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the outward path, part one. plot. private. Thu Mar 01, 2018 10:12 pm
Yokari
D-rank
EP : 2
49'So it came to be that I stood at the tip of the mountain, looking down upon the world. Above me, the clouds coalesced into impossible shapes before parting way; judging me worthy of the celestial realm. With each step, my being stripped away layer by layer until only an ascended state remained. By now, I found myself above the universe dressed in magnificent, technicolor finery. The act of weaving and unraveling held great significance here; threads were falling away into creation below only to form into shapes of strung together stars and moons. In the same moment, heavenly threads would create something new around my shoulders and chest. This cyclical feed of creation into nothing permeated me. For a long time, I was alone in this strange world. I took time to study the planets beneath my feet; vibrant and filled with colors I could not have dreamed. This auspicious plane of perfect creation at the crucible between nothing and form: the realm of gods and spirits.
When the steward came to meet me, I was afraid. Towering over the most grandiose of natural monuments, Zhurong, the King of Fire was to show me to the debating grounds. The Kings had long known my goal, for their debates had decided my journey and determined its success. It was by this divine concordance, then, that afforded me the opportunity to ascend here and witness the heavenly discourse for myself. By the time the celestial realm took shape in my new eyes, the breadth of had faded already into a dim spiral somewhere in the distant black. Before me now, was the holy world, a perfect realm of godly inspiration: the streets brimming with ethereal creatures, both infinite and minute in proportion. As I stood awe-struck watching, Zhurong cleared a path with his hand, willing us towards the peak of this world.'
Looking up from the ratty manuscript in his hands, Yoh peered into the gloomy forest. Eyes scanned shadowy obelisks in the after-dusk twilight looking for the scholars. Since leaving the border, the boy had traveled with these five men, borrowing from their vast collection of historical and occult journals and texts. Yoh had learned that the men were historians; moving through Konoha on their way to the Lightning Country in order to document the oral history of the new Raikage. Besides the past, the shared passion of the troupe (and one that Yoh himself shared) appeared to be debating. In three days of wandering, the six individuals engaged in a debate on topics of spirituality, politics, futurism, civil engineering, municipal planning, architecture; if the group could create conjecture in some way, there was a debate to be had.
Since delving into the mobile library, Yoh found himself obsessed with the stories of one Dao Zheng; a monk who made his purpose in accepting all the rituals and spiritual paths the multiverse had to offer. The pursuit in itself was admirable enough, but what drew the young preacher's attention was a unique text written by the Sage: Ascension and the Concordance of Fate. A tale of the heavenly assembly, the lively debates of the celestial kings' whose arguments are over the fate of humanity. Each denizen of the kingdom takes part in the raucous debates, the higher the class of spirit, God or king: the louder the voice. With the lens pointed directly at the mortal realm, the Gods vie for control of causality, manipulating the fate of everything.
In the abyss, a red light ignites. The lantern caught Yoh's eye immediately; in his reading, he'd lost track of the scholars, but camp and the distant whispering that followed alerted him. He tucked the book away, bounding toward the treeline, each foot planting against a trunk as he left before coming to land several feet behind one of his traveling companions. Night time preparations were most of Yoh's duties in this group, his payment for access to the knowledge and texts, and he immediately set about gathering necessary firewood and setting up tents. A heavy hand drives the last stake into the earth to secure a tarp, Yoh stands and wipes his brow while looking over the boiling cooking pot and arguing seniors.
"All done," the preacher says just loud enough to catch the attention of the others "but I'm leaving tonight." blunt and to the point.
"What brought this on?" the third scholar scoffs.
"Dao Zheng. I have to see for myself."
Leaning together, the scholars emit a chorus of elaborate whispering and complicated gestures. After the summit concludes, the group turns and the fifth scholar, the eldest, speaks in a calm voice;
"If that is your path, that is your path."
"May I-"
"You may keep the text."
An exchange of understanding eyes and nods follows, Yoh straps his belongings across his shoulder along with the small stack of papers and writing utensils. The long hours reading and thinking on the road gave Yoh more than enough time to consider his decision. The accounts of Sage Zheng, whether true or not, were worthy enough of the boy's attention; he could not ignore the thought that humanity's destiny hinged on the whims of some spiritual mandate. If such a court existed, Yoh vowed he would find it and clutch fate from the Gods, for the good of everyone.
With only a vague idea where to begin, Yoh wandered with his journal in hand, pawing over notes of stories he'd heard the locals telling throughout his trip. The intention was to look for spirits, track them down wherever they might lurk and lure them into revealing a path to the Heavenly Kingdom. Supposedly, a tree lay to the south which bore spiritual fruit and was a gathering place for wandering spirits. Throughout the night and morning, the southbound preacher made his way through the dense Fire Country wilderness.
In the early evening, swaying bodies of light caught the boy's eye from a remote thicket. Shining, disembodied mists made their way along the length of a forest stream. Unperturbed by the boy's presence, the fog rolled onward lapping at Yoh's feet. Faint cheerful laughter echoes in the trees when the massive forest thins away into a small clearing, stream veering to the right and out of sight. To the left of the clearing's center, a white trunk coils and splits into thick branches, each bearing a beautiful crown of amber foliage. Luch grass comforts aching feet; the air fills with the sound of spirts.
"The end is built into the beginning,"
"Then where does it begin?"
"You already know."
Seven hours now, sitting beneath this tree, the boy communed with spirits. At the center of the circle, the dark-haired boy clasped together his hands, watching the wood spirit closely before closing his eyes and nodding. As if in sequence, one sojourner replaces another, and the ritual begins again. Late as it was, the spiraling line of spirits illuminated the surrounding trees so brightly they might as well have been in the middle of a festival. Yoh himself didn't know precisely where he was, but an eerie procession of music and spirits lingered at the edge of his perception no matter what direction he peered.
A journey through Fire Country, a chance encounter with a troupe of nomadic historians, a discovery and renewed purpose had led him to this place. Once he sat beneath the tree and found himself swept up into a debate, the hope for return had gone. With no choice but to resign himself to waiting out the never-ending line of tributaries, Yoh embraced the discussions with fervor. It had been a careless error in judgment to engage a trio of animal spirits in a debate. Spirited talks with mortals, Yoh supposed, were treated as a luxury for beings of the spirit realm. Word spread fast, and Yoh had more work than ever not to be overwhelmed by the gathering convention and quickly established a system of tribute. In a spiral line, with the tree at the central point, each party awaited its turn. At the base of the hill, a pile of trinkets, masks, and coins were steadily growing. One by one, participants offered what they could to commune with the child.
Audibly, Yoh sighed, releasing his hands to rest on his knees. Even on dark skin, heavy bags under the boy's eyes obviously betrayed his exhaustion. With the half-moon strung high above the clearing, it was an oasis surrounded by a void of dancing lights. That same hypnotic resonance drew more than spirits to the edge of the clearing. Observing, forest animals would edge between multitudes of souls to eat fruit from the ground around the tree and drink from the streams weaving in and out of the clearing's edge.
"Enough for today," with a wave of a hand it was dark. Those who chose not to vanish merely wandering away into the trees; to become lost lanterns lighting paths for dust.
When the steward came to meet me, I was afraid. Towering over the most grandiose of natural monuments, Zhurong, the King of Fire was to show me to the debating grounds. The Kings had long known my goal, for their debates had decided my journey and determined its success. It was by this divine concordance, then, that afforded me the opportunity to ascend here and witness the heavenly discourse for myself. By the time the celestial realm took shape in my new eyes, the breadth of had faded already into a dim spiral somewhere in the distant black. Before me now, was the holy world, a perfect realm of godly inspiration: the streets brimming with ethereal creatures, both infinite and minute in proportion. As I stood awe-struck watching, Zhurong cleared a path with his hand, willing us towards the peak of this world.'
- Dao Zheng, Sage of the Outward Path
'Ascension and the Concordance of Fate'
'Ascension and the Concordance of Fate'
Looking up from the ratty manuscript in his hands, Yoh peered into the gloomy forest. Eyes scanned shadowy obelisks in the after-dusk twilight looking for the scholars. Since leaving the border, the boy had traveled with these five men, borrowing from their vast collection of historical and occult journals and texts. Yoh had learned that the men were historians; moving through Konoha on their way to the Lightning Country in order to document the oral history of the new Raikage. Besides the past, the shared passion of the troupe (and one that Yoh himself shared) appeared to be debating. In three days of wandering, the six individuals engaged in a debate on topics of spirituality, politics, futurism, civil engineering, municipal planning, architecture; if the group could create conjecture in some way, there was a debate to be had.
Since delving into the mobile library, Yoh found himself obsessed with the stories of one Dao Zheng; a monk who made his purpose in accepting all the rituals and spiritual paths the multiverse had to offer. The pursuit in itself was admirable enough, but what drew the young preacher's attention was a unique text written by the Sage: Ascension and the Concordance of Fate. A tale of the heavenly assembly, the lively debates of the celestial kings' whose arguments are over the fate of humanity. Each denizen of the kingdom takes part in the raucous debates, the higher the class of spirit, God or king: the louder the voice. With the lens pointed directly at the mortal realm, the Gods vie for control of causality, manipulating the fate of everything.
In the abyss, a red light ignites. The lantern caught Yoh's eye immediately; in his reading, he'd lost track of the scholars, but camp and the distant whispering that followed alerted him. He tucked the book away, bounding toward the treeline, each foot planting against a trunk as he left before coming to land several feet behind one of his traveling companions. Night time preparations were most of Yoh's duties in this group, his payment for access to the knowledge and texts, and he immediately set about gathering necessary firewood and setting up tents. A heavy hand drives the last stake into the earth to secure a tarp, Yoh stands and wipes his brow while looking over the boiling cooking pot and arguing seniors.
"All done," the preacher says just loud enough to catch the attention of the others "but I'm leaving tonight." blunt and to the point.
"What brought this on?" the third scholar scoffs.
"Dao Zheng. I have to see for myself."
Leaning together, the scholars emit a chorus of elaborate whispering and complicated gestures. After the summit concludes, the group turns and the fifth scholar, the eldest, speaks in a calm voice;
"If that is your path, that is your path."
"May I-"
"You may keep the text."
An exchange of understanding eyes and nods follows, Yoh straps his belongings across his shoulder along with the small stack of papers and writing utensils. The long hours reading and thinking on the road gave Yoh more than enough time to consider his decision. The accounts of Sage Zheng, whether true or not, were worthy enough of the boy's attention; he could not ignore the thought that humanity's destiny hinged on the whims of some spiritual mandate. If such a court existed, Yoh vowed he would find it and clutch fate from the Gods, for the good of everyone.
With only a vague idea where to begin, Yoh wandered with his journal in hand, pawing over notes of stories he'd heard the locals telling throughout his trip. The intention was to look for spirits, track them down wherever they might lurk and lure them into revealing a path to the Heavenly Kingdom. Supposedly, a tree lay to the south which bore spiritual fruit and was a gathering place for wandering spirits. Throughout the night and morning, the southbound preacher made his way through the dense Fire Country wilderness.
In the early evening, swaying bodies of light caught the boy's eye from a remote thicket. Shining, disembodied mists made their way along the length of a forest stream. Unperturbed by the boy's presence, the fog rolled onward lapping at Yoh's feet. Faint cheerful laughter echoes in the trees when the massive forest thins away into a small clearing, stream veering to the right and out of sight. To the left of the clearing's center, a white trunk coils and splits into thick branches, each bearing a beautiful crown of amber foliage. Luch grass comforts aching feet; the air fills with the sound of spirts.
"The end is built into the beginning,"
"Then where does it begin?"
"You already know."
Seven hours now, sitting beneath this tree, the boy communed with spirits. At the center of the circle, the dark-haired boy clasped together his hands, watching the wood spirit closely before closing his eyes and nodding. As if in sequence, one sojourner replaces another, and the ritual begins again. Late as it was, the spiraling line of spirits illuminated the surrounding trees so brightly they might as well have been in the middle of a festival. Yoh himself didn't know precisely where he was, but an eerie procession of music and spirits lingered at the edge of his perception no matter what direction he peered.
A journey through Fire Country, a chance encounter with a troupe of nomadic historians, a discovery and renewed purpose had led him to this place. Once he sat beneath the tree and found himself swept up into a debate, the hope for return had gone. With no choice but to resign himself to waiting out the never-ending line of tributaries, Yoh embraced the discussions with fervor. It had been a careless error in judgment to engage a trio of animal spirits in a debate. Spirited talks with mortals, Yoh supposed, were treated as a luxury for beings of the spirit realm. Word spread fast, and Yoh had more work than ever not to be overwhelmed by the gathering convention and quickly established a system of tribute. In a spiral line, with the tree at the central point, each party awaited its turn. At the base of the hill, a pile of trinkets, masks, and coins were steadily growing. One by one, participants offered what they could to commune with the child.
Audibly, Yoh sighed, releasing his hands to rest on his knees. Even on dark skin, heavy bags under the boy's eyes obviously betrayed his exhaustion. With the half-moon strung high above the clearing, it was an oasis surrounded by a void of dancing lights. That same hypnotic resonance drew more than spirits to the edge of the clearing. Observing, forest animals would edge between multitudes of souls to eat fruit from the ground around the tree and drink from the streams weaving in and out of the clearing's edge.
"Enough for today," with a wave of a hand it was dark. Those who chose not to vanish merely wandering away into the trees; to become lost lanterns lighting paths for dust.
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 