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Naruto Saga » Kaze no Kuni » Kaze no Kuni Wilderness » Cinder's Desire {Private}

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1Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Cinder's Desire {Private} Mon Jun 04, 2018 12:56 am

Takao

Takao


S-rank
Mission name: High Priority Target Guard Duty. {ROOT}
Mission rank: S-rank.
Objective: Provide a bodyguard service for the leader of an independent faction.
Location: Any.
Reward: 2000 Ryo + 5 EP. (4,000 Ryo+10 EP)
Mission Description: Guard an employer overnight.
Development References: What Lies Beneath Event.
Mission Details: An independent faction within Suna has learned of an impending assassination attempt on the life of their leader and has hired anyone who qualifies to provide a bodyguard service. Details of the leader and their faction are up to the writer but they will encounter an ANBU team lead by an S-ranked ANBU captain with an S-rank Odachi, Wind, Lightning, and Earth with all Library Techniques and ANBU. He is accompanied by three A-ranked ANBU members with Ninjutsu, Wind, and Lightning who have A-ranked katanas, and possess Medical Ninjutsu with all Library Justu for their Elements and Specializations and ANBU techniques. Alternatively, this mission can be taken in opposition to another player taking an S-ranked Bounty where the protectee is the target of that bounty. If it is, regardless of who succeeds, both participants may claim rewards for both missions as if they had completed them when handing in the reward for this mission.




ATTACKER: Kimura, Takao
DEFENDER: Uchiha, Syekren



Last edited by Takao on Mon Jun 04, 2018 1:40 am; edited 1 time in total

2Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Mon Jun 04, 2018 1:39 am

Takao

Takao


S-rank
Cinder's Desire {Private} 4uDzvTK

A still night had befallen the fractured Wind Country. The air was stagnant and cool, a chill that was in stark contrast to the dull, searing heat of the day prior. Yet stale and bracing as the desert air was, it carried with it an undeniable weight. A certain heaviness that left people looking over their shoulders, fearing that they were being watched. Fearing that something was lurking in the shadows, game to lunge forth from the darkness and attack at any moment. Within the stagnant silence, something did indeed bump in the night. A sole figure tread over the sand, clad in black robes that looked more like a shadow gliding across the loose sediment than fabric in the non-existent breeze.

The sands were foreign territory for him. An alien world that his path had yet to cross, until now. He had never seen the galaxies above in such splendor and clarity or experienced such a starkly diverse landscape that was so different from any other he had laid eyes upon. Yet he had quickly come to hate the warmth of daylight and chill of nightfall, yet there was work to be done in the splintered Land of Wind; plots to be had, seeds to be sewn, and kingdoms to be left to ash and ruin. This was but the first stop of a train whose tracks would take him deep into the exotic territory, to operate under the shroud of darkness. He was not alone in this endeavour, nor was this concept unique to him and his. The nation had recently garnered an infestation of foreign powers all congregating together, some wishing to do good and others choosing a different path.

He left the dunes and found solace atop the peak of a flat, low-altitude mesa. From atop this perch, nearly sixty meters out from the compound that held his target, a pair of glowing eyes pierced the darkness of twilight. A field of dancing flames laid before him beyond the mountain he stood upon, his eyes watching the residents of the sand waltz in the night. One flame, in particular, caught his eye within the compound. Erratic movements, panicked disposition, and body heat that flickered above the normal range all indicated who lingered beyond the sandstone walls, atop the third floor of the largest building within the coalesced structures.

There, cowered behind those walls that would not save him, was a man working in close association to the oppressive nation of Kaminari no Kuni. This compound in particular, merely one of the dozens scattered throughout the broken country, acted as a base of operations for information relaying and weapons trade primarily, while the lower levels acted as holding cells for prisoners being prepped for transport back to the Land of Lightning. Sand refugees, captured shinobi of nondescript origins, or mere slaves wearing the Cloud’s chains all dwelled within. But the morality of these decisions didn’t matter, not in this endeavour, and not in the grand scheme of Sunagakure’s attempted return from the dead. The only thing that mattered was who reaped the benefits from the immoral debauchery, and what the man dwelling within would tell. The self-proclaimed God that hid above the clouds, lying in wait like a predator to pounce on the realms of man.

Miyamoto Hastur.

