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1 From where we stand [invite only] on Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:40 am

Lamya

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Like rats, hidden within the endless desert. At least that's what those insolent villages thought that the infamous Lamya and those following her were doing. Her attempts to claim the land for her own had been hampered, silenced by a people too fractionalized to understand the coming storm and as the weakened masses fought one another, rebel, bandit and scum alike suddenly had to contend with and defend against the monumental might that came not from within, but from the outside world. The march of legions upon legions of shinobi, spurred by the pretentious exclamations from a fool to dub himself a god, the false desire for peace and tranquility. It was all a joke in the end, where each faction thought to try and defend against a multitude of villages, who all either willingly or unwillingly played into this fool of a Raikage's hand.

If she had viewed Mitsuo as an ally, a comrade in arms during their mutual attack upon Sunagakure, now his allegiance to the madman of Kumogakure made him one of, if not the worst possible enemy. Then there was the Mizukage, who despite her power, despite her protectionist policies after the many tragedies that had befallen her nation and village, had blindly followed the Raikage, practically offering herself up to him as a useful puppet with whose strings he could play to further manipulate the shinobi world. The ultimate disgrace though, was her old home, her origin, the place of her heart and her hearth: Konohagakure. Weakened as it was after a succession of incompetent hokages, they had simply agreed to a pact of coordination and allied themselves to a far more mighty Kirigakure and as a result, they ended up not as an equal partner, but as a vassal, a secondary puppet in the hands of this...Hastur.

It was all a joke.

Sitting at the head of a long, beautifully carved, yet already harshly eroded table from the ancient civilization which once had ruled the desert in times before even the shinobi had existed, A single woman placed her lips onto a richly decorated glass chalice, taking a sip from some sort of red liquid which it contained. Her eyes were closed, yet her ears were open, listening carefully to the squabbling of a few of her men which had been granted the leisure of retaining their free will and soundness of mind in exchange for certain...benefits. Their voices rumbled, their opinions and ideas clashed. They were like insects, fighting over a prize which they could not hope to obtain or even contain. Even if Lamya had come to understand that despite how much she wanted it, she was not yet near being on equal to an actual god, compared to those fools, she might've actually been one.

"Will you ingrates finally stop with this incessant prattling which is not only hurting my ears, but also my appetite?" The woman's voice was soft, yet cold and managed to maintain a tone filled with such arrogance and authority that the men sitting at the table suddenly held their tongues. "Making plans to obtain sunagakure and its holdings is futile. Even if we practically have all the pieces in place, we are not able to stand in this alone, certainly not like this."

"But Mistress, is it not wiser to try and claim as much land as possible and defend it from thereon out?" One of the men; an older example with weathered skin like leather peppered with gray hair exclaimed, looking at the documents in front of him and thus unlike the other men present completely missing the fact that the woman at the end of the table had opened her eyes and was now gazing intently at him. "Should we not consolidate our forces and build up proper resistance to the villages, declaring you as this land's new Empr...ess...ugh"

Without a word, the rogue shinobi known as Lamya had traversed the distance between herself and the man, having walked across the table in utter silence, yet with great speed only capable by one such as herself. Her free hand had grasped the man by the throat and was now lifting him about a meter above the ground, having lifted him from his chair. While the man gurgled and squirmed, the woman drew him closer to herself, looking him straight in the eyes with her own snakelike, golden orbs with a silver ring of unspecified origin surrounding them. "We have lost too many men by trying to 'consolidate'...commander," The woman took another sip from her chalice's red liquid and chuckled softly, yet eerily. "All this time, we've wasted men and resources in trying to claim that which we could not hold on our own and now we, this entire land is besieged on all sides by foreign powers, while we have yet to fully exert control within...you see the issue here? It's not possible to face enemies on all sides. At least...not alone."

Dropping the man back to his chair, the Snake of the Desert grinned deviously, crushing the ornately crafted glass chalice within her hand, the shards of it piercing her skin and her own blood mingling with the red liquid which had been contained within the chalice. "There's a man out there, a smart man and a powerful man...one who despite not having shown any ambition, without a doubt holds great darkness in his heart and great ambition. He may be silent, but he will make his move, of that I am certain," As she walked away, most of the men which sat at the table looked at the droplets of her blood mixed with the red liquid, their eyes turning into a pale imitation of her own, their fingers greedily trying to touch the spilled liquid, slurping it off of those fingertips as if it were some godly ambrosiac. "Call back all main forces, keep the strongest of our men on standby, only the fodder may continue to carry out their missions. It is time that for once, I go to Him rather than Him coming to me."

Turning around to jump onto her seat and crossing her legs, she grinned diabolically when looking at the commanders seemingly fighting eachother to gain a taste from her blood and the strange red liquid, almost like a frenzy of rats. "Look at you fools, almost unable to contain yourself when you see blood, savor it gentlemen, because you will need it when the time comes to stand up and fight," Letting out a soft chuckle, she then stood up and walked over towards a chamber which had its entrance hidden behind a stone statue and was guarded by two men dressed in black garments bearing the insignia of an eight headed serpent upon them. "No one comes in here."

The guards responded in silence, by drawing their blades and barring the entrance to the chamber.

Slowly, the woman removed the white and gold dress she was wearing, dropping the piece of clothing to the ground as she looked upon the naked presence of a man upon her bed, his skin white as alabaster, his eyes glazy as marbles and his throat ripped open in such a brutal fashion, one could say it had been done by a beast, a savage, wild animal with a cold heart and cold blood running through its veins. Simply smiling, the woman grabbed a corner of the bedsheets and covered up the naked corpse, continuing to remove all her jewelry and unnecessary clothing.

Walking over to a mirror, she watched herself, as she started to put on a catsuit made out of soft, yet durable material, zipping it tightly up to her throat. Next were a pair of high-heeled glossy boots which reached up to her knees and then she started putting on her black armor with the silver chains attached to it, yet then she stopped for a moment, looking at her face's reflection in the mirror. "No matter the face, no matter the time, I will be a monster, I will be that which they deserve," Placing the golden rebreather against her throat, the woman followed suit by pulling a shiny, black mask over her head, connecting it to the rebreather, after which a wheezing sound anounced that the rebreather had been coupled to the mask securely. "The rabbit princess birthed three sons. One to keep balance, one to spur growth and one to incite change.Yet from the world sprang forth a shadow, one waiting for a moment in which change has halted, growth has hampered and balance has wrought nought but discontent and within its darkness, it would swallow the three sons, their beliefs and their legacy. Foolish legends, foolish beliefs...but nonetheless a reminder to this world that when it languishes, one must strive to cleanse it anew."

Her voice distorted by the mask and the rebreather, gave her an almost prophetic, translike tone. With a simple chuckle, she turned away from the mirror and walked to the entrance of the chamber, turning her attention to the two guards who sheathed their blades in response to her appearance. "We're moving out..."

1547


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Not the monster you need, but the monster you deserve

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