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1 Gold and Iron (ting) on Thu Nov 08, 2018 4:39 am

Yōsei

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S-rank
Mission:
Mission name: Red Turnt Yellow.
Mission rank: S.
Objective: Locate and Liberate Chūnin Hopeful.
Location: Hi no Kuni Border.
Reward: 2000 Ryo + 5EP
Mission Description: There are a number of entrants missing from their bracket matches, with no discernible pattern in village or other behavior to explain the multiple dropouts. Considering the lack of any correspondence, foul play is suspected.
Mission Details: Cults present in the Land of Fire have taken to indoctrinating the Genin who have traveled to the exams, and are doing so by force. Deep in the wilderness of Hi no Kuni, an S-ranked cult leader in golden robes commands a mixture of A and B-ranked non-ninja worshippers who have forcibly kidnapped entrants. All are equipped with A and S-ranked weapons and the Leader is a Raiu Clan member with all library techniques for his Suiton and Raiton elements, as well as Ninjutsu. This mission can be taken to rescue a PC contestant in the exams as if it were an opposed mission, counting as if both players had completed this mission twice.


As nostalgia swept beneath the current of Konoha's fanfare, the entourage of Iron Country veterans surrounding the midnight lodge, humming with boisterous laughter and songs of ancient tidings, stood tirelessly at their posts, faces obscured by baroque masks depicting beasts of fortune. Horses lingering at the edge of the forest, perking ears up as trees snapped underfoot, munched quietly at bales of straw, turning their eyes toward silhouettes piercing the dark into the amber glow shining from windows at the township's precipice. Twin messengers draped in burgundy armor, markings of the Land of Iron hung across banners sewn to their regalia, marched toward the house, grim faces hung low beneath shadowy news. Greeted by solemn nods and foreign codes, the pair found purchase in the rented manor, following the dimly lit halls and stairs until the fist of them slid away the door of wax paper, revealing the congregation within.

Sat beneath a wall-to-wall painting depicting Fire Country's endless forests, and the mountains framing them, a group of samurai remained cross-legged, their conversation halting to meet the scouts. Returning so long after the day's withdrawal meant doubtless bad news awaited, and after the severe eyes met with their commanders, each of the room's attention drew inevitably toward the man who sat alone at the head of the table. Rivers of black hair trailed down the Shogun's shoulders, painting strokes of dark ink across the blue and white robes, layers of silk upon one another which marked him not only as a man of means but the leader of this samurai troupe. Silence lingered just a moment, long enough for the leftmost messenger to catch his Lord's eyes and proceed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lord Xiahou, but the men in gold you seek, we believe that we have found them,"

Without a word, the Shogun rose his hand to gesture all but his scouts away, the chief guardians of Xiahou's treaty with relaxation gave their parting remarks, tone shifting away from the sound of vacation to the business they had come here for. From the distant lands of Steel Country, the delegates represented something distinctly separate in the Land of Fire; with no competitors so to speak, Lord Xiahou represented the interests of his nation without bias, overseeing the shinobi and their blood sports while negotiating the future between their two worlds. Standing slowly and sweeping the ebon locks behind him, the Shogun made his way forward, beckoning the scouts to continue while approaching ornamental displays of red and gold armor fitted on statues to his right. As they spoke, he would dress, obscuring the finery of his robes with crafted steel, the elegant armor nearing that of ceremonial.

"Several miles into the forest, near the Fire Country border, we saw six men carrying urns, dressed in gold, toward a site surrounded in red lanterns. As you requested, we returned immediately and marked our path back for you to follow. Lord Xiahou, I know what you requested but, are you sure you wish to go alone?"

"Send word to Zhi, she will instruct you on how to proceed. We Lords of Iron are not without battle scars of our own, and I will undertake this errand in solitude, as a show of faith to our most gracious of hosts."

"As you wish."

