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 Raion's Training

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PostSubject: Raion's Training   17th March 2017, 6:53 am

Out in the village outskirts, Rai was performing a nice bit of street paint when suddenly…genin shinobi attack! A team of three on patrol duty began to chase the poor boy away, leaving the beautiful art unfinished. “Suck my Di~” God damn it. Maybe he’ll have the opportunity to come back and finish it off, but first he had to lose these losers. Fortunately, they seemed to be pretty slow, getting lost somewhere a while back as he sprinted over fences and through alleyways into the safety of a somewhat crowded street. Man, with how slow they were, it was amazing they even made it to genin. But wait, there’s more. It seems one of them isn’t half bad, catching up and now sprinting full force towards him, well this wasn’t good. Pulling up the face mask to ensure his identity remained hidden, he would continue on again, jumping up onto rooftops and sliding through gaps before finally taking cover behind a short brick wall as the poor shinobi putting up the chase went by, coughing and wheezing as he struggled for breath at the excessive exercise. I guess Rai was just blessed with a fairly decent set of durable lungs. The blessing of being big and strong.

Word Count: 208
Needed: 200

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   17th March 2017, 5:28 pm

Once again he was on the run, face mask up high covering his precious identity before someone finds a way to identify him. This time he’d been caught stealing one of those new spray can type inventions from the Epsilon merchant store. While he was quite excited to trial it out as soon as possible, it would appear as though it had to wait. First he had to lose these obviously annoyed pursuers chasing him through the busy streets once again. He would hop up onto a roof, before sliding down the other side and into an alley, or at least that was the plan…Somehow, after leaking a little chakra to break the fall, he seemed to stop mid-air…floating? Literally just dangling there. Welp, there is no point crying over spilt milk and to be honest, this was a fairly good find, so with that in mind, he continued the run, but at a levitation, leaving no footprints (as if he was before anyway). With the new-found ability to levitate, it wasn’t hard to utilise this and have the pursuers run straight underneath him and around the corner, giving him the chance to drop a bit of art on the wall beside him.

Word Count: 203
Needed: 200

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   20th March 2017, 10:38 pm

The Dakar have always been a shroud race of individuals, with the berserker side effects, bone structure and of course their ability to utilise fabrication…It makes sense for people to not quite understand them. More so since they appear to be so rare in this day and age, a time of which they are more powerful than ever. His father, bless his soul, kept many Dakar scrolls laying around despite not being a shinobi himself, knowing that one day they may very well come in handy for his son…well that has come to pass, as Raion scanned through to find what he was after, the scroll on basic fabrication.

Word Count: 109
Needed: 100

Spoiler:
 

Also, requesting permission to change the former two trainings to different techniques on account of having to make character racial and clan based edits. :)

Change to:
Shatter Rend - C-Rank
Cripple stage 1 - C-Rank

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   22nd March 2017, 12:53 am

Raion. His parents told him once as a young boy that it meant Lion in some strange and foreign language. He had no idea where they got the concept from, but it always seemed to suit well, with the mane he’s been growing at the very least. In any case, one thing that a lion is, that he is not, is quick. Something he planned on working on since running around all the damn time was beginning to become a huge pain when he was practically sprinting to get gone from the scene of whatever crime he has committed. So alas here we are, running laps.

Word Count: 106
Needed: 100

D-Rank Speed Tier

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   3rd April 2017, 10:56 pm

She was gorgeous. So pretty that he completely forgot whatever he was doing and instinctively went to court the fine woman. Guess it was a shame that she was married...to a total asshole. The guy grabbed some goons, too many for poor little 17 year old Raion to take on, and began yet another god damn fucking pursuit. I swear he is always running after or from something in these damn stories. They ran up and down the main roads, through marketplaces, through alleyways and over buildings. These motherfuckers were trained for something, probably bloody mercs, taking all the shinobi jobs for cheap, damn bastards. I really don’t wanna go on about some grand story that we have, so I’ll just cut to the chase, pun intended. Basically they ran for a while, and this isn’t the first time we’ve had a situation like this, so naturally these situations build up over time, and make young Raion quicker. So this is a grand training about reaching the illusive C-Rank speed tier, yay for me. Once he lost the guys, he went home to jack off and practise some art on his walls, which are now so covered in crap they look like the inside of an open drainpipe.

