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 Ouroboros: Creation (Flashback)

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Mako Mitsurugi
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PostSubject: Ouroboros: Creation (Flashback)   Mon Oct 08, 2018 6:09 pm

The hot winds blasted across the dunes of the wasteland, carrying the sands with them so that when they made contact with the traveler's face they would sting his eyes and dry out the man's already parched mouth.  It was truly impossible to see more than 15 meters in any direction without some form of advanced sensory jutsu, which Draego lacked entirely.  The odd thing was, that despite the awful weather and circumstances, the white haired man's mood was unaffected.  Mortality was such an odd thing among men, when you could die at any second it seemed everything could be truly appreciated, the fear of losing all of beauty and splendor in life made it that much more enjoyable.  A joy that Draego no longer remembered, instead the world came to him in black and white with varying shades of grey, and pain and pleasure had no more impact than a bee sting or a pleasant aroma, he was truly numb.  There was only one vivid pastel that broke the monotony, it would cascade into his perception and further drown out everything around him.  That was the crimson splash of blood, the viscous life giving liquid would haunt his waking hours begging for release.  At all times he craved the rich iron taste on his tongue and the gushing pumping feeling of it being released from his own body as he merged with another being and they shared a new bond, one more intimate than any sexual encounter, they shared death, they shared pain.

Ever since the rituals that made him who he was, that was all the man could live for.  It drove every action and decision that was made.  Like an opiate fiend in a field of wild poppys, he could no longer control these urges.  That is why, in the middle of a sandstorm that ravaged his body he felt at peace with the events that transpired, because it was here that Draego, the Sin Collector would live out the remainder of his life in solitude.  Deep within the Land of Wind in an isolated part of the desert where no Oasis could be found and even desert fauna dared not grow, this wasteland was a paradise.

This decision had not come easily to the tattooed warrior. No not easily at all, surrounded by beautiful escorts who for the right price would pleasure him, with bottles of fine spirits that would take away the memories, finding himself underneath of an exotic Sunagakure beauty the only sound he could hear was a "tha-thunk" rapidly repeating, growing faster and faster, and as every beat grew louder and quicker until the sound drowned out every thing else in the room and he could no longer concentrate on anything else and tearing open the woman's neck and watching it spray was all he longed for.  The finely muscled tattooed man would throw the woman off of him to the side of the bed and stand, resisting the urge to unleash his one desire, sinking further and further away from love and into a chasm of murderous hate.  This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  It was too far, he could no longer enjoy anything other than that, the descent from humanity into the monster that the accursed Jashin wished for the disciple was well underway, the only way to prevent the plunge into darkness was isolation, in the place where the once proud warrior stood.

The sand flitted into the cracks of eyes and the edges of his mouth, anywhere where a spec of moisture could be found, the sand landed forming a small wad of wet sand, were he not cursed the tall lone figure would've died of exposure and dehydration days ago, but Draego would not be so lucky, no matter how much he prayed this desert would not be his grave, but instead a prison.  The backs of his legs twitched, entirely exhausted from the journey and the muscles began to spasm and the strength would give out within them, the knees would begin to bend as they came down and rested on the hot sand with a thud, at that moment he strained the muscles in his back in the hopes that it would obey and keep his muscled body upright, but it did not as his upper body leaned forward and planted face first into the ground.  His strength was at the very end.  "I will take a small break, fuck I could really use some water,"  Draego thought to himself, the idea of water giving him hope to move on.  The left hand placed flat upon the ground he would push himself upward using the right as a steadying brace to aid in the lift, the left leg would shoot forward and land flat on the ground giving him the ability to push off and begin the perilous journey once more, though having immortality does remove many of the perils.

It appeared as though the mindless walk with the partial limp Draego was undertaking would seemingly never end, as the thirst and hunger pains grew from deep within making the journey that much more difficult. "This was a shit idea," Draego said aloud to himself somewhat spurring himself on, his right arm clutched his right as his left foot seemed to be dragged through the sand.  If there were any village shinobi nearby they would easily spot the tracks, luckily it was a dense snowstorm and Sunagakure no Sato was never well known for high quality recon.  The traveler moved for miles, only managing through willpower alone.  

"Its about goddamn time, piece of shit desert,"  Draego screamed aloud his voice raspy and dry as the sandstorm began to subside, revealing a sprawling charred and cracked earth wasteland covered in 5 tall meter cacti.  Draego teemed with delight at the fortuitous event that had just unfolded.  He was so thirsty he could concentrate on nothing else, so as the blowing winds died down The white haired man limped over to one of the large cactuses, left hand moving deftly and skillfully it would reach around to behind the man right at the lower back and would produce a slim black kunai by placing his index finger through the hook on the tail of the projectile,  in one movement he would spin it three times and at the rotation of the third spin he would grab it blade up and stab a hole into the cactus, then turned the blade 90 degrees clearing the spines surrounding the hole in a 3 foot diameter, until the area surrounding the hole was clear of any spines.  The hole upon the large green stalk would begin to swell and eventually would produce a few droplets of green liquid which Draego would hurriedly lap up.  Stabbing the hole three more times softening the cactus' insides the liquid would begin to drip out more rapidly, creating a steady stream of water, it would take all of the cacti in the immediate are to even begin slaking the man's thirst but the cool water hitting his throat was satisfying enough.

A movement upon the earth two meters to his right would catch his eye at this point, Draego noted the position of the sun realizing darkness was quickly approaching, this meant the desert would soon come to life.   With a flick of his wrist the kunai would deftly leave his hand and fly penetrating the sand in the area of the movement. It was most certainly a scorpion preparing for its nocturnal hunting, this was a good sign, these creatures only frequented areas with signs of life, and in the desert there was only life where there was water.  It would be deep but he was certain a well would produce it.  Feeling refreshed the man would stand and turn his head back and forth causing the bones in his neck to resonate a large popping noise, and would jaunt over to where the kunai now stood out of the ground, bullseye a medium size emperor scorpion, or as the Jashinist would call it, a light supper.

Biting the hard shelled invertebrate would pose no challenge and he placed its head and upper torso in his mouth and clamped down making a large crunching noise, it tasted horrible but it did fill his stomach.  He ate everything but the tail saving the poison gland for other reasons.  Draego would proceed to set up a camp, mashing the cactus and draining it of all the moisture he could then using it to build a small fire. Which would inversely keep the plethora of scorpions at bay, while he could start killing as many as could be found, and eating them.  It was not fine dining but it wouldn't take long for energy to return to him, and for the Sin Collector to realize this was truly isolation.

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“I hate swordsman, self righteous killers who disguise it as an art form. They can burn in Hell.”
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PostSubject: Re: Ouroboros: Creation (Flashback)   Sat Oct 13, 2018 12:04 pm

When wandering the vast world, people often had to hurry their travels, to not truly let all of the atmosphere and culture sink in as they were continuously pulled by the invisible thread of destiny, a constant lurching towards the inevitable demise of all creatures. Spend too much time in one place, and your time was wasted as you never got to broaden your horizons, no opportunity to meet a group so drastically different that they challenged your own views on how the world functioned. For people such as Shou, this thread was much further away than most, the ripples caused by the tugging on the other end much further away with less of a pull, yet moreso a suggestion. Remember, death comes for all things, great and small.

At the start of his journey, Shou had imagined the crescendo of fate to be much closer than it was, or rather, perhaps he had hoped.. He no longer truly remembered, yet the idea of eternity had been momentarily unbearable for the Tau. Immortality was wasted when it could not be spent with others, watching them decay and break down around you only opened your heart to more suffering.. and how long did it take before even an undying heart found itself so scarred that it could no longer truly feel? He hoped to never experience such hollowness, for it must truly be a curse. In this life where he could still dance, laugh, and cry.. sometimes all at once. Emotion was the greatest blessing of all, much more than the threads that formed within his shell of a body. To be able to see the joy on anothers face and to feel it yourself, the relief from saving the life of another and their unending appreciation for your efforts. Humans were such an interesting bunch, that eternity itself was not a traumatising thought anymore.. they constantly evolved and adapted to their surroundings, becoming more vicious when need be, or even more passive when the situation called for it. Other animals had difficulty emulating these behaviours, as it was in their nature to be how they were without a facade of social conditioning, that was why they remained beasts.

That was how Shou had came across a group of humans that seemed almost more animal than men, twisted and malformed by the burdens of the desert. Initially they had been hostile to the roaming medic, staking him out from 30 meters before they gradually closed the distance with each measured step in the white hot sand. Shou was unaware of their presence, his focus had been on the heat that beat down upon him like a smothering pillow. A single flourishing of his arm expanded the dull, beige cloak around his body so that he was given more room to work with inside while remaining within its delicate shadow. A straw hat was securely nestled on top of his messy scalp, providing his face with the soothing shade that it so craved in the blistering sun. Any creature that could live in this climate was one that he wished to study, as they were clearly an affront to any higher being's will.. their life a very defiance on what should and shouldn't be possible.

"No move. Fight, die."

Shou stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment he wondered whether the heat had got to him so much that he'd started hallucinating.. he'd heard of these events before and it would be very detrimental to his existence if he was to pass out in the middle of the vastest desert.. he'd never be found.. That was when he heard the shuffling of sand that caused him to turn his head, noting the emergence of figures covered head to toe in order to protect them from the blistering warmth. He hadn't been hallucinating, yet his main problem had been transformed into one of equal significance.. savages of the sand. Empathy would not come easily with these people, he knew, as the desert was a hard place to live, their livelihoods depended on being able to catch dangerous, nigh-inedible creatures and preying on those straggling around their turf. It was his turn to be robbed.

Lifting his hands slowly into the air, Shou spoke with a hint of excitement in his voice and friendliness, a tone that he'd heard many times before from people he'd encountered in taverns, "Friends, if you seek to feast upon me, you'll find yourself in poor luck." The bandits continued their advancement towards their victim, his words not deterring them in the slightest, yet they didn't need to. With each action, each reaction, he learnt more about the people that inhabited this wasteland. Their desire to survive was something that he had to respect, even when they clumsily frisked his body, finding nothing on him other than his cloak, underclothes, and hat. A light push came from one of the party, yet he stood his ground rather than allowing them to do what they wanted. If he gave up an inch they'd take everything from him, so he had to blend in. Some people could not be reasoned with, yet.. he would try for now. "As I said, friends, you will gain nothing from killing me. I'm inedible." He highlighted this statement by having some threads explode from his exposed areas, which were few, flooding out from his body to surround him like copious balls of yarn before they retreated back within his body. A few gasps of shock and hungering groans escaped the cheated party. This wouldn't be enough to secure his life, they wanted to vent their aggression even though it'd be a waste of their energy.. humans were emotional creatures after all.

The threads took a few moments to readjust within his body, amplifying him in the appropriate areas to give him the look of an athletic man, his voice slightly modified to be deeper while his body actively changed, "However, I can share some cured food.. some water.. yet I can not do this until you aid me." The attention of the group now pierced the embodiment of Earth Grudge Fear, there was a look in their eyes of frenzied desperation.. one that suggested he had them in his palm. Their trust would not be betrayed, nor forgotten, "I need a special herb, one that's blue with purple specks lining its body.. retrieve me some of these, and I will ensure your bellies are sated today." The offer was a tumultuous one, yet the group had little choice in the off-chance Shou was not a demon. They exchanged glances with one another before stepping away, combing the desert for the herb that would in turn save them, despite their ignorance of its capabilities.

In the meantime, with the brief peace Shou had found, he decided it would be most aptly used by following one of the survivalists to study their actions in more depth. He was curious as to how they navigated such a vast expanse of land and still managed to find one another, or perhaps.. some people were just lost and that meant less mouths to share with. Survival was cruel, yet how far some people would go to attain it was a beautiful thing.. if only everyone could be saved. The man he followed, one of average height and stature, wore light clothing that allowed them the comfort of darkness in this hell. His eyes caught notice of the mans gait, stumbling every few steps.. the hunger of this tribe was genuine, and that much was to be expected, yet the heart of the Tau panged.. he could help him right now, if only.. A few stitchings opened silently before threads removing a single wrapped package and a leather bottle filled to the brim with water. "Stop, wait." Shou insisted, hurrying to be beside the man now that they were out of the line of sight of his companions, he offered him the wrapped package of a few slices of meat, which the man hungrily devoured with a grateful expression. He reached out for the bottle, but Shou pulled it back. He knew a scuffle would ensue if he handed it over to him when he tried to retrieve it. Instead, he opened the leather bottle with his eyes carefully on the male in case he tried to catch him off guard, he made the gesture for the man to open his mouth which he did before the cold, fresh water was temporarily poured down his cracked throat, easing his pain and earning his temporary loyalty. Every loyalty was fleeting, shinobi knew that all too well. Fixing the cap back onto the bottle he gestured for the man to go back to scavenging while he hid the bottle once more.

More time elapsed in the desert and the sun was soon to set, Shou had almost given up hope on the one he'd used his resources on, frustration plaguing the immortal as his best opportunity to comb the desert had been wasted. That was until he noticed a single plant, almost hidden in the sand.. yet it was blue.. with purple specks. Relief washed over the man as he rushed over to the herb, delicately plucking it from the sand and shielding it within his cloak. It was time to return to the others now that he'd found his goal, after all, that was the promise. Turning around to the man he'd helped earlier, curious on how they'd find their way back to the others, he noticed something peculiar.. he was digging away at the boiling sand. His hands calloused enough to not feel the true burn he frantically brushed it away, revealing a tunnel that had been hidden beneath the sand. It was worth noting that he'd moved from his initial position a few meters, an innate knowledge on the systems seemed to be the advantage of this group. He followed the man into the tunnels, as the ensuing sandstorm would blanket the entrance once more.

Moving through the network of systems with his companion, he once again had his stitching under the cloak open so that he could retrieve ample packages and the leather bottle once more, he pondered whether he'd ever see it again. After what felt like an hour of walking in the confined area the man was lead to a deeper caravan within the space, one where the small group from earlier had gathered, that was when his eyes lit up.. they'd found more of the herbs he'd requested. Perfect. Some weren't exactly to the specification he'd requested, yet he was grateful regardless. "You've done great, friends, here's your reward as promised. I will collect the herbs and be on my way, I will return another day with more food and water." Shou spoke as he threw the packages towards individual members in the caravan, keeping the bottle for now while he made his way towards the herbs so that he could wrap them all up in a pouch he had attached his belt. A few eyes focused on Shou despite the food, something he'd anticipated.. they likely wondered how he'd recovered the meat they were now devouring, and whether he had more.. but before they could make any indication of that to their companions, Shou rolled the almost-full leather bottle on the floor towards the center of the caravan, an action that caused the frantic scurrying of the sand dwellers to crash into one another in an attempt to get the claim. With that chaos, Shou made his way back out the same way he came, having lightly dug his foot into the base of the sand so that he could remember it despite the dim light.

Pulling himself out from the network of tunnels back into the heat of the desert, Shou immediately started his move in a different direction. He was unsure on where he was going as the night pulled itself over the land, yet he knew that he'd meet interesting people. He already had. His hands secured the pouch towards his belt again just to ensure its safety before he pushed out his cloak once more, before The Ancient continued to wander across the inhospitable plains of sweeping sand.

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PostSubject: Re: Ouroboros: Creation (Flashback)   Fri Nov 30, 2018 3:47 pm

The world of dreams, a place where mundane images swirled with the ethereal creating a dreamscape that is limited only by the dreamer's imagination, but shaped by that individual's subconscious.  Should a person find themselves lost in this twilight the only escape is to wake themselves.  Draego, in this moment did find himself in this very world of imaginary enemies and the reincarnations of his own sins.  The white haired Jashin now stood shirtless staring over a cliff face that seemed to span the entire world, continuing on for what seemed like an eternity.  He could look around and take in the bluish black sky littered with specs of light or the crashing of the waves at the bottom of the cliff but his attention continuously drew him back to one spot upon the surface of the water at the bottom of the cliff.  A tiny dot on the horizon, could be a small boat or large piece of driftwood.  That was until it had gotten closer.  Time passed, as time does pass within dreams, hauntingly slowly but taking no time at all.  He could see exactly what it was, as clear as day down to every detail, a body, a young adult male no older than sixteen with black hair and normal clothing aside from a black flak jacket adorning his torso.  His eyes closed peacefully floating atop the water, unmoving like a corpse.  Draego's mind flush with emotion relived the memory, over and over: His First Kill.

As a boy Draego had no spectacular chakra control skills, nothing that impressed anyone within the village that could've spurred on a normal life for the child, maybe if he did he would not be in this very position, instead living comfortably and safely within a village carrying the weight of his parents pride and being a role model within the community.  He hated that that life appealed to him, especially since that went against everything he stood for now.  He did have one thing that stood out among the people in the village noticed, and would warrant a great degree of attention, the black haired boy had a penchant for weapons and the bloodthirst of the god of slaughter himself.  He would cut down those he fought without remorse, oftentimes having to be stopped from the finishing blow.  Of course, he did this solely because it was a necessity, it seemed that only those who showed true strength and an unwillingness to compromise were offered advancements, and Draego would not fail, that was not an option, for his parents pride.  It would be that mind set which carried him to his first exam, a combat test with an older student not much older than 16 who was already around chuunin level.  The fight was obviously no longer a test scenario, Drago knew that in this moment only one would leave the field this day.  If Draego lost he would be sent on to the strange cult that had lingered outside the village asking for young new recruits to join the cause, if he won he knew that the boy he was now facing, would never live a normal life.  At least this was how he imagined the scenario, in truth it was not nearly as dire just ending with a judgement on each child's combat ability.  The fight ended as quickly as it had begun with Draego getting the upper hand early and eventually piercing the boy's hip with a direct stab, forcing the boy to fall.  Thinking that this opponent would go on to have to live a disgraced life within the village or worse, Draego showed mercy, mercy at the end of a sharpened Katana, sweeping horizontally and removing the head of the boy.  The entirety of the onlookers gasped in shock and awe, having no idea that would be the outcome.  The rushing of the onlookers was all he could see as he was forcefully grabbed and bound by the authorities, he then knew that the paranoid situation that he had imagined was one constructed within his own mind and that he had just murdered an innocent.  The truly ironic aspect was that a skull masked cultist just happened to be watching, and offered him an alternative life, a life that Draego did not want, but at that young of an age, that decision wasn't his to make, he was a criminal and the options were death or the cult.

The image of his first kill floating upon the water seemed peaceful and serene, he imagined that it was a scarring image that he would never forget no matter how hard he tried to.  He could drink himself into a stupor or load himself on opiates and that face would always haunt his memories, the only thing that curved this was to kill more, and keep killing.  The image became more clear as though it was right in front of him, as the water crashed over the corpse it seemed to wipe off the mask on its face, revealing the true identity of the corpse, a face that the white haired jashinist knew too well, his own.  How poetic that his subconscious recognized that his first kill truly was himself.  He destroyed any hope of a normal life by the mercy he had shown.  There was no longer a time for mercy killings, just killing that had no purpose other than to ease the pain and guilt that he currently felt.  The corpse's eyes remained peacefully shut, the face now starting to shift between each and every victim of his own murderous rampage that he had been on for years, ever since he became one with the Lord Jashin, god of slaughter and death.  It would be then that the eyes would snap open, but inside were not eyeballs but instead maggots, squirming about feasting on decayed flesh, the entire dreamscape would shift, as the water then turned to blood and rose up the cliff face enveloping him within it, the viscous red liquid sucking Draego down swallowing him into the opaque liquid.  The sky turned black as the lights in the sky died, and all that remained was darkness and the stench of death, up until the point in which he ran out of breath.

His eyes shot open revealing a starry twilight, the horizon was dressed in a golden light where the sun had began its ascent into the sky.  The condemned jashinist gasped for breath the dream had overtaken reality as though he had laid there sleeping without breathing.  The immortal man proceeded to clutch at his chest, as he did so he would be met with the pain of a thousand sharp piercing sensations all over his body, as he would quickly notice that he was covered in scorpions, Black Emperor scorpions to be precise. Each one tearing away his flesh in small clumps of flesh and shoveling it into their mandibles.  Each tear was an inconsequential amount of pain, but with the vast amount of scorpions that had clustered to him and were now feasting on him.  The pain was excruciating, and any normal being would be a corpse at this point, and the immortal wished that he could, not because of the pain though. He was a smorgasbord of meat, constantly healing never rotting it would be never ending for them to devour him.  His mind ticked, would they eventually leave him? If he moved he would be stung and filled with poison, the recovery would take days and would be buried in so much sand that it would likely mean he could not climb out, buried in the desert wastes with no way out.  It was over.  Draego knew, defeat was at hand.   It was over 22 years gone, wasted.  He wished he could help more people, he wished that the people killed would forgive him he wished he could see his parents face again.  He missed his old life, how did this happen?  There was enough regret within him that he could never be truly happy, but at least people were safe.  Drawing to himself all of the courage that existed in the core of his body, and mustered the strength to move.   

Seven to eight seconds is all it would take for the poison to fill the veins with ice water,  it would take even less time for the man to lose control of his body and even less time: consciousness


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