Drifting from treetops in the autumn midnight, leaves the color of Hi no Kuni's namesake flirted with the crimson hue of Xiahou's armor as he made headway into the treeline. Gold buckles in the shape of horse heads and the iconography of his Shogunate caught the faint pillars of silver moonlight, sparse as they were through the canopy of neverending foliage which even in the fall cast a sheet of black across the forest floor. The clapping of galloping hooves resounded in the ghostly evening, auburn mane of the Shogun's chosen steed flailing with the momentum of his ride as the blades on his hip clattered in tune with the horse's gait. Atop the Lord's crown of jet black hair, which was now mirroring his companion's ruff, flowing behind them as they sped through the trees, a totemic helmet fit with horns raised high like fingers grasping at the moon, split into jagged  patterns reminiscent of a stag, and the single golden seal of his house held in the center of its forehead. Hidden beneath the facade of Shogun lord, a familiar pair of eyes disguised themselves, drinking in the love of a land that he called home, and set upon the targets who slumbered deep in the heart of his beloved Konoha, polluting its children, and stealing its heart.

Whatever profane acts awaited him this night, Xiahou would not allow himself to show mercy to those who would desecrate his secret homeland, that much, the Samurai knew. Fast approaching, he could see the first of his scouts' ominous warnings, red lanterns swaying in the wind, welcoming the Shogun to a den of Godless worship.


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十六代目

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2 Re: Gold and Iron (ting) on Thu Nov 08, 2018 1:20 pm

Ting

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Genin
The aged tradition of setting the youngest warriors of the shinobi ranks against one another in a sport viewed by people all around the nation, the Chunin Exams were only a single sleepless night away. The young woman, wearing not more than a silky nightgown and her undergarments would lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling in search of answers to the question of sleep that the speckled paintjob above simply could not provide. It was cool in her room, just the way she liked it. Everything was at peace. Not even the excitable tourists that had come in droves to the Hidden Leaf could disturb her within the safety of her apartment within the Kimura Compound. The window in her room offered brief glances out onto the large fenced in training area she had spent a ridiculous amount of time utilizing. All of the memories of such activities would stoke her mind, adding even more fuel to the flame that denied her the comfort of a good night’s sleep.

It was common for her to struggle with sleep on the night before a big event. Even holidays had this effect on Ting, the girl often becoming too full of excitement about whatever sort of events and merriment she had set into motion for the following day. This was quite a bit different, as any fool would see. She could not sleep because just beyond that horizon, when that sun chose to rise over the horizon, she would be faced with demonstrating every skill she had accumulated over the last few months in front of the largest audience she would likely ever be exposed to. She was not confident in herself at this time. Fear and self consciousness had overtaken her completely. The only escape from that hell was sleep and it had forsaken her.

Lost in her own head of worry, Ting would catch a glimpse of something peculiar outside within the fenced training area of her compound. Several robed figures bearing laterns stood huddled in the center of that familiar area. As Ting watched, rising from her bed to inspect the scene a little more closely, she would meet a terrible shock. All of the figures would suddenly turn toward her, staring into her room from where they stood, faces obscured with white masks of all variety of animals represented. The petrified genin would stumble backwards drawing the curtains closed only to make her way toward the front of her apartment. As she rounded the corner in order to approach the exit, her heart would drop into her stomach. Swaying lightly in the breeze, her door was wide open, the deadbolt shoved through the door frame. She would turn away quickly to run for the kitchen but would find herself in absolute horror as she was met with the satin fabric of a robe, adorning a massive individual wearing a mask representing an Ox.

As she struck at him in terror, she would try to turn back to make her way in the opposite direction but her leg was met with a sharp pain, a bo-staff landing a signicant blow. From what the girl knew of medicine, her leg was now fractured and it was only a matter of time before—the tight grip of the gargantuan behind her wrapped around her throat, strangling the air from her quickly. She knew nothing else of what to do but to scream, now surrounded by terrifying masks. She used the last of her breath to summon forth Kiai, a loud piercing shout she had learned in an effort to vary her exam strategies. The call would echo through the night as she lost consciousness, the cultists leaving her home hurriedly and rushing into the woods opposite the compounds training grounds.




Upon waking, Ting would feel the throbbing in her leg which was now bandaged up as of being cared for. It hurt far less than before, almost as if it had been reset somehow. Attentions demanded elsewhere, she quickly realized he was inside of a cage made of strange glowing matter. It was a vibrant blue color and looked almost like fluorescent light bulbs. She would reach for it, but as her hand drew near she could feel intense heat radiating from it. As a test, she would tear a piece of her gown and drop it over one of the bars. Within an instant the cloth was incinerated. She wouldn’t be breaking her way out of this prison.