Word Count: 208
Needed: 200

C-Rank speed tier

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   3rd April 2017, 10:56 pm

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   27th April 2017, 12:48 am

We’ll take it all back to the beginning. The untold history of the boy and how he came to become the troubled teen he is today, how did someone who was so loving, supportive and family friendly become such a blight on society, such a delinquent with so little remorse, so little heart. Well, the answer is never an easy one to bring to light, but often it can be summarised quite easily. In this case it all began with the loneliness a boy can feel. This world that has been forged by such cruel and unforgiving gods is exactly that, cruel and unforgiving. How can they be so mighty, but create such pain? A world where a child can lose his family, can lose everything he cares for, everything he has lived for, and then be expected to live alone, fend for himself, put himself through school, make his own living and do it all without a support network to help guide him on the way. Raion lost his family young, as do many children in this cruel and unforgiving world, and like all the other kids, there was no after incident support. They council of old men did little more than give him enough each week to survive and expected him to deal with the rest alone. With no other immediate family, he was alone. Alone in grief, to deal with the hardship and the mental fortitude they required. Alone to learn the way of the world, how to cook, clean, how to live. Because in this world, children are adults, children fight wars, children don’t need families or friends, they are born with either a career in their future or a kunai in their hands. He started training to kill when he was just five years old, a general age for that sort of thing. How did they expect him to turn out? How did they expect any of these kdis to turn out. Look at any one of the people living in this world and you’ll see they are seriously fucked up, no one is normal. They are either dealing with a ridiculous amount of grief, mental baggage, physical abuse, mind blown fuckery in social etiquette. Everything was so out of the ordinary, and they made it all so ordinary. Kids who protect civilians are such a normal concept. When you think about this, when Raion began to think about this, he realised that the system wasn’t built for them, no one was being given the chance to have a real childhood. The system of the Allied Shinboi nations, of all the different villages, of the Shogunate, of Epsilon, Espicially Panora… No matter where you went, people were born to being weapons or workers and nothing more. Raion saw this happening, he saw the pain he was feeling, that every child was feeling. He saw this, lifted both hands up in the air, lifted the middle finger high up to the sky and yelled “Fuck the System!”

And that is the beginning of a long road. The road of a delinquent, with a true cause.

It was a bright sunny day, a perfect day for his inauguration into the life of a genin. Even with being a problem child, he was proud to have made the rank. As he lined up alongside the rest of his classmates, standing tall with an abundance of pride and unfounded anticipation, he waited, barely contained as they came past with the headbands. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked over to his parents, his mother crying tears of joy, his young sister clapping and cheering as he received the honorary symbol. The first day as a real shinobi. His whole life training to lead to this life. *Clank* *Lock* A metal door to keep him in at night, ensuring there was nowhere to go. It was a small room, about 4 by 3 meters in size, with a single bed, a table and a toilet in the corner. He took a seat on the bed, staring rather blankly at the photo in his hand. It was the picture they took as a family the day of his certification, everyone was so happy, even he was barely able to hold back a smile for longer than a minute. He remembers it all so clearly, as if it were yesterday. The last day he’d smiled. The last day that he had a family. The last day he saw his father or sister. It has been around seven months since then. His mother had overdosed a few months back and he was living with his ‘grandmother’ who hasn’t been seen in little over a year now, apparently living it up in Dipu, but who the fuck really knows, could be dead for all Rai cares. He was sitting on his bed, in a god damn cell. The only ASN youth detention centre, where everyone who goes in is practically marked for life as a future full-time criminal. A drop of water fell onto the photo, right onto his own face. Being water, the colour soaked through and blurred itself beyond recognition. The ceiling…no the leak was from elsewhere. He looked around to find the source when a tickle fell through his cheek. Tears? Just as he turnt to take once last look at the family portrait the lights flicked off. It was pitch almost pitch black except for the slight light when slide in under the door, just enough to find the toilet, but not enough to do anything else. Letting the paper slowly glide to the floor, he twisted and laid flat along the bed, thinking about tomorrow. Thinking about what it’ll be like, is it really as bad as they say here? The stories that have come from this place are horrific, and if today was anything to go by, then it’ll all be true. Just the administration day was more than enough to scar a boy for life. Day one of the worst year in his life.

