windows outside. Drowning out the light as suddenly the torches on each pillar lit in a strong blaze. As they did the throne that Sero sat upon split apart into mist and faded back into a grey crack in the air. If Rogue listened to it and watched, pale fingers would tear hopelessly at the edges with broken nails. A sense of desperation and madness filling the room from the small crack before a distant scream could be heard from within. The sound one of agony beyond nightmares. Sero would step once then as the crack closed. The hall like a night lit room. Rogue would only see the one step before Sero was suddenly within one meter of him. Not even a blur of movement behind him. The statue staring into his eyes as he spoke.

"The manor attracts two kinds of people Mr. Ryos. those that would fall against me and those who can grow under my hand. Which of these are you? Did you come to challenge me as others have? If so draw your blade. If you have come to grow, a bow is not out of the question."

1598

The man before Rogue, the statue, the one with dead eyes sat and stared at him for a while. Studying him back as the wanderer had studied the statue. Rogue let his gaze shift to the ceiling for a moment, noting the empty blackness of the high ceiling. He could swear he felt as though he were being watched by something other than the man whose attention he now had. Straining his eyes at the ceiling Rogue almost thought he saw something move, but ignored it as he hear a low growl, like the sound of gravel scraping across the floors themselves. The man upon the chair spoke to him now, speaking of the island and how it was one of fate. That him being drawn  to the island was a destiny, perhaps his own, and it was bound to happen. He seemed surprised that the manor would let him enter and greet the man in the chair without allowing the wanderer to know who he stood before. It was as though he thought the manor had its own feelings and thoughts on the matter, but that was impossible, strictly impossible. Wasn't it?

Before Rogue himself got a chance to respond, the man was up and standing now, as though he did so as Rogue blinked. The quickness of the man was overshadowed for a moment by the mist of his chair. It was as though the chair was disappearing into a void, Rogue could hear screams from the grey crack that was left and he shuddered slightly, trying to figure out what the screams had come from. As Rogue looked about, he noticed that the room had become darker, as though it was lit like a dark night, devoid of most light sources and devoid of hope. This was such a strange change to the hall around them and the wanderer turned his gaze back to the man that stood before him, beautiful white locks straight down and his kimono in a straight unwrinkled fashion. He was ready to speak before he noticed the sword being held by his acquaintance. He hadn't even seen the blade get picked up and there was one step seen, Rogue focusing on the other now, before he noticed the distance had nearly been closed, only three feet separating the two. Those cold, dead seeing eyes looked into the males own, Rogue's eye color changing to a dull cobalt.

The man wished to know why he was here. Was he here to be struck down or here to grow? If it was the former he was to draw his blade. The latter: a bow would be appreciated. Rogue didn't really have to think about this for longer than a second. He had no blades to speak of, save for his kunai. Which would not hold up against a sword of that make. He did have taijutsu, but his skill in that was so weak it was not even worth mentioning. It was then that Rogue decided a bow would be his best bet and he folded his right arm over his stomach, leaning down to fold his top half slightly over the arm, his head down and his body forming a 'L' reversed and upside down. With the bow, his left arm was straight and out at a diagonal direction, completing the respectful bow he was taught as a child. It seemed as good a time as any to use it, present company taken into account.

"I would grow under you, sir. I did not come to quarrel but there is a fire in me waiting to be unleashed. Your power is something I've not experienced. It's daunting and I only wish to learn it for myself. My name is not just Ryos. I have been called the water dragon, owing to my clan's kekkei genkai. My given name however, is Rogue." With that, he finished his bow and straightened his back once more, his cobalt hues becoming a royal blue as he looked back into the other male's eyes. He was hoping for an introduction from the other who would possibly become his teacher. Rogue hoped so, that power he was putting off was so violent, so temperamental.. so desirable.

WC: 715 + 1,660 = 2,375

Sero would observe the boy quietly from his position before him. His grip on his own sword hilt was a tight one. The leather straining from where his fingers held firm in a whine as if being tormented and crushed. He was prepared if need be to raise this weapon in one foul slice and end this stranger before him. So few approached this island seeking to be empowered. So few could withstand the torment and pressures of surviving under him. Oh how often it was the other path taken. One seeking fame and glory for finally slaying the pale king. Of bandits and pirate even mercenaries none had as of yet met a friendly fate before Sero. So many had tried and for so long their blood and bones decorated the halls of the manor. Only in the last year had the manor been restored to its current state. How could he assume then if all his life was spent in battle that this boy meant him no ill will?

