~Hidden Night Village~ Not much is known about the Hidden Night Village. It is said that these various ninjas are from different clans from around the world, but none of that could be confirmed. It is said that one ninja stole his skills from the Nara clan. This village is not very large and are exclusively warriors.
::Hidden Night Clans::
Lin Kuei Clan A rogue group of warriors who specialize in ice jutsu. They are known for heavily relying on their ninjutsu based skills and their icy personalities. They are extremely powerful and don't seem to be affected by high heat enviorments.
Benimaru Clan A Group of Ninjas who are overtly intelligent. They use their sharp minds plus a combo of their unique chakra to give them telekinetic type abilities.
Kodahma Clan [House] - The Kodahma clan are the second strongest clan in Hidden Night. They have a surgically implanted amplifier on their left forearm. The House family have a jagged X on their right pectoral, like a tattoo, but in reality it is a cursed seal. It serves to keep the Branch Family in check, simply by touching the mark can cause nearby branch members pain. Many House members wear a chest guard. All Kodahma's wear their amplifiers are on their left forearms.
Kodahma Clan [Branch] - The Branch Family of the Kodahma clan. They have a jagged X on their left hand. The Main Family controls their fate, so they are sworn to protect them. Due to the fact tat the seal is on their left hand, many Branch member's wear left handed gloves.
Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2022 6:28 pm
Techniques
Quote:
Higashi Joe
[ N ] Freeze No Jutsu - 600 Chakra ( Spirit +5 Ice Damage | On Hit: Opponent's Speed = 0 unless Opponent's Strength is greater than User's Spirit ) Able to do a handseal that sends a ball of ice and freeze the opponent in place
Running Freeze No Jutsu-The user makes a handseal and runs towards the opponent freezing them on tough- 800 [n]
Frost Breath- Able to breathe a freezing gas onto opponent-600 Skill Points [n]
Ice River- Able to create a river that freezes everything on touch- 900 Skill Points [n]
Snowman's Revenge- Creates Snowmen that are able to attack Opponents. 600 Skill Points [n]
Frost Snap- Able to cause the snow from underneath to form jagged teeth and bite opponent. 700 SKill Points(clan technique) [n]
Freezing Stance- Able to fight opponents with a different stance. With each hit that connects with skin will cause frost bite. 900 Skill Points (clan technique) [n]
Climate Control- Able to control the Water Vapor around you to make the climate colder-400-(Clan Technique) [n]
Sub-Xerox: One could create an ice clone of himself that would freeze anyone who would touch it- 600 ( clan Technique)[n]
Polar Ice Blast: Concentrating all inner powers one could send a blast of cold air freezing anything it would touch. -1000 ( Clan Technique) [n]
Sora ShingaiFuzei Soujuu (Air Manipulation) - 400 Skill Pts Allows the user to make an object out of the air droplets to crystalize into things. ((Must learn this to learn any move if the *ed techniques))
Kakuu Mizu Nami (Aerial Water Wave)* - 800 Skill Pts User jumps high into the air and send small waves of water at their opponent.
Baisuu Kakuu Mizu Nami (Multiple Water Waves. Must Know Above)* - 1000 Skill Pts Same move as above, just with larger, more powerful waves that come in pairs.
Yuri Aisu Rendan (Flickering Ice Barrage) -* 600 Skill Pts User flickers as fast as they can in random spots, hurling ice needles at their opponent.
Aisu Bushin no Jutsu (Ice Clone) -* 1,000 Skill Pts The user manipulates the air around them into a crystallized clone of themselves.
Quote:
Bogard Jinx
Disabler- Sending out a ghostly fireball it will disable the opponent for free hits. -600- [n]
Teleport Slam: Disappearing, then reappearing behind his opponent, he would grab and slam them on the ground-700- [n]
Shadow Throw: One can send out a shadow that would grab and throw his opponent into the air.-800- [n]
Black Hole Punch- Able to create a portal that is big enough for a hand to go threw. The hand will appear wherever the user wishes and they can attack the opponent.-700 Skill Points [n]
Quote:
Benimaru Geese-
[ N ] Telekinesis Rank 1 - 800 Chakra ( Intelligence+5 Damage ) The user can move and manipulate, and throw small objects telekinetically, but not with enough force to attack or defend. Total Weight: 50 Pounds Number of Objects: Up to 3 at once Range: Up to 50 feet
[ N ] Telekinesis Rank 2 - 1500 Chakra [ Requires 15,000 Chakra, Telekinesis Rank 1 ] ( Intelligence +15 Damage ) The user can move and manipulate, and throw medium objects telekinetically. Can be used for attacks or defense. Total Weight: 250 Pounds Number of Objects: Up to 5 at once Range: 100 Feet/Sight
[ N ] Telekinesis Rank 3 - 3000 Chakra [ Requires 50,000 Chakra, Telekinesis Rank 2 ] ( Intelligence+½ Spirit Damage ) The user can move and manipulate, and throw large objects telekinetically. Can be used for attacks or defense. Total Weight: 1000 Pounds Number of Objects: Up to 10 at once Range: 300 Feet or Sight
Telepathy - 500 ChakraThe user of this technique can send and receive telepathic messages to anyone within sight. Not advanced enough to read thoughts.
Telepathy Rank 2 - 2000 Chakra [ Requires Telepathy Rank 1 ] ( Must have Interacted with a target for at least 500 words raw. Only lasts as long as participants remain in the same thread | Intelligence+10 vs Opponents Resolve | Perception +10 ) Mastery of Telepathy allows the user to communicate with anyone they have interacted with recently, even at great distances. Additionally, the user can attempt to pry into the mind of an opponent, gaining knowledge of their thoughts and intentions for one post
[ N ] Psychometry - 1000 ChakraThe user of this technique can “read” an object, and gain detailed insight and information into the nature, content, history, etc. of that object. The object is the subject of this knowledge. For example, a user could “read” a discarded blade, and gain knowledge relating to who wielded it, who it has attacked, the construction of the blade itself, its properties, etc. The user could not, however, read the cover of a book on the table in a room where the sword was used, because that is not directly related to the object in question.
[ N ] Remote Viewing - 2500 Chakra ( Requires at least 1000 words raw interaction with Target. ) The user of this technique can “look in” on people and places they have interacted with recently. The user can perceive the object of this remote viewing and its surroundings as if they were standing there for 3 posts, but cannot interact with anyone or anything there, or move.
[ N ] Precognition - 3500 Chakra [ Requires Telepathy Rank 2 ] ( Perception +35 ) The user of this technique is able to "see" and predict events seconds before they happen. This is very useful in combat, as it allows more time to react to the movements of an opponent.
[ N ] Psionic Blast - 1200 Chakra [ Requires Telekinesis Rank 1 ] ( Intelligence + ½ Spirit Damage ) The user of this technique can condense the air around them into small spherical masses, which can be thrown telekinetically. These blasts detonate on impact, or when the user chooses.
[ K ] Phantom Weapon Style - 3000 Chakra [ Requires Telekinesis Rank 2 ] ( Intelligence + ½ Spirit Damage, added onto melee weapons used with this style ) The user of this technique can wield a variety of weapons masterfully using the power of their telekinesis.
Mystic Bomb:One hits the ground with extreme force causing a shockwave. -1000- [n]
Shock wave- Doing a set of handseals the user can create a Shockwave of chakra- 900 Skill Points [n]
Quote:
Kodahma Sousui
[ N ] Baisuu Oto Tate (Multiple Sound Barriers) - 1600 Chakra ( Defense + ½ Spirit | Contact causes loss of 1 Action during the turn it connects. ) The clan member generates barriers of Sound for a short time. Any contact with it stuns that person, but does not affect the clan member.
[ N ] Bachiatari Gokuin no Itazuki/Kamei (Cursed Seal of Pain/Command) - Free (Both Branches) - Both Branches have one of these markings House/Second. (( Clan Technique ))
Bachiatari Gokuin Nottorei (Cursed Seal Takeover) [Main Exclusive] - 1,700 Skill Points - The Main Branch uses this to keep the Second Branch is kept in line.
Kaitsuu Hirate Oto Sensu (Open Palm Sound Style)- 1,500 Skill Points 0 This is a fighting style. With each open palmed attack the user generates sound and attacks with blasts of sound. (( Clan Technique ))
Odori no Sonikku Harou (Dance of Sonic Waves) - 1,500 Skill Points -The user starts to spin, making graceful but devastating attacks with sound blades shooting from their hands. (( Clan Technique ))
Oto Ame (Sound Rain) - 1,000 Skill Points - The user jumps into the air, generates sound and starts to spin & flip, sending out waves and waves of sound at the opponent leaving gashes in tree's and the ground from the impact. (( Clan Technique ))
Oto Bushin no Jutsu (Sound Clone) - 900 Skill Points - The user penetrates the enemy's mind withou them knowing any way, making them think they see a clone, but it's a fake one which, if hit, nothing happens. (( Clan Technique ))
Quote:
Kodahma Kaizoe
[ N ] Oto Hakaisha (Sound Destroyer) - 1800 Chakra ( Spirit +15 Sound Damage ) The user jumps into the air and concentrates a large sound blast, and throws it at the enemy.
[ N ] Oto Hasaki (Sound Blade) - 2000 Chakra ( Spirit+20 Sound Damage | Kenjutsu techniques can be used along with this blade ) The user generates sound and makes a blade out of it.
Oto Soujuu Karui (Sound Control Minor) - 800 Chakra ( Passive: Sound Damage +5 when using a Sound Based Special Item or Amplifier ) A normal person receives a Special Item (Flute, Guitar, etc) and can somewhat control some sound.
[ N ] Tsurai Senritsu (Painful Melody) - 5000 Chakra [ Requires all other Clan Techniques ] ( Spirit + Intelligence + 30 Sound Damage to Mental HP | ½ Sound Damage also dealt to normal HP. ) One of the most dangerous of the clans moves. Pulses of sound blast out from the users amplifier or sound based item, and no matter what, causes Mental Pain beyond any they could imagine. This is their most notable move.
[ T ] Teikiatsu Kikku (Cyclone Kick) - 1000 Chakra ( Strength + ½ Speed Sound Damage ) The user attacks with a Kick, and on contact the resounding force pummels the target with a blast of sound.
[ T ] Teikiatsu Sentou (Cyclone Punch) - 1000 Chakra ( Strength + ½ Speed Sound Damage ) The user attacks with a Punch, and on contact the resounding force pummels the target with a blast of sound..
[ T ] Oto Konbo (Oto Combo) - 3000 Chakra [ Requires Cyclone Kick and Cyclone Punch ] ( Strength +10, Speed +10 added to Cyclone Kick and Punch techniques | When combo ends: ( Spirit + ½ Speed ) x # of connected attacks = Additional Damage | ½ Damage is also dealt to Mental HP )The user attacks, and on contact the resounding force pummels the target with blasts of sounds all at once, upon the first time an attack does not connect or an attack other than the combo hits the opponent.
Xzavior Smith Hidden Night Village When Xzavior arrived at his manor, an enormous victorian mansion that sat alone on the top of a hill, with a scenic view. His father had commissioned this home for his family soon after marriage. It was a labyrinth of hallways and doors, some leading to nowhere, some to dead ends, others to hidden chambers. His father had known this home like the back of his hand. Even Xzavior had not seen all of it, inside.
The gardens outside were vibrant, seemingly disregarding the storm that raged overhead, ignorant of the darkness that hung over the house, as Xzavior passed them by without a glance and burst through the dark oak door, the wood clanging loudly as it swung open. In his state of mind, he had thrown it telekinetically, his very mind lashing out as if struggling against the reality of this moment, as if fighting against the idea of losing his mother.
The foyer was a cavernous room, capable of fitting two normal-sized homes. Dominating the space was an enormous marble staircase, carpeted in blue. The stairs led up to the back wall, and then split, each hall going off into the distance. Above the foyer was a large crystal chandelier, real candles gleaming above Xzavior’s head, nearly burned out from neglect.
The house seemed abandoned for the lack of activity inside. There was nobody at the door, no servants milling about, doing their work (or at least pretending to). All attention was on the Lady of the House, Xzavior knew. Their priorities had changed, their normal jobs becoming something more important, more urgent.
Xzavior did not pause for a moment, trailing the rain behind him as he practically sprinted up the staircase, and off to the left, towards his mother’s wing, and her chambers within. He passed suits of armor, polished until they shined, paintings, many of them priceless, and more fine silk furniture than one could normally find, even in a place that dealt in silk furniture.
The immaculate and luxurious home was a contrast to Xzavior’s demeanor, fearful and panicked as he made his way down the blue-carpeted hallway. Near the end was his mother’s chambers.
The door was cracked, and he opened it much the same way he had entered the manor itself, roughly and with his mind. The door smashed into a servant, bloodying her nose. Xzavior was apologetic as he helped the woman up, helping her gather the load of laundry she had dropped in the impact. As she left, holding a rag to her nose, Xzavior turned to face the room. There were at least 4 servants in here at any point, another appearing as soon as one left, as if taking shifts that lasted sometimes seconds, sometimes minutes, but never for long.
The only constant presence here were the Lady’s personal servants, an aging woman who had served Xzavior’s mother since she was a girl, and a younger girl, her granddaughter. The lady was seldom seen without Greta and Inga, even at home. They wore grim expressions, which did little to help raise Xzavior’s hopes. He approached his mother’s bed in only a few long strides, finally looking down upon the countenance of Petunia Smith, his mother and the head of the Smith House, in his father’s absence, seeing it for the first time in this state.
Her skin was pale and grey, her cheeks and eyes sunken in as if already rotting away. She breathed lightly, sleeping for now. Xzavior turned, incredulous, to Greta.
”W-What happened? I’ve not been gone for a week? What do we know?”
Greta simply shook her head lightly, her granddaughter speaking up in her stead.
” We know nothing. Medical-Nin came and could not help, nor could they offer any information. We are in the dark, my Lord-”
”Don’t call me that. She will live.”, Xzavior interrupted. He was not the head of this house while his mother still breathed. He didn’t want that honorific.
” I hope so, Xzavior.” Greta cut in. The sound of worry in her voice was like a knife that cut to Xzavior’s very core. Greta was not a worrisome woman. She was all practicality and business, always, well trained at her job and ceaseless in it. If she was emotional, then things were worse even than they looked.
Xzavior looked at his ailing mother for a long while, falling into silence. The tears fell freely from his eyes, burning rivers down his cheeks.
”Can you two wait outside for a bit? And turn any servants away? I need to be alone with her.” He said, his voice quiet and shaking, the tears threatening to break into open sobs. The two women were quick to nod their assent and made their way out of the room, closing the door nearly-silently as they left.
Xzavior was alone with his mother and his own suspicions. This was no ordinary illness. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. If medical-nin came and could not even determine the cause of his mother’s state, then something was deeply wrong. Especially Benimaru medical nin.
His suspicions would have to wait for now though. He placed a hand softly onto his mother’s cheek. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, seemingly as weak as the rest of her for their lack of ability to fully open.
”Xzavior… My son…” Her voice was reedy, and incredibly thin, a hoarse whisper, nearly inaudible in her ailing state.
”I’m here mum. I’m here. Don’t speak, save your strength. I won’t leave you.” Xzavior’s words caught in his throat as he fought to choke back the tears that threatened to burst through his words.
”Don’t fret, clever boy. You cannot stop this. I knew this day would come… I saw it… years ago… It is time for you… to be strong…. For our house… For our name…” Each word came from the woman with great effort, as if she were putting what remained of her life into her final words. Xzavior knew she was dying.
”Help! Someone! Help!” Xzavior called, the rush of panic taking over as the life began to leave his mother. Her skin was becoming greyer, her body more limp. Her final breaths came out in laborious heaves, rattling and thin.
The door burst open as servants began to swarm the lady, calling after her, compressing her chest, doing whatever they could to stop the inevitable end to her life. After a frantic several minutes of fruitless endeavor, the activity gave way to a solemn silence, save for the heavy breathing of those who had made the attempt, and the stifled sobs of those who had witnessed its failure.
Petunia Smith was dead. The gravity of the loss rippled through the cavernous home like a shockwave, carried on the backs of whispers. Xzavior stood, stunned into stillness, the gravity of the loss washing over him like a tide, threatening to pull him beneath the surface, to drown him in its depths.
He had to pull himself out. Petunia Smith, his mother, was dead. He was now “Lord Smith”, the title feeling like an insulting barb in this context.
[0] + (1207x3=[3621]) = [3621 words total]
Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2022 9:05 am
Xzavior Smith Hidden Night Village
When his father, Lord Reginald Smith, had died, his life had continued on without changing very much at all. He still woke up, ate breakfast, studied, and went to sleep. This routine had been his guidance, his youth a shield shield from the horrible implications that came with such a death. He had been a small child, and had not understood the responsibility that was waiting for him, far in the future.
This time, things were different. The time had come for Xzavior to take his place as the head of his house, a responsibility he knew someday he would have, but had never wanted.
The following week went by in a tearful blur. Arrangements were, luckily, mostly handled by servants and hired help, those who were trained and well-paid for their bureaucratic skill. Xzavior made a point to help with some of the paperwork, mostly to find something to set his mind towards.
Even with the constant flurry of movement, Smith Manor felt empty.
Time froze for Xzavior. With his mother gone, he felt helpless and alone, the only member of his family to remain. He was House Smith, and now he was the sole member. As the sole remaining member of his house, he found himself constantly hounded by people, some well-wishers, others power-grabbers, all unwelcome. It was a full 8 days before he had the time or energy to take a moment to himself to deal with his loss.
When there was no more paperwork to be filled, and no more apologies to be heard, Xzavior sought the solitude of his library and the tea leaves.
As he entered the room, he closed the heavy wooden door, deadbolting it thrice before making his way to his chair, looking around at the shelves as he did. It had been too long since he had seen them.
The room was cavernous, with 20 foot vaulted ceilings. The shelves ran from floor to ceiling, with ladders on tracks to retrieve the tomes, covered in dust from lack of use. Xzavior did not allow the servants to clean in here.
There were 3 tables in this room, and a large mahogany writing desk, all covered in papers and books, stacked up in teetering piles, seemingly random to anyone but Xzavior. His reading chair was large and luxurious, and beside it was Xzavior’s tea set, a small table with a built-in cabinet below. The table held a silver tray with a few jars and containers, a tea pot, and a single teacup.
As Xzavior approached the chair, the tea set to preparing itself, tepid water heating of its own accord to a boil, floating up and filling a small pot. Loose leaf tea placed itself within the water, as the steep began. Xzavior sat, sighing with exhaustion, physical and mental. He simply sat, eyes closed, rubbing his temples for a few minutes as he waited. After exactly 3.5 minutes, Xzavior poured his tea (he had kept count of the seconds in his head). Today was an earl grey day, which he sweetened with a spoonful of white sugar and lightened with a splash of milk. The bergamot was bracing, a welcome friend.
As he sipped from his steaming cup, his mind began to work. Xzavior Smith began to plan his next moves. As head of his house, things were about to change radically for him, something he had always expected, but had always avoided considering. The time was upon him now, and he felt unprepared for this new life.
Xzavior had always shied away from social interaction, preferring the company of books and tea for most of his life. As the Lord of this Manor, he would now have to talk to people. Often. The idea of this made Xzavior a little queasy, but he knew that it was a must. A book pulled itself from a high shelf, floating down to hover in front of the Psion. He reached a hand out to take it, flipping it open.
He flipped to one page, and then another, and then another, staying on a single page for no more than a few seconds before moving to the next. Xzavior was speed reading as nobody else could, taking every detail to memory.
Within 5 minutes, Xzavior had what he would consider a working academic knowledge of how to make friends and influence people. He would have to have charisma, or at the very least, the illusion of charisma. And that would mean clothes. Xzavior sent a telepathic note to Remington. He was going to need the services of a tailor.
[3621] + (771x3=[2313]) = [5934 words total]
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2022 10:09 am
Xzavior Smith Hidden Night Village --- When Xzavior woke, the simulated sunlight of the estate was streaming through the window as it did every morning. While the outside of the house was as dark as the rest of this place, inside Smith Manor was made to seem like any other victorian manor belonging to an exceptionally wealthy english family. The light shone in Xzavior’s eyes, causing him to squint as he tried to open them. There was a knock at the door.
”Master Smith? Master Smith? Your suit has arrived to be tailored.” It was the voice of Remington. Xzavior shakily stood up, his legs still hesitating to awaken, and made his way to the locked door, unlatching 3 deadbolts and opening it.
Remington held a suit bag draped over an arm, and a coy smile as he took a look a the visually-disheveled Xzavior.
”Would the Master like for me to draw him a bath? Or call for a barber?” The barbed statement was in jest, but Xzavior’s reply was not.
” Actually, yes. In a while, but for now, I am glad you are here. Sit.” He gestured to another armchair, not as nice as his own, but still nicer than most.
” How are you fairing, Xzavior? You must be exhausted with all of this. You never have been one for… normal life.” Remington asked as he sat down, crossing one leg over the other casually. Though the man was technically an employee, Xzavior had always considered him more of an uncle than anything. His father had been an only child, so he had no true uncles. Remington served as a sort of fatherly figure, but less judgemental and more consultational.
” I find this new life ill-suited to my tastes, but it is one that I have been given, whether I am hungry for it or not. I’ve always considered my Lady mother to be like unto a saint, but I was unaware of how much of a bureaucrat she was as well. I cannot even count the number of times I have signed things, the number of documents I have read with sleepless eyes. This has been, in a word, Hell. I do not wish to leave this place.” The words came spilling out of the young psion in a rush, a release of pent-up pressure. It was cathartic.
Remington laughed aloud. For a long time.
”You have always been one for perfection, Master Xzavior. But you are a fool. A genius, but a fool. You mean to tell me that you have been doing all of this paperwork… yourself? Every document? You are more of a bureaucrat than your late mother, but she far surpassed your skills in delegation. You are perhaps the wealthiest man in the world. Why not hire someone for it? Hire a team, even! You can afford it. Master Smith, you have much to learn about your responsibility and your station. I am thankful that you are suited to learning, and that I am here to guide you. Your training begins at dawn tomorrow. Be sure to rest. I will ensure you are not disturbed.” Without another word, leaving the suit behind, Remington stood and left.
Xzavior did not know what “training” meant, but he would soon learn. ---
Daichi arrives in his home village, the Village Hidden in the Night. He takes a minute just to bask in the eternal night that always blanketed the village. The bright sun of the academy days had really gotten on his nerves, with its sun and brightness. He loved the eternal night of his village. After basking in the darkness, he travels familiar paths, visiting his favorite spots in the village once again. Eventually, once he gets his fill of being home once more, he makes his way to his home in the village. It was time to do some training outside of the academy, getting stronger and stronger in his family’s techniques before heading out into the world to learn genjutsu.
He starts off with what was considered a fairly basic ability in his family, that of telepathy. Sending and receiving messages without speaking, using purely mental power. He practices it with various members of his family, just working on sending simple messages back and forth. It was a simple thing to practice, just working on it so he could consistently do it despite distractions and stress. And danger as well.
The second skill he wanted to work on was psychometry, reading the past off of an object. Learning this technique was less practice, and more focused on learning to channel his chakra correctly to be able to pick up on the traces of chakra left on an object that allowed him to read its past. He used various objects around the house, guided by his family.
The last one, and the one that will take the longest to learn, was a technique that allowed him to fire blasts of mental energy at his foes. This would be his main form of offense, as his telekinesis would be too weak to harm others for a while. This was a combination between the learning methods of the previous two, with part of learning it being focusing his chakra in the correct way and being able to maintain it, while the other part was practicing it and attacking with it. He could summon small orbs, but not anything large enough to cause harm to his opponent.
After hours of training, Daichi takes a break to enjoy some tea and a good book. While reading, part of his mind wanders to what the academy had been like. It had been a mix of good and bad. He was happy to learn and study, gaining many useful techniques and meeting many who could become future allies in his plans. But there had been plenty of fools and idiots that he had had to deal with and suffer their actions and stupidity. It had made him even more sure of his ultimate goal, which was to create a world when the intelligent controlled all and did not have to suffer the idiocy of those lesser than them. He considered many his lesser, even if they were stronger in power than him, because they were definitely less intelligent. After learning these few techniques, he would travel the villages, learning genjutsu, gaining allies, and setting his plan into motion. He had time to do so and wanted to have it started before he attempted the chuunin exams. For once he was a chuunin, he planned to aggressively pursue domination.
Post Word Count: 552 Total Word Count: 89 + 552 = 641
After his break, Daichi resumes his training. He starts back with practicing his telepathy, once again working with family members to receive and send mental messages. He makes steady progress on it. Once he makes enough progress, they start adding distractions and dangers while having him using it, so that he can get skilled enough to use it in more than just calm peaceful situations. He practices this for a couple of hours, until he is drained feeling, and his mental energy is low.
The next morning, he starts the training back up. He needs to learn these techniques and get stronger before he starts heading out to other villages to learn there. An intelligent shinobi knows the techniques of not just their own village, but the techniques of other villages. Plus his village is quite lacking in a type of jutsu he learned about in the academy: Genjutsu, techniques that mess with and even control the enemy’s mind. The perfect type of jutsu for him to use, clearly the jutsu of a highly intelligent person. However, before he learns those, he wants a good basis from his village, to hold his own in any kind of fight that may happen on the way to other villages.
He resumes his training with a refresher on telepathy, but he feels he has a good grasp of the technique and is ready to move his focus to the others. So after only a short bit he moves on to the second skill, psychometry. This one was more about chakra control than practicing, but he is getting to the point where he can pick up faint traces and get small tidbits of information. He was able to find out that the cane he carried was previously owned by his great grandfather. He thought about the usefulness of the technique while he practiced. The ability to learn details about his enemies by what they leave behind, and to possibly learn how they fight before he even faces them in combat would be immensely helpful. In addition, he could use it to track people by what they leave behind. This training goes on for a couple of hours.
The next training he does is directly combat related, summoning blasts of psionic energy to throw at the enemy. Again it was a combination of learning to focus his chakra to summon and maintain the spheres, and practicing attacking with them so that he would be accurate and hit what he wanted to. The size of the orbs were getting larger, but still to small to cause any amount of meaningful harm. This training is the longest of the session, as he wanted to have it completely mastered before leaving.
Post Word Count: 453 Words Total Word Count: 641 + 453 = 1,094 Words
The next day, Daichi starts on what would be his final day of training, based on the progress he is making. He starts the morning with finishing up his psychometry training. He is also close to finishing this, able to glean a fair bit of information from objects, but not enough to have it considered mastered. In between objects, he works on his telepathy, eventually reaching the point where he can easily send and receive messages regardless of the situation or any present danger.
His psychometry training today is different from the previous days. Instead of a focus on chakra control, which he had mastered, the focus was on properly cataloguing the information gleaned so that what was useful could easily be accessed, while what was unimportant at the moment was put aside. Not thrown out, as one never knows when something unimportant at the time could become highly important later. He trains until he feels the skill has been mastered, able to “read” vast amounts of detailed information from the target object, and efficiently sort and order it.
After this training, he sits down and rests. While he rests, he mentally catalogues where he intends to head after he finishes mastering these techniques. He had heard of a place that made weapons appropriate for an intelligent fighter, a place called Feudal Spira. They made something he had never heard of called Firearms, which worked better for more intelligent shinobi. He was eager to obtain one of these. Another was the Village Hidden in the Leaves, which had several Genjutsu of interest, as well as being a great place to gather information as it was one of the largest and greatest villages in the world. It also had a technique that had been mentioned at the academy, Genjutsu Release, that helped the shinobi if they were caught in a genjutsu. Low on the list of places to visit was Hidden Nano Village, which had a couple of Genjutsu and Ninjutsu techniques of interest. Pretty high on the list was Hidden Whirlpool Village, which was known for a great many Genjutsus, and powerful ones. Hidden Rain Village was also of interest, as it had some Genjutsu as well as some Ninjutsu and Taijutsu that focused on intelligence rather than strength and chakra. Hidden Mask Village, in the Hidden Federation, had also caught his interest, as the masks could not only conceal his identity if he wanted, but they also granted abilities to the wearer. At the end of the list, but not at all indicative of order of importance, was Hidden Soul Village, also in the Hidden Federation, which had a counter to people that could negate Genjutsu, which would be crucial for him.
After this rest and mental cataloguing, Daichi moves back to practicing the skills he wanted to learn. He would order the villages and techniques by importance and urgency later, to create a travel itinerary that would help him stay on track once he left the village. He practices the final technique he wanted, the last he has to master. That of psionic blasts, using his mental power to harm his opponents. A crucial skill to have, he spends hours working on the technique. He first focuses on chakra gathering and shaping, creating the orbs over and over, maintaining them, then letting them disperse harmlessly. After he was able to create large enough orbs, he moved on to using them to attack, the focus now on accurately firing the orbs and ensuring they detonate at the correct time to cause the most damage as possible. Eventually, after showing he could but a dent in a fairly strong tree, the technique was considered mastered.
Retiring for the evening, Daichi made his mental itinerary. He had planned to do it tomorrow, but he had finished mastering the skills faster than he expected and he wanted to leave for the other villages as early as possible. Consequently, in order to allow him to leave out first thing tomorrow morning, he spends the evening making his list. First on his list was Feudal Spira, where he could build a firearm to give him a powerful combat weapon that made use of his intelligence. He had heard of a “sniper rifle”, a powerful weapon that functioned at long distances, which would complement his short range psionic blasts perfectly. After that was the Village Hidden in the Leaves, where he planned to learn several Genjutsu with which he could affect the minds of his enemies. Hell Viewing, Bug Paranoia, Kamina Genjutsu, and Flower Petal Escape are a few among the several he wants to learn. He also wanted to learn Genjutsu Release and Murder of Crows Confusion Technique, as well as a few Taijutsu that made use of his intelligence. Of course there were many more Leaf Village techniques he wanted to learn than he would while he was there, but those where the ones he wanted to learn before he attempted Chuunin. Next on his village tour was Hidden Soul Village, to learn the Ascension Taijutsu and the Fear Me Ninjutsu, which would help against clones and people who attempted to cancel his genjutsu. Next was a quick trip to Hidden Whirlpool Village, to learn Forced Suicide, Mind Wipe, and Churning Clock. While the village had tons of techniques he wanted to learn, those are the ones he would need for the Chuunin exams. The final village on his tour before he felt ready for the exams, was Hidden Rain Village, where he would get more Genjutsu such as Sly Mind Affect Technique and the Demonic Illusions, as well as a couple more Taijutsu such as String Reeling Technique, Wire Cage, Murderous Grasp, and Hidden Hooks. He reviews this itinerary in his head, making sure it was what he wanted, then laid down to sleep and rest so he could set out on his journey tomorrow.
Post Word Count: 983 x 2 = 1,966 Words Total Word Count: 1,094 + 1,966 = 3,060 Words
Daichi rose early in the morning, to get ready to set out on his journey as early as possible. He packs what he thinks he needs, as well as some reading material for the journey. He packs some changes of clothes, though all he owned were copies of the same outfit. He grabbed his great grandfather’s cane, which he had been told had some secrets of its own, as well as a hat and mask that upon touching, he knew had belonged to his great aunt and youngest uncle respectively. He had a light breakfast, packed a light lunch, and then set out. He takes a slow walk to the village gate, savoring the eternal night the village was in, before he had to venture out into the accursed daylight that other places had. As he leaves the village and enters the relative brightness of a late morning, he pulls the hat down to shield his eyes and sets off on the path to this Feudal Spira he wanted to visit.
Post Word Count: 171 x 2 = 342 Words Total Word Bank: 360 + 342 = 702 Words
Xzavior’s time away from the academy and greater shinobi life had not been wasted. While the other, less brilliant young students tended to invasions and impersonal squabbles, seeming content to go on murdering eachother back and forth, Xzavior Smith of Clan Benimaru had been hard at work.
Finding the droll drudgery of study amongst those who were so clearly beneath him nothing if not unfulfilling, and with his coffers heavy with funds from his dearly departed parents, the now-orphaned genius took his study into his own hands, researching the various clans and deciding who he would approach, eventually settling upon the Hidden Slumber.
At first his charm failed him, a new skill he had only begun to practice. Where words failed, gold did not, and within a short time he had employed some of the finest teachers Clan Rasui had to offer, and compensated them well for their service.
His suspicions had proved true, and his decision the correct one. Under the tutelage of the Shinobi of the Rasui Clan, Xzavior excelled. Where his own clan had taught him to master the waking world, Clan Rasui had taught him to master the world of dreams, and even to bring that world over into this one.
His progress had astonished the Shinobi there, of course, though it was no surprise to himself. It was likely they had never witnessed such brilliance as he possessed, a diamond mind, without blemish. In mere months, he had mastered nearly all that the Hidden Slumber had to offer him, even the most powerful of techniques reserved for the most powerful in the clan, despite their attempts to keep that knowledge from him.
Where there was knowledge to be found, Xzavior would find it, and find it he did.
Among the most valuable lessons that he had learned among the dreamers was the ability to elucidate his dreams. With this seemingly-mundane skill, Xzavior set himself to extending the length of his stays there, and used this time for study. In this way, he could spend weeks a night practicing his arcanum, and his Psionics began to rapidly improve as well.
Xzavior returned home quite different than when he left, in rank and stature, and in behavior. He was more powerful, and among the Rasui, in the world of dreams, he had learned to be more social, more charming. Such skills would be necessary if he were to make his mark upon the world beyond his own walls, where his genius would be wasted.
It had been a few months since his return as a Chunnin-Rank Shinobi, and though he had not left his home in quite some time, he had been just as busy.
At this moment, he was sitting at a fine wooden desk with a half-finished letter in front of him, the wood polished and gleaming, nearly devoid of smudges but for those Xzavior himself had left in the short time since it was last cleaned, a scattering of ink, a few droplets of earl grey, some grains of sugar, and a small scattering of fingerprints
His staff was very thorough, almost eager to shoo him away from his work so they could clean his ink blots and spilled tea, as if taking glee in the inconvenience they were well-paid to inflict upon him periodically. Xzavior resigned himself to the periodic invasions, though he did not take joy in it.
As if on cue, the door swung open and three such workers entered wordlessly, each going to their tasks as if the Lord of the manor was not even there. He sighed, standing from his fine leather chair, worn to comfort with extended use, and stepped back so the maid could undo his seemingly-haphazard system of organization, placing all of his papers into neat little stacks wherein he could find nothing. Unspurprisingly, the stack of papers pertaining to the family business was untouched by Xzavior’s hands, and was as neat as they had left it. He had long since delegated such affairs to Remington, as Shrewd a businessman as he was a faithful butler and friend. Under his watch, Smith Silks had flourished, without Xzavior having to give the business any of his time, in the waking world or in dreams.
While this particular was neatly placed by Remington, the other papers were scattered around the desk, as always, a seemingly-random assortment of sigils, seals, spells, encantations, notes, bits of lore, strange doodles, and what seemed to be some very bad poetry.
”They’re only doing their job.” Xzavior reminded himself mentally, forcing a strained smile to the maid that was returned with a cold stare for a mere moment before she returned to polishing mahogany, her accompaniment tending to his bookshelves and persian rug, respectively.
He knew better than to try and make conversation with the maids, they were best left to their work. His attempts at conversation had all been cruelly rebuffed so far, as numerous as they had been. He had long since given up on this endeavor, leaving the harpies to their work, which they did efficiently, and well.
He did not pay them to be friendly, and would likely tire of it quickly if they were, despite the emotional hurt their cool nature towards him had inspired at first.
It was rare that he heard them speak, and so the short sentence surprised him at first.
”There’s an ink stain on your shirt… Give it here.”
Xzavior turned around to face the source of the words, his eyes cast down to meet those of a stern-looking older woman, pointing at his chest. Xzavior looked down to see the splatter of burnt sienna on his fine cotton shirt, one of his favorites.
He looked at the old woman in shocked silence, his mouth agape. She stared back, her expression unmoving, and cold and hard as stone. There was a few moments of awkward silence that seemed to be lost on the maid, who seemed more annoyed by the second, her nostrils flaring like a beast about to charge.
In a flash of motion seemingly impossible for a human being of this maid’s age, she lurched forward, her fingers a flurry of movement as the undid every button of Xzavior’s shirt in mere seconds, roughly pulling the fine cotton blouse from his body, taking no care as to ensure his comfort in the maneuver as she pulled his arms backwards and out of his sleeves (and nearly out of their sockets), leaving him standing bare-chested in the middle of his own study, in shocked silence.
His skin prickled against the rush of cool air, and his cheeks began to flush in embarrassment at the treatment he had just received at the hands of this crone, who seem not to notice or care about his discomfort in being manhandled like an unruly toddler with jam on his shirt.
Without a single pause, the old maid left the room with his shirt in her hand, the door slamming perhaps a little too hard behind her to be by accident.
Luckily, the other two did not speak to him, about his naked chest or otherwise, as they finished their work silently and left.
Though his office was clean, he felt so dirty. He simply stood in the middle of his empty study for a few moments, as if still taking in the cruelty of their invasion, knowing they would be back, and perhaps in greater numbers.
When the time for self-pity had passed, Xzavior snapped, and another clean shirt appeared in his hand. He slipped this new shirt, borne of his own imagination (and thus likely more stylish than any other shirt like it in the realm), over his bare chest. The buttons seemed to fasten themselves, though anyone who knew anything about this village would know that telekinesis was at work, and if they knew a little more, that Xzavior was more skilled in the craft than any other shinobi.
Newly-clothed, Xzavior made his way back to his desk, pulling the leather chair back forward and taking a seat, with a sigh, and picking up a fine china teacup. He sighed, seemingly incontent with it’s temperature, and blew into the cup, which began to steam as it heated up.
Seemingly satisfied, he took a tentative sip of the heavily-sweetened Earl Grey and set the cup back down, pulling the half-read letter a little closer across the newly-polished wooden surface of the desk.
It seemed that a Shinobi of The Hidden Soul had grand plans for the realm, and more specifically the core villages. It was no surprise that word of his skill had made its way even to the federation of villages. He was truly one of the greatest shinobi of the modern age.
Xzavior admired this Death Eater’s gumption, to be sure. This admiration grew as he continued reading. There was passion in these words, Xzavior knew. This shinobi would go far, or die brutally, one. In either case, he would be significant, and Xzavior would be keeping tabs on his progress, in case such an alliance could one day benefit himself or his clan.
However, Xzavior was unsure why he was being contacted about this. He feared this stranger may be under the foolish thought that Xzavior’s word carried much weight among his fellow Benimaru, most of whom were ancient men, arrogant and old fashioned, opposed to new ideas or even suggestions from those younger than them. The Benimaru did not follow. They lead. They would not follow him to war, and he would never dare ask them to. They were thinkers, not soldiers. Xzavior and his clan were content to leave politics and war to those dull enough to find meaning in such drudgery. There were greater forces at play in the world that they were uniquely suited to address, far more dire than silly squabbles between clans.
Xzavior took some time to read the letter over several times, as unnecessary as it was. He had remembered every word on first pass. Old habits died hard, he guessed. When he was confident he understood what was being asked, Xzavior finally set the letter down, pulling forward a parchment of his own, and sliding a fine wooden case towards him.
Opening the wooden box, Xzavior revealed a fine wooden pen, gilded in silver and gold. He uncorked a new bottle of ink in jet black, dipping the pen inside and leaving it there as he paused again, as if gathering his thoughts.
He dipped the pen again and wiped off the tip before finally setting n** to paper, and scrawling hastily, but neatly, in fine curving cursive, the letters ornate and looping.
”Alexandr of Hidden Soul,
I hope this missive finds you well. I was surprised and delighted to receive your request for alli-”
Within a few moments of beginning his response, there was a loud knock at the door, insistent, but not panicked. Xzavior knew the knock well. Another sigh escaped Xzavior’s mouth as he set his pen down and pushed away from his desk once more, waving a hand to open the door for his butler, Remington.
Remington, a scowling man in his mid seventies bedecked in a fine black tuxedo befitting of his station and worth, did not waste time in delivering his information. He, perhaps even more than the master of his house, was not one for lengthy conversation.
”Master Smith, I fear there is an angry crowd gathering at the gate.”, Remington spoke, his tone monotone and droll, words coming forth without haste, a simple relaying of information with no sense of urgency.
”Well? Tell them to leave?” Xzavior replied with clear annoyance in his voice.
”I’m afraid it is not quite that simple, Sir. They are birds.” ”Birds?! What in the bloody-” ”American Turkeys, if my knowledge does not fail me.” ”Come now, Remington. I know the Americans can be crude, but it is not kind to call them names.” Xzavior admonished. ”If only sir. I am referring to the variety of fowl enjoyed at yuletide feasts, though these seem a bit more… predatory than most.” ”Perfect! Tell the kitchen staff to begin the preparations!” ”I do not think that will be possible. We have already lost 4 men, and the flock only grows.” ”Bring me one of these birds, please. Alive, if at all possible.” ”Very well, sir.” Remington turned on his heels, as if in a practiced maneuver, and left the room.
While Xzavior waited for his butler to return, becoming impatient within a minute or so, and torturously bored within five.
Remington returned with a live turkey in his arms, grasping it in a way that prevented it from lashing out with beak or claw, pinning it helplessly against himself. Where this skill had been learned was a mystery for Xzavior, and one that only grew when he laid eyes upon the savage feathered beast that was presented to him.
The creature was more claw and beak than anything else, it’s scant muscles tough and wiry, patches of feathers missing and open wounds from the seemingly-heated combat that had led to its capture.
This would not do. This turkey was useless for eating.
The turkey was wrenched from Remington’s grasp by an unseen force, as the window flung itself open. The sounds of a pitched battle could be heard from the courtyard below echoing through the open window, the sounds of gobbles and screams of human death calling from far below.
”Call off the chefs. These are pathetic.”
”I will do so post haste.” Remington replied, though he had never mustered the kitchen staff.
Without another word, the turkey flew out of the window, and an assortment of stones appeared around it, smashing into it until a lifeless bird body fell to the ground several stories below.
”Inform me of any further developments, Remington. Thank you. You may leave.”
”Very well sir.” Remington replied with a bow, and left, closing the window and then the door behind him.
With this task finished, and somewhat disappointed at the loss of a prospective turkey dinner, Xzavior returned to his letters.
