The Tomb of Five Pillars

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

Far to the north in the Water Country, lay the mountain which gave birth to five fantastic weapons. Coated in mist, much like many of the landmarks in water country. This lone peak overlooks the sea, and at its base lies the tomb. A cave entrance, marked by a burial mound before it. Within the cave complex is five corridors, sealed with several jutsu of different origins on each corridor. Only one may enter when they have had a connection of personal nature to those close to the five shinobi. Most corridors have been ravaged, leaving only hollow altars in tribute to the shinobi.  

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

Arrival had been long delayed. Thankfully, arriving was a lot simpler than it was to exit the area. Bridges collapsed. The only real way back was to raft through the whirlpools, a dangerous feat, especially for what he was about to gather. For the first time in fifteen years, someone was going to claim the final piece of gear hidden within the cave complex. However, to do so, he would have to do something unspeakable.

His approach into the area was without interruption, which brought peace to his mind. Kneeling before a the mound of his master, he mumbled. It was a prayer of forgiveness, for all he had done, it led to a moment of defilement, even if it was for the glory of the sword.

"Master, despite this being your wishes upon reaching here, I can not help but ask forgiveness for all I am about to do, for the sake of the Five Pillars and spreading their balance under the banner of the Mist. Here I defile your grave, for the sake of the key," Alzayr groaned, at long last, to express one last futile moment of regret. His promise was absolute at this point, having fulfilled one end, the rest was required. His hands plunged into the loamy soil, scraping away at the mound. Due to its height, it appeared to be a deep hole, while in reality it was a shallow grave. The same grave that had been dug by the monk the year before.

When the body was finally reached, rooted between the deteriorating fingers was a scroll, wrapped in fine silks, resembling fire itself. It was distressing, as his own fingers slipped down into the grave, prying the fingers from their grasp about the silk, when at long last, he fell back in relief. Within the silks were the key to the seals. Then came the real challenge.

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"

 

[Lanfaer]

xxJack Harren Snipe xxxx

Chakra Pool: 225

From behind the grave robbing monk would come the shrill high note of a flute, which quickly fell and rose again in a haunting melody. It was an odd tune, something fit for a funeral dirge, and yet also for a festival, making it a rather twisted tune. The tun originated somewhere in the distance, yet after an instant, a noise came from above the monk, from above the entrance to the cave complex. If the monk would look, he would see a possibly familiar sight sitting there, a redwood cane raised to his lips horizontally, and yet as the man blew into it the noise appeared from behind him. It was a form of ventriloquism, surely. The man wore on his head a black top hat, a maroon ribbon of cloth wrapped around its base and held in place by a blue-green jewel mounted in gold. In the cloth were two things held, a feather, and a pair of playing cards, that of the Ace and King of Hearts. Short, straight black hair fells down around his head and face, framing eyes ringed with the black of an insomniac. He wore the coat of a ringmaster, colors of dark brown, black at the cuff with a golden cuff clasps, and a maroon frill at the throat. The oddest thing about him was his thinness, so thin that he seemed to be starved, and his skin so pale that it positively glowed in the soft light.

The man, if Zayr the Iron Monk recognized him, was none other than Jack Harren Snipe, the kid who was labeled a freak by all the Genin. He had passed the academy with flying colors, but had yet to be named a true Genin. Some say this was his decision, yet few could claim this as truth, for no one knew him well. The kid stared down at Zayr, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips, an expression suggesting he knew far more than the man had a right to know. This was a common belief, that he did know too much, but really how could you prove it one way or the other? Jack continued to watch Zayr, the music of his cane/flute flowing out from the distance in. Finally, he lowered it from his lips, just enough to allow speech, and stared into Zayr's eyes. This was the oddest physical feature of the man named Jack Harren Snipe, for his eyes, black irises, had white pupils. That's right. White. It was supposed to be black in every living thing, for that's how pupils worked, yet for some reason his were white.