Her mind raced, frantically wondering what she would do or whether she had any chance at survival. At the center of the little clearing she was trapped within, a man adorned in golden robes seemed to be ordering the red robed cultists to and fro, attending to what seemed to be several other prisoners contained in the same deadly prisons of glowing matter. Going down the line, the golden-robed man would form handseals, bringing down one cage at a time in order to allow his minions to subdue the occupant and force feed them this vile looking black substance from a chalice. There was much screaming but it would quickly be silenced by threat of a beating with that staff.

Ting could not bear to see her people tortured this way. She was a warrior of Konoha, not some helpless peasant. She mustered her strength and focused chakra into her foot, slamming it onto the dirt. The Sunder Spire technique would send a high pressure torrent of futon through the ground to blow a gagged formation of earth upwards in its desired location, sending an adversary flying backwards several meters while giving them a few minor cuts and bruises. She would do this while the man in gold seemed focused elsewhere, and the spire would meet with success, sending him spiraling out of his seat and causing each of the ranton prisons to fail.

Go now, brothers and sisters of Konoha! As quickly as you can!” Ting would intercept a cultist trying to grab up an escaped prisoner, doing almost no harm to him but shocking him in order for at least two of the genin to get away. Not but a few seconds later, herself and two others were pinned back down and beaten severely before being caged back up like animals.

This was the best she could do.




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3 Re: Gold and Iron (ting) on Thu Nov 08, 2018 6:04 pm

Yōsei

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S-rank
In sequence, the strung together trail of maroon lanterns gave Xiahou and his steed guidance through the pillars of black oak rising into the arms of gathering clouds which descended through the canopy. Shafts of rolling fog heralded the Shogun's path toward the distant bonfires roaring through the darkness, silver, and gold which twisted together, luminescent display of clumsy partnership brought about by the camp of Hastur's secret church. Narrowing his eyes, Xiahou could spy, even now, the sparks climbing from their firepits, and the shape of chakra rendered prisons which surrounded them. Already, the man's hand clasped at the hilt of Seisakata, withdrawing several inches of its growling blade, like hounds bearing fangs which longed to let loose and cry for war. Since his arrival to the Hidden Leaf, Xiahou had wished to dip into remembrance and once again take up the mantle of his life's work, ensuring Konoha's survival, and slaying any who threatened the village's way of life.

Infrequent lanterns became a slew of ritual markings, the stark red paper with fire flowing within, in time, decorated themselves with golden filigree, patterns of profane worship in the shape of triangles and perfect circles. The elegance of Samsara's representation was not lost on the Shogun, who let loose a guttural scoff at the audacity of these men, those who had perverted the philosophy of death to their own ends, and though he could not be sure of their true intentions, the Raikage's influence over the people of Fire Country would be answered with reproach. Seconds crawled, drawing out long lines across the wheel of creation until they were pulled taut, unable to be strummed without splintering. Konoha's sacred Oath revealed itself in Xiahou's grip, concealed by the darkness and fog, black edge bursting through the world to flourish in its master's fingers. At the center of everything, the Shogun saw a world revolving on the axis of encroaching war, one that he would not allow to consume his homeland and burn away the truth he had found.

What peace remained in the glade burst into a spectacle as horse and Samurai made their way through newfound walls of grey mist, not thick enough to obscure the oncoming silhouette which drew attention from guardians of Jashin's missive. Beyond the fire's reach, Ting's assault would punctuate Xiahou's reveal, horse crying out and rearing high on its hind legs as Seisakata bore into the leftmost prison of Ranton chakra, making short work of the immature technique with the virtue of its tenacity. It would be the young woman who would doubtless lay the first pair of eyes upon him, the Samurai's crimson armor and pitch black blade gliding effortlessly through her enclosure as the camp's decorum collapsed spectacularly. Drifting into strands of iridescent light, the cage surrounding Ting would give away, ribbons of chakra flickering and writhing as concentration broke. In the middle, clamoring flames crashed over one another, waves mimicking tumultuous oceans caught in storms rarely seen from land, and like lightning accompanying them, the Shogun's voice rang out, commanding the clearing to silence and eliciting the attention of all who stood before him.

"Look upon me, servants of death! Xiahou Qian, Commander of the Fifth Shogunate, Lord of Iron! You have stolen this land's children, and it will continue! By my hand, you will be undone!"