Essence leaked from within, and silently adopted its own form at his side in his image. They shared no gaze, eyes hidden behind dark masks and shrouded by obsidian robes, wordlessly in unison as one remained at its perch and the other slid down the cliff face. The robes disguised him as he drifted across the sands, only the momentum of his own motion kicking the fabric up in the windless night. When he stood before the compound, he was greeted with the comforting hostility of two suspicious guards. They spoke their demands and he ignored them, continuing his advance toward the doors leading inside. To his left, a curved blade was drawn, and to his right, the polearm was raised and poised, ready to be thrust. When his advance went unfaltered, they struck. The polearm was thrust forward but a guiding hand would lead it into the gut of his partner. The drawn katana, stopped presently by a raised hand, was taken by force and slid across the soft flesh of the spear-bearers throat. The familiar warm, sanguine spray of life’s fluid covered the fabric of his midnight shroud. Both men then found their bodies thrown through the doors, splintering the wood into their flesh and breaking open the gates. Their fragmented frames rolled, left gagging on ragged breaths and gurgling on the blood that filled lungs as they laid in the stained sand.

This act of violence garnered the attention of those who dwelled within, who quickly congregated into action against him. Yet their involvement was unnecessary. These were just lamb to the slaughter. The ants to his magnifying glass. Unavoidable casualties in the cruelty of war. Oxygen flooded his lungs through the rebreather of the mask, mixing with chakra the instant the organ began to inflate. Yet as the conglomerate of opposition would react, their legs moving to engage and a plethora of arms throwing a myriad of weaponry in his direction, he unleashed a beautiful cascade of bright flames upon the compound and its inhabitants. The sheer volume of heat illuminated the sandstone estate in its entirety as body and building alike were burnt to ash and what remained was flash-heated into glass. The flames licked the exterior of the buildings in which the target and his bodyguard dwelled within, eating away at its structure and turning it to that very same glass that the Wind Country had come to know and despise.

“Come on out! Hiding in there won’t save you!”

His words carried through the roar of flames that he vomited from within, heavily distorted by mask and fire as he spewed the projectile from left to right, ensuring that everything laid before its path was consumed in totality. The spoken words rang true as the building began to collapse, too much of its structure eaten by the fire to sustain its weight. As it crumbled, the rubble was eaten by the fire and glazed by the heat, turning to glass and shattering when it finally landed.

TOTAL WC

+1,064
1,064

CHAKRA
Takao: 190/190
Takao: 160/190

TECHNIQUES USED
Spoiler:

3Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Thu Jun 21, 2018 5:22 am

Kizashi

Kizashi


D-rank
The night was mostly quiet, nothing stirring.

That was the problem though, wasn't it? When the night was quiet and no one was making a sound, it usually meant there was something wrong, something dastardly afoot. The elder man, just entering his thirties sat quietly outside of a room, with one leg crossed over the other. He had a scruffy black beard with flecks of gray and a few bits of ash in it, possibly from the cigarette between his lips. The pungent smoke that came off of it smelled of heaven to him, but to others it would likely be an affront to their senses. Such would be the case for those two guards who would walk by his station, giving him an evil glare as they passed, making statements that it would be a dead giveaway should an enemy see or smell his habit. He chuckled to himself, waving them away. They were fully aware, judging by the armor and mask on the ground next to him, that if he wanted them silenced, he could handle it quickly and quietly. Or, they should have been, but the man was not one to brag or threaten, and simply returned to what he had been doing, which up until the two had passed him, his hands had sat idly while he spaced out.

His smooth but strong hands gripped a piece of wood and a bright blue tanto, the blade of the latter against the wood, which was coming into a shape. He was sitting quietly, whittling away at the wood, trying to make it into something he would give to his daughter, or his female friend when he saw them next, taking the quiet time he had on his current mission to perfect a skill he'd picked up only a decade prior. There were groans and whimpers from the door to his left, at his back, but he ignored them, only mildly annoyed at their constant utterance. The night was drawing out and there hadn't been so much as a peep from enemy factions who would come for this man's head, so he really had nothing to worry about as long as he kept himself quiet and didn't do anything stupid. The sandstone manse they were occupying would at least keep him moderately safe from your everyday bandit or headhunter. For ninja, well that's why they'd hired the man sitting there whittling. They'd hired Syekren Uchiha to act as a bodyguard and a deterrent. This was his first mission acting independently, trying to build a name for himself as a mercenary instead of a ninja.