"Dead of the wrath, scroll doth thee have. Whence did you came, come ye for fame?" The words, a riddle, and a rhyme that was barely able to register as such. Whether or not the Iron Monk would understand the speech was, as of yet, unknown.

"I Must Drag Truth Kicking and Screaming into the Light"

"I Will Show You What You Truly Are"

"The Savior... or the Beast..."

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

His sore and worn body wasn't too pleased with his pushing it ever so much more. With the scroll in hand, the last blade would be his to have, and at long last, the duty of his master would be resumed. Granted, he'd have to find some brilliant seal technique users, but that would be long into the future. His moments of peace seemed to come to an interruption, as the sound of a flute seemed to violate the still air. His prior training allowed him location of the tune before it even ended, and he thought back. He'd seen the boy from a distance with his master long ago, but that was done and done.

The gaunt boy wasn't really one to hesitate it seemed, as he spoke to him, in rhyme. Why rhyme? It was likely bothersome to many, but the monk had to wonder if the boy was even right in the head. Nonetheless, he broke the thing down. The primary bit was his actions and his objectives, following his master's orders to obtain the key. The third statement off which was where he came from, and the last a purpose to his coming.

"I come from the Mist, boy. On personal business," he called aloud, as he rose to his feet. Shin'en was readied for combat, in case the boy was an enemy. He lived on the outskirts, he knew that much. Alzayr wasn't one to follow former students, or even keep track of their names. Not when he had been so preoccupied in other ways. "'Fraid I'll have to ask you to vacate the premises for now though. Things tend to get hectic, if my information is correct."

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"

 

[Lanfaer]

xxJack Harren Snipe xxxx

Chakra Pool: 225

Slowly Jack began to rotate the cane in his hand, the blue jewel winking in flashes at every apex. It was somewhat distracting, perhaps, to look at because of the ferocity of the glare, this being a perfect cut emerald designed for this very purpose. The boy watched Zayr with that small smile never changing, neither growing or shrinking, and always on the edge of his lips in that suggestive manner. He didn't seem to have heard the Iron Monk's words, his warning seeming to make no impression on the young man. At seventeen, most would consider him an adult, yet his miniature stature, the bone thing form of one ravaged by disease, left many wondering if he was truly an adult or not. His age was odd, though, for someone who had yet to even attain the rank of Genin. He was close to be the oldest of the Kirigakure no Sato academy student. Though he had graduated, the boy had no teacher, and whether Zayr knew it or not yet, it was he whom the boy had selected to teach him. But before that, there were things to address.

Jack brought his flute to his lips and once more began playing, though this time the melody seemed to echo everywhere at once, something very peculiar to anyone who knew anything of musical instruments. But the young man didn't either notice, or was doing it on purpose somehow, but one thing that would seem the oddest to the Monk was what the boy was doing as he played. He was leaning to the, eyes closed, as if listening to something in the distance or something that was whispering to him. Finally, the boy stopped playing, opening his freakish eyes to stare into the air before him. Finally, at last, he spoke, his voice soft and kind, and even a bit cautious. "From the Mist doth he hail, wrest from the dead doth he tread to avail. From thine lips doth I request, passage safe to thy holy rest, for alone will his might shield he from thy smite." It was perhaps the clearest words the boy had ever spoken, but then, his words were also spoken as if in a form of chant. There was silence, and yet Jack stopped as if listening to what was being said, if anything were. Then, his smile increasing, Jack looked down at the Iron Monk. "Misty Monk of Iron, help of speech might help thee. Pay thee will the heartfelt fee?"

What he meant, if Zayr could understand it as well as he had the first time, was that he could help Zayr, but that to do so would require a payment of sorts.

"I Must Drag Truth Kicking and Screaming into the Light"

"I Will Show You What You Truly Are"

"The Savior... or the Beast..."

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

The odd one whom resembled a circus performer. It seemed, no matter what he said, the monk was not seeing an outcome where the sickly one would be departing. Stubbornness? Or had he chosen the land as his stomping ground while he was away? Nonetheless, the music about him from the flute like cane surrounded him. He spoke ever so oddly, the rhymes made it seem all the more intriguing, but once he finished, Alzayr began to puzzle it all out.

"There is not a price low enough that I would seek assistance. However, I would still rather hear your words, to know what exactly I might be getting into," the monk elaborated, as he rather quickly turned down the offer of assistance. It was his duty, and no others. He couldn't permit them to do so. It was his word. His promise. That tied his acts in, and that would be the end of it. The blade would be his, and at the end of it all, he would be on his way back to the mist.

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"

 

[Lanfaer]

xxJack Harren Snipe xxxx

Chakra Pool: 225

Jack grinned at Zayr the Iron Monk, bemused at his stubbornness to perform this feet alone. Yet was this not a test, like the ones he made for others on a regular basis? How is this test different from his own? Well, it wasn't much, though Jack would personally add more mental tests in the complex to test the Mist shinobi. Finally, he spoke, once more in his odd little rhymes and riddles. "Will, Fortitude of the soul shall thee be tested. Fool art thou for aid not invested. Return ye from test, treasure from yonder nest, and teach thee to me of the Shinobi, and shall then mind of thee be freed." What Jack meant was simple to him. He warned the man that his soul would be tested, his will and fortitude put on display. Then he told him that when he survived the test, he should return and teach him, for then will he be free. He meant free of the Mist Village for a time, but how the monk would take it was anyone's guess.

"I Must Drag Truth Kicking and Screaming into the Light"

"I Will Show You What You Truly Are"

"The Savior... or the Beast..."

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

Without a name given, the sickly looking young man went to speak his next ever befuddling statement. There was plenty of measures within the cave complex to prevent theft, which meant for the time being, whomever had received the keys to the seals had claimed the other four. He was the last to arrive. The boy wanted to be a shinobi? Well, that was something Alzayr was capable of arranging. A brief moment, as he passed a glancing wave to the boy. Oh, he'd be getting a master.

His next step took him into the darkness of the caverns. Inside, it felt bizarre, an amalgamation of all sorts of things. The air was warm and humid. Every moment felt charged, his hair seemed to try and escape, standing as straight as the combined weight would allow. Lights were faint, but he knew that was where he was meant to approach. His master had often informed him of its layout.

He was to continue straight, and it was clear when he had continued in far enough. Light from the entrance had dwindled away from behind, and even so, it seemed a bit more bright. The lighting about him seemed to grow as he went further in, stones illuminated much like torches. Another of the legends, the stones supposedly bearing the souls of followers. His entrance into the cave was quite clear, and the path of fire was even more so. It seemed he had struck a wall of some sort, and even to the touch it burned only with contact.

His masters explanations, within the scroll, labeled it out to this point. Supposedly, it was just beyond this seal. Looking about, he noted a crest, akin to others he'd passed. This one of the phoenix, the man had been compared to it so many times before. Upon closer examination, one would note there was a seal carved into the feathers, and without a doubt, the monk slapped the key to the figure. The lighting itself extinguished, and the temperature plummeted. What was just beyond?

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

Progress in the cave complex was long. Thankfully, the only real turns had been simple curves. The only drawback to this situation... It was much like walking into a sweltering sauna... At first. Each step seemed to be more and more agonizing, yet Alzayr kept his face as composed as possible. Shin'en wasn't touched, for the monk was certain of one thing; it would likely scar. Hobbling through the cave only seemed worse, while the monk thought of what the other hollows could have been, if it were so miserable here. Compacting tunnels? Howling gales? Stunning shocks? There was so much to it, he shook hi head and continued, as suddenly... Being cooked in the process suddenly didn't seem so bad.

The darkness seemed to break after some time, and he grinned. It glistened with the colors of a flame, the brilliant blue surrounded by oranges and reds dancing about. The chamber was of interest, when one looked about it. A tomb, a mausoleum of sorts, adorned with a variety of crests. Knights on fields. Blades crossed over a shield, but none of these had something beneath them. Carved into the stone, there was nothing. Staggering forward, Alzayr noted one thing above the others. A crest adorned on the chest of a statue, its hands holding something glistening. It seemed to reflect the undulating light perfectly, and that was when it struck him... That was the glorious blade his master had spoken of.

Alzayr's hands moved out, grasping a hold of the hilt, its leather wrap seemed to be cool to the touch, compared to the rest of the room, where the monk attempted to pull free the blade. The groaning of stone might have indicated one message, but looking at the stone hands as he pulled once more indicated otherwise. The stone seemed to tighten about the blade. As irritating as it was, the monk bit his lip, as his focus altered. Another pull, accompanied by the power which was created through the state of power.. Well, it wasn't giving way. Stumbling back, he groaned.

Hands wrapping about Shin'en, the sizzling of flesh was a little more than apparent, the cloth didn't do much to keep his hands safe. Assuming his position, he swung with effort, utilizing the sword draw technique. A resounding sound of steel breaking was something that made him shutter, a fiery flare sent the monk back once more, a burn upon his arm. The oddity however was that the room suddenly seemed plain. The stone knight wasn't there... Nor was there any indication of heat. It seemed suddenly chilled in the room, as he approached the location he'd struck at before. Another mound already open, blade presented simply, sheathe beside it. The monk reached within, grasping a hold of the long sword. It seemed to sear into his hand for real, testing him. Its ruby gem in its cross guard glistened in acceptance, the skeletal hands releasing it.

"Thank you, oh great heart of fire. Sword of a foreign land," the monk spoke solemnly, as he grabbed hold of the sheath, sliding the blade within. It was time for him to go, and go he would. Turning, he proceeded down the cave complex, which suddenly seemed so much shorter, the only indications of the heat remaining a burn upon his hand, and his hair sopped in his sweat. The strange boy was still there, and he nodded, suggesting he come with.

"If you wish to be taught, meet me at the Lady Mizukage's. We'll discuss there," the monk ordered simply, as he sprinted off. He had nothing left to do here, his vow's purpose had begun.

[Exit - Meet me in mist, Lanny~-]

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"

 

[Lanfaer]

xxJack Harren Snipe xxxx

Chakra Pool: 225

The boy only smiled as the Iron Monk entered the complex, and slowly Jack placed his cane upon the stone beside him. Oddly, he balanced it perfectly on the tip of a single stone where it sat unwavering in the wind. Jack then folded his hands in front of him, and began forming hand signs slowly, forming the chakra in his hands and fingers, concentrating them there are he worked on his chakra. (1/5)

The world seemed to come into focus as chakra formed out from his core into his hands, and as he sat watching the air before him he realized that the chakra within him was odd. Of course, most already knew this, but what Jack felt was different altogether. This chakra felt like there was nothing in it, no element, nothing! No fire, earth, wind, water, or lightning in it. How odd. (2/5)

Concentrating was easy for Jack, whose mind moved faster than most his age. It was simple to take the flow of chakra that lay in his hands and loop it together, slowly forming a matrix of chakra there. It was not, however, the type used for using a jutsu, oh no. This was the type used for training. Slowly, Jack worked it our. (3/5)

The chakra metrix was forming nicely over his hands and feet, his biceps and triceps, his shoulders and pectorals. It was exhilarating to feel the chakra matching themselves to the frames of his muscles, his bones, his entire network of systems. This wasn't normal chakra molding, of course, but he liked playing with it, seeking how complex of weaves he can form with his own chakra. (4/5)

Finally, it slid into place, a loose mesh of chakra forming over his internal form with ease. It seemed so simple, yet Jack knew he was not finished, Slowly, Jack went back and unwove what he had done, something just as dangerous as what he had forged. Finally, slowly, Jack lowered his hands and breathed in deep, feeling that his strain had done wonders for his abilites. (5/5)

(❥ Basic Chakra Training: Meditate /// Completed)


Then the Iron Monk returned, and Jack watched the man exit, gesturing for him to follow. Grinning wider, Jack followed, picking up his cane as he did so.

"I Must Drag Truth Kicking and Screaming into the Light"

"I Will Show You What You Truly Are"

"The Savior... or the Beast..."

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

Alzayr took a deep breath. This was going to require a bit of effort to reconfigure the now dormant traps within. Before the mouth of the cave lay the tomb of his master, to which he knelt simply to pray for a moment. It wasn't often that he managed the chance to come out to the grave marker, and had not, since he'd snatched Tsume from the tomb within.  

[October Night Starlight]

Sukai Chiryō-shi
| Kumoagakure | Kaguya | The Healing Sky | Taijutsu Class | Jounin | Cat Sage | Medical Ninja |



+-------------------+

Sukai was dashing by when she got a wif of a familiar scent. Stopping dead in her tracks the ground gave way under her feet leaving small cracks of creators. Her head immediately snapped to the side of which she smelled him, then her eyes widened. Her mind went blank but for the one thing that remained. She dash to it at full speed with a happy-toned voice that she hadn't used since before her depression. "ZZZZaaayyyyyyy~!" And with that she tackled him to the ground giving nuzzles. It's been so long since I've seen a friend!

+-------------------+

"The more I learn the more I can kill or heal you with."





Chakra Count: 490/490
AC: 7,100
Ryo: 3,500
○•♦Voice of Alan♦•○
~♥Sexy Theme♥~

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

Alzayr had little to no idea, distracted as he was with his moment of silence. It was only right not to be paranoid in a place such as this, where the dead were meant to be lamented and honored. Nevertheless something snapped him out of his moment of silence, when he went colliding with another body and he was suddenly sandwiched between the moist earth and someone... Whom he recognized as Sukai! His grin spread, as a free arm wrapped about her in a one handed hug. "Is that you, Sukai? It's been an awful long time," he laughed, when it dawned upon him just how uncomfortable the world was. "I'd love to catch up, but... Well, this is uncomfortable." He was laying upon the spiny shark sword and nearly a dozen blades bundled in canvas cloth.  

[October Night Starlight]

Sukai Chiryō-shi
| Kumoagakure | Kaguya | The Healing Sky | Taijutsu Class | Jounin | Cat Sage | Medical Ninja |



+-------------------+

Sukai meowed and nodded hearing her name. She huggled his neck a little more before blush overtoke her face and she at up on top of him, her ears going back a little in an apologetic way. "Sorry Zay, I was passing through, and smelled you. I wasn't really thinki---" She paused and looked around them. "Oh! I'm so sorry are you busy!? I-I didn't know." She then backed up more onto her feet and offered him a hand up, her face lightly tinted with blush, again mouthing the word 'sorry'.

+-------------------+

"The more I learn the more I can kill or heal you with."





Chakra Count: 490/490
AC: 7,100
Ryo: 3,500
○•♦Voice of Alan♦•○
~♥Sexy Theme♥~

 

[Mana_ecl Zetsuya]

xxxxZayr the Iron Monk xxxx

The swordsman couldn't help but grin, while she hugged him once more. Sukai was so very friendly, it was hard to think of someone who could be as friendly as he. "You smelled me?" the monk inquired with a grin, while he took her hand, rising to his feet. "Don't worry about it, I came out here on orders, but then I got side tracked for... personal reasons." The monk took a moment to rotate his shoulder pretty calmly, letting the bundled blades slip slightly, so that they didn't bite into his shoulder awkwardly.

"A man's soul wrought in iron!"

"Dance upon the edge of the Blade!"