The first boy he met seemed nice enough, poor guy got caught stealing bread…or so he said. Rai heard tales when he got out that he actually brutally murdered the baker and his family. Two stories, very different outcomes, but both with this one guy at the heart of it, who didn’t seem to be all to different, at least not at first. He helped Raion get settled in, introduced him to the others and showed that its not really that bad if you act the right way. And that was exactly what he did. I mean, these guys were homicide criminals, literal evil psychopaths on a road to destruction, and then there was Rai, just sitting there for too many low level crimes. The only reason he was being punished so harshly, was because he opted for it, to ensure that the ban on his rank, as a shinobi, wasn’t permanent like the judge originally had planned. Five years. It will be five years before Rai will be reinstated, and nobody wants to see him get that job back. Not the old geezers running the show, not the town he’s from, not his old instructors. But, honestly there isn’t much else to do, so why not charge into the route where he can kill whomever, and release all these burden ridden feelings and get paid to do it. Surely the local blacksmith won’t be as engaging and fulfilling so why the hell not. Surely no one in here was gonna question his motives, more so since he didn’t tell anyone what he was. Criminals don’t take lightly to the shinobi’s, so being caged up with them, probably not a good idea to start blabbering about the need for the job. It was different out on they yard. People generally find their clique, then the usual environment of clique alliances form, you have enemy groups and guys you don’t associate with. When you look at it socially, it’s essentially a school for the worst students in the entire Allied Nations, what a joke? In any case, the guys from Raion’s group were known as the jokers, a strictly mutual party who don’t take sides and generally stay out of fights. They were the middle grounds in everything, rumours ran through them, people often spoke only through them. It was truly a weird place to be, but hey, whatever right. The jokers got to be friends with whoever they wanted, there was no off limit rival groups or anything they needed to stay away from. So Raion had the chance to blend around as he saw fit, meeting a lot of people and learning a lot of new shit. There was one artist, who showed him how to truly express his graffiti with beauty. Another who taught him to roll smokes. Even one of the guards demonstrated the secret art of pissing everyone off. Literally, he was a pro, no matter who is was or how calm they were, he could get right under their skin. When he taught Rai, the guy literally brought out a fucking textbook on the shit.

The first breath of fresh air is always the best. Although no different from any other intake, it still brings with it the realisation of freedom. Something you never truly notice until it is stripped away from you, leaving to bare and empty. Heading home was even stranger. He still wasn’t well adapted to the idea of being on his own, but being gone for such a long time, and coming home for nobody to welcome you back was quite upsetting. No one was there to say “I’m glad to see you again” or even scold him. Nothing. So, he did what he was used to, destroyed the place, and tore everything out of his room besides his bed, curled up there and just thought about what to do next. That was the first day, the second wasn’t much better. He picked up a whole heap of spray paint, and covered the inside of his house in ‘art’, from the walls, to the ceiling, the whole lot. It looked like a rainwater tunnel by the end of it. Third day, his art progressed to the streets, and on the fourth he sat inside telling himself to be good. It wasn’t until the fifth day out in the real world again that he finally kicked into gear, saying enough was fucking enough, time to start being a good boy and training the fuck up so that when he was reinstated, he could smash through to Tobetsu Jonin as soon as fucking possible and be well on his way to becoming an S-Class Hunter ninja. The whole good Samaritan, well behaved young man act died off fairly quick, but even to the present day, he’ll never miss a day of training. So at least some good came of all that shit I suppose, the motivation to do something positive in the long term, for himself at least. Every morning, at 5 am sharp, he’ll be up and out of bed, eating his healthy brekky and drinking lots of fluids. Then go for a jog around the town and end up at the training grounds where he’ll stretch then pull out his first smoke of the day and start training whatever he needs to work on for that day. Each day is broken into a series of physical drills, leading into projectiles and finally ending on fabrication training. Before heading back home for lunch at 12 pm, he’ll spend an hour training anything he deems useful, such as ninjutsu, genjutsu or anything in between. After all, who knows what’ll come in handy out in a real life or death situation where the pressure is on and the danger is real. He sure could’ve used some of that random power on the day that he lost his family, or while he was locked up, or just about anytime throughout his life thus far.

It was almost eerie to be back. Nothing had changed, the frames were all since the say, the furniture dusty. It had been abandoned ever since his mother passed, but technically it’s still his property. Silent, dark, and unwelcoming what the general gist of the place. There was an old photo of his dad and sister on a shelf in his father’s old workshop. How ever upon trying to pick it up and take it home, he found it was stuck to the table, or rather, it was a part of the table. A lever. Pushing it down revealed an opening in the wall behind it, which held a staircase that led down below the home. A bunker? Travel down he found a shrine, torches which lit on their own and an alter which had several scrolls upon them, as well as a note opened up waiting to be read. “Congratulations on becoming a shinobi son. As of this moment, you are the holder of our secrets.” A momento? Made for his return. As he continued to read, he found out some devastating truths about what they were. An heirloom which has been passed on for centuries. A lost language which held amazing power for those born of the race. A language used by ancient chakra beasts. The note came with a warning. It took years to master, and learning too much at once will kill him. The table. Lined with scrolls, each sealed, each with the same warning. The reason he was trained so young to be strong, the reason they tried so desperately for him to being a shinobi, was to awaken this and free them of the burden. Raion couldn’t help but feel both a little blessed, and used. But there was no point in dealing with that shit now, all he knew is that there was power in these, and he was gonna take the damn thing. Grabbing the first scroll, he opened it up, only to find a single word written in a language he couldn’t understand. The words began to glow, and he absorbed the knowledge as though it were his given birthright. Without delay he grabbed he second and opened that too, but midway through the absorption, he felt the pangs of the first scroll. Coming hard and coming fast. By the time he realised, it was already too late, because the second scroll’s recoil kicked him, blacking him out almost immediately. When he came too, it had already been a day, and he was starving, weakened and dying. Literally crawling up the stairs and onto the streets, he managed to get help from a passer-by. Raion was hospitalised for up to three weeks, for unknown causes. He didn’t tell anyone anything. Why would he, it’s his families secret to hold, and his burden to bare. And next time he’ll be more careful, because there was definitely gonna be a next time. That power is his to have.

