[spoilername="Mission"]
There had been much on her mind, but a deserved rest settled her woes. It had been nearly a week since she'd last set out on a journey on behalf of the Council of the Hidden Leaf. The trip had enlightened her to much about herself, and about the way of the shinobi. The world around her was always changing, and she could make a difference if she tried. There was no need to fret over the petty strains she'd encounter; for each was a lesson in disguise, meant to better her. It had been difficult as a child, having no true mother or father to nurture her ambitions and curiosities, she often had to learn things the hard way. Trial and error dictated much of her youth; and the only a handful of people spoke words of advice to her outside of the academy. Life was so stale, so many tests and hardly any practice. Nyura understood that it was necessary to get better, but still felt it was not fair. Other classes her age often went to the training grounds to toss kunai or perform extracurricular activities. Envious, she used to watch from the window with a solemn blue gaze. Her seat had always been at the back of the room, near the glass pane overlooking the grassy field bellow. The instructors never corrected her behavior, so she slacked for the majority of her early years there. In hindsight, it had given her a perspective of the world that the other boys and girls hadn't rationalized until much later. This maturity came with the price of significant relationships; Nyura distanced herself from everyone she could and stubbornly trained by herself, often spending her afternoon in the forests pacing up the length of trees to hone her chakra control. But the true intent was to get the best vantage point she could; to watch over the world as a guardian from afar...
The sound of birds chirping roused her from her slumber, the lids of her eyes easing their way open after a few minutes. She'd sprawl out a bit beneath the sheets, before throwing them aside and sitting up to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs down to the floor. Letting out a prolonged yawn with outstretched arms before finally rising from her cot. Her room wasn't anything special, a ground floor studio with one bedroom, one bath and a tiny walk in closet. Most notable was the single window beside her bed that sported a set of beige drapes. Her morning routine was usually the same, and consisted of preparing a short breakfast and dressing herself up for the day. But today, she gripped a scroll from her nightstand and shuffled off to the closet to survey her apparel. Deciding not to go overboard, she'd select a tank-top and a loose pair of hakama, briefly reading the scroll that designated her assignment. With a warm smile she'd shuffle towards the door, but not before strapping her jika-tabi to her feet, retrieving her headband, and clipping her sheathed shōtō to the small rigging that was rung over her shoulder.
Proceeding out her door and into the narrow street where she resided, located in Red Oak District, she'd begin her trek to the Phoenix Gate with steady and determined strides. The scroll was still in her grasp and as she proceeded her pace increased, eventually progressing to a run. Careful not to collide with anyone or anything, she'd bound upward and take advantage of her training to navigate along the many posts, signs, and windowsill until reaching the roofs. Carrying on along the terracotta tile she'd eventually reach her destination. Several other shinobi were nearby chatting with one another at the booth, so Nyura chose to tug open the parchment and review the task in more detail. Contorting her expression, she'd grimace slightly as she'd peer up at the clear sky; the sun beginning to make its way higher above to bake down upon her. Closing it and following the path out through the large and illustrious gates, she'd find the small wheelbarrow and a note left by a member of the Konoha Veterans Organization.
<COLOR color="#008040">Damn... she thought to herself as her vision became fixated on the large pile of stacked logs, awaiting to be chopped. The small blade she carried had potential to carry out the duties, but the art of Taijutsu was not necessarily her forte. In order to make a difference though, I have to do this...
A hand hitched up and over her shoulder to grip the hilt of her shōtō, tugging at an angle to withdraw it safely and arc it above her head and down to her side. Shifting forward to the congregation of felled wood, she'd pluck one from the top and wobble over to a nearby stump. Setting it neatly in place, she'd send a strike downward, embedding her weapon inside. Only colliding with enough force to sink halfway through before stopping short of her mark. Disgruntled she'd press her boot against the parcel and wiggle the blade back and forth to free it. Giving a few moments for the shaky log to settle she'd then proceed to strike once more, sending it into halves. She'd twist the blade slightly and plant it into the soil, leaving it steadfast as she retrieves the pieces and tosses them into the bin. The process was then repeated, errors often occurring and leaving her with flared nostrils. Over the course of about an hour and a half she'd already nearly reached the rim of the wheelbarrow, and her technique was starting to improve. With a proper grip and a clear mind it was a lot easier to swing her blade, but it required just as much effort. Beads of sweat rained down over her skin, Nyura's flesh was speckled with small drops that reflected the rays of light cast down from above. Determined to influence change in society, and exude positivity, she'd refuse to seat herself or rest for more then a moment. Wiping her face for a moment with the collar of her tank top she'd return to the chopping block, setting a piece of wood in the center along the small groove she had made from so many strikes. Sinking her boots into the soil with a slight twist of her heels, she sets her stance and draws the blade up and bends her elbow to ensure the weapon is near her shoulder. In a fluid motion she'd contort her torso and send her appendage downward, slicing through the log with a precise slash; though the halves remained uneven.
"I think that's it..." she muttered with a mild grin. Observing the surface of her weapon, and noting several scuffs and chips in the metal she'd grunt and sheathe it before maneuvering over to the container. Placing each palm on the handles she'd haul it upwards with a mighty heave, her breathing becoming audible as she guided the one wheeled device back towards the gate just a few yards away. Upon arrival at the entrance, she noticed that most of the shinobi whom were gathered here before had left. Only a single man was present, he had a broad set figure and wore a standard flak jacket, his headband strapped neatly over his chest. Setting the wheelbarrow down with a long sigh of relief, attempting to quell her heavy breathing, she'd set the scroll on the counter in front of him. The man looked like a veteran himself, a soldier with scars drawn across his complexion. Curiosity brought him closer to the obstacle between them, reviewing the information written within before promptly shutting it and sorting it beside many others within a drawer nearby. Nyura waited patiently and grinned wide with approval as he counted out the Yen, soon to set them in the palm of her hand. As she offered him a curtsy he spoke firmly, and gave her a nod of respect.
"Keep up the good work— Nyura."
Long Day of Lumber
Mission Rank: D
Mission Type: Solo Self Modded
Required Participants: Self
Client: Konoha Veteran's Organization (KVO)
Restrictions: Solo Only
Mission Premise: A representative from the Konoha's Veteran Organization has contacted Nyura Katawa in regards to a job opportunity. Excited, she accepts, and only later finds that it's a lot of manual labor. Every shinobi deserves a good nights rest, especially a veteran, so she continues swinging at the chopping block for the good of the village, and the warmth of a fireplace.</COLOR><i></i>
Important: Self-modded missions may be done twice in a week, however the second mission done yields half normal rewards. Players may also perform one mission with 2x the word count in order to gain the rewards of having done two missions. This still only yields half rewards for the second mission.<i></i>
[/spoilername]Mission Rank: D
Mission Type: Solo Self Modded
Required Participants: Self
Client: Konoha Veteran's Organization (KVO)
Restrictions: Solo Only
Mission Premise: A representative from the Konoha's Veteran Organization has contacted Nyura Katawa in regards to a job opportunity. Excited, she accepts, and only later finds that it's a lot of manual labor. Every shinobi deserves a good nights rest, especially a veteran, so she continues swinging at the chopping block for the good of the village, and the warmth of a fireplace.</COLOR><i></i>
Important: Self-modded missions may be done twice in a week, however the second mission done yields half normal rewards. Players may also perform one mission with 2x the word count in order to gain the rewards of having done two missions. This still only yields half rewards for the second mission.<i></i>
Previous Thread
Ambient Music
Total Word Count :: 1396
There had been much on her mind, but a deserved rest settled her woes. It had been nearly a week since she'd last set out on a journey on behalf of the Council of the Hidden Leaf. The trip had enlightened her to much about herself, and about the way of the shinobi. The world around her was always changing, and she could make a difference if she tried. There was no need to fret over the petty strains she'd encounter; for each was a lesson in disguise, meant to better her. It had been difficult as a child, having no true mother or father to nurture her ambitions and curiosities, she often had to learn things the hard way. Trial and error dictated much of her youth; and the only a handful of people spoke words of advice to her outside of the academy. Life was so stale, so many tests and hardly any practice. Nyura understood that it was necessary to get better, but still felt it was not fair. Other classes her age often went to the training grounds to toss kunai or perform extracurricular activities. Envious, she used to watch from the window with a solemn blue gaze. Her seat had always been at the back of the room, near the glass pane overlooking the grassy field bellow. The instructors never corrected her behavior, so she slacked for the majority of her early years there. In hindsight, it had given her a perspective of the world that the other boys and girls hadn't rationalized until much later. This maturity came with the price of significant relationships; Nyura distanced herself from everyone she could and stubbornly trained by herself, often spending her afternoon in the forests pacing up the length of trees to hone her chakra control. But the true intent was to get the best vantage point she could; to watch over the world as a guardian from afar...
The sound of birds chirping roused her from her slumber, the lids of her eyes easing their way open after a few minutes. She'd sprawl out a bit beneath the sheets, before throwing them aside and sitting up to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs down to the floor. Letting out a prolonged yawn with outstretched arms before finally rising from her cot. Her room wasn't anything special, a ground floor studio with one bedroom, one bath and a tiny walk in closet. Most notable was the single window beside her bed that sported a set of beige drapes. Her morning routine was usually the same, and consisted of preparing a short breakfast and dressing herself up for the day. But today, she gripped a scroll from her nightstand and shuffled off to the closet to survey her apparel. Deciding not to go overboard, she'd select a tank-top and a loose pair of hakama, briefly reading the scroll that designated her assignment. With a warm smile she'd shuffle towards the door, but not before strapping her jika-tabi to her feet, retrieving her headband, and clipping her sheathed shōtō to the small rigging that was rung over her shoulder.
Proceeding out her door and into the narrow street where she resided, located in Red Oak District, she'd begin her trek to the Phoenix Gate with steady and determined strides. The scroll was still in her grasp and as she proceeded her pace increased, eventually progressing to a run. Careful not to collide with anyone or anything, she'd bound upward and take advantage of her training to navigate along the many posts, signs, and windowsill until reaching the roofs. Carrying on along the terracotta tile she'd eventually reach her destination. Several other shinobi were nearby chatting with one another at the booth, so Nyura chose to tug open the parchment and review the task in more detail. Contorting her expression, she'd grimace slightly as she'd peer up at the clear sky; the sun beginning to make its way higher above to bake down upon her. Closing it and following the path out through the large and illustrious gates, she'd find the small wheelbarrow and a note left by a member of the Konoha Veterans Organization.
I hope you brought your own utensils for this job, the last students we asked to help out broke our axes. When the wheelbarrow is full, bring it to the Phoenix Gate booth and show them your assignment scroll, and you'll receive your reward. Thanks again for your contributions and interest in supporting the village, Nyura.
~ Sincerely the KVO
<i></i>~ Sincerely the KVO
<COLOR color="#008040">Damn... she thought to herself as her vision became fixated on the large pile of stacked logs, awaiting to be chopped. The small blade she carried had potential to carry out the duties, but the art of Taijutsu was not necessarily her forte. In order to make a difference though, I have to do this...
A hand hitched up and over her shoulder to grip the hilt of her shōtō, tugging at an angle to withdraw it safely and arc it above her head and down to her side. Shifting forward to the congregation of felled wood, she'd pluck one from the top and wobble over to a nearby stump. Setting it neatly in place, she'd send a strike downward, embedding her weapon inside. Only colliding with enough force to sink halfway through before stopping short of her mark. Disgruntled she'd press her boot against the parcel and wiggle the blade back and forth to free it. Giving a few moments for the shaky log to settle she'd then proceed to strike once more, sending it into halves. She'd twist the blade slightly and plant it into the soil, leaving it steadfast as she retrieves the pieces and tosses them into the bin. The process was then repeated, errors often occurring and leaving her with flared nostrils. Over the course of about an hour and a half she'd already nearly reached the rim of the wheelbarrow, and her technique was starting to improve. With a proper grip and a clear mind it was a lot easier to swing her blade, but it required just as much effort. Beads of sweat rained down over her skin, Nyura's flesh was speckled with small drops that reflected the rays of light cast down from above. Determined to influence change in society, and exude positivity, she'd refuse to seat herself or rest for more then a moment. Wiping her face for a moment with the collar of her tank top she'd return to the chopping block, setting a piece of wood in the center along the small groove she had made from so many strikes. Sinking her boots into the soil with a slight twist of her heels, she sets her stance and draws the blade up and bends her elbow to ensure the weapon is near her shoulder. In a fluid motion she'd contort her torso and send her appendage downward, slicing through the log with a precise slash; though the halves remained uneven.
"I think that's it..." she muttered with a mild grin. Observing the surface of her weapon, and noting several scuffs and chips in the metal she'd grunt and sheathe it before maneuvering over to the container. Placing each palm on the handles she'd haul it upwards with a mighty heave, her breathing becoming audible as she guided the one wheeled device back towards the gate just a few yards away. Upon arrival at the entrance, she noticed that most of the shinobi whom were gathered here before had left. Only a single man was present, he had a broad set figure and wore a standard flak jacket, his headband strapped neatly over his chest. Setting the wheelbarrow down with a long sigh of relief, attempting to quell her heavy breathing, she'd set the scroll on the counter in front of him. The man looked like a veteran himself, a soldier with scars drawn across his complexion. Curiosity brought him closer to the obstacle between them, reviewing the information written within before promptly shutting it and sorting it beside many others within a drawer nearby. Nyura waited patiently and grinned wide with approval as he counted out the Yen, soon to set them in the palm of her hand. As she offered him a curtsy he spoke firmly, and gave her a nod of respect.
"Keep up the good work— Nyura."