However the boy would bow and in doing such make himself entirely vulnerable. With no chance to defend himself or attack. If he were a would be assassin his training would of prevented him from such posture. The bow would be much different and Sero would of seen that. Either the boy was clever beyond his years or genuine. For now Sero saw no reason to strike him down. Aside from trespassing he had done little wrong. Even as for the trespassing Sero would glance up as if through the ceiling. Momma had a great deal of pull in the manor. Regardless of Sero's views he knew she had let him in. Be it for hunger or interest he did as of yet not know. He would ask her soon. Instead a sheath would form from mist around his weapon and click closed. His own head bowing modestly in return to the bow. Acknowledging the boy as he spoke. An interesting name and title.

"How interesting a dragon would come to my island. Stories of old would suggest you sought my treasure for yourself. As for myself. I am known as Lord Osada Sero. Head of the Osada clan. If you wish to grow, I have a simple task for you. Take this sword when you awaken on the other shore, my brand is upon the hilt. Take it to the administration building. Learn what is public knowledge of me and if you still choose to return, have them assign one Uchiha Teru to bring you back. Of knights, kings and dragons this is a tale yet to be told."

With that Sero would lift his pale hand. Rogue would feel an overwhelming sensation of pressure and weight. As if he would be crushed on the spot Simply from the release of dark chakra. His limbs wouldn't respond and he would be frozen where he stood. A simple paralyses technique but with the massive difference between them it would be incredibly overwhelming. He would only be able to watch as darkness closed over his vision of Sero watching him before he slept. As if only a moment had passed he would awaken with no pain or struggle to breath. The monsterous aura faded from around him and the light of day burning bright. He would awaken laying on the far shore from the manor. The sword in his right hand. A seal emblazoned upon the hilt and instructions of what to do. One thought seemed to echo from the island....one sensation. Sero was waiting.

Exit thread

2196
2196 Katon S to SS

It was interesting that a dragon be in his presence? The shinobi world was one of many wonders and Rogue that he not be one of them. But it gave him the drive he needed to follow his dreams and keep his promise. Upon straightening his back, he'd watch the man who would introduce himself as Osada, Sero. The head of the Osada clan and, to rogue's knowledge, apparent head of this manor house. He was given instructions to follow, simply to learn the public knowledge about who he was standing with and if he felt as though he could still return, to find one Uchiha, Teru to bring him back. A story of Knights, Dragons, and Kings was to be told, and Rogue himself was one for excitement at the prospect of it. Without another word, he suddenly felt very weak. Everything around him was getting hazy and out of focus, drawing him to a paralyzed slumber. What was happening to him and why? Was this the work of Sero? Before he truly got his answer, everything went dark.

Rogue awoke some time later, his eyes still a bit hazy but this remedied itself within a few blinks. What had happened? Was it all a dream or was that real? He couldn't think straight for a moment, his mind was still a bit clouded. Sitting up and pushing his hand to his head he sighed, rubbing the side a bit. Looking down at his other hand, he realized he was holding a sword. There was a thought and sensation, but Rogue couldn't place it. The wanderer stood, looking down at the sword in his right hand, holding the instructions left with it in his left hand. It was all real, everything that happened wasn't a dream, it was completely real and he had a new mission to accomplish.  Pushing the note into the pocket of his jacket, Rogue gripped the sword tightly in his right hand and walked over to the dock, the old dockhand waving at him. He had his boat untied from the dock and was awaiting his return it seemed. "Come back to us now hehehehe."

Rogue watched him quietly as he then stepped into his boat, pushing off from the dock. He placed the sword down in a place it wouldn't move and turned towards the island. With a new fire in his heart, he began to row away from the island, watching it the whole time. It would grow smaller in the distance as he went, his eyes staying to its' shape until it completely disappeared from sight. The sensation was there still and the thought remained. He was hungry for the knowledge and the strength he could obtain. And one thing was ever more certain the more this sensation persisted: Sero would be waiting. His return would be expected and this time things would be different.

WC: 489 + 2,375 = 2,864

EXIT

Training: