His companions had cleaned the area up well. Around the Isaki was a clearing in the forest that was centered around a large temple of golden bricks. Scorch marks lined the inside of the temple showing where an insane, power mad shinobi had killed his own followers in a fit of desire. This contrasted with the fact that the ground underfoot was damp and wet, after effects from one of his own betrothed's better aimed assaults from that night. But this was not the place of their meeting.
Hoshikata would head deeper into the forest, letting the spirits of the forest guide him. He saw them clear as day, these souls that belonged to the dead of this land. People who had killed themselves, or been killed, people who had come here for love and companionship and died finding neither or both and old in their beds. He saw them all, and they were leading him to the secluded area he sought. Soon he found it, and parted a wall of foliage to enter it.
Hoshikata wore his black robes with gold trim, and on his feet were supple black boots of fine leather. His hood was up to hide his long, shock white hair from sight, but the glimpses any would catch under it would be of his golden-tinted skin and those eyes. Rings of white around rings of gold around black hourglasses. His stare saw through you to the soul itself, to the very core of your spirit.
He grabs a clump of dirt and blows onto it, letting the life of his own body enter it. And then he drops it. Where it falls a hand rises from the soil, and soon an arm. Within moments a full skeleton stands before him, bowing its head and awaiting orders from its god. ”Bring my brother to me. And that woman.”
Hoshikata would head deeper into the forest, letting the spirits of the forest guide him. He saw them clear as day, these souls that belonged to the dead of this land. People who had killed themselves, or been killed, people who had come here for love and companionship and died finding neither or both and old in their beds. He saw them all, and they were leading him to the secluded area he sought. Soon he found it, and parted a wall of foliage to enter it.
Hoshikata wore his black robes with gold trim, and on his feet were supple black boots of fine leather. His hood was up to hide his long, shock white hair from sight, but the glimpses any would catch under it would be of his golden-tinted skin and those eyes. Rings of white around rings of gold around black hourglasses. His stare saw through you to the soul itself, to the very core of your spirit.
He grabs a clump of dirt and blows onto it, letting the life of his own body enter it. And then he drops it. Where it falls a hand rises from the soil, and soon an arm. Within moments a full skeleton stands before him, bowing its head and awaiting orders from its god. ”Bring my brother to me. And that woman.”