[Infernal Prisoner] The Deepest Archives [Archive]

[Santaru Rin]

Details: Rin seeks further information on the threat she senses is building against Kumogakure no Sato, Lightning Country, and maybe the mortal world. With the trail over twenty years cold, she knows she is running out of time. The answers she's seeking aren't available in the Sileo Tempestas, and even the classified stacks in the library aren't providing what she needs. The memory of the library's underground catacombs, however, causes her to wonder--are the materials she's looking for sealed in the lower levels? (This mission's results should provide more IC fodder for further missions for exams and missions for students and up; I figured it would be more interesting to have the discoveries happen on-screen rather than off. ICly, the catacombs beneath the library have been characterized as dangerous, hence the rank; the materials she's looking for are also not freely available, even disregarding the trouble in reaching them.)

Approval Link @ Mission Center

Santaru Rin strode into the Athenaeum prepared for battle. Her old composite armor was cinched tightly about her torso; her shins and forearms wrapped; thigh holsters strapped on; bandolier of notes and seals buckled; kunai, dagger, chain all readied. The librarians looked at her as though she had grown a second head, or perhaps a third. What did this batty old kunoichi think she was up to? Shouldn't she be planning luncheons for the other shinobi's wives? Those staff who knew Santaru Rin had darker thoughts, but kept those to themselves. The thud of her combat boots as she made her way to the restricted area was too reminiscent of the last time she had entered the library armed to the teeth. Some people could never forget.

She had mended her armor where she could, oiling, stitching, and replacing parts as necessary. The new links and buckles she had blackened with sulphur and muffled with cloth to retain the benefit of stealth. Her noisy gait was more for the benefit of other ninja in the area than a condition of her footwear. Her pulse pounded at her temples. When had her last combat engagement been? She no longer remembered the year. It had certainly been after the death of the daimyo, and thus there had been no reign year appelation. She flexed her gloved hands, listening to the soft creak of new leather, and thrust aside the first restricted door. The seals flared in response to the touch of her chakra, but her ANBU seal provided the key, and she passed without being incinerated. Her mask rested over her heart; her hitai-ate tied so that the metal plate protected part of the c-spine. She crossed the second chamber, smelling the dry, dying gasp of ancient paper. The clerks here paid her no mind. It wasn't their purpose to prevent her from going where she wanted to go.

The next sealed door bore the kiss of ice. Her marred tattoo tingled; the ANBU seal opened the chakra lock, and she passed. Striding by further rows, empty this morning, her hands blurred through the seals to reinforce the chakra circulation in her nervous system, allowing her to increase her speed. She passed the third doors, then the fourth, and found herself in a winding corridor. She paused and closed her eyes, summoning muscle memory. She had been here before. What was the correct path? Something tugged her from the heart hand side, so she went. Another tug, from her weapon hand. Following instinct, she walked blind through the maze of halls  until she found herself before a plain door. This was it. She touched the knob; a tingle ran through her arm. She pulled her hand away swiftly before the trap could activate and electrocute her. Charming. She backed away to the opposite wall and pushed off of it, kicking forward with both feet. In a burst of ozone she landed in the room, crouching on part of the door that she had broken. "'Zwounds," she muttered, and stiffly dusted herself off.

The interior was a dirt- and gravel-floored room. An arch opposite the door she'd kicked in led to a gentle downslope into shadow. Another flurry of handseals and an anonymous kunoichi dressed in black sidled out of Rin's shadow. Flat eyes glittered at her from an ash-smeared face. "How may I serve?" The voice was dryer than two pages rasping against each other.

"Scout ahead in the tunnel," Rin ordered. Cautiously. Her creation bowed from the waist, then slipped away.

Rin followed at a slower pace. She could feel a tenuous link to the shadow-kunoichi; it was through that channel that her chakra was fed, and through there that she could give and receive information. Handy, she decided.

I am pleased to serve my creatrix, came the reply, a light, cool whisper in Rin's thoughts.

Rin crept through the tunnel, bracing herself against the masonry as she strove to keep her footing on the litter and scree. She channeled chakra into her feet, convincing the unstable path that it was as firm as bedrock. She steadied herself and pushed on. Far ahead, the shadow-kunoichi flitted in and out of sight. Rin felt old and slow in comparison. Had she ever been that swift? She performed another set of seals and sent a floating eye to investigate a fork. While she waited, she concentrated on her breath and heartrate, bringing them into more acceptable margins. After a few moments, she followed the eye. The shadow-kunoichi quickly overtook them.

Together, they systematically investigated the dry, dusty labyrinth. Cobwebs swayed in unseen currents. The darkness here was absolute, cut only by Rin's own chakra light. She knew this floor was only the first layer, and that it was purely misdirection. The doors she sought were concealed by illusion. What she sought was a memory--rather, a scene that would trigger remembrance. She watched with eyes half closed and replayed the memory of escaping the library's ossuary, layering old ghosts over the dust. Her heart pounded heavily, caught between old adrenaline and new. She found what she was looking for in an apparent dead end. Standing before the plain masonry, she traced the ram. "η μνήμη ram αγγίζει το τείχος," she murmured. The ram touches the wall. She smiled grimly. After this point, the guardians of the dead would take no prisoners. A quincunx seal flared at her touch and the wall phased away, revealing it to be little more than illusion. Beyond was a stairway spiraling down into the realm of history.

She loosened her weapons in their sheathes and loosely wound her chains around her forearms in preparation, adhering them with a whisper of chakra. She unwound a length of rope and tied it to the central pole, then hurled herself down the stairs, sprinting as quickly as she could. The stairs began snapping down to create a one-way chute into the unlit depths. The shadow-kunoichi grabbed onto the rope whipping behind Rin; together, they braced themselves into a controlled skid. The chute spiralled on forever, or so it seemed, and the air was warming. Rin grimaced and wondered if she had been caught in another illusion--something might have convinced her that this descent would continue until she dehydrated. Get a grip, she reminded herself. Can't do handseals without releasing the rope. She knew she'd run out in another thirty seconds. Her skin prickled with sweat.

It is becoming hotter as we descend, the kunoichi noted.

So I've noticed.

Shall I go on?

Beware of pit traps or wires, Rin advised. She spread her legs until she was practically an a-frame; the kunoichi released the rope and dropped, shooting through the gap and out of sight.

A few heartbeats later, the kunoichi thought simply, Fire, then the drain on Rin's chakra ceased.

"Shit," she spat. A ruddy light filtered into the shaft as she descended, growing stronger. The heat swiftly became more intense. She slowed her descent, parceling out rope half a meter at a time. Before long, she came to the lip of the shaft; below, at a dizzying depth, was a lake of fire. The kunoichi had fallen into that... Good thing I brought this along, Rin decided. She knotted the end of the rope to a steel loop on her belt and braced herself. Closing her eyes, she asserted the abyss: there was nothing before her. The unreality did not exist. With studied discipline, she slowly moved her hands through the seals, murmuring the six tenants of the absurdist. The world unmade itself, and was remade. She opened her eyes.

The stairs had returned. She slipped the knot at the top of the stairs with a touch of will, and coiled the rope as she minced down. Dust bloomed around her feet. The crystal eye bobbed in the air beside her, then floated towards the archway at the far side of the chamber. She knew she had reached the hypogeum. Perhaps a kilometer away was the final resting place of the body Santaru Ryuuto had claimed was Raiden's. This antechamber, she observed, was only sparsely decorated with stone reliefs of warriors; they were highly stylized, and thus likely from a very early period. Three loculi on either wall probably housed the remains of some ancient guards, given the honor of eternal interment near whomever they'd served in life. The lintel over the door had another carving, this in the likeness of a fierce guardian. Rin studied its leer. The crystal eye floated beneath it.

GA​

GAshaaaan-​

Spears smashed through the eye, sending chakra-shards across the floor. The trap reset slowly. Guess I should just run through... She didn't have much of a running start, but she had maintained the speed jutsu. She pushed off of the last step and zipped back through. The spears smashed into the receptive holes in the floor with a satisfying clangor. Not bad, not bad.

Now, however, she was out of scouts.