The directive came early in the morning before the sun had a chance to rise fully. The unfortunate messenger-nin, having to deal with a very irate shinobi who rather spent more time in bed with his significant other, instead of dealing with whatever was being asked of him by the Raikage. Thankfully, for both parties, the messenger-nin did not linger around long after delivering the message, wanting to put some distance between them in the clearly annoyed shinobi who, upon receiving the scroll, slammed the door in the shinobi’s face. It being nothing personal against the kid, for that what the messenger-nin was, a child, the shinobi was just annoyed.

Ripping open the scroll, reptilian eyes, yellow in coloration, narrowed at the instructions given. “What games are you playing?”, The man muttered, shredding the parchment with a basic fuuton application as he walked back to the bedroom shared with another. From what was gleaned off of the paper, he was assigned the simple task of destroying any symbols of Sunagakure no Sato, erasing any and all symbols associated with the village and its history. Apparently, there was not supposed to be any opposition, but, in his opinion, that was just wishful thinking on whoever typed of the scroll. Nothing in this world was done without someone opposing the idea. Stepping into the bedroom, he spoke to his significant other, telling her that he was called to duty once more.

Taking just several minutes to get dressed, he emerged from his bedroom wearing a simple light brown kimono with a dark brown hakama, and matching Jika-tabi. He forwent wearing his headband, though it was stashed on his person in the off chance he would need it for something. Aside from the hidden headband, there was nothing on his person to identify what village he belonged to. The reason behind this being a simple one. On the off chance he was spotted, or someone else showed up, there would be no way to determine what village he belonged to. One could easily assume he was a rogue agent with his own agenda.

”Which is not too far off from the truth.”, He silently mused, stepping out of the rented apartment build, located in a small town on the border of Kaze no Kuni, and headed towards the village gates. Immediately upon hitting the main street which led out, he took to the rooftops, not wanting to deal with any of the civilians that he would undoubtedly run into. While traversing the rooftops, his thoughts went back to the directive giving to him by the Raikage. What was the man planning? What was he hoping to accomplish by destroying the symbols?

It did not take much thinking on his part to realize what the man was planning. The destruction of symbols. The erasing of everything that could be connected with Sunagakure no Sato. By removing connections to the past, the history and those who lived there would be forgotten, leaving on the survivors with the knowledge, and anything they brought with them, as the last ‘symbol’ of the once great village. The Raikage was trying scrub out of existence everything connected with the village to make room for something else. There could only be one reason why this was happening, and, as he passed through the village gates and reached the border of the Kaze no Kuni, he did not know what to think about the revelation.

Despair. Chaos. Hopefulness. Those were but a few feelings he felt upon stepping into what was once a prosperous village. Yellow eyes, slit like a reptile’s, looked around at broken down buildings, some showing signs of melting from an intense heat, scattered about were worn out and tattered tents with haggard people sitting in them, none in which met his eyes for longer than a second. While walking through the area there was a stench of death, and it did not surprise him to spot a corpse poorly hidden under some garbage. It not being paid any attention by the people walking by it.

As he continued to walk through the slums, he took notice of the gang propaganda on half destroyed walls, builds, and tents. There were a couple of drug dealers perfecting their craft, selling to those who needed their fix, or something to make them forget. He did not pay them any attention. It was not his job to police the people nor would he unless asked. Keeping to himself, he made it out of the slums only to enter into a deserted area, which from the look of a few signs, was where some of the Suna clans resided. Most of the compounds had been destroyed, though there was clear evidence of who they once belonged to with their clan symbols and banners being intact on some areas of the building.

Was it this that he was supposed to tear down and remove? To erase any evidence of Sunagakure no Sato’s culture, history, and it’s people, for that the sands of time would slowly forget them. As he moved towards one clan building, the Sabaku, he thought about should he really do this? He knew people from here. He had helped some Suna medic-nins in the past. He had good memories here. He loved this play. Yet, here he was about to add to the people’s despair. Before he could reach the Sabaku banner, he paused, movement in the corner of his causing him to turn in the direction, noticing a stranger coming his way,

---

935

Another lucid dream. Another silver cord. Once again standing on the Spire. Laïs was sitting on the edge of the tall black tower, three dozen of crows having gathered around her, their beady black eyes reflecting this surreal world. They called it the Otherworld. They called it an out of body experience. To Laïs it was just another dream or nightmare, depending on how it went from here. The Spire always seemed to be the starting point, the crows always showing her the way to the next section or the next event. It would not be different now.