It was a slow process after that. No more than one word per week. No less either. It got easier to handle over time, but even when he tried two after so much practice, it turned out to be a complete shit show. Some scroll didn’t even have words of power in them, just information. Text written in his own language that details the proper use of the words, as well as the improper, the unjust and of course, what the fucking word actually is. Turns out its all an ancient chakra beast language which was collected several hundreds of years ago while the Dakar were still a fresh race, newly created. Before they were treated like real people. In the beginning, it was meant to be used as a weapon against the humans, to destroy them all and allow the Nova to rise up and claim the world for themselves, but over time it became feared, people died often trying to learn them, and it backfired entirely, actually wiping out most of the race which is what made them such a rarity now. Their own source of power was their own undoing. Ironic in a way, but also very fortunate for those would be humans back in the days of old. His family wasn’t protecting the scrolls from the people, but rather the people from them. Only a Dakar, with the genetic bloodline heralding from old chakra beasts are capable of utilising it fully. And only a strong individual who has been mentally and physically prepared his entire life can really conquer it. It is a language, a culture that cannot be lost to time like so many others have been, but it also couldn’t be allowed to roam free, having people shouting them off wherever they pleased. It had to be learnt, the scrolls destroyed, and then passed down verbally to ensure it never falls into the wrong hands. It detailed a time where it once had fallen as such, but no more information was presented, and looking for the rest of the information could prove fatal if the next scroll was actually a word and not a damn history discussion. Why was it all so mixed up and hard to deal with, honestly, it was a pain to handle this shit sometimes. Regardless, everyday, he would go out into the desert of Graves, where he was alone and isolated, with plenty of space. And shout his way through to train. Learning what they do, how they effect others, what they are capable of. It wasn’t long before the village began to take notice, and the elders summoned him like they always do, accusing him of stealing jutsu and all the nonsense. Demanding he diverge the secrets to this power. But of cource, he refused, causing them to find new ways to punish him. Firstly, they made him redo both the academy and genin exam alongside other students, children sometimes less then 8 years old. It was humiliating but unfortunately it didn’t stop there. After being reinstated, they continually said there was no team to place him in, leaving him sensei-less and unable to undergo the needed missions to rank up.

We’ll fast forward a few months now, to the point where they told him. He was going to apprentice under his former classmate. His own classmates had moved on and become jonin, hunters and medics. They were already a part of the military might of the villages and the overall shinobi nations, and here he was. Back at the beginning, unmoving and probably not gonna be going much further. Not if this is how he’ll be received through each part of his life. Where everyone will make it as difficult as possible for him to keep heading forwards. All the training is going to waste, all those years of his family, protecting the secret language, freeing themselves from their burden, all wasted. And to be perfectly honest, it was all his own fucking fault. Oh well, guess they can give as good as they can take, old farts. In any case, hopefully Himiko won’t try to belittle him or treat him like the other kids in the team. Honestly, just let the past be and allow Rai to do his own thing, and hopefully there won’t be too much trouble. However, there is always that possibility that they won’t get along, which wouldn’t be preferable, but in that case, all he’ll have to do is make life as difficult as possible for absolutely everyone who’s involved. It was all arranged; they were to meet at the office in preparation for their first team mission as the new team or whatever after that last guy in place died or some crap. Wonder what happened to the poor chap, actually no I don’t, couldn’t care less in all honest. As I was sayng, they were to meet a thte office, be briefed on whatever it was they were suppose to be doing, some personal mission or whatever for our new jonin spiritual leader, and during all this Rai was suppose to make his entrance and ‘humbly’ introduce himself to the team. Their words, not his. But this was all to take place over a week from now, which meant he had some serious hustling to do in order to get himself ready to mesh with the ‘new age’ genin who are said to be as superior as those from the time when the Shogunate was the dominating and singular faction. Oh how the times have changed. He could almost marvel at the street art as he walked down to the front gates of the village, ready to step out and find a secluded area for his speech practice. While the superiors like to feint on this whole peace talk, the streets knew better, and they were always more than happy to voice that opinion on the walls of shops, down the bricks of alleys and on the floor where people walked to live out their generally boring lives.