Barking his message to the gathering throngs of adversaries, the Shogun, dismounting and slapping the side of his steed, sending it to lie in wait beyond the ridge of trees, readied his blade, two hands clasping at the hilt as the men surrounding him drew forth their own instruments. Orchestras thrummed to life, splendid array following in the Shogun's wake as he wasted no time, darting toward the figures in red and gold to thrust an opening gambit in the form of deft slices through a pair who sought to impede him. Sparks of the first flurry illuminated them briefly, glimpses of fate swung between the harried cries of battle, growling and grunting as the Samurai barreled forth with a set of strikes, precise, shifting his body low and rising to his left, seeking the opposing hip of his first target who maneuvered their weapon with enough grace to block but see it ripped in twain by the surprising heft beneath the blade's upheaval. Steel met flesh and momentum found its victory, the rising tornado of Xiahou's stroke carried him through the mark to strike from behind at the leftmost combatant, who, seeing his fellow rent from the hip lept away to group with his cohorts, who hurried into formation behind the leader dressed in gold.

Seisakata dripping blood, Xiahou must have looked more beast than man in the swirling fog, lit by the amber flames, as he charged toward the congregation. Seeking to commune with their leader, the Oath came first, hands guiding its path through the frigid air before the feint revealed itself, Xiahou pivoting on his foremost right leg and darting as summoned Ranton chakra flew from the staff clutched by his primary target. Strands of light danced in all directions, cutting abstract wounds of glowing chakra through the night and mist, and Seisakata met those which followed with ease, the heat radiating in the crystal composition of Konoha's Oath, causing it to flash blue as daybreak's sky. Konoha's children would be free, Xiahou would have nothing less.

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十六代目

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4 Re: Gold and Iron (ting) on Fri Nov 09, 2018 12:15 pm

Ting

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Genin
The beating endured by Ting was not as ferocious or incapacitating as it could have been, and that in of itself brought some ideas to her mind about the possible reasons behind these kidnappings. The intention clearly was not to take contestants out of the exams and make them unable to compete, as they continued to make efforts to salvage the physicality of their prisoners. She also pondered momentarily on the tar-like substance in the chalice the cultists had been trying to have the captives drink.

Interrupting the deep train of thought, Ting would look up from the ground to the sight of a dark haired man wielding a sleek blade. The man had a visage and choice of clothing as if from a place far removed from any of the shinobi villages. Only as his blade moved through the bars of her cage effortlessly, breaking down the chakra-based structure as if it were nothing, did Ting realize the man was an ally. She climbed to her feel with haste and channeled forth her Wound Termination Technique. It would hopefully allow her to act s a distraction without dying after just a simple mistake. She was not sure what the best option was, watching the individual who freed her tear through members of the cult as if they were composed of butter. The man bearing the golden robes in the center of the camp had scarcely even stirred at the commotion, pulling down his hood and looking in the direction of both Xiahou and the blue haired genin who still stood behind him. A true terror, the golden robes man bore a white mask shaped to a large grin with hollow eyes. It was an unsettling mask, made more unsettling by the way he stood up slowly and seemed to dart to a position directly behind Ting in a fraction of seconds far too quickly for her eyes to follow.

He raised an ornate looking katana to her throat and began to backpedal carefully, saying nothing at all no matter what he was asked. As Ting felt the resonating power within her captor grow, she knew he was preparing to backpedal with a large amount of force. If he succeeded, she didn’t know enough about Xiahou to determine if he would be capable of following up with his speed. Seeking not to be caged and abused for the rest of her days, Ting made a dangerous decision. Timing her action with the bend in the smiling man’s knees, the Konoha genin would stack her Agezuki strike on top of the technique she referred to as Crackle, slamming her arm downward toward his left knee. Despite his prowess and skill as a ninja, while keeping her as a hostage and preparing an escape, he had left his guard down.

The charged strike did more than assist the situation, breaking the man’s knee through fully, causing him to stop and stand still. He looked around, figuring up what his options were once more before Xiahou would be able to spot his wrist tensing, a clear giveaway that he was preparing to execute Ting. Feeling the tension and that seemingly stop motion flow of time as she felt the cold steel move only a millimeter at a second, the young girl believed her life to be over right then and there.




