This is an existence rife with peril.
Some eons ago, there was an insignificant moment that finally set in motion the rise of man, and their descent into the terror we know today. Picture a tree standing alone in a stony field in the dry season. Rain has not touched the ground in two hundred days, and finally, the sky comes alive with the roll of thunder as a storm has come. At the base of the lone tree sat your predecessors… still fur-backed ape-men, merely gathering the tinder for their awakening as a brilliant species. At night, they have begun to recognize the glory of a sky filled with stars, courtesy of psycho-active mushrooms grown from patties of dried auroch dung.
The first spark of inspiration— before the arrival of divinity— was the lightning strike that split the great tree in twine. It was not beauty or wisdom that served as the first spark that set man apart from the beast, but fear. There was once shelter found in the great tree, as the apes feed upon its fruit, and found safety from the faster predators on four legs. But, with the lightning came the blaze of flame, and with the destruction of their shelter came the requirement for a man to rise and walk. The end of a branch still burned, only slowed by the sap... and the first man-ape to conquer his fear that raised the branch high discovered the power of fire.
I won’t bore you with the statistics to back this up, so I’ll just trust you to believe my great empirical knowledge on this. Every summer, there is an evil spirit that visits the village hidden in the sand in the last week before autumn, specifically between the dates of September 16th and 23rd. Each year, there is a fire… not your regular grease fire or electrical hazard, rather, an unexplainable blaze that consumes a structure within the village, and with it, a minimum of one casualty. In this modern age, our village has surely evolved practices to prevent such occurrences and yet— it inevitably occurs without failure.
With more pressing matters at hand and the fire of summer’s end seeming coincidental to the non-superstitious, little to no energy was ever put into investigating the fires before they occur. Unfortunately, this year was no different as an apartment building in the silver district went up in flames only the night before. Survivors of the incident described their escape as being so harrowing as if the flames combatted their efforts by proactively creating barricades of enflamed debris. An unprecedented number of casualties have been uncovered, approximately five people, which was a lot for a circumstance unrelated to acts of violence, However, not all of the tenants within the building have been accounted for, with three people still considered missing.
Of course, not one but two squads of shinobi have been assigned to comb through the wreckage of the apartment building, which still has not collapsed entirely, but is considered to be at imminent risk of doing so. Any desire by untrained shinobi to assist in the investigation or clean up have been told to stay back as the site was still dangerous.
There was a crowd formed beyond the barricades from the street; nothing brought people together like the sense of community after a disaster. Countless candles, photos, and letters were being posted up on a brick wall erected by one of the shinobi manning the demolition crew. Among the crowd was none other than Jintou, who mingled among the masses with a heavy heart and suspicion on his mind. After so many recent events concerning the unexplained and impossible set around the Hidden Sand, Jintou could not help but suspect that there was something vile at work. Three incidents involving the supernatural had wormed their way into his life in a matter of weeks, to the point that the boy was feeling victimized and hungry for a chance to fight back. Like so many others, Jintou approached a pair of gate guards reassigned to control the crowd outside of the condemned complex. As a mere academy student, he hardly stood a chance at pleading his case for being helpful, so he was swiftly turned aside.
And so, if he could not enter the building he decided to have a look around the area outside. As you likely know by now, the silver district was a brilliant symbol of commerce and modernity within the village. However, every light cast creates a shadow, and Jintou’s foray into the allies behind the complex presented more than clues, but the filth behind the stove; the places where darkness and depravity did not hide their hands.
Jintou lifted the leathery hood of his cobalt, chitin jacket as if he felt shame just for venturing in such a place. He was searching for clues, but he was first met by a circle of strangers in odd, filthy garments, gathered around a trash fire in a barrel. They were not innocent homeless folk, rather, they appeared like conspirators and glanced at the young shinobi with a strange glow in their eyes.
- Jintou has entered the thread.
- Requesting @Miroku Akkuma and @Okami Roku
Some eons ago, there was an insignificant moment that finally set in motion the rise of man, and their descent into the terror we know today. Picture a tree standing alone in a stony field in the dry season. Rain has not touched the ground in two hundred days, and finally, the sky comes alive with the roll of thunder as a storm has come. At the base of the lone tree sat your predecessors… still fur-backed ape-men, merely gathering the tinder for their awakening as a brilliant species. At night, they have begun to recognize the glory of a sky filled with stars, courtesy of psycho-active mushrooms grown from patties of dried auroch dung.
The first spark of inspiration— before the arrival of divinity— was the lightning strike that split the great tree in twine. It was not beauty or wisdom that served as the first spark that set man apart from the beast, but fear. There was once shelter found in the great tree, as the apes feed upon its fruit, and found safety from the faster predators on four legs. But, with the lightning came the blaze of flame, and with the destruction of their shelter came the requirement for a man to rise and walk. The end of a branch still burned, only slowed by the sap... and the first man-ape to conquer his fear that raised the branch high discovered the power of fire.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
I won’t bore you with the statistics to back this up, so I’ll just trust you to believe my great empirical knowledge on this. Every summer, there is an evil spirit that visits the village hidden in the sand in the last week before autumn, specifically between the dates of September 16th and 23rd. Each year, there is a fire… not your regular grease fire or electrical hazard, rather, an unexplainable blaze that consumes a structure within the village, and with it, a minimum of one casualty. In this modern age, our village has surely evolved practices to prevent such occurrences and yet— it inevitably occurs without failure.
With more pressing matters at hand and the fire of summer’s end seeming coincidental to the non-superstitious, little to no energy was ever put into investigating the fires before they occur. Unfortunately, this year was no different as an apartment building in the silver district went up in flames only the night before. Survivors of the incident described their escape as being so harrowing as if the flames combatted their efforts by proactively creating barricades of enflamed debris. An unprecedented number of casualties have been uncovered, approximately five people, which was a lot for a circumstance unrelated to acts of violence, However, not all of the tenants within the building have been accounted for, with three people still considered missing.
Of course, not one but two squads of shinobi have been assigned to comb through the wreckage of the apartment building, which still has not collapsed entirely, but is considered to be at imminent risk of doing so. Any desire by untrained shinobi to assist in the investigation or clean up have been told to stay back as the site was still dangerous.
There was a crowd formed beyond the barricades from the street; nothing brought people together like the sense of community after a disaster. Countless candles, photos, and letters were being posted up on a brick wall erected by one of the shinobi manning the demolition crew. Among the crowd was none other than Jintou, who mingled among the masses with a heavy heart and suspicion on his mind. After so many recent events concerning the unexplained and impossible set around the Hidden Sand, Jintou could not help but suspect that there was something vile at work. Three incidents involving the supernatural had wormed their way into his life in a matter of weeks, to the point that the boy was feeling victimized and hungry for a chance to fight back. Like so many others, Jintou approached a pair of gate guards reassigned to control the crowd outside of the condemned complex. As a mere academy student, he hardly stood a chance at pleading his case for being helpful, so he was swiftly turned aside.
And so, if he could not enter the building he decided to have a look around the area outside. As you likely know by now, the silver district was a brilliant symbol of commerce and modernity within the village. However, every light cast creates a shadow, and Jintou’s foray into the allies behind the complex presented more than clues, but the filth behind the stove; the places where darkness and depravity did not hide their hands.
Jintou lifted the leathery hood of his cobalt, chitin jacket as if he felt shame just for venturing in such a place. He was searching for clues, but he was first met by a circle of strangers in odd, filthy garments, gathered around a trash fire in a barrel. They were not innocent homeless folk, rather, they appeared like conspirators and glanced at the young shinobi with a strange glow in their eyes.
- Jintou has entered the thread.
- Requesting @Miroku Akkuma and @Okami Roku
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