He was going to train in two general blocks, the first was going to focus mostly on his words of power, increasing his endurance to using them, giving them more explosive and effective power with the addition of secondary words, and of course broadening his vocabulary, a phrase you generally wouldn’t expect to hear from a total douche of a teen boy, but hey, we’re all full of surprises these days. The second block of training will generally be covering his physical capabilities, working hard to increase his speed and strength capabilities, if only to ensure he wasn’t completely useless when not able to defend himself utilising fabrication. Apparently there are a certain few out there in the big, bad world who are not only able to combat the unusual style, but negate it entirely. Let us now pray to Sussano, Kami and Datara that they never fucking come across anyone like that. Ever! Period. Because while I plan on being great against some people, in the process, I will have absolutely zero offensive, nor defensive methods against these freaks of nature who seem hell bent on making my life more difficult than it needs to be. In any case the walk to his usual spot was quiet, and mostly uneventful. Being from graves, there is literally nothing to see besides the occasional cactus and yep, you guessed it, sand. Once he saw a rock sticking out from the ground. That was awesome. As he walked, footsteps were left behind him, tracking the way back to the village before the wind gently blew them away after a minute or so. Once he reached his spot, which was now nothing more than a crater left by his constant barrage of assault to the land, he’d do as he always does before training. Take a nice solid seat on the rough floor, cross over his legs, bow his head, and begin playing silently to all the gods one by one just as his mother had taught him. Every time he prayed, her image would find its way into his head, flooding his thoughts and getting good ol’ Rai all motivated to do his very best. She was a pilgrim in another life, so he grew up very religiously, if you can believe it or not. She managed to travel around and visit every single shrine at one point or another, not an easy feat in this day and age. Once finished, with the god’s blessings and his need to make his parents proud now burning in his heart, Raion was prepared to begin, standing with a sudden jolt as he faced the far end of the creator and began shouting away a series of bumbled words, sometimes two to three at the same time by blending the all together in a mixture of nonsense. Did the trick though, and the hole in the earth grew larger and larger. Soon we’ll build a secret underground base here.

The shouting was the easy part, he’d committed each and every word, and word combination to memory. Doesn’t matter how hard you hit his head, even if he was to forget his own name, those words would possibly be burnt in the brain which how remembered they are. Or not, possibly just talking out of my ass now, but back to the story. Raion was now setting up a camp for the night, a tent was nice and popped up and a small cooking pot was laid out with some meat spit roasting over a flame. Back in the day, his father would bring him out here and they would camp out, set up a fire and have a nice meal, doing man stuff every so often. At the time, he hated it. But now that it doesn’t happen anymore, he can really see it for what it was. It was another form of training. The life of a shinobi, escorting, all those types of long ass travelling topics, well more often than not, you won’t always have a hotel to comfort you at night, you may even be broke from time to time. I mean who wants to be carrying around mountains of cash as you cross the country, not me. More often than not, you are sleeping under the stars, and in extreme circumstances, living off the land. If you learn how to do that in the desert, than with just slight knowledge of fauna and flora for the general continent, and you’ll be able to survive anyway. Got to hand the old man props, for as sneaky as he was, he certainly had a skill for teaching life long lessons and hiding their true intent. Anyway, once he’d eaten and had everything set up so he could pass out at any point, he’d return to his training, spending the night working on his speed and strength, digging holes, doing a heap of body weight, channelling chakra and blood to his muscles to open fibers up, all for strength. And obviously running around for speed, both sprints and distance, making sure to also use his channelling for the same reason. You can’t expect to get that super strength and speed if you aren’t channelling prepare the body for those ridiculous physical capabilities. It’s the only way for anyone to break those physical limitations that any body naturally has. The main downside, fucking painful as fuck. By the end of it he was out cold within around one minte of crashing into the tent, waking with some serious muscle pain. Luckily he planned ahead with some neat foods made by a great scientist with focus on regenerating reserves quite quickly as well as recovering from growing pains at a ridiculous speed as well. With the overnight training done and dusted, he’d turn and return to the village, still a little sore during the walk, but ready to go and knock out this stