Konoha: The Village Hidden in the Leaves [Spring Festival!]

Are you excited about the revitalization of Konoha?

Yeah! Looks like bugging the old lady worked!	70.1%	[ 94 ]
Nope. You should've just let it die.	29.9%	[ 40 ]
Total Votes:			[ 134 ]

[count_zantara]

Walking down the darkened streets of the village, Zantara took a left turn and went down a very close alleyway which led to a somewhat hidden culdisac which very few went down. And there was a few reasons for that...namely the Spell of illusion which was placed there to give all those who weren't searching for him to see only a brick wall.

Like always, the Bishop liked his privacy.

Crossing through the illusion, he took in the old house that he had...appropriated some time ago and had moved. A classic Korean style one story temple which was strange enough in this predominantly Japanese area.



Staring up at the deserted place, the Bishop sighed softly and began to walk down the cobblestoned walkway and up the stairs. Sliding the door open, he stepped within and began to remove his long black and silver cloak, setting it on the rack by the door. Unzipping the sides of his boots, he stepped out of them and placed them perfectly under the cloak.

[godspeed1]

OOC:sup peoplelong time eh.

[Martin Spiralwave]

OOC: ... Crap

Virgil walked along the dirt road of the village holding a amall black book in one hand. His eyes were stuck to the pages scanning the words at a rapid pace. He would ehlae softly as he looked up closing the book. Moving on he would near an desolute alley and enter. As he past something white clung to the walls thin strips of vapour floating into the sky.

[count_zantara]

Walking further into the small building, he began to remove the many weapons from his body, setting them onto the weaponstand further inside of the door. Finally removing his generals hat, he tossed it over his shoulder as his long silver hair billowed down to cascade over his broad yet thin shoulders. Still with the ever present masque, he sighed softly and rolled his shoulders first one way, then the other listening to the cracking of his joints.

He always was extremely stiff after a new molting.

Unbuttoning the white silk shirt, he tossed it into a small basket in the main room before sliding out of the blackened chainmail shirt, setting it perfectly over the inner railing. He would have to remember to clean it up asap.

And so he continued to change until finally he was wearing somewhat traditional priestly robes, yet they had serpents flowing down the arms and folds and a asp eating it's own tail covering the back in black and silver thread.

After buttoning it up to his chin, the orochi rolled up the sleeves and sat down in the center of the lowered floor in the main hall of his temple. Looking up at the walls surrounding him, he took in all of the carvings on the cherry walls. From the three Norwegian tales of Loki children the wolf Fenfir, the serpent Jormungand and the daughter Hel to the story of Mee-An and the Magic Serpent to The Crying Wolf to The Tale of the Undead Bride along with many many others dealing with these three subjects.

Wolves, serpents and the undead.

All surrounding the huge silver warriors mask which rested on a stand against the wall in front of him, the lips releasing a small amount of black smoke which smelled of sulfur and ozone

Closing his blue eyes, he began to chant in his strange language, calling apon the spirits of his people to cleanse this place of worship. Slowly the winds surrounding him picked up, swirling up the dust into a large vortex that danced in front of the Bishop.

[count_zantara]

Slowly opening his eyes, Zantara brought up his left hand and pointed at the closed doorway leading outside and then to each of the windows. And as he did so, they all slide open with ghostly hands directing them.

Once every window and door was standing open, he brought his gloved palms together with a loud clap, sending the vortex through every room of the temple, gathering up every piece of dust and dirt that had accumulated over the past six months and sent it out through each window and doorway, collecting it into a even larger vortex within the small courtyard before sending it over the wall into the forest beyond.

And that is what we call...that.

Standing up, he looked around at the now clean domicile, the Bishop smiled behind his mask and walked to the single blank wall behind him. After pressing his palm against a small indentation, the wall swung inwards, and he looked within at the small armory which was hidden there. Looking at the many magical weapons from all era's and planes, he removed a 47 inch katana, overlarge by a good 5 inches. Slowly he looked over the sheathed blade, admiring the simple woven sheath with twin cobra's curling around each other.


Gripping the 13 inch long handle, he slowly removed the blade with a almost serpent-like hiss of the metal, a small design of the sheath which he had specially added. Bringing the blade up straight, he turned it to the left, then right admiring the folded steel noticing the small impurity in the metal that gave the blade a dried blood tint to the metal.

After a few moments, he slid the blade back into it's sheath and strapped it to his left hip under the outer robes before turning around and begining the rounds of his home, making sure all the pieces of art where still in place.

[Hellter Skellter]

(( >>? ))

[count_zantara]

Heading into the kitchen, he pressed the "ON" button on the coffee maker and smiled slightly as it started up perkulating. A modernized kitchen, all blue steel and marble within a 12th century Korean temple with a shrine to Norse mythology. An enigma wrapped within a mystery.

Same as the Black Bishop in any case.

As the coffee began to brew, he stepped into the tiny garden in the back and looked at the groups of tree's which dotted the 2 acre landscape. Cherry tree's set beside those of pears and plums with grape vines on the far left and strawberry's on the far right. And in the very center a small sparing field 10 feet by ten feet of black crushed volcanic glass at least two inches deep.

Staring up at the night sky through his mask, the Count breathed in deeply and drew the large katana in the classical Kenjustu fighting stance. With his left foot forward and his left hand up near the deathhead guard while his right hand was gripping near the base of the hilt, the Bishop let all thoughts leave his mind as he went through the four attack area's of a imaginary 6 foot tall foe as put down by the samurai code: Top of the head, each wrist, each side and below the knee. Each attack was fluid, flowing from one to the next as if in a dance of death you might even say.

As the night grew deeper, the wind kicked up as he continued his practice in place changing from a classical style to a more modernized style of Arabian decent, the Dance of the Saber, which was usually used with a curved sword such as a military saber or crescent blade. But strangely enough, the masked man seemed to make it work with the blade he had.

[count_zantara]

The dance of sorts continued with a overhead slash followed by a knee high roundhouse drifting from style to style effortlessly as if he was actually born with a sword in his hand..which to be truthful that was close enough to the truth to be true.

But he was more proficient with a rapier or cutlass in any case.

Small imperfections could be seen in his fighting style with the large blade if anyone who was a weapons master was watching. His left foot just barely out of place during a slash, his blade moving a hair too slow in a textbook stab to the ankle. A knee thrust aimed just a little too high, a elbow aimed too far to the right.

But he didn't let the imperfections in his personal style stop him from practicing with the unusual blade. True, any samurai worth his salt would be steaming mad at himself for such mistakes but Zantara was no samurai.... not in the least bit by anyones definition of the class. He was way too mellow in most things in any case.

No he followed his own code, one of more Taoist decent than any other. To allow things to fold as they may with the smallest intervention by himself. The right word in one ear, the time of a meeting could change the course of a nation if it was placed just correctly.

He was like the reed, always bending to the world around him, never breaking. Like the serpent in the grass, the wolf in the woods. Waiting for that "correct" moment to make his move and striking cleanly and precisely with no hesitation or misstep.

[count_zantara]

And with a sense of finality, he slid the sword back in it's sheath with a counter-hiss to the companion hiss of drawing the blade. His scales slowly pulsating after the workout, the Count cracked his neck from side to side as he turned on his bare heels and headed for his domain, a slight bounce in his step.

Always observant, always ready was another of his many, many mottos. One that had saved his life numerous times.

Stepping within the kitchen once more, he opened one of the cabinets and pulled down a coffee mug carved from the most perfect jade by his own hands, covered with images of serpents. After pouring himself a tall cup of the black coffee, he added a tablespoon of honey to the cup and removed the bottom portion of his masque, setting it to the side.

Sitting down at the long bar table, he cusped the cup in two hands and took a long sip of the drink, enjoying the fresh smell and taste as it slipped past his forked tongue. With the smells of jasmine drifting into the temple, he looked up as if expecting someone long forgotten to step within those sliding doors..... and yet she never came.

[count_zantara]

Finishing up the cup of coffee, The Bishop poured himself another one this time without any honey before pulling a small black book from within his robes. Opening it by running his gloved hand down the spine, he began to read his spell book, memorizing those incantations that he found useful, disregarding those he didn't.

As he read over the spells, he could feel his mind filling up with the power which was his to control. Strange that after all this time, the simple things such as memorizing spells could be so...calming.

Taking another sip of his coffee, the Count hummed softly to himself as he continued to flip through the pages looking for not the most destructive of spells but those based in the style of illusion and transfiguration.

The subtle spells as he called them.

[x-Hitori Hanzo-x]

.:: *Waiting xD* ::.

[count_zantara]

((I could keep this up for hours XD And I just think I will do such a thing))

[Eternal_Slumberer]

Ooc: Waiting on what?

[Hellter Skellter]

Masaki would slowly wake up, seeing Hitori as she opened her eyes. Her body still hurting, she would have a hurt look on her face. " You're really cold. "

[x-Hitori Hanzo-x]

Smiling and backing into a shadowed area, Hitori would look down to Masaki.. What could've been seen of his hazel hues would be glassed as they stared down at the woman. Still holding her as he did when he first grabbed her up, Hitori's lips would part, that wonderful hymn leaving his lips to reach her ears.

"I'm sorry hun, I shouldn't have fought you..."