Hurried foot steps came to the door, with a naan of slightly lanky stature opening the wooden barrier and peeking his head out, turning it left, then right quickly. He was noticeably shaken up, fearing for his life. His pores were oozing salty sweat from them, and his eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep. His gaze fell upon the Uchiha who sat calmly in his chair, whittling away a piece of wood which was slowly coming to resemble a desert cat. The thin man had an air of incredulity about him at such a sight, turning up his nose and glaring down at the man who was meant to guard him. "This is what passes for bodyguards in your mercenary troupe? You layabout! There are assassins coming for me and you're playing with your wood!* What would you have done if someone had broken through my wall and killed me? Get your useless ass up and watch for intruders!" With the huff-puff of such statements leaving his lips, the snarl of the 'important' dignitary, or leader, whatever he was had become even more like a scowl of hatred, something the Uchiha knew too well. He quietly stopped his whittling and flipped his tanto around his head, moving his hand like lightning to toss the blade at the man who was still glaring. His body moved even faster than his hand had initially, catching the blade before the target had a chance to flinch, the Uchiha's blood red Sharingan staring into the eyes of his employer, the man's bravado punctured. "Lissen lad, there'll not be a lotta men that kin kill ye wiv me aroun'. So just calm yerself before Ah take the other side o' this bounty, yea?"

The uchiha was using an accent he had been perfecting for the last decade, as he wanted more anonymity than anything. Given his beard and the changes his face had gone through, he was sure no one from the village originally would recognize him. Still, he stepped away from his employer, who rushed back into the room, pacing frantically back and forth, cursing about the 'Uchiha scum'. Or whatever he was blabbering about. Just another person who thought themselves above everyone else. All talk and no heart. Nonetheless, Syekren would finish what he was doing, placing the newly cut desert cat upon his chair, setting about replacing his tanto in the sheath on his back left and grabbing his armor chest piece. He slipped it on, tightening the straps, going about doing the same with his leg protecters, tightening them down to ensure they would not slip off or move. The porcelain white colour of his ANBU armour contrasted his black long sleeve skintight shinobi shirt and black shinobi tights well. Fashion aside, the armor was incredibly useful for stealth missions and negating damage from physical attackers. If only his mask was more powerful than it was at the moment. The Uchiha sighed and lifted his porcelain mask to his face, staring into the grinning feline face before him. It still had small spatters of blood upon it from the last time he had visited the land of wind. The night of Suna's burning playing over and over in his mind, giving him a dazed look. He snapped out of his daze when he heard a whimpering scream from the room of his employer, and what sounded like fighting just outside in the camp. Someone was yelling to come out and before the Uchiha knew it, flames were enveloping the side of the sandstone mass, turning parts of it to ash and glass instantly, causing structural damage. Without waiting for an invitation to get into action, the man slipped his mask on and attached his trench knives to the hoops upon his belt, running towards his employer. With a swift motion the skinny man was thrown over his broad shoulders, while he turned and dashed back out of the room and down the hallway. As the building began to come down, the man would throw himself and his employer from the window, down below into the soft sand on the other side of the building knocking the wind from the smaller man and causing Syekren to cough a bit, but otherwise suffer no damage.

Glass and fire would soon become large parts of the camp, making it no longer safe for the two to remain in their position. With fighting going on, the Uchiha pushed his employer to his feet and picked him up once more, running away from the scene that was unfolding. What he'd need to do is store the weak man away in a more protected location so he could fight off the attacker. There were many places he could do such a thing as well. This was the desert lands of Kaze no Kuni, the lands Syekren knew well from his extensive years here. His career as a ninja and an ANBU had made him more familiar with the sands and their secrets than even some of the most seasoned adventurers. He knew when to cover for fear of a sandstorm, where to step in the door to hell, which mesas had caves to hide in, and even where each oasis was. Whoever he was facing, they were on his turf now, and he wasn't going to make things easy for them, not one bit.

