The cold here had a bite to it that seemed to bypass the skin altogether and immediately incase one’s very bones. His body however had some natural resistance to the cold but even here, in this frozen hell the chill would be unbearable for long even with proper equipment. Standing there staring into the vast frozen expanse he couldn’t help but remember people once lived here, but that was years ago but felt like an eternity. He had not in the time since the freeze met many others from these lands, because few survived the sudden flash freeze that occured and those who did seemed to have scattered like snow in the wind. It was hard to imagine now when everything was coated in thick ice and any signs of life appeared to be devoid that this place was once a bustling center yet now it was just a reminder of what was lost to him.
He had come here having decided that now would be the time to recover a treasure of the Katai and after travelling for a few hours he found a patch of unfrozen earth that stuck out like an anomaly every so often in the area. There would not be much time to rest, so Kyourin placed his travel satchel which had been filled to the brim with prepared essentials. He removed several pieces of kindling bark, flint and steel, a few senbon, and portion of raw deer meat covered in a leaf. It paid off to be a hunter when traveling, after all especially to a place that was once your own back yard. It took a mere couple of strikes between the flint and steel to spark a flame due to the low temperature but a spark took life rather easily against the dried kindling. He would give himself a moment to warm his body next to the fire’s heat. Using a kunai, he would portion of meat before skewering the thin slices upon the senbon which were propped near the flames. The fire would cook the meat faster given how thinly slice they had been which played into the need not to linger in the area long. The warm food would rejuvenate his body somewhat and for a moment brought a smirk to his face. In that moment he was overcome with a new found determination to continue his journey into the vast ice gripped landscape. Once his meager meal had been eaten he would momentarily lay out next to the lively flame. Kyourin would look up at the clear night sky above and admired its beauty. Without the lights from any nearby occupied dwellings, the countless stars scattered across the sky like glitter in stasis with a beauty which he could not adequately give words to.
The amount of time he had spent there would not amount to more than thirty minutes however and after gathering up his gear would be off back into the frozen wasteland. As he made his way closer to the general direction of Kirigakure's ruins, one could begin seeing various housing structures and buildings all in various stages of collapse, frozen over against the landscape. These dwellings would have been along large waterway that went through one of the vast islands. Upon each of the buildings walls you could make out tribal like markings and insignias with the image of a claw being the prominent symbol of choice in many of the designs. This was what he had came for, this had been where his clan had once called home for generations on end. It was scarcely the home of his memory and was an eyesore to him now as what memories the placed seemed to invoke also carried with it the reality that his clan was no more. That was why he was here to claim what he sought, so that it would belong to hands meant to have it.
The largest mound of snow and ice had claimed his former abode, a building that had housed chiefs of the past including himself and with it was the home of many of his people's most cherished treasures. The first obstacle was actually getting into the building now as the entrance had been claimed by ice thick enough break any instrument you'd use to attempt it. Which normally would have been a major issue had it not been for the unique design they chose in their buildings, multiple entrances and multiple exits. He would proceed to move to the back of the abode, where the ice was thinner thanks to the positioning of the building against the wind which caused the front of accumulate the brunt of ice and snow. The back end was spared from the overly thick layers of ice but would require a bit of digging to reveal the opening which had long been sealed with snow. Scrape, scrape, scrape was the sound that filled his eardrums along with the flowing wind, but his work would be reworded as the sounds of wood creaking then breaking took over his audible range of hearing. The darkness inside was unlike anything he had personally experienced, with it being both night and the fact that unlike other buildings, the Katai weren't users of the electrical grid so there would be no ominously left lightning to give aid in the darkness here. Instead he would crack a few flares that he had brought along for this very purpose and dropped them into the opening, instantly giving life to a place where generations of history was standing on it's last leg. Mentally he found it strange being back here, the place offered so many memories in the glow of the flare but all of it was now foreign. What would have been a warm place of gathering, with torches lining the room casting shadows on the now barely visible painted history that covered the walls here. He recognized some of the faded symbols out of memory alone and in the somewhat blackness used them to find his way to a back wall that still had a tapestry hanging. It still remained...
A palm was placed on the surface of the tarp, it's coldness disappearing to him as he was overcome by emotion. If this environment was not so harsh, one might have seen tears flow down his cheeks. However he was far to hardened for this to happen now, instead swallowing those emotions as easily as one would take a sip of water. He'd use a makeshift knife and quickly carve out a section of the tapestry which housed the seal of the Clawe Katai as well as the inscriptions of former chiefs names all written with blood many of which were no longer complete signatures or visible anymore due to the elements. This only applied to the names however as the design of the seal and it's elaborate pattern was created by powers well resistant to elements despite it's unnaturally strong origin. Taking the cut out portion of the tapestry, he would place it upon the ground at the very center of the open room, a spot that was easy to find due to this part being sunken down similar to how one would have had a fire pit.
"Ég verð síðastur og saman munum við lifa dagana út og vera það sem var tekið af okkur .." (I will be the last and together we will live out our days being what was taken from us.)
The underside of his palm was met with the steel of his knife, slicing open his flesh though this wasn't pain a shinobi wouldn't be well capable of handling. He'd let the blood pool in his palm, cuffing his hand so that the small amount that gathered was like water in a bowl. He would dip his other fingertips into the warm blood and worked to inscribe his name upon the tapestry.
"Það er synd að skuldabréf okkar komi frá þessum aðstæðum en það er ekki hægt að hjálpa. Ég gef þér blóð mitt og tryggð og í staðinn gefurðu mér síðustu leifar sáttmála míns fólks" (It is a shame that our bond will come from this situation but it cannot be helped. I give you my blood and loyalty and in return you give me the last vestiges of my people's pact.)
Once finished, he would roll the item up and wrap a small cord around it to secure it's rolled position. Placing the tapestry turned scroll between his teeth, Kyourin would remove the clothing that kept his torso warm revealing a chest filled with a flowing tattoo that had patterns/symbols that mimic those seen on homes and items of the Katai. Both palms pressed together and would slowly begin weaving handseals very cautiously..
"Blóð fyrir veiðina" (Blood for the hunt)
"Líkami til verndar" (Body for protection)
"Tennur til að bera" (Teeth to bare)
"Andi í greiðslu" (A spirit in payment)
The flooring around him would quickly become covered in a large sealing formula with his body at it's epicenter and the tattoos that covered his frame glowing enough to cast residual light through the room. With the scroll being unfurled from between his lips and the room suddenly filling with smoke as a creature was brought from a different plane. The thick smoke would remove all visibility for a few moments which would equally be filled with feeling that something far superior than himself was also occupying the space. The difference being that he was not afraid of this feeling, it was not something that he was new to and as the smoke eventually cleared a single entity would meet his gaze with one that demanded respect. The visage of a large Ursidae protruded through the snow, it's form blackened like the night yet covered in bight markings similar to some found in the area. It's most obvious feature however was a steady stream of chakra which formed a radiation like effect around it where the air seemed to distort exactly what you was looking at when you stared at it.
"This will be our last pact with the son of the son of the mother. Together we'll see the last light cast upon the Clawe's history..then I will join the other's upon the vast snowfields of Veiðin with no regrets...."
The silence between the two was louder than the wind howling outside, but it was a silence that spoke many words as the two stood before one another both foreheads pressed against another. A pact timeless between the two, would continue into the annual's of history as Kyourin would be the last Clawe to draw protection from what he had always been taught and witnessed as their people's totems.
[Contract Search - Bear]
[Using ASP Card - Discovery of Contract of your choice]
[Link to Inventory: Here]
[WC: 1792]
He had come here having decided that now would be the time to recover a treasure of the Katai and after travelling for a few hours he found a patch of unfrozen earth that stuck out like an anomaly every so often in the area. There would not be much time to rest, so Kyourin placed his travel satchel which had been filled to the brim with prepared essentials. He removed several pieces of kindling bark, flint and steel, a few senbon, and portion of raw deer meat covered in a leaf. It paid off to be a hunter when traveling, after all especially to a place that was once your own back yard. It took a mere couple of strikes between the flint and steel to spark a flame due to the low temperature but a spark took life rather easily against the dried kindling. He would give himself a moment to warm his body next to the fire’s heat. Using a kunai, he would portion of meat before skewering the thin slices upon the senbon which were propped near the flames. The fire would cook the meat faster given how thinly slice they had been which played into the need not to linger in the area long. The warm food would rejuvenate his body somewhat and for a moment brought a smirk to his face. In that moment he was overcome with a new found determination to continue his journey into the vast ice gripped landscape. Once his meager meal had been eaten he would momentarily lay out next to the lively flame. Kyourin would look up at the clear night sky above and admired its beauty. Without the lights from any nearby occupied dwellings, the countless stars scattered across the sky like glitter in stasis with a beauty which he could not adequately give words to.
The amount of time he had spent there would not amount to more than thirty minutes however and after gathering up his gear would be off back into the frozen wasteland. As he made his way closer to the general direction of Kirigakure's ruins, one could begin seeing various housing structures and buildings all in various stages of collapse, frozen over against the landscape. These dwellings would have been along large waterway that went through one of the vast islands. Upon each of the buildings walls you could make out tribal like markings and insignias with the image of a claw being the prominent symbol of choice in many of the designs. This was what he had came for, this had been where his clan had once called home for generations on end. It was scarcely the home of his memory and was an eyesore to him now as what memories the placed seemed to invoke also carried with it the reality that his clan was no more. That was why he was here to claim what he sought, so that it would belong to hands meant to have it.
The largest mound of snow and ice had claimed his former abode, a building that had housed chiefs of the past including himself and with it was the home of many of his people's most cherished treasures. The first obstacle was actually getting into the building now as the entrance had been claimed by ice thick enough break any instrument you'd use to attempt it. Which normally would have been a major issue had it not been for the unique design they chose in their buildings, multiple entrances and multiple exits. He would proceed to move to the back of the abode, where the ice was thinner thanks to the positioning of the building against the wind which caused the front of accumulate the brunt of ice and snow. The back end was spared from the overly thick layers of ice but would require a bit of digging to reveal the opening which had long been sealed with snow. Scrape, scrape, scrape was the sound that filled his eardrums along with the flowing wind, but his work would be reworded as the sounds of wood creaking then breaking took over his audible range of hearing. The darkness inside was unlike anything he had personally experienced, with it being both night and the fact that unlike other buildings, the Katai weren't users of the electrical grid so there would be no ominously left lightning to give aid in the darkness here. Instead he would crack a few flares that he had brought along for this very purpose and dropped them into the opening, instantly giving life to a place where generations of history was standing on it's last leg. Mentally he found it strange being back here, the place offered so many memories in the glow of the flare but all of it was now foreign. What would have been a warm place of gathering, with torches lining the room casting shadows on the now barely visible painted history that covered the walls here. He recognized some of the faded symbols out of memory alone and in the somewhat blackness used them to find his way to a back wall that still had a tapestry hanging. It still remained...
A palm was placed on the surface of the tarp, it's coldness disappearing to him as he was overcome by emotion. If this environment was not so harsh, one might have seen tears flow down his cheeks. However he was far to hardened for this to happen now, instead swallowing those emotions as easily as one would take a sip of water. He'd use a makeshift knife and quickly carve out a section of the tapestry which housed the seal of the Clawe Katai as well as the inscriptions of former chiefs names all written with blood many of which were no longer complete signatures or visible anymore due to the elements. This only applied to the names however as the design of the seal and it's elaborate pattern was created by powers well resistant to elements despite it's unnaturally strong origin. Taking the cut out portion of the tapestry, he would place it upon the ground at the very center of the open room, a spot that was easy to find due to this part being sunken down similar to how one would have had a fire pit.
"Ég verð síðastur og saman munum við lifa dagana út og vera það sem var tekið af okkur .." (I will be the last and together we will live out our days being what was taken from us.)
The underside of his palm was met with the steel of his knife, slicing open his flesh though this wasn't pain a shinobi wouldn't be well capable of handling. He'd let the blood pool in his palm, cuffing his hand so that the small amount that gathered was like water in a bowl. He would dip his other fingertips into the warm blood and worked to inscribe his name upon the tapestry.
"Það er synd að skuldabréf okkar komi frá þessum aðstæðum en það er ekki hægt að hjálpa. Ég gef þér blóð mitt og tryggð og í staðinn gefurðu mér síðustu leifar sáttmála míns fólks" (It is a shame that our bond will come from this situation but it cannot be helped. I give you my blood and loyalty and in return you give me the last vestiges of my people's pact.)
Once finished, he would roll the item up and wrap a small cord around it to secure it's rolled position. Placing the tapestry turned scroll between his teeth, Kyourin would remove the clothing that kept his torso warm revealing a chest filled with a flowing tattoo that had patterns/symbols that mimic those seen on homes and items of the Katai. Both palms pressed together and would slowly begin weaving handseals very cautiously..
"Blóð fyrir veiðina" (Blood for the hunt)
"Líkami til verndar" (Body for protection)
"Tennur til að bera" (Teeth to bare)
"Andi í greiðslu" (A spirit in payment)
The flooring around him would quickly become covered in a large sealing formula with his body at it's epicenter and the tattoos that covered his frame glowing enough to cast residual light through the room. With the scroll being unfurled from between his lips and the room suddenly filling with smoke as a creature was brought from a different plane. The thick smoke would remove all visibility for a few moments which would equally be filled with feeling that something far superior than himself was also occupying the space. The difference being that he was not afraid of this feeling, it was not something that he was new to and as the smoke eventually cleared a single entity would meet his gaze with one that demanded respect. The visage of a large Ursidae protruded through the snow, it's form blackened like the night yet covered in bight markings similar to some found in the area. It's most obvious feature however was a steady stream of chakra which formed a radiation like effect around it where the air seemed to distort exactly what you was looking at when you stared at it.
"This will be our last pact with the son of the son of the mother. Together we'll see the last light cast upon the Clawe's history..then I will join the other's upon the vast snowfields of Veiðin with no regrets...."
The silence between the two was louder than the wind howling outside, but it was a silence that spoke many words as the two stood before one another both foreheads pressed against another. A pact timeless between the two, would continue into the annual's of history as Kyourin would be the last Clawe to draw protection from what he had always been taught and witnessed as their people's totems.
[Contract Search - Bear]
[Using ASP Card - Discovery of Contract of your choice]
[Link to Inventory: Here]
[WC: 1792]
