Part one
One thing that certainly stood out was the blistering cold, but this was no mere weather event. Migoya had certain protections against natural weather phenomena… but this… was something ‘else’. Death itself seemed to permeate the very land, indeed all the structures of Kirigakure, but this was not the normal death he was accustomed to. This was far more perverse. His crimson gaze rested over the once vibrant village, now a wasteland of abandoned buildings, toppled towers, and the very presence of death itself.
He had been here previously to gather information and any artefacts from Kirigakure’s past to aid in his research, but his time here was limited. As night fell it seemed as if the raging dead themselves wanted to rip at his soul and, powerful as he was at the arts of death, he would never presume to face such a force.
This time however he was there to craft something using the long-forgotten forges of Kirigakure. The specific materials and art forms of the master blacksmiths of the land of water were specific to the area, and the plans for the specialised armour Akkuma had given to him required certain materials in order to create it. Certainly, Migoya was very skilled in the arts of creation, puppet master that he was for over a rather long period, but blacksmithing… that was a specialised art form.
Migoya mused over the possibility that Akkuma had intentionally sent him to Kirigakure to remove him off the board so to speak. He knew of the lands deadly nature indeed, and it would not be above such an intelligent creature to plan for such a trap. Still, Migoya’s analysis of the designs he had provided indicated certain materials that he knew would only be found in Kirigakure - more specifically a particular alloy that could only be blended in Kiri’s specialised forges.
That, and Migoya had once lived here, and knew this place. He had served here as a Sennin, though that information was strangely forgotten to time. That felt like a lifetime ago - indeed as if it were in another plane of existence, but this was, for all intents and purposes, yet another home of the strange albino who seemed to be ripped out of time and space as a penalty for some crime.
He breathed in the frigid air, memories of what this place once looked like coming back to him. Certainly, it had changed much even before whatever event had occurred to wipe this place from the world and his memories of locations was somewhat limited. He remembered the past friendships he had had, the drama, the same repetitive issues over leadership that all villages suffered from - but it seemed as if it were a dream from another lifetime ago.
I really don’t like this place.
Migoya nodded in acknowledgement of Mikki’s statement, knowing full well that the poor Tsukumogami was far more in tune with the spirits of this place than he was, and that those spirits were full of rage, fear, and hate.
“We will only be here as long as we need to Mikki-kun.” Migoya said in an effort to calm the puppet. “I only have limited information, and remember little, of this place so I need your help in locating the forges”.
Cant you ask the rat to do it, Mikki stated, referencing Migoya’s other elemental companion.
“You know Barry will only hinder the investigation - an elemental such as he will react rather strongly to whatever it is that permeates this place. He is already angry enough - he is a cyclone in a itty bitty space after all.” Migoya responded.
Lucky thing. Gods it’s cold.
Migoya again nodded, this time putting a small amount of chakra into the strange, white wooden staff he held. The staff began to glow, its presence seemingly holding back the strange evil of the place. It wouldn't last very long - even a branch from the World’s Tree had its limits here, blessed of the Kami’s and the Tsukumogami’s, but it should enable the pair to get closer to their prize. His other hand pulled his thick, black hood over his head whilst he scanned the village, trying to recall where the forges were. They had belonged to a particular clan of weaponsmiths - experts in their artform - but the name had, strangely, left his exceptional mind. For someone who had for all intents and purposes an eidetic memory, the amount of information he had forgotten about this place was… concerning. Obviously supernatural in nature.
His footsteps were silent on top of the snow as he moved closer to the village proper. The cracking of a strange speaker and the howling of the wind were the only noises as the pair walked towards what Migoya hoped was the main city square. Memories, passing as if they belonged to someone else, filtered into his mind - images of this place in its prime with people simply living their lives, the sun warming their faces.
Then the cold would come and push away any such warm thoughts.
His eyes were particularly looking for any signs of a weapons or shinobi equipment shop. Perhaps that would lead him to further information about the location of the forges. He walked carefully down the wide street, leading from the gates of Kirigakure towards what used to be the main market area. He noted the various food stalls and other shops lining the street, standing as if frozen in time, their food either frozen or rotten in the places they lay. Every now and then the form of a person, frozen in the last seconds of their life, stood doing whatever it was they had been doing when the calamity struck. What exactly happened here Migoya had never been able to find out. It was infuriating indeed to someone as nosy as himself.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Migoya noted a nearby shinobi supply shop, the ice-covered window still displaying a range of kunai and weaponry though their blades now looked pitted by the freezing temperatures. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, Migoya walked towards the building’s door.
It took a measure of chakra-fueled strength to move the frozen door from its hinges, the screeching sound of the door echoing around the silent marketplace. Migoya groaned inwardly, knowing if anything living, or indeed not living, in the direct area would now know that someone was there. The coldness of the door bit at his hand through the black gloves he wore especially for this area, causing small discomfort as he made his way into the shop.
Various equipment for shinobi life hung on the walls - ropes, climbing gear, weapons and what appeared to have once been various powders and pills, long rotted away or frozen solid. They would be useless in any event, but the weapons… that is what he needed.
“Ok Mikki - you are up. Let’s have a chat to these weapons - see if they can tell you where they were forged.”
Weaving a set of strange hand seals, Migoya seemed to take on the ‘talking’ abilities of his companion, allowing the pair of them to start to question the various tools around the shop. [CRPJ: ‘Mikki’s Ramblings’].
Almost immediately the weapons started to complain about the cold. ‘Its freezing. My edge is dulled’. Migoya looked at Mikki, who returned the gaze - they both clearly were annoyed with the bombardment of complaints. They both tried to get a word in edgewise, but the weapons simply were desperate to be free of the cold.
Casting a discerning eye amidst the weapons, Migoya located what appeared to be a punching dagger formed to resemble a breaking wave. The craftsman's mark indicated that it was forged by the Shoukyou clan… a rather familiar name, though Migoya could not quite place them. Still, it was worth a shot.
Drawing out the blather from the other weapons, Migoya focused his efforts on focusing his chakra into producing heat onto his palms, an old taijutsu he had learned from when he was a genin. Reaching forward he felt the hiss of the strange ice start to melt away from the dagger, and in his head he heard the strangely feminine ‘voice’ of the weapon speak to him.
It is so cold. My edge is dull.
Migoya’s hand slowly curled its way around the handle of the dagger, the steam from the melted ice hissing like a snake.
I understand. I will set you free, but I need your help. Tell me where you were made. What can you remember experiencing?
Heat. Fire. Warmth. Ringing of metal.
Yes. Very good. Anything else?
Hisssssss.
Migoya raised a white eyebrow. A hiss sound? Steam… gas?
Hot then cold then hard. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang…
We know that part already. Stupid weapons dont know much do they? Migoya, this wasn't a very smart idea.
Shoukyou. Be proud of what you make. Pretty. Sell. Delivery from Casino. Wytukoshi store.
Migoya concentrated on the words of the dagger.
Held. Admired. Put down. Screaming. Freezing. You.
The last of the ice fell away from the strange punching dagger, the branding of the weaponsmith now clearly visible. The Shoukyou clan… something about a casino? What was the link? Migoya’s mind was blank… the name sounded far too familiar but…
He looked at the craftsmanship of the dagger, the intricate nature of the blade itself. Someone had been proud to create this weapon. A Skoukyou clan member? And now there was a location - the casino.
Thank you… err… Wave. Yes, that will be your name. Migoya, not waiting for a response, put the strange weapon into his satchel.
“It looks like we should head to the casino… I do not recall there being forges around there, but perhaps I could be mistaken.”
You are always mistaken Migo-kun. Mikki teased, climbing onto Migoya's shoulder knowing that there was going to be yet another journey ahead of them
Migoya snickered. “Do you want to walk? No? Then shut up and lets go”.
And thus the trio wandered towards the direction they thought the casino was at, Migoya's careful eye making sure of where the sun was.
[WC: 1678]
One thing that certainly stood out was the blistering cold, but this was no mere weather event. Migoya had certain protections against natural weather phenomena… but this… was something ‘else’. Death itself seemed to permeate the very land, indeed all the structures of Kirigakure, but this was not the normal death he was accustomed to. This was far more perverse. His crimson gaze rested over the once vibrant village, now a wasteland of abandoned buildings, toppled towers, and the very presence of death itself.
He had been here previously to gather information and any artefacts from Kirigakure’s past to aid in his research, but his time here was limited. As night fell it seemed as if the raging dead themselves wanted to rip at his soul and, powerful as he was at the arts of death, he would never presume to face such a force.
This time however he was there to craft something using the long-forgotten forges of Kirigakure. The specific materials and art forms of the master blacksmiths of the land of water were specific to the area, and the plans for the specialised armour Akkuma had given to him required certain materials in order to create it. Certainly, Migoya was very skilled in the arts of creation, puppet master that he was for over a rather long period, but blacksmithing… that was a specialised art form.
Migoya mused over the possibility that Akkuma had intentionally sent him to Kirigakure to remove him off the board so to speak. He knew of the lands deadly nature indeed, and it would not be above such an intelligent creature to plan for such a trap. Still, Migoya’s analysis of the designs he had provided indicated certain materials that he knew would only be found in Kirigakure - more specifically a particular alloy that could only be blended in Kiri’s specialised forges.
That, and Migoya had once lived here, and knew this place. He had served here as a Sennin, though that information was strangely forgotten to time. That felt like a lifetime ago - indeed as if it were in another plane of existence, but this was, for all intents and purposes, yet another home of the strange albino who seemed to be ripped out of time and space as a penalty for some crime.
He breathed in the frigid air, memories of what this place once looked like coming back to him. Certainly, it had changed much even before whatever event had occurred to wipe this place from the world and his memories of locations was somewhat limited. He remembered the past friendships he had had, the drama, the same repetitive issues over leadership that all villages suffered from - but it seemed as if it were a dream from another lifetime ago.
I really don’t like this place.
Migoya nodded in acknowledgement of Mikki’s statement, knowing full well that the poor Tsukumogami was far more in tune with the spirits of this place than he was, and that those spirits were full of rage, fear, and hate.
“We will only be here as long as we need to Mikki-kun.” Migoya said in an effort to calm the puppet. “I only have limited information, and remember little, of this place so I need your help in locating the forges”.
Cant you ask the rat to do it, Mikki stated, referencing Migoya’s other elemental companion.
“You know Barry will only hinder the investigation - an elemental such as he will react rather strongly to whatever it is that permeates this place. He is already angry enough - he is a cyclone in a itty bitty space after all.” Migoya responded.
Lucky thing. Gods it’s cold.
Migoya again nodded, this time putting a small amount of chakra into the strange, white wooden staff he held. The staff began to glow, its presence seemingly holding back the strange evil of the place. It wouldn't last very long - even a branch from the World’s Tree had its limits here, blessed of the Kami’s and the Tsukumogami’s, but it should enable the pair to get closer to their prize. His other hand pulled his thick, black hood over his head whilst he scanned the village, trying to recall where the forges were. They had belonged to a particular clan of weaponsmiths - experts in their artform - but the name had, strangely, left his exceptional mind. For someone who had for all intents and purposes an eidetic memory, the amount of information he had forgotten about this place was… concerning. Obviously supernatural in nature.
His footsteps were silent on top of the snow as he moved closer to the village proper. The cracking of a strange speaker and the howling of the wind were the only noises as the pair walked towards what Migoya hoped was the main city square. Memories, passing as if they belonged to someone else, filtered into his mind - images of this place in its prime with people simply living their lives, the sun warming their faces.
Then the cold would come and push away any such warm thoughts.
His eyes were particularly looking for any signs of a weapons or shinobi equipment shop. Perhaps that would lead him to further information about the location of the forges. He walked carefully down the wide street, leading from the gates of Kirigakure towards what used to be the main market area. He noted the various food stalls and other shops lining the street, standing as if frozen in time, their food either frozen or rotten in the places they lay. Every now and then the form of a person, frozen in the last seconds of their life, stood doing whatever it was they had been doing when the calamity struck. What exactly happened here Migoya had never been able to find out. It was infuriating indeed to someone as nosy as himself.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Migoya noted a nearby shinobi supply shop, the ice-covered window still displaying a range of kunai and weaponry though their blades now looked pitted by the freezing temperatures. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, Migoya walked towards the building’s door.
It took a measure of chakra-fueled strength to move the frozen door from its hinges, the screeching sound of the door echoing around the silent marketplace. Migoya groaned inwardly, knowing if anything living, or indeed not living, in the direct area would now know that someone was there. The coldness of the door bit at his hand through the black gloves he wore especially for this area, causing small discomfort as he made his way into the shop.
Various equipment for shinobi life hung on the walls - ropes, climbing gear, weapons and what appeared to have once been various powders and pills, long rotted away or frozen solid. They would be useless in any event, but the weapons… that is what he needed.
“Ok Mikki - you are up. Let’s have a chat to these weapons - see if they can tell you where they were forged.”
Weaving a set of strange hand seals, Migoya seemed to take on the ‘talking’ abilities of his companion, allowing the pair of them to start to question the various tools around the shop. [CRPJ: ‘Mikki’s Ramblings’].
Almost immediately the weapons started to complain about the cold. ‘Its freezing. My edge is dulled’. Migoya looked at Mikki, who returned the gaze - they both clearly were annoyed with the bombardment of complaints. They both tried to get a word in edgewise, but the weapons simply were desperate to be free of the cold.
Casting a discerning eye amidst the weapons, Migoya located what appeared to be a punching dagger formed to resemble a breaking wave. The craftsman's mark indicated that it was forged by the Shoukyou clan… a rather familiar name, though Migoya could not quite place them. Still, it was worth a shot.
Drawing out the blather from the other weapons, Migoya focused his efforts on focusing his chakra into producing heat onto his palms, an old taijutsu he had learned from when he was a genin. Reaching forward he felt the hiss of the strange ice start to melt away from the dagger, and in his head he heard the strangely feminine ‘voice’ of the weapon speak to him.
It is so cold. My edge is dull.
Migoya’s hand slowly curled its way around the handle of the dagger, the steam from the melted ice hissing like a snake.
I understand. I will set you free, but I need your help. Tell me where you were made. What can you remember experiencing?
Heat. Fire. Warmth. Ringing of metal.
Yes. Very good. Anything else?
Hisssssss.
Migoya raised a white eyebrow. A hiss sound? Steam… gas?
Hot then cold then hard. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang…
We know that part already. Stupid weapons dont know much do they? Migoya, this wasn't a very smart idea.
Shoukyou. Be proud of what you make. Pretty. Sell. Delivery from Casino. Wytukoshi store.
Migoya concentrated on the words of the dagger.
Held. Admired. Put down. Screaming. Freezing. You.
The last of the ice fell away from the strange punching dagger, the branding of the weaponsmith now clearly visible. The Shoukyou clan… something about a casino? What was the link? Migoya’s mind was blank… the name sounded far too familiar but…
He looked at the craftsmanship of the dagger, the intricate nature of the blade itself. Someone had been proud to create this weapon. A Skoukyou clan member? And now there was a location - the casino.
Thank you… err… Wave. Yes, that will be your name. Migoya, not waiting for a response, put the strange weapon into his satchel.
“It looks like we should head to the casino… I do not recall there being forges around there, but perhaps I could be mistaken.”
You are always mistaken Migo-kun. Mikki teased, climbing onto Migoya's shoulder knowing that there was going to be yet another journey ahead of them
Migoya snickered. “Do you want to walk? No? Then shut up and lets go”.
And thus the trio wandered towards the direction they thought the casino was at, Migoya's careful eye making sure of where the sun was.
[WC: 1678]
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