One by one the crows flew up and circled around the tower making a ruckus until Laïs would follow in her bird form. She would follow them, as always, and was carried into a remote place. The place was surrounded by swallowing shadows, the crows only showing her what she had to see. The feeling of despair clung heavily here, but what drew her attention was a large unholy flame in the centre of it all. It burned like a beacon, but rather than to spread warmth it was burning up the air to spread putrid smoke and a sickening fever as a strange warmth. Laïs coughed. What it was, what it meant, why it was here. All these questions remained unanswered as the area would slowly rot away on the edges. The crows disappeared one by one. Instinctively backing away from the edges, the crow sage knew what this meant. The dream was falling apart. Soon she would...

---

... wake up in her bed with a gasp and shock. She coughed a fit, the reminders of the flame's decay sticking uncomfortably to her skin. The young woman rose from her bed and went showering to get the sweat of her body. This sequence of actions had become a morning ritual by now. Even if there were nights where she could sleep peacefully, the girl would still take shower just to be sure. Finishing her shower, the Jugo slipped into a black dress, the slit on the side allowing her comfortable movement, before she allowed her favourite cloak to cover her countenance. About to step outside, loud rapping on the door would be heard.

"Who's tapping on my chamber door?", a big black bird would shout from its perch. The scruffy raven was a large example of its species, the hint of intelligence enhanced by the diet it had been given for so long. Corrupted by the same woman that was now petting its head with a smile before she opened the door. One of the Lamya's Ryujin soldiers saluted, refraining himself from indulging his curiosity as ot where the cawing voice came from.
"Missive from the Empress."
"Thank you."

He nodded and left her to open the letter which revealed her mission. The destruction of icons raised in favour of an old Sunagakure, this in preparation for future expansion of the Ryujin's influence. Though Lamya was not one to oppose the needs of the Sunan survivors, she was equally of a mind the past was better of buried in favour of new growth and her rising power. Laïs would smile. This was a simple enough mission that would keep her occupied. So as the letter withered away in her hand, she would say goodbye to the bird and change herself into a black bird.

---

A clear blue sky, baking sun. Laïs glided through the air, enjoying the brush of wind as she made her way to the appointed section in question. The crows showing her the way. The section was located outside the current boundaries of the Ryujin influence, but not so far that it would be an unfeasible action. It was a strategically selected area, close enough for the Ryujin to offer help if she would need such yet far enough to allow a proper increase in their turf. The crows spiralled down. Finding the centre of the section that was in need of work, the giant black bird landed on the roof of a rather well rebuild house and returned to her original human form. Of all the places, this was probably the highest point she would find since most of the area was still in ruins.

Looking around her, graffiti marked the presence of small gangs, banners, new and tattered alike and often decorated with 'trophies' and rusty weapons, marked the entrance and presence of larger gangs like they were some primitive tribes, small clusters of tents denoted where refugees had gathered, their immediate surroundings more often than not picked clean of anything useful. Sometimes the buildings around them showed the beginnings of large construction projects as they intended to restore the former glory of this area but found their resources lacking. All in all, this place was a poor sight provided by Poverty and Despair themselves.

There was work to be done. Laïs jumped down and walked to the first refugee camp. It was her turn to spread the propaganda in favour of the Ryujin. Listening to their sorrows, providing insight in the situation. She would be Lamya's messenger today, tearing down the lost and bringing in the new. Just when she was about to reach the camp, the Jugo suddenly halted in her tracks. Hairs raised up.  A powerful aura had moved into the range of her sage senses. A disturbingly sickening aura. The Flame of Pestilence burned bright! The laughter of crows echoing in the air. Turning her head slowly, pinned to the ground, the sudden power spike seemed to rival that of Lamya's. She noticed a lone man wearing a light brown kimono and dark brown hakama walking towards the same camp.

Was he friend? Foe? And why was he here? Many more questions surfaced in her mind, but no answers would be given. She was not the sort to just walk up and ask him. Or, well, not in this sort of situation where it was obvious to her she could be in quite some danger. No, the better thought was to stay out of his way. Perhaps find another camp first, then come back. Yes.

...

But crows circled around him. Showing the way. "The only one you have to fear... is ME." Two golden eyes in the darkness. All signs lead to this stranger. A man with an aura as tainted as her. She had to muster her courage and face him. Learn why she had to meet him, why the crows revealed him. As she hesitantly continued her way towards the camp, she called upon occult lore and focused her sight on him. His aura became visible, a dark tainted flame around his body. The murky brown portrayed his earthen element much like she had left the earth barren and drained of life force during her training, a translucent slimy colour revealed the sickening water element with which he controlled the flow of his necrosis and tendrils of green snaked through it all as the sinews of his ruination. She would not find the winds that carried his diseases far and wide, nor the burning fever of flames consuming the healthy. But she would find him observing her with his slit eyes.

"Don't you know staring is rude?", the crows would mock her.

There was no escape now. Laïs dropped her second sight and walked up to him, still keeping a safe distance from his intimidating aura.

"What brings the Avatar of Pestilence to this area?"

---

1259

OOC: Helping Kumo in favour of the Ryujin.

140/170:

Items:

Sunagakure no Sato, the place holds many memories for the silver-haired man. Some of these memories were good; like all the times spent looking after the Geishas which resided in the the hidden village, or mingling with the medical staff at the hospitals, helping them in saving patients lives when necessary, or when he had the chance to interact with some of the other shinobi-nin though that was far and between. There were also bad memories as well. Moments where he would happily forget giving a chance. But, nothing can allow him to remember the number of people he had lost to the sand of times. There was no way to forget the names of the Geishas who had died either naturally or by the hands of another. Their remains were buried in the cemeteries scattered throughout the village and Kaze no Kuni, their names etched onto the stone for all to memory.

Yet, here he was, returning back to the lands which held both good and bad memories for him, with a mission to destroy everything that could be a reminder of what was once a great village. Though not many would agree the village was great, it had a crime problem worse than Iwagakure no Sato’s during their peak before Tsuyo got in charge, and their Kages, outside of one, seemingly disappear in thin air. If one believed the rumors, those who try to make a change, such as the last Kage, was quietly silenced by the council. A council who was apparently okay with the state of the village. Not caring about what was going on behind their well-furnished homes, and protective status. Scums of the earth who allowed suffering to continue if it meant the offending people did not target they themselves. In order not to have evil come for them, they turned a blind eye to its deeds inflicted on their people.

Corruption did not make any prejudice when it came to who is affected. No one is spared from its all-consuming nature, the rich or poor, young or old, civilian or shinobi, man or women, they all succumb to it eventually. Even those who justified their reasonings with the words ‘justice’, ‘peace,’ ‘love,’ ‘vengeance,’ it was just to distraction from the fact they too had infected by the said concept. And maybe, it was knowing about the corruption within Sunagakure no Sato that made him come to a decision. A decision that, unlike some others, he would not regret. Although, for those who were innocent, free of corruption, he hoped they would forgive him for what he was about to do. Everyone else? Well . . .

Flying in the air amidst the destruction and ruination, the Sabaku banner, light brown in coloration with the clan’s symbol in crimson color, it was almost a looked like a single of hope; one of the many that dotted around the lands, giving civilians something to uplift their feelings, reaching down to dragging them out of the sea of despair and hopelessness that they found themselves in. It would be symbols like these which would need to be torn down, snuffing out any remaining hope for those who come to rely on them. . . a crutch. That is why he reached towards the symbol, his right hand stretching out, fingers brushing against the worn fabric, but, before he could fully grasp it, something caught his attention.

Reptilian in nature, yellow eyes zeroed in on the cloaked individual who was some distance away from him. A familiar sensation sought his attention. It tugged at him in a similar fashion as a child pulled on their parent’s pant leg, whenever they wanted attention or something, and he obliged, giving it what it desired - his attention. Washed over black with sickly green veins, the yin-enriched aura, reeking of decay, was but an infant compared to his own. And, if he did not know any better, he would have guessed, whoever the person was, could have been a relative of his family lineage or one of his own blood. Though, there was also the chance they could be simply someone else with a similar aura.
   
”Now what would cause that?”, He wondered, watching as the cloaked individual suddenly, and unexpectedly, halted in their tracks,  and an invisible force planting them into the unforgiven ground. Heavily pressing down on them, making movement an strenuous tasks as they slowly turned their head to look in his direction. There were many reasons why someone would suddenly become paralyzed, and find themselves greeting the ground before. For a shinobi, it could be achieved via killing intent, something he was known for doing. The amount of bloodlust could cause many to lock up as their death flashed before their eyes. But, he did not do such a thing, especially considering the mission at hand. Of course, there were jutsus which allowed for such manipulation of air pressure, but again, none of that was used.  Could it be that the individual could sense the danger surrounding him, similar to some animals do? Subconsciously knowing when there is a predator amidst them? If she did, how? Such thoughts would be dismissed for another time as the cloaked individual managed to right themselves and moved closer to him.

”Smart. . .”, internally, he grinned at the distance which the unknown individual put between themselves and him. It was enough to potentially give them a chance of escaping if he dared to attack them, and that in itself was still up in the air giving the mysterious surrounding said, individual. “The Avatar of Pestilence?”, He questioned, never had he been called such, the last time ‘pestilence’ was attached to his name, was when his alliance was to another village, and his name was something else, “You are the first to call me an ‘avatar’ for what I master. Guess, it is a fitting title.”

His eyes never leaving the individual, wondering who they were, “If I am an avatar of pestilence, then wouldn’t you be one in training? Decay in its infancy hangs from you.” He spoke, “Though let’s forgo such titles. And shred some truth, shall we?” For a few seconds, there was silence between the pair, only to be disrupted by the civilians within the slums not too far from them. He did not pay them any attention tho, instead, focused on the individual before him, “I am known simply as Daremo. So, mysterious stranger, who might you be, and why do you hide behind a cloak?” Though it might seem foolish, he turned his back on the individual and looked at the flag that was blowing in the soft breeze. Right hand reaching up, he grasped ahold of the symbol and tugged with the fabric ripping. Dropping the torn piece of fabric onto the ground, the wind carrying it across the barren landscape, he focused his attention back on the individual, “What is your purpose for coming out this way? Are you with those thugs in the slums or. . .” He left the question hanging, and wonder if they would answer it. Would he care for the answer? Yes, for it determined how truthful he would be with his, and what actions he would take. However, something, rather someone would interrupt any further conversation.

A man, well, a group of ten men, of varying ages and skin color, wearing ragged clothing matched up towards the pair, armed with rusty and old weapons. The apparent leader, an athletic-looking man with sun-kissed skin, and green eyes stepped forward, “What the fuck are you doing, tearing down that flag!?”, there was a prudent smell to his breath, clear sign hygiene had been absent, “Do you know who that flag belongs to, you bastard??” The members behind him shouted, through their on vulgar insults. “And what about you?,” The man turned towards the cloaked, having noticed them standing a bit away, “Are you helping this asshole, too? Are you too working together!?”

Restraint, that was what Nanashi was doing right now. He was restraining himself from ripping these men apart. He could understand their anger for what he had just done, and it was justified to feel such a way. However, there was a fine limit to his patience when dealing with vulgar people, and it was slowly running out. . .

---

1397[2332]

One title had sufficed for him to recognised it. She knew. He knew. A name he accepted as he revealed himself to be master of pestilence. The green flame of pestilence from her dream had revealed itself in its mortal coil. More so, it carried a name she was familiar with. As in, her mistress had mentioned him as being the one who could teach her proper mastery of her growing necromancy. "We told you", the crows cawed. "We told you so." Disregarding the haunts of her mind that came with her own Crow Sagacity, one particular sentence rung into her mind. Shred some truth, shall we?. An amusing sentence since the Corvus were all about revealing the 'truth of the universe' to her.

He had questions, she had answers. Knowing that he would be the man to teach her next, she wouldn't mind sharing the information he needed so he could proceed fulfilling that goal, but their conversation would be interrupted by a group of men, questioning Daremo's desire to tear down that flag, asking questions of no concern if they would only know the power they were facing. Laïs would face the man that questioned her, and thus questioned the reasons for a Ryujin to be here at that. A question she didn't take kindly, mostly because of his rude approach. Well, her answer would at least give insight to Daremo.

"I'm Laïs Crowly, messenger of Orochi Risu. Unless you wish to oppose the Ryujin, I suggest you back off.", that revelation was sufficient to make some start whispering among themselves. The Ryujin were not that far off, their reputation spreading as the wind blew. "As for helping this 'asshole'...", she grabbed the remaining piece of the fabric being teased by the wind and ripped it off as well, leaving the pole completely bare now. "Does this answer your question?"

Face red, ears fuming, her sassy response certainly did answer his question. Under a "Get them, boys!", he'd point at the two of them, the group charging at them with zeal. The ten of them would be too much for the girl on her own, even if they were just civilians. What they lacked in training, they made up in numbers, a strategy that could still overwhelm a genin as her. Daremo, so Laïs was aware, would suffer little problem with them with the power he held and thus she focused to deal with her own troubles. Flipping backwards on a handstand, she would instantly start kicking at the first man to come before she rolled on her back and proceeded with a mixture of capoeira and break-dancing. Altering between high and low kicks as she maintained her whirlwind of kicks, several of them would be kicked back with major bruising, delivering them to the mercy of Daremo if he so wished, before she'd jump back onto her feet.

A major bruising would likely be sufficient to knock some sense into civilians, if they would live on to tell the story, but the Crow Sage was doubting between letting them run away and get reinforcements or allowing them to spread the rumours of the Ryujin expanding again. No matter, death by Daremo, or feared by Laïs, the group would have been dealt with, allowing the Jugo to pick up conversation where it had been disturbed after she dusted the dirt from her clothes.

"No, I'm with Orochi Risu. Or Lamya, whichever name you are most familiar with. She wanted me to clean this place up, but...", she would look at Daremo intensely for a moment. "Sometimes the universe has a funny way of going about things. You said your name was Daremo? The Daremo known for his necrosis?"

She'd rest a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one leg as she observed him with fatigued eyes. If this was the man her mistress had spoken about, she'd have to find a way to convince him in teaching her. Such was the wish of Lamya, even if she would be fine discovering everything on her own just as much. Trying her necrosis on the defenceless and the slaves. Easy targets were the best to play with.

"Oh, and I just like this cloak. A girl's got to have her favourites, hm?"

---

729
Total: 1988

125/170:

Laïs Crowly, the proclaimed messenger for someone named Orochi Risu, and member of some group or organization called Ryujin. Only the name, Risu, seem to give the silver-haired male pause. He trying to remember where he had heard the specific name from. There was something important about the name, but, at the moment, he could not figure out what. And, Ryujin, what exactly what that? He could only assume it was the name of an organization or group, in the similar vein to the Aoi Bara of the hold. Though the name could very well be a pseudonym one for someone else, that was over this Orochi Risu person. If that was the case, and she was a messenger for Risu, than there was a chance that there were others under, or apart of Ryujin, who had a similar partnership as the proclaimed one.  

Whoever or whatever this Ryujin was, it certainly got a reaction the group of men as murmurs and whispers were heard amongst them. Having never heard of the Ryujin, and seeing how the men were reacting to such news, he could deduct that it was something local. Surely if Ryujin was widely known then he would have heard about it, right?

His lips twitched into a small smirk at the asshole comment. Not at all being offended by being addressed as such, after all, he has been called worse. So, what is it to b considered an asshole? Fire and hatred were in the armed men's eyes as Laïs ripped down the remaining of the Sabaku banner, effectively removing the symbol from this world. Either he and Laïs were on the same page, or she was just adding fuel to the fire. No matter the case, her last comment seem to turn the fire into an inferno as the leader ordered his men to attack.

"How long has it been?", He mused to himself, slipping his hand into his kimono, gripping a pair of familiar weapons and pulled them out. Black as coal, and tipped with a dangerous silverpoint, the two-foot-long senbons rested loosely in his hands as three men charged towards him. They came with their weapons, drawn, inviting death to the battlefield, and death would answer the call.

Stepping to the left, dodging a downward strike, the senbon in his right hand would bite the man's flesh, piercing three inches into his neck, nearly poking all the way through, before being savagely ripped out, crimson blood now staining the sands as the man dropped to the ground, and desperately tried to stop the bleeding. It would be futile. "If you invite death, prepare for it to turn on you.", He mused, throwing the senbon in his left hand at an approaching man, watching as it pierced through his right eye socket. The last man's weapon would be knocked to the side, he being lifted up with one hand, and body-pierced several times, in his vitals,  with the remaining senbon, before being dropped to the ground.

Seeing the men knocked towards him, he could not help but smile, as he formed two hand seals, "Lais.", He spoke, "You call be the Avatar of Pestilence. I guess I should validate that claim with action, no?". and created the last one as he opened. A vile, palish green water was brought forth, taking the form of a large dragon head, four meters tall and wide, equipped with menacing teeth that looked to rip flesh to asunder, surged towards the collected group of downed men. The men were not giving a chance to plead for their lives as the dragon head's exploded on them, causing minor bruising, and leaving behind puddles of water that reeked of something foul. Though, that was not important, as the men, who were still conscious, began groaning in pain as their skin showed discoloring, turning black as necrosis set in, causing extensive major 2nd-degree tissue damage to all parts of their body. The men would succumb to the damage, the necrosis being too severe for them to remain in the world of the living.

Turning away from the dead men, he focused his attention on the words Laïs's spoke. Lamya, now that was a name he hadn't heard since the Chuunin exams. The woman having been interesting, to say the least, and had tempted him with an offer. An offer that he never agreed to for reasons of his own. He would have never guessed Orochi Risu and Lamya was the same person. "Who would have thought those two were the same person. Guess I should have known.", He spoke, nodding his head at the question proposed, "Yes, that is who I am." There was no need to deny any of it. He had already told her he was a master of pestilence and showcased some of it just moments ago. Even if he did lie, what was the point? "Why do you want to know? Did someone task you in finding me, or, as you put it, was it the will of the universe guiding us together?", He did not know rather Lamya had sent Laïs to find him, or it was just fate. Whatever it was, he would see where it leads him.

Daremo chuckled, shaking his head, "Indeed, they do." He spoke, walking away from the cooling corpse, and pass Lais, "If you want to continue this conversation, let's go elsewhere. A place where no annoyances will interrupt like those men. Surely you know such a place?" If Laïs wanted to continue the conversation, he would follow her to wherever she wishes, away from the slums that they were by.

---

962[3294]
-700 for D-Rank Mission
2594 remaining
Training -> A-Rank | Path of Pathogen: Disease God’s Stench | 1800 Words and 250 ryo

With the whole place reeking of death, the offer to continue the conversation elsewhere was a welcome suggestion. Necrosis or not, it didn't mean because one could cause such a nefarious effect that they had to appreciate standing persistently in its stench, so Laïs followed Daremo, mulling over the power she had just been observing. A dragon of water that crashed into the people, then necrosis slowly but steadily setting in and killing them slowly. She grinned. That had been an interesting show to behold. Like fish rotting as they washed ashore, stinking up the whole place. "Teach a man to fish...", the crows began bemusedly.

"I know a place..."

She'd beckon the man as she took the lead. She knew exactly the place where she'd bring him. A remote place away from the ruins, a place holding the remains of a temple made of sandstones still holding tight today. Long buried by the shifting sands of Sunagakure, leaving just enough of the stones to remind the few that passed they had once existed. Few knew it had served as the tomb of many warriors of old, but Lamya knew. It was the place where she had learned and unleashed more than creeping necrosis. That burial tomb had been where the beginning of her necromancy had been revealed. Not typical necrosis, but something possibly darker than that. A living sort of necrosis that could turn the living into an undead state even if temporarily.

She wondered what Daremo would think about her kind of necrosis, once she had mastered it to a higher degree. When it would not consume so much chakra or leave her drained like it did last time. Would she surpass him at that point, or was that sort of power the reason why he was called the avatar of pestilence to begin with? Lamya seemed beyond herself when seeing that power, the Crow Sage already knowing that she had plans with that. Which plans were yet to be seen, but the idea both intrigued and scared her as she could not read into the dark maze that was Lamya's mind. It wouldn't surprise her if the demon would eventually sacrifice her, but somewhere in the depths of her mind she would be fine with that. Fine, because she had never felt so much fun and power in such a short term. Even if it would only last for a limited amount of time, it would be fine.

All good things eventually came to an end.

---

[EXIT]

425
Total: 2413
- 750 mission (150 ryo, + 1 EP)
- 600 extra ryo (+150)
- 1000 C rank: The Lost Eye sees All.
63 discarded

---

Thread Total WC: 3294 + 2413
5707 (+2 passive EP)