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The Battle for Mt. Myōboku (open) Fri Oct 26, 2018 5:28 pm
Yōsei
S-rank
- OOC Information:
- Attempting to eradicate all Kiri forces on the Island and drive the Mist Village from the territory so it becomes part of Konoha. Thread is open without travel to both Konoha and Kiri ninja and counts as if it's both in Kiri and Konoha. Oppose or help, I don't mind. I'll be using techniques in this thread that I'm training in the thread so come in knowing that.
Whenever the thread reaches its conclusion I suppose whatever has happened will determine the outcome as far as Myōboku is concerned.
Konoha has big dick energy Kiri is for nerds. That is all.
"The Hidden Mist lays claim to Mount Myōboku, a land which represents the heritage of Fire Country. Whatever treacherous forces have allied themselves with the Mizukage's tyranny will be eradicated, and the rightful independence of Myōboku will be restored. This island does not belong to anyone, but if it must, it will belong to Konoha. Deliver this message as I have told it to you, make sure the Hidden Leaf knows that Myōboku will soon return home. Trusted daughter of Sunagakure, become my messenger, I will watch over your journey."
Vanishing with slight affirmation, the masked bearer of Yōsei's proclamation spirited away in earnest, poised to inherit the world left behind by her master, the Sealer's most loyal follower, to whom he had entrusted the task of carrying his will across nations and seas. Peering across the excavation site buried where water and sand formed a western oasis, the Sixteenth drew himself toward the amber daylight, snatching a cool vessel of water as he exited into the temperate dawn which threatened soon to become overwhelming. Swilling back the wealth of icy liquid, the Sealer gulped and set his path toward a lone worker among an autonomous army, tirelessly strumming the chords of Suna's reawakening. From afar, Yōsei signaled his approach with familiar baritone echoing in the silent dawn.
"We would do well to continue this pace, Lord Kazekage,"
"There is still much to be done."
「 Mount Myōboku, Fall, Six days later. 」
Nestled at the juncture of mist and ocean, pristine groves thrummed steadily to the beat of sunset breeze, in tune with the waning daylight minutes as the teeming fauna dwelling within lay down to rest, and scurried to protect themselves from predators. Distant memories of ancient heroes lingered in the tropical paradise, rendered desecrated by the Mist's arrogance to claim the sacred land for their own. For their crimes, an omen had descended upon the island, marking the trees with a symbol of the island's heritage, plastered across the Land of Toads could be seen the Will of Fire. From afar, the Sixteenth stared across the ocean, stepping from the mantle of the Wind Daimyo's vacant throne and into the slip amidst reality, making mockery of time and distance as he fell into the gardens of his ancestor's secret training ground. Nature heaved at the Sage's aura, careening toward his presence as his gait hit the island's shoreline, which even at its edge was flush with greenery. Sand cradled in Kyoki's stalwart breeze drifted into the fresh, tropical soil, causing leaves to sway at his approach. Chittering, hidden animals shackled to the dark undergrowth oversaw the Sealer's movements, trailing him to the crest of dense forests which lay further inland. Surrounding Yōsei, a series of snapping branches and the sound of steel slithering against leather would draw the Hokage's hand to Seisakata's hilt.
"Mitsuhide, what wonder it is to see a dead man walk among the living. My sons have told me of your correspondence, but I had to see you for myself."
Chuckling gravel, hoarse with ageless wisdom, echoed from the treeline as the curtain parted to reveal the creature who addressed the hooded rogue. Gamakei's face, carved with age into cavernous wrinkles, regarded Yōsei with quiet distance. The pair had met once before, when the Namikaze had been a small child, and at that time the toad had seemed otherworldly in its size and ferocity, but with time had been refined into the stately facade of sages and leadership, venerable symbols tattooed across once-muscular arms showed the honor which came from a life of battle. Mere months since Inabayama, the news of Yōsei's war on Kirigakure had spread rampantly, and those who held within them grudges to enact upon the Hidden Mist had sought him out, including the sons to whom Gamakei now referred. When years ago the Mist reached out to this hidden place, their hopes set on the horizon of expansion, and the tactical advantage that would come from such a secret installation, the rulers of Myōboku had deliberated, and the debate raged into nights and days. As oil burned to cinders, the splintered council dissolved into what would become the tribes who now warred for the island's legacy.
"It is good to see you, Gamakei, I've been dead for far too long. Those among you who saw it fit to section off this land and ally themselves with Kirigakure, am I right to think you are at war, as your sons have led me to believe?"
"Hmmm. For nearly half a century I have battled against my brother's wishes. These steel monuments of the Mist's creation have no place here, the world talks to us, Mitsuhide, she tells us what to do. I follow where Nature leads me, even if it is toward destruction."
"I see. Then gather those who wish to fight, and tell the others to avert their eyes from the slaughter and stare toward the shoreline. Before dawn the Mist will be gone, such is the contract we have forged between us, Mount Myōboku will belong to its rightful heirs. And in return, your clan will fight at my side, and in doing so, protect the Leaf until the end of days."
Dipping below the horizon, waves of magenta luminescence roared heavenward as the Sealer thrust past the toad who stood seven feet tall, fingers wrapping around the hilt at his hip and drawing forth the Oath, flourishing the blade with its removal and vanishing. Spent between the pair's parting little more than gestures of eye and chin, subtle signatures bound by the mark the Sealer left as his accord, the Will of Fire, rendered in ink remained. Leaping into the forest, Yōsei became a blur, departing toward the towers of steel and lights to begin his savage errand. Rising from the woods, military installations towering high with Kirigakure banners, knights stood on ramparts in Mist regalia protecting the borders of their homeland, unaware they stood on hallowed ground. Marked for death by Kirigakure, the Sealer's brutal initiation came through the lens of Wakakusa's reflection in the tip of a spear, rushing toward the precipice of contact before the soldier could twist his eyes to the forefront of his end. Gathering his step in the suspicious quiet, the Sixteenth carried through without delay, balanced on the railing of the building's balcony, he slipped silently down to breach the wall with the Grudge's heft. Giving way, the chorus of revelation came as confused exclamations calling out in military code, identifying the shrouded target, white hair spilling from his flailing hood, as Kirigakure's most wanted.
Konoha's burning Grudge replied in the absence of its master, sweltering heat torn free from the depths of Uchiha fire, bursting into flame the stacks of paper and wooden frames of desks and chairs. Caught in the uproar of Wakakusa's triumph, smoke cast silhouettes of ash along the wall before throwing them away and shredding the integrity of the structure enough for Yōsei's force to carry him through, blade carving trails to vengeance through the steel hull, thrusting pillars of flame into the air beyond, combusting into fiery embers. Jettisoning from the building, Wakakusa's swathe followed in the Sealer's wake, painting scars of spreading flame across the tower's southern wall. A match struck against the horizon, the burning tower flickered against the coastal winds, men at arms departing to their stations. Keen eyes spotted shinobi response teams, sprawling into extensive formations to launch a volley of blades toward him from afar. To draw the Grudge across his body was all it took for such attack to be rendered harmless as the Sealer began to fall. Unlike in Suna, the hunter-ninja stationed here had been cautioned not to engage with him directly, word had spread of the Sixteenth's duel with the Mizukage, and doubtless, plans had been put in place for how the Mist would hunt him down when finally he lashed out again at their wretched borders. Descending beneath the canopy, Wakakusa forced at the boundary of its sheath as Yōsei slid it into dormant grip at his side, unwilling to unleash its inferno upon the landscape.
All the same, the night had begun as these violent errands often did, choirs of caterwauling flares born to sing Hosanna. Mitsuhide took for himself these moments in the leaves below, fingers renewing determined grip across Grudge Burner's thirsty hilt, to think of home, and the Hidden Leaf's survival.
1408
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