Antares
Sage of Indecision
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2009
- Messages
- 8,098
- Reaction score
- 447
[Spawning In]
Storyboard Element B-Rank
The goddamn Toksong wind. It wasn't just cold; it was salty and mean, determined to saw through the fabric of Nanashi's collar. He hated it. Hated how it made him grip the high collar, hated the frantic, bustling noise of the port. He kept the cap low, a necessity. It wasn't shyness; it was the mechanism of a broken soldier who knew only how to observe.
Crowds were the worst. A wet, loud tangle of humanity, stinking of cheap perfume and the day's catch. He worked his way through the back alleys, moving like oil on stone, keeping his shoulders tight. Every sound was a pinprick. Every sudden movement, a threat. His mind, that blank white canvas, was screaming for quiet. He had a vague, driving objective: find a quiet place, find information about the Kyubi-scarred lands to the north. His first stop was a dingy tavern. The air was thick with stale beer and desperation. And he was turned away die to his age.
As he was being pushed out the door he heard two men getting into a loud argument about something. All he caught was shouting, slurred fragments about "...Chungsu" and "rift nonsense" near the mountains. Nanashi felt the impatience prickle up the back of his spine. He needed something more substantial, not drunken banter or omens. They were utterly useless for him.
Next, he found a cleaner, marginally more respectable noodle stall. He chose a corner, his presence immediately killing the lighthearted chatter of the other patrons. He managed to steer the nervous owner into a conversation about recent events outside the city.
“The Ruins of… what was it?” Nanashi murmured, his voice flat, and inquisitory .
“Chungsu,” the owner whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “Everyone talks about the tremors. The ground’s been unsettled for years, since 804 when the Kyubi leveled the whole city. But now... they say people are disappearing. Strong people, like mercenaries and even shinobi, trying to get rich off whatever chaos is over there.” He wiped his hands furiously on his apron. “That’s all I know. I don't go near that cursed place.”
Nanashi pressed him: "The exact location? The rift? What do people seek by going there?" The owner only shook his head, begging Nanashi to leave. He got a confirmed location, north-west of his current location, but nothing solid on the why. The repeated mention of "strong people" chasing the chaos only intensified the manic thrill beginning to surface.
Back in the freezing alley, a weary-looking street vendor selling small, withered apples caught his eye. The man was old and seemed immune to fear. Nanashi approached him, pulling a silver coin from his pocket.
“The Ruins of Chungsu,” Nanashi said, holding the coin out. “And a quiet place to get proper information.”
The vendor’s eyes locked onto the coin. “Ah. You need to speak to the old woman at The Fragrant Kettle. It’s tucked back there.” He pointed toward the deeper maze of shacks. “She's quiet. And she’d know more than most. She’s one of the few who was there, 14 years ago when the Kyubi attacked.”
Finally. A link. Nanashi took the hint and found the tea house. Tucked between the decomposing fish stall and the locked-up junk shop. The Fragrant Kettle. He pushed the door. The little bell above was old, thin, chiming a sad, gentle note.
The air inside was an immediate relief from the cold coastal breeze, thick, warm, saturated with the earthy, calming scent of brewing leaves. No shouting, just the low, careful hum of voices. He took the darkest corner, settling into the shadows opting to see rather then be seen. A nice older woman approached, taking his simply order of oolong tea with a small plate of sandwiches.
He drank the warmth slowly, trying to focus on the tea, on the heat in his hands. But the voices started seeping in, low and insistent. Two merchants, talking over their cups.
“...Got worse, I tell you. Since the moon was full. Hey, you hear about the Ruins of Chungsu?”
Nanashi’s grip tightened on the cup. Looking up toward the people speaking, he debated about going over and demanding the information. However from across the room, the older lady spoke up as she casually strode over.
“The lights blinded us, and the earth, shook us out of our beds. And the roar, my that beasty surely must of had a thorn in his paw." she paused to have a sip of tea, slowly sitting closer to Nanashi. "I saw the air tear in front of my very eyes, and his claws rip through the portal, like a crack in the stone.”
Nanashi placed his cup down with a sharp, unexpected clack that silenced the table. He leaned forward, the brim of his cap momentarily lifting just enough to expose the unsettling intensity in his eyes.
"The Ruins," he murmured, his voice cutting through the soft air, instantly drawing every gaze. "Which direction from here?"
The first merchant swallowed hard. "Ah, north-west of here, sir. More north then west, at least a good day's ride."
"And why do strong people go there?"
The merchants look at each other "Apparently, the rift is full of treasures and challenges. Many think its a trap to lure victims in."
Nanashi nodded in contemplation as the merchant continued to speak about the rumored treasures. The conversation started to dive into something about divinity, but Nanashi was already lost in his thought. Finishing of his tea and his small meal, he would leave the warmth of the teahouse, stopping to pick up some supplies for the travel and leaving north, towards the large ruins just passed the horizon.
[End of Mission]
LLM
Storyboard Element B-Rank
- Find information about rifts
The goddamn Toksong wind. It wasn't just cold; it was salty and mean, determined to saw through the fabric of Nanashi's collar. He hated it. Hated how it made him grip the high collar, hated the frantic, bustling noise of the port. He kept the cap low, a necessity. It wasn't shyness; it was the mechanism of a broken soldier who knew only how to observe.
Crowds were the worst. A wet, loud tangle of humanity, stinking of cheap perfume and the day's catch. He worked his way through the back alleys, moving like oil on stone, keeping his shoulders tight. Every sound was a pinprick. Every sudden movement, a threat. His mind, that blank white canvas, was screaming for quiet. He had a vague, driving objective: find a quiet place, find information about the Kyubi-scarred lands to the north. His first stop was a dingy tavern. The air was thick with stale beer and desperation. And he was turned away die to his age.
As he was being pushed out the door he heard two men getting into a loud argument about something. All he caught was shouting, slurred fragments about "...Chungsu" and "rift nonsense" near the mountains. Nanashi felt the impatience prickle up the back of his spine. He needed something more substantial, not drunken banter or omens. They were utterly useless for him.
Next, he found a cleaner, marginally more respectable noodle stall. He chose a corner, his presence immediately killing the lighthearted chatter of the other patrons. He managed to steer the nervous owner into a conversation about recent events outside the city.
“The Ruins of… what was it?” Nanashi murmured, his voice flat, and inquisitory .
“Chungsu,” the owner whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “Everyone talks about the tremors. The ground’s been unsettled for years, since 804 when the Kyubi leveled the whole city. But now... they say people are disappearing. Strong people, like mercenaries and even shinobi, trying to get rich off whatever chaos is over there.” He wiped his hands furiously on his apron. “That’s all I know. I don't go near that cursed place.”
Nanashi pressed him: "The exact location? The rift? What do people seek by going there?" The owner only shook his head, begging Nanashi to leave. He got a confirmed location, north-west of his current location, but nothing solid on the why. The repeated mention of "strong people" chasing the chaos only intensified the manic thrill beginning to surface.
Back in the freezing alley, a weary-looking street vendor selling small, withered apples caught his eye. The man was old and seemed immune to fear. Nanashi approached him, pulling a silver coin from his pocket.
“The Ruins of Chungsu,” Nanashi said, holding the coin out. “And a quiet place to get proper information.”
The vendor’s eyes locked onto the coin. “Ah. You need to speak to the old woman at The Fragrant Kettle. It’s tucked back there.” He pointed toward the deeper maze of shacks. “She's quiet. And she’d know more than most. She’s one of the few who was there, 14 years ago when the Kyubi attacked.”
Finally. A link. Nanashi took the hint and found the tea house. Tucked between the decomposing fish stall and the locked-up junk shop. The Fragrant Kettle. He pushed the door. The little bell above was old, thin, chiming a sad, gentle note.
The air inside was an immediate relief from the cold coastal breeze, thick, warm, saturated with the earthy, calming scent of brewing leaves. No shouting, just the low, careful hum of voices. He took the darkest corner, settling into the shadows opting to see rather then be seen. A nice older woman approached, taking his simply order of oolong tea with a small plate of sandwiches.
He drank the warmth slowly, trying to focus on the tea, on the heat in his hands. But the voices started seeping in, low and insistent. Two merchants, talking over their cups.
“...Got worse, I tell you. Since the moon was full. Hey, you hear about the Ruins of Chungsu?”
Nanashi’s grip tightened on the cup. Looking up toward the people speaking, he debated about going over and demanding the information. However from across the room, the older lady spoke up as she casually strode over.
“The lights blinded us, and the earth, shook us out of our beds. And the roar, my that beasty surely must of had a thorn in his paw." she paused to have a sip of tea, slowly sitting closer to Nanashi. "I saw the air tear in front of my very eyes, and his claws rip through the portal, like a crack in the stone.”
Nanashi placed his cup down with a sharp, unexpected clack that silenced the table. He leaned forward, the brim of his cap momentarily lifting just enough to expose the unsettling intensity in his eyes.
"The Ruins," he murmured, his voice cutting through the soft air, instantly drawing every gaze. "Which direction from here?"
The first merchant swallowed hard. "Ah, north-west of here, sir. More north then west, at least a good day's ride."
"And why do strong people go there?"
The merchants look at each other "Apparently, the rift is full of treasures and challenges. Many think its a trap to lure victims in."
Nanashi nodded in contemplation as the merchant continued to speak about the rumored treasures. The conversation started to dive into something about divinity, but Nanashi was already lost in his thought. Finishing of his tea and his small meal, he would leave the warmth of the teahouse, stopping to pick up some supplies for the travel and leaving north, towards the large ruins just passed the horizon.
[End of Mission]
LLM
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