One might advise exercising caution when traveling through the country of Marsh. It is no wonder why either, given its rich history that frequently dwells in the shadows of Kumogakure no Sato; it carries that of a sorrowful story of ravaging wars and conflict that left the country in shambles and scarred to no end. Thus it's people, and land was left to fester in their rotten wounds and simply accept the fate that was handed to them... Because of this, their forces devoted to combat were nothing short of guerrilla; leaving honor, tradition and any morals at their doorsteps. Making any travelers of any origin and purpose, at the mercy of those who bore decades of pent-up aggression.
"Troublesome..." Leading us to the oddity, that muttered scornfully under his breath. Perched alone at the center of a rickety bridge that hung over a gently coursing river below; the color was clear and undisturbed; one could make quick conclusions that it wasn't being used by any society nearby. While he sat there, in the lulling sounds of nature and life being prioritized, wielding what could be distinguished as a worn-out fishing rod and a line that strung down to the water- gently bobbing to the flow of the river.
He was adorned with no initially identify marks or attire. With hide garments, miscellaneous pieces of cloth; and what appeared to be alabaster white scales acting as what could be assumed as make-shift armor strewn about his torso. Atop his head rest a simple and ragged Kasa. And beside him, a simple travel pack; which too- appeared to have seen days far better. Upon closer inspection, he had a Kumogakure mark embroidered on his upper left sleeve.</GLOW>
=
<GLOW glow="#2E8B57">Lifting his free hand to his nose, to scratch at the base. An expression that could be described as no less than dour; but an unusual sense of content that wore to his facial muscles. With attention affixed to the lure below, a number of moments passed without cause. Until it slipped below the surface, with a 'bloop!'; the man quickly began the process of reeling the aquatic species towards the open air. Drawn to the conflict between rod and fish, he drew into a moment of fierce intensity. The air around him exhumed that of battle. And in a swoop of victorious momentum, a sizable fish erupted out.
With nimble movements, he had wrapped the wire around his palm and drew the fish up to his persons. Slipping his index and middle-finger into its gills to examine it, with a quick shock to ensure it's timely death through the use of ninjutsu. It was then... That he looked to his peripherals to see a pair of individuals, rustling through the unmarked path; where grass overgrew and everything seemed to have forgotten the existence of man. All save the bridge he sat on.
"Who the..." It appears, we've got familiar company.
[Post 1/5 | 488/1,500 WC]