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So Close no Matter How Far...(SSM/Oracle)

A modern marvel of the Journeymen of Sungakure. The wall is built from a mysterious metal that has proven resilient to many attacks. The Bulwark is named after Primus, the hero of Wind Country, from ancient times who brought about great change. The Bulwark, as its name suggests, acts as a shield around the village to keep those inside the village safe. The Toraono Dojo is no longer outside of the village but now is within the Bulwark itself. Members of the ANBU and Main Branch alike keep a lookout from the ramparts foreseeing what is coming towards Sungakure.

This is considered to be the village gates. You must stop here if you wish to enter or exit the village!

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Sunaku Harupia
Sand Jounin
Sand Jounin
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So Close no Matter How Far...(SSM/Oracle)

Wed Sep 11, 2019 10:35 pm

He had heard about the commotion on the first day it started, and watched from afar with several of his clanmates, including his father, while the Skirmish was being settled down by other shinobi. It was a bizarre thing to see as if an ethnic theater show the old cultures some of the younger boys and girls in the clan used to do… but much more detailed. They had fairly good records of the clan's history of course, but they were records, imperfect, damaged by the flow of time. Their attire, the way they manipulated the sands, the language which was somewhere in between Formal and Standard runic Terran.

It was mysterious indeed. It made sense in a twisted way. Their clan had lived in the desert for countless years before the village formed, it wasn't that unthinkable there were pockets of tribes which refused to join the village and lived on, unnoticed for all this time, untill the deserts became too dangerous even for them. But this seemed bizarre as if no time has passed since those ancient times. Regardless of the novelty of the situation, it was one which needed diffusing, as things would probably escalate to far without an intervention. Just as he suspected a call was made for the Oracles to try and control the situation, and he volunteered without hesitation.

He had waited till the night fell over the land, even the most vicious conflicts needed time to rest. As it got dark and both the rowdy nomads and Sunan Shinobi guards dropped, he had made his way outside the village with trained ease. The only moment when he allowed himself to be noticed if before the guards of the third camp which was his destination. There was confusion in her eyes as he stood there dressed in his older, traditional dunewalker garb. Similar to their but different with time, years of influences and the three tribes of Sunaku mingling. He explained that he wished to speak with their tribe’s leader, as he seeks the wisdom of cooler heads. Just as he hoped, the tribe represented by a pink rose was not interested in conflict. This branch was remembered as peaceful at heart, trying to find ways to alleviate the harshness of life in the desert, focusing their talents in preparing works of arts and performances they could use to garner favor and protection.

The chief had cordially welcomed him, though there was a certain weariness in the air. After all, he was a stranger from the village they seek asylum in out of necessity, so he imagined they might have not thought of him so fondly. He even saw a child, probably sneaking past hi curfew peeking at him with a somewaht fearful look. That at least gave him an idea to break the ice, and a second later the boy was joined by a small creature, a large kitten which rubbed gently against him. After a bit of surprise, he beckoned the cat, and it jumped towards him, reforming into the sand in midair and turning into the shape of a lovely bird. He spoke about how what he knew of the tribe and how their ways helped him during his personal growth, how he found calmness in using his talent for creating rather than simply battle. In the end, the sand was shaped into a single desert rose he offered as a sign of peace. That seemed to appease the crowd for the most part.

The night that followed was a busy one, a long conversation followed. As much as he wished to learn more about the tribe he stayed focused on the most pertinent questions. He had learned that they were indeed Descendents of the original three tribes which splintered from the clan during the formation of the village. The reasons were various, not wanting to let go of their freedom, some were hesitant to put their trust in the man who pushed for the unification of the Tribes, Sunaku Naito. Though even if they went their separate ways, they were partially influenced by the unification, though it was more a matter of survival as the stragglers decided to band together in one group. They had moved on to live south of the village, ending close to the coast at times but keeping to the deserts, mostly far away and uninhibited. They had agreed to remain strictly separate entities but had managed to work out successful cooperation over the years, each clan offering their services and expertise when needed. Though they remained of the mind they needed to distinguish themselves from the Sunaku who joined under one banner, hence while working together they remained separate. It caused certain disputes when it came to the potential marriages between the tribe but they have worked out rules and customs. One thing that allowed them to keep it so vivid was something quite unusual. As he learned some of the tribe members were taught a technique passed on from generations, which was a more elaborate form of what he assumed evolved into the Snapshot technique. A select few had the memories and thoughts of times passed scribed onto their bodies and mind, with the help of elaborate tattoos which seemed to be infused with grains of well-dusted minerals. Generation by generation hey would learn and then scribe their knowledge onto their successors which allowed them to stay so true to the tribe's way of life.

As much as he wanted to learn more the topic did go towards the crux of the issue, the cause of the conflict between the other two tribes. The red rose, known as bold, fierce but ill-tempered fighters and the blue rose, a clan of tacticians and inventors, curious but almost fatally ambitious minds. There were always frictions between the branches just as he knew from history, but to ensure they would survive in the deserts they did learn to tolerate each other more. What seemed to spark some discord was the initial news of the Cabal troubles in Suna. Some felt they should come to their village aid, some saw a way of raising their station after so many years of isolation. These ideas seemed to rub against each other and causing more and more friction, digging up wounds decades-old...ad the current chaos seemed to only exacerbate the entire situation. Harupia still felt the need for more information, so he had a request to make of the tribe.

Over the next few days, the situation would remain calm if tense, the three tribes trying to organize their life outside of the village walls. Some rowdy men trying to stir trouble. The one difference that not many could see was one more head counted towards the artistic tribe. Harupia was lent a traditional garb of their clan and spent the few days mingling, listening to the people from all sides, observing quietly. It was fascinating in a way, how they made by while lacking some of the advancements his village would take for granted...but he had a keener eye on those causing trouble. There was a lot of chaos amongst the man since not many truly knew what was going on. The news of the Daimyo’s demise was quite hard to believe after all. He noted most treated it as a mere rumor or point of conversation but he did notice a few people who seemed almsot...nervous talking about it. As if their plans had been suddenly and drastically thwarted. On the side of the red rose tribe, it seemed more focused on aching for a good fight, one particular warrior seeming on edge. What was more interesting is how often said men ended up causing a ruckus on the camps of the Blue rose tribe only to seemingly fade out of sight. It did take a few attempts but he managed to track him after one of the fights he caused...by the end of the evening he felt he knew enough...and not a moment too soon.

The next night it seemed the tension was rising to a boiling point, a few brawls turning into two sides bearly holding each other from a Riot. Frustration at being stuck outside, causing the other side of conspiring against the other. One voice was cutting through as if trying to direct the crowd, sway them into saying this was what the village wanted, for them to be at each other's throats, for the problem to rid itself. He was trying to rile the crowd to go to the village gets themselves...and a voice behind him urged him to go first. Before he could react the thin man was kicked off his pedestal, Harupia looming behind him. The men’s face went from agitated to shock when Harupia stood there, holding a vail of red substance in his hand. When he scouted the men the night prior he knew what it was. Before he could try to explain a pillar of sand erupted under him, causing him to dodge. The rowdy Red tribesmen charged at him with fury, using his sand in a style akin to his fathers, almost as an extension of his fists. Harupia carefully dodges the attacks, knowing any one of them could be deadly especially with what he took from the other men. He waited untill there was a small opening...but enough for him, as a sand bullet reputed and pelted the man right in his forehead. The moment of de-concentration was all he needed as he lunged forward, realizing his barrage of sand empowered strikes making the man stumble back. With the serial sand on the man's body, he had enough for his trap, suddenly a sand binding wrapping around the massive body. As he held him in place the man he knocked out before starting ranting, calling him a Sunan agent sent to dispose of them, but he was quickly silenced by the arrival of more men. In particular, the three tribe chief, the other two being summoned by the one Harupia The man tried to form a sand nimbus from under his feet, feeling the need to escape, but he would find the sand caving under him as he and the bulky fighter found themselves in an antlion pit made by Harupia. As the guards came in, the only thing Harupia had to say to him was asking just why the men didn't come here with his brother.

It was an obscure dot to connect but he heard the men's name uttered a few times. The same name shared by the One lower member of the Cabal who was tasked with guarding one of the bombs meant to blow up the village. The vile he had was a combustive substance used in such bombs. Not enough to cause harm on its own, but if it were smuggled into the village it would probably lead to a small catastrophe. The two-man were amongst the few who were required by the early Cabal iterations, though they were more focused on trying to rally the tribes against the village, causing all sorts of minor altercations between the people. With the matter settled the situation seemed to be mostly diffused, and the tribes agreed to convene the next day and discuss their terms of entry into the village. After making sure the substance was confiscated and the perpetrators were taken away, he humbly asked if he could take the time out of the schedule of the two chiefs to converse more. The two men were quite impressed by his earlier display so they agreed. A night of interesting discussion was had, and in the back of his head, he couldn't help but wonder if this looked similar to the time the legendary Naito tried to wrangle unity between the tribes...heh, guess the hot air was still getting to his head a bit.

Notes: Connected to the Kings and Queens at the Wall event
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