It would be during the destruction of the building his employer and himself had originally been in that the two would make an escape toward the expanse of sands surrounding the camp, with more guards rushing towards the attacker in a futile attempt to stop them and take them down. Whoever this person was, the five or six guards armed with various basic weapons wouldn't be enough to stop them, but would likely give the Uchiha time to think of a plan. During the nights it was much colder in the desert, and while Syekren was used to it, his employer clearly hadn't dressed for such things. Wearing what could only be described as a fine bed robe which couldn't be very thick. It would have to do for a while, as they reached point some distance away, no more than ten meters outside of the boundaries for the camp, with Syekren pushing his employer down behind a dune that held a small sandstone tunnel. He'd point in the tunnel and watch the lanky man hurredly scramble inside, hiding it what was likely a former den for a wild animal. Syekren would begin to walk back towards the camp, slipping his Ashiaro from the small tool pack on the back of his belt, affixing it to his shoes. The ashiaro he wore this time was that of coyotes, and he ran around the far left side of the camp, trying to get a good look at what was attacking. By now that rest of the camp's guards would be dead, leaving little if any distractions to work with. It would come down to the skills of the Uchiha and this unknown assailant.

With a quiet sigh, the man drew the tanto from its sheathe, holding it at chest level in front of himself defensively, crouching down and readying his body. He would attempt to sneak about the camp, distracting the figure when he could, hoping to get a surprise attack on them. Seeing a chance, Syekren pulled a Shuriken from his pouch, reeling back and throwing it as quickly as he could at a building behind the figure, which would be not too far away. It would hit the building with a loud clang, hopefully giving the window of opportunity the ninja needed as he began to string together handseals, inhaling deeply. He'd raise up his mask to have his mouth unfettered and then coat his lungs and throat with the katon chakra. After a second he'd spit it out in a large fireball, heading straight for the figure at astounding speed, meant to strike him with enough force to knock him off balance.

1,802



285/300:




*Giggity.

4Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Sun Jun 24, 2018 8:23 am

Takao

Takao


S-rank
x

Not a second of silence persisted in the dilapidated compound once Takao had set foot inside. Whether it be the overwhelming roar of his flames, the sound of screams amidst them as flesh was rend from bone and moisture left his victims charred husks of men, or the idle clang of metal against metal as he engaged those who managed to escape his torrent of fire. He had let slip the dogs of war, and the piteous lives he would take could only cry havoc in response.

The helmed shinobi’s grip around the compound tightened as the flames spewed from within finally waned and relented. What remained was a sight not unlike the remnants of Sunagakure-- sand deliquesced to molten glass, quickly hardening into horridly twisted shapes. What hadn’t been turned to glass was scorched with a thick coating of ash instead, including the seered corpses caught in the blast.

His dull onyx eyes traced over the damage with a sense of pride. At his core-- his very being-- he sought to bring destruction upon everything within his path. Every fibre of his being urged him to break, burn, and crush. He wanted to go through the various silhouettes of ashen human that remained and watch as they fluttered away with the wind when his hand brushed through them, and to break every last bit of the compound that remained. Yet even so, Takao was no stranger to fighting off the more undesirable and neanderthalic aspects of his personality. The roar of voices in his head that urged him to keep breathing fire and truly turn the compound to ash were perhaps the most prominent example of such. Even now, as he did what they asked, he heard them howl in protest and bark new orders, demanding more fire and more destruction.

But as the flames died and silence overtook the compound, a new sensation caught his attention. The whir of blades spinning rapidly, and a clamour of noise briefly caught his attention. His eyes followed the sound and settled upon the smoking remains of charred wood and freshly glassed sand. As the orbs narrowed, the faint glimmer of metal caught his attention, and the thrown shuriken was spotted just in time for his ears to pick up on the roar of flames growing ever louder. His head whipped back around and settled upon the large swathe of flames that rocketed toward him. His jaw clenched and instinct overtook him, causing his body to move naturally in the direction of safety. As he stepped back and turned, taking his first few steps into a run, the motionless corpse of a fallen mercenary tripped him up. Surprised but not thwarted in his attempt to evade, Takao lurched forward and rolled just as the fireball passed over him. Yet as he did, the flames licked at his left side. The outermost layer of flesh was singed and burned, though the damage remained superficial. The fabric of his cloak was slightly burned as well, the seared edges glowing with residual heat while revealing his arm and the clothing he wore beneath. Black cloth clung to every inch of skin, covering the entirety of the limb and his torso. A white vest clung to his chest, although it was too unlike any village’s own regalia to make an accurate assumption of origin.

As Takao regained his composure and balance, he stood, and his black hues shone fiery orange behind the mask obscuring his face. Trace amounts of heat remained from the earlier technique, and some of the unburnt bodies retained some of their own warmth as well, but his gaze traveled to and settled upon the stealthed assailant.

“Nice one,” he spoke aloud, his deep timbre obscured by the filter of his mask’s rebreather. “You almost had me there.” Takao turned fully to face Syekren as he spoke, his golden eyes unmoving as they rested upon his heat signature.

“Come on out. I can see your chakra clear as day. No use in hiding, unless you want to pretend like you’re invisible over there.” Whether or not Syekren emerged from his hiding spot wouldn’t influence Takao’s next words, and thus he continued.

“I’ll cut you a deal. I feel like we’re both reasonable people.” He began, slowly stepping over the corpses of several fallen men until his positioning was unhindered by their presence. An open area laid before the pair, created by the destruction of Takao’s earlier technique.

“You tell me where you dropped the old piece of shit off, and you get to walk away in one piece. Sounds like a good deal, doesn’t it?” His head tilted slightly, causing the fabric of the cloak that covered his mask to flutter in the slight movement. Takao’s words were carried with confidence, his tone remaining calm and steady for the duration of his dialogue. Neither of their lives were worth that of the decrepit soul that Syekren sought to protect, and thus it seemed like a fair bargain. But pride was a dangerous vice; a blindfold that blinded better men and lead them astray from the path of reason.

Yet even though the question was posed, his answer wouldn’t even matter. The counterpart who remained behind had watched it all from a distance. Every movement Syekren made in an attempt to hide the wretched soul from his fiery wrath had been futile. With his body shrouded from sight, the obsidian cloak upon his shoulders masking both sight and sound from the distant battle, Takao effortlessly floated across the sands like a shadow in the midnight. He stood before the cave entrance that Syekren had deposited his target off in, and continued inside. The mad ramblings of a man devolving into panic and anxiety soon filled the abandoned animal’s den, illuminated only by the bright desert moon. As Takao continued inside, his piercing eyes laid upon the burning imagery of a thin man.

The bladed tonfa on his dominant arm slowly rose beneath the robes that shrouded him from the man’s untrained eye. Takao watched him pace back and forth, muttering aloud to himself, cursing the mercenary whom he had tasked to protect him and the one whose attack left the compound in tatters. The raven-haired shinobi did not remain long to listen to his ramblings, and swung the blade of his tonfa down like a guillotine. The edge sliced into the flesh behind his neck smoothly, splitting vertebrae and continuing through both skin and muscle like butter. In the second that followed, the cave was overtaken by new silence, sans the hollow sound of a warm head hitting the cold cave floor. Takao moved to the mouth of the cave afterward, leaving the way he had entered. As his form departed from the dark cavern, chakra shrouded the light around him, and he flickered out of sight. His movements were careful, completely silent, and his body was hidden from sight entirely as he proceeded closer to Syekren from behind. The initial movement was simple and largely nonaggressive as his left leg rose.

“So come on! Let’s hear your answer!” Takao yelled from the distance, his eyes following the heat signature of his shrouded counterpart, his loud voice adding cover to further disguise the sound of the attack.

As the counterpart yelled, Takao’s leg swung forward, aimed straight for Syekren’s left knee. The goal was to strike it with such force whilst remaining invisible to the naked eye and bend it backward, effectively breaking the joint and removing its usage from their bout.

TOTAL WC
+1,277
2,341

CHAKRA: (adjusted to correct valued from last post)
Takao: 125/165
Takao: 125/170

Techniques Used:

5Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Thu Nov 15, 2018 7:50 pm

Kizashi

Kizashi


D-rank
It wasn't as though he didn't want to react, more so that he couldn't do much to react. Before he knew what was happening, the voice of the other man had stopped coming to his ears, and instead his mind was focusing on the immense pain that he felt in his knee. Was it broken, or dislocated? What happened? It was all too fast for his mind to keep up, but all he knew was that he'd fallen upon that knee into the sands, letting out a grunt of pain. Whatever had given him such an injury in such a short span of time, was obviously far behind the power level he had assumed his adversary to have. Activating his three tomoe sharingan, the masked man turned his body quickly, his hand coming back to his tanto's hilt to rip it from the scabbard and swing it wildly towards what would be gut level for a person of average height. He was aiming to slice open their stomach to visit upon whoever had attacked him from behind with the same amount of pain he was feeling.

When he'd turned around, his knee was still in the sand, one foot planted firmly. His hand was holding onto his blade that he'd made a wild swipe with in his moment of pain. He hadn't taken the time to consider his moves before making them and this likely was well telegraphed for his opponent. Regardless, he'd see only the dark figure of another person, much like the figure he'd seen taking out the other guards before. Was this some sort of clone jutsu he was witnessing? Or was the figure before him the real one? He couldn't tell if his strike had found its mark and wasn't going to wait around to find out.

He'd grit his teeth and try to stand, to no avail. Instead, he'd push against the sand to have his form roll backwards over the dune towards the area of the other figure. He was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. He could tell he was vastly outmatched, and could only think that this might be the end. He choked out a hoarse laugh as he turned back to look at the other figure who had been stepping over the bodies of those he'd slew.

"I guess I should have listened to the snake when she told me to retire. I'm getting too old for this anyway." The man sighed and sheathed his weapon, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of smokes. He'd lift his mask and place one between his lips, lighting it with a flame on the end of his thumb. With one long drag he'd turn his head from one figure to where the other had been and shook his head.

Looks like I bit off more than I could chew.

6Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Fri Nov 16, 2018 2:00 pm

Takao

Takao


S-rank
Cinder's Desire {Private} TZw4mE0

Cold, ruthless eyes bore down upon the figure of the man whose leg crumbled under the force of his strike. Although contact was fleeting, he could feel the bone beneath muscle give way, cracking and breaking from the simple strike. The clone was not yet through with its assault yet, although Syekren’s brandished tanto discouraged its next actions. It leapt backwards only a meter, avoiding most of the damage from the blade but not without letting less than an inch of the blade cut through the fabric of his shroud and vest, scratching his abdomen only a quarter of an inch or so. It wasn’t enough to forcefully dispel the clone, who readied itself for another attack, but no such action was necessary. His opponent was injured-- not yet defeated and therefore still requiring caution-- but crippled in such a way that the usual adrenaline-riddled pace of combat would dwindle to a crawl. The real Takao approached, stepping over bodies left in his wake, and approached the pair as Syekren rolled against the dune, stopping on his back. In complete silence, the pair of masked figures watched as Syekren lit his cigarette and took a drag after making a dark quip. Takao and his clone approached Syekren and stood ominously before him.

“You chose poorly when you placed your loyalty,” Takao said as the visor of his mask collapsed, and his cold eyes fell upon the crumpled figure of the man whom he recognized from the exams. At the time, they had made something of a verbal agreement to meet again under better circumstances. This chance meeting was not what either of them had in mind at the time. Perhaps Syekren would remember him, and perhaps not, but he had revealed himself so it only felt right that he do the same.

The clone that had struck Syekren moved to his side and tossed the severed head of the official whom he had been tasked to defend to his side. He wanted it to be clear that in Syekren’s endeavour to defend Kumogakure’s official, he had failed. Takao imagined that both of them knew how this interaction would end, and thus it felt fair to offer him that modicum of closure, unpleasant as it was.

“Or your service, at the very least. Considering where your interests had laid after our fight, I thought you might find yourself in the Hidden Leaf at some point.” Takao continued, allowing the blade of Muninn to slide out, a low metallic rasp filling the silence that succeeded his words.

This, however, was a unique situation. Seldom did Takao find himself hesitating when it came to the kill. The man before him was somebody whom he had only met in combat, without interactions prior or afterwards, and their bout had left an ember of respect that he rarely held for those whom he did not know intimately.

“Shame,” He said, moving to Syekren’s side, where he sat with the blade still extended. The clone remained in front of them, making the minute display of vulnerability clear that Takao was not undefended.

“It would’ve been nice to fight together sometime.”

Drawing in a slow breath, Takao’s nostrils flared as the scent of burning tobacco filled the air. His gloved hand squeezed the handle of the tonfa as his gaze settled upon the glassed remains of the compound and happened across the various bodies left lying in their piles. After a moment of silence, Takao had decided to offer Syekren a formality that he had never done before.

“Any requests?”

TOTAL WC
+601
2,942/5,000

7Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Sat Nov 17, 2018 2:16 pm

Kizashi

Kizashi


D-rank





Syekren watched his adversary approach, speaking as he stood ominously before the injured Uchiha. He spoke of misplaced loyalties while the vizor for his face covering collapsed to reveal the identity of the attacker to the man on the dune. A sigh to himself, letting smoke out from his lung as he did so, was the respone Syekren would give to this information coming to light. It was the man he'd fought an exhibition match with in the last chuunin exams. Only it seemed this time they were on a much deadlier battlefield, placed upon opposite sides of the board. It was almost ironic that this would be the person who'd come for the dignitary's head . Still, if anyone was to claim the life of one of those instrumental of the destruction of Sunagakure no Sato, it wasn't the wort person he could die to. His regret at this point, was that he wouldn't live to come back and lop the head off of the snake himself, destroying someone who had such sinister plots in mind for the place he once called home.

The sound of an object hitting the sand beside him took the Uchiha's attention from his own thoughts. Upon looking he would find the severed head of the man he was hired to protect, that annoying look of fear still in his eyes. It seemed that the Kimura wanted to give him some sort of closure before allowing him to pass onto the next life. He apparently had a sick sense of humour and Syekren couldn't help but allow himself a small dry laugh. Everything he'd worked for was unraveling quickly and he could tell that his time was simply growing short. He'd had a good run, but it was going to end that night. Upon those sands. He would be reunited with his old comrades, his old friends, those he'd sent to the afterlife prematurely.

Syekren turned his sharingan to match the eyes of Takao, who sat beside him with his bladed tonfa extended, looking down at him. What he'd guess was a clone stood a bit back from the pair, giving no illusions to Syekren being able to fight his way out of this. "Aye. I was finishing up a few things here in what used to be my home before I set my sights to that horizon. I have someone waiting for me there, but I suppose they'll just have to get along without me." The man took another long drag of his cigarette, looking from the blade to the other man's face, knowing this was the end for him.

What surprised him was when he was offered something he never offered any of his kills: a last request. His mind went back to the desert cat he'd whittled, which was gone now due to the burning of the sandstone building. With a bit of effort on his part, Syekren sat up only enough to grab his tanto's sheath and replaced the blade in its home. He'd set this and his trench knives in  the sand next to himself in front of Takao, taking another drag of that sweet cancerous tobacco. "I s'pose the only request I have left is that whatever you don't keep of my affects.. I want you to give them to someone. A student of mine in Konoha. You'll likely find him in a bar there trying to woo the fair lasses. The strange part about him will be that he has these er.. black wings. Tell him... tell him to visit the birds. He'll know my time has come."

Syekren looked back to the sky and finished his cigarette, putting it out in the sand on the opposite side from Takao. His mind gave him vivid pictures of his life, and those he'd met along the way. Images of Izumi and Chou would be the most prominent, he found it hard to choke back his regret and a few tears. His daughter would be alone, and Izumi.. well she'd find her way. He only wished the best for them as a tear or two fell from both sides of his face, the cold desert night air stinging his cheeks. "It's a terrible night for rain, lad." With that, he'd close his eyes for what he was sure was the final time, letting out a breath as he relaxed into the sands. He only hoped the note he'd left in the raven house within Konohagakure no sato was still there for his wayward apprentice to find. It would lead him on the path that Syekren had paved the way for and started, but would never see finished.


8Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Sat Nov 17, 2018 11:13 pm

Takao

Takao


S-rank
Cinder's Desire {Private} D6ehE4O

Takao watched Syekren take the last drag from his cigarette and utter his request. Not unlike the last of his more notable adversaries, his interest in taking what belonged to them was next to nonexistant. He hadn’t been considering looting the corpse of the man whose life he would end in mere seconds, but at his behest, it seemed as though he would have preferred his items fall into the possession of another rather than disappear into nothingness. It seemed like a fair request, and so Takao nodded wordlessly. Nothing more needed to be said, he had extended a courtesy that shinobi were seldom given, and it was time to uphold his end of the interaction.

Without so much a rustle of fabric, Takao lifted Muninn and levelled its point with Syekren’s neck. In a single smooth motion, he pressed it forward, rending the flesh and muscle in twain as though it were a hot knife through butter, and sliding effortlessly through to the other side in less than a second, severing the brainstem. There was no pain and no suffering. As quickly as death could possibly take a man, he would be taken.

Takao withdrew the blade when the life faded from Syekren and wiped the blood on the deceased man’s clothing. Muninn retreated into his forearm, disappearing beneath the cloth of his sleeve, and the clone burst into clouds and smoke afterwards at Takao’s command. He rose from the sand and lifted his right arm, calling forth the shadows lurking beneath the darkness. Three figures would descend from the dunes, floating across the sand like ghosts of the desert, until they stopped before Takao, who had donned his mask once more prior to their arrival.

“Take his eyes,” He ordered, reading beneath his mantle to retrieve a pair of scrolls within the pouches of his vest.

“Everything else he has on him goes in this and is brought back to me. I will destroy the body afterwards.”

The trio began to work after his instructions were given. Takao stood over them, barely a meter away, watching them work. They were professional and efficient; within five minutes, he had been stripped of everything that held a modicum of worth, which was stored in one of the scrolls that he had given them, and the eyes were placed in the other. Takao stored both scrolls in the emptied pouches of his vest and turned his attention to the nude body of Syekren and stepped forward to his side. Chakra gathered in his right hand and began to radiate like blue fire as he prepared to destroy the body.

TOTAL WC
+442
3,384

9Cinder's Desire {Private} Empty Re: Cinder's Desire {Private} Mon Jan 07, 2019 2:08 am

Takao

Takao


S-rank
Cinder's Desire {Private} D6ehE4O

The glow of his hand cast a cold, ominous light over the body of Syekren, laid bare and eyeless before him. He hesitated for a moment-- he never hesitated-- and his brows furrowed. His reluctance to dispose of the body, an act he had committed so many times past that he couldn't even remember the first time he'd done so, was not born out of sentiment for the departed or fear to follow through. Instead, it was motivated by something else, a pang of thought in the back of his head that rang loud like a bell.

"On second thought..." He mumbled aloud to himself, a bad habit to have in the field, but opponents were few now, if any, the blighted desert had fallen quiet, back into desolate ruin.

It's not every day that a rogue Uchiha shows up... One working for the Hidden Cloud at that. Maybe...

Shinobi bodies were treasure troves of secrets. There was a reason that those working within the shadows of their village were taught to destroy their bodies, if possible, before they perished themselves. They were better gone, erased from existence, than they were captured. He mused, how ironic that a kunoichi of the Hidden Cloud was so quick to give up her comrade. He knew that she knew that he was still alive, captured, ready to have unspeakable horrors inflicted upon him all in the pursuit of knowledge and information. Mayhaps she knew something he didn't, or perhaps the Hidden Cloud was truly so foreign that they cared not for their comrades, or even yet, perhaps there was some facet to that interaction that he hadn't considered at all. Ramblings and musings clouded his thoughts before he refocused on the task at hand.

Syekren's body, he decided, would be preserved for now. It was far too valuable to merely destroy, after all. The shimmering blue of his hand faded and the dim luminescence of moonlight cast its pale glow in its place. His hand found its way to one of the many pockets lining his vest and retrieved a scroll from within. A wave of his hand manifested a cloud of smoke in his other hand and, within that smoke, an ink-laden brush was within his grasp. The leather of his gloves creaked and whined as his grip tightened and the brush danced across the parchment, imparting symbols and lines onto the unraveled scroll.

"Sorry, pal," Takao said as he finished his work and returned the brush to the aether it had been called from. His hands formed three seals: Tiger, Rat, Dog, then a clap. Chakra poured from his hands, captured by the symbols on the scroll, then shrouding the lifeless body in front of him. The fabric of his being was pulled from their plane of existence. Within the scroll he would find his new home, for now, safe and secure in the cold confines of the void.

"I know it's usually in bad form to deface the dead, but you're far too useful to just throw away like nothing."

When the flash of light subsided, he was left alone in the desolate, sandy hell scape once more. The scroll was rolled up and tucked back into the pocket of his vest, then he rose, and glanced over to the aftermath of their fight. The compound was in ruin, the target was filled, and all those within would either draw their last breathes or awaken amidst a sea of corpses. Either way, his work was done-- more so than what he was expected to do. Two sharingan and the corpse of a Kumogakure Uchiha. Truly, he had been blessed.

THREAD EXITED

TOTAL WC
+618
4,002

Mission Completed. S-Rank (5,000 wc) * 20% (Hidden Leaf Hitai-ate.) = 4,000wc

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