Fujimoto Shiro, or the Prophet Raiden, decided the time was right, packed up his belongings, and started to head back to the place where his months-long bender had started; Kumogakure. His traversal had lasted for quite a few hours before he began to reflect upon his adventure and his decision to return to a place he briefly called his new home. He was wild eyed, dirty, and followed by a handful of his closest squirrel friends. He was, however, alive. And he felt alive in the fullest sense of the word. He was hungry. His food had run out the previous day, but he was determined to make it back to civilization soon. He was thirsty, but his canteen had been dry all afternoon. The fire in his spirit raged on despite these struggles.
His walking staff provided the support necessary to carry on, and he eventually reached the looming gates. They would have been quite intimidating if this had been his first time seeing them, however he calmly strode up to them not quite knowing what to expect. He certainly did not believe he would receive a warm welcome what with his abrupt departure. Perhaps his mentors had begun a search for a missing child matching his description, or worse perhaps they had begun a manhunt. Regardless, he was hoping they would greet him with some understanding, glad he had finally come back. Little did they know of the stories and lessons with which he would regale them.
He stopped at the foot of the gates within the pass, calmly resting upon his staff. He pulled out his pipe, packed it, struck a match, and lit up. He laid down his staff, sat, and calmly puffed his pipe in a relaxed state almost in meditation waiting for the action to happen.
His walking staff provided the support necessary to carry on, and he eventually reached the looming gates. They would have been quite intimidating if this had been his first time seeing them, however he calmly strode up to them not quite knowing what to expect. He certainly did not believe he would receive a warm welcome what with his abrupt departure. Perhaps his mentors had begun a search for a missing child matching his description, or worse perhaps they had begun a manhunt. Regardless, he was hoping they would greet him with some understanding, glad he had finally come back. Little did they know of the stories and lessons with which he would regale them.
He stopped at the foot of the gates within the pass, calmly resting upon his staff. He pulled out his pipe, packed it, struck a match, and lit up. He laid down his staff, sat, and calmly puffed his pipe in a relaxed state almost in meditation waiting for the action to happen.
OoC said:MFT WC = 302
Read Profile for brief update on story. I have rejoined the game, and my character has taken a radical new direction. Anything in my Profile is for RP purposes and not to be taken too seriously. Also, as a note, my character never left Lightning Country. Totes not a traitor.