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5 Re: Gold and Iron (ting) on Fri Nov 09, 2018 5:41 pm

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S-rank
Carving a trail toward his target, Xiahou had become that familiar storm, lightning crack in the darkness with Seisakata's glowing edge heralding each arrival. Hair dyed black, chakra running through the Shogun's veins in alien configuration, the warrior who sought to free these prisoners gave no quarter to Hastur's dogs, who he had slain by the dozens in Suna's scorching deserts, his message to the Raikage unambiguous and proud, such audacity displayed with determination on Xiahou's face. Each vehement stroke drew the Samurai closer to his mark, until regrouping messengers of Jashin's profane wisdom rallied to impede him, mustering the most robust blades collected from village scouts, clashing in violent cracks with Seisakata as Xiahou danced to his left, feet planting and whirling the warrior around before a leap forward, rolling low on the forest's floor to meet the waiting guardian with considerable force, knocking twin blades from his hands and causing him to duck away, replaced by another. From above the Shogun's right shoulder, a staff descended and impacted on his armor, rivets clanging loudly as Xiahou rode the wave of force, allowing himself to be pushed away by the onslaught and jettisoned several feet away.

Keen eyes observed the battle, whipping side to side and catching the shape of his targeted gold phantasm, moving as a gossamer ghost through the trees at speeds surprising the samurai. One eye on his missive, and one on the immediate threat, Xiahou came toward the most pressing of his opponents, rolling Seisakata into his off-hand while the left looped a series of kunai through its fingers, unleashing them in a wild array of black steel toward the navy-haired genin he had freed. Ting would find herself at the center of projectiles that would miss her barely, precision reminiscent of shinobi whos names in Konoha would be a legend, and she would know that Xiahou, who called himself a Shogun, held a power enough to stand against any she had met. Wounds carved into trees behind her, trunks splintering bark at the knives' behest while Xiahou closed into the triumvirate who sought to tear him from his conquest. Seisakata met a blade, and the Shogun darted right, slipping beneath the heft of a staff while letting his left knee buckle and erecting the opposite, intending to sweep the legs of the leftmost attacker while withdrawing Sairin from his adjacent hip. Winds signaled the Sunrise, whistling poetically at the strum of Xiahou's fingers, pulling at the robes and skin of the falling combatant and the two who came toward him still, a sudden boost of speed causing them to stumble as the stag rose to glide between them. Lost in the mastery of Xiahou's blade caligraphy, limbs would topple as he freed himself, whipping Oath and Sunrise back toward the man in gold, who had secured his position behind the Genin, eliciting a grimace from the Lord of Iron.

Blade poised at Ting's throat, the Genin reacted swifter than Xiahou could have imagined, gathering her chakra expert swiftness and assaulting the leader's knee, causing it to crack and give way beneath him. Muscle fibers twitching in his wrist were all that Xiahou needed to make his call, unwilling to allow the blood of Konoha's children to be rent on the soil, and suddenly, the Shogun was gone. Raijin's hidden passages, painting lines of traversal through space and time, brought him to the weapons implanted behind them in the trees, bursting into reality from nothing Xiahou came with gauntlet wrapping around the blade that threatened to end Ting's life, grasping it and pushing it away while the samurai spun around the genin's body. Swords sheathed somewhere betwixt his instant transmission, the samurai found himself toying with the idea of how to proceed, and settled on a conservative gambit which he felt was likely to ensure the woman's safety, though would not allow him to end this conflict here and now. With his free hand, Xiahou would attempt to encircle the young woman in a brief embrace and spin her outwards while sliding his left hand down along the blade in its grasp. All to plan, Ting would find herself thrown gently, though not without urgency, to the dirt, and in spite of deep slices in the leather of Xiahou's glove which dug lightly into his flesh, the samurai would not relent.

Expert as he was, the leader of this cult, as with those he had dueled in the husk of Wind Country, displayed prowess exceeding the average shinobi, hopping backward on his right leg and conjuring a show of lights with his chakra. Lasers spun in technicolor patterns, twisting to attack the samurai from many angles as he began his strafe, aiming to move the attention of his foe away from those most at risk while drawing Seisakata to absorb what blows he could. Lights singed the Shogun's armor, leaving black trails like pillars of smoke against its maroon surface and staining ornamental decorations with their presence. With eyes flickering across the campsite, Xiahou could identify the men aiming to exploit his attention, primarily focused on the lightshow which already had begun to pierce his defenses, and drawing it away enough for the leader's second onslaught. Lightning and water paired within the gold-clad foe, flowing through his skin and eyes to propel him forward, striking with a thunderous boom, a hammer forged of light and sound that impacted Xiahou's armor forcibly, sending glowing cracks and strands of Ranton chakra surging through his body. Smoke and burned skin followed the display, which would erupt from the apex of his strike and hurl debris outward, winds of force uprooting tents and stripping lanterns hung around them into the dark, extinguishing the bonfire with its sudden upheaval.

Several meters thrown, Xiahou found himself tumbling through the dirt and trees until finally, he was able to right himself, after what felt like minutes lost between the blast and silence where only the fraction between a heartbeat had elapsed. Breathing heavy, Xiahou stood and brought Seisakata to bear before him, soil and blood staining his mouth and arms while the molten strands of electrified metal clung to his body as best they could before an inevitable fall, rapidly cooling into misshapen heaps around him. In the dark and cold, surrounded by fog, Xiahou cursed the Raikage and his sordid undertaking, but prepared himself for the remainder of the night's war, suppressing what pain he could through gritted teeth and zealous focus. Whether this was his foe's best attempt to put him down or not, Xiahou would treat the war as having only just begun.

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6 Re: Gold and Iron (ting) on Sun Nov 11, 2018 6:37 pm

Ting

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Genin
In such a strange instance as one in which death seems a real probability, it’s interesting what might go through someone’s mind. As soon as Ting felt the cold steel sliding across the skin of her throat, she fully believed she had messed this one up in an irredeemable way. For but a moment, the young woman accepted her end. As if she had left her body, Ting would view the surroundings at an angle. Several large herbivores looked up with a suddenness, toward the scene unfolding. Large creatures with impressive antlers would break into a thunderous retreat from the perceived threat. All except for a single one. A large white elk with eyes that reflected as red would stand his ground, staring through the heavily wooded forest toward the noise of men crying out and steel whispering through the air in clean strokes. The absolute massacre of the cultists would be seen by Ting, but not so much perceived as adrenaline fed her these visions and images which seemed not to make any sense. The young woman was spaced out as Xiahou grappled the blade which threatened her life and managed to safely free her from a quick end, pulling her into his arm and then tossing her to the ground with a spin. She would land upon the earthy forest floor which sported much in terms of autumn colored leaves or red, yellow, and orange variety.

She had landed as safely as one could have hoped in this situation, several feet from the now entangled warriors of great power. Crippled at least slightly, the man in the golden robes would retain quite a bit of mobility on his right leg yet, backing away from the samurai warrior before him and launching a flurry of beams which seemed to move with an unnatural fluidity of motion. Her savior would move off to one side in a combination of dodging and repositioning so that the weak who were still near would not be harmed. Ting was still conscious and still able to move. Returning from her trance like state of adrenaline surging through her body, the Konoha genin would find time to act once again. There were still others here who needed to escape the danger. Most of the cultist lay torn to hits, others out of commission from lighter yet still disabling strikes of the samurai warriors blade. As Ting skittered across the ground toward the other terrified shinobi, the deafening boom of the ranton hammer making contact with Xiahou would render her dizzy for a moment, her ears attempting to recover before the forceful wave of the impact would force her back to the ground as the camp was left in ruin by the attack. A strange creaking alerted Ting to a nearby oak, which was massive in size and likely very old. Scorch marks left an impressive cut in the trunk, just enough that this shockwave from the hammer blow would start it tipping forward.

Each of the other kidnapped youth were positioned almost directly in the path of the falling oak. Without another thought, her body took action before her mind could. A series of chain reactions would occur within her body, starting off with muscle tissue enveloping her legs. The surface of the capillaries within her lungs would expand allowing each breath she drew in to provide even more, her body reaching a state of enhanced physical capabilities in just an instant. She would spring forward at an impressive speed shunting the genin closes to the tree out of the way with an unfortunately necessary tackle. She would find herself taking his place only just in time, the massive tree slamming into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around it and adjusted the positioning of her legs.

Get the FUCK out of the way!” She would shout with a primal anguish, bearing the full weight of such an ancient tree. Veins intensified throughout her biceps and quadriceps as she let out an anguished cry, pulling the tree toward her slightly only to give it a forward push with her maximum effort, letting fly an improvised battering ram poised to smash the man in gold directly, or at least cause a distraction to give Xiahou an opening.




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