There was no place like home.
Surrounded by the howling wind, loved ones, the restless spirits of the dead, and the sounds of training assassins. Beautiful.
His pale hand grabbed hold of the rope railing over the vast drop that stretched downwards - the only easy entry point to Yamigakure, in order to steady himself against the rocking bridge. Naturally he would not fall, but it was habitual.
A strong hand was placed on his shoulder, followed by a gaze and a smile. A small bow from his guard was a welcome greeting which was returned. Small ones, children garbed in black training robes ran to greet him and hug his legs. It was early in the evening, and thus it was training time, punctuated by the smell of roasted goat. He ruffled hair, and returned their greetings. A nod was given to a venerable old woman who, all-knowingly, gave a small smile.
There was no place like home.
He had seen more of the land than most ever did, especially those caught up in their little village politics. It caused a wry smirk to appear on his features. He had tried to play by their rules, but now a message would be sent. Fear was the order of the day, and if they would not listen he would make them listen. Not directly anymore - they had their chance and were cowards.
No. They had their chance.
He sat down at the head of a long, blackened table, now surrounded for the evening meal. Faces looked expectantly at him - his family. They could sense the change in the wind itself, as if the puppeteer had at last returned back to play with his puppets. Crimson eyes looked up, taking in the faces of his family.
“My brothers are about their work. It is time for us to be about ours.”
The room visibly changed, eager faces now realising that what they were planning to do for so long would now come to pass.
The mask was dropped and Migoya smirked, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness. He would be now who he was meant to be.
[Migoya becoming NPC - Retired]
Surrounded by the howling wind, loved ones, the restless spirits of the dead, and the sounds of training assassins. Beautiful.
His pale hand grabbed hold of the rope railing over the vast drop that stretched downwards - the only easy entry point to Yamigakure, in order to steady himself against the rocking bridge. Naturally he would not fall, but it was habitual.
A strong hand was placed on his shoulder, followed by a gaze and a smile. A small bow from his guard was a welcome greeting which was returned. Small ones, children garbed in black training robes ran to greet him and hug his legs. It was early in the evening, and thus it was training time, punctuated by the smell of roasted goat. He ruffled hair, and returned their greetings. A nod was given to a venerable old woman who, all-knowingly, gave a small smile.
There was no place like home.
He had seen more of the land than most ever did, especially those caught up in their little village politics. It caused a wry smirk to appear on his features. He had tried to play by their rules, but now a message would be sent. Fear was the order of the day, and if they would not listen he would make them listen. Not directly anymore - they had their chance and were cowards.
No. They had their chance.
He sat down at the head of a long, blackened table, now surrounded for the evening meal. Faces looked expectantly at him - his family. They could sense the change in the wind itself, as if the puppeteer had at last returned back to play with his puppets. Crimson eyes looked up, taking in the faces of his family.
“My brothers are about their work. It is time for us to be about ours.”
The room visibly changed, eager faces now realising that what they were planning to do for so long would now come to pass.
The mask was dropped and Migoya smirked, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness. He would be now who he was meant to be.
[Migoya becoming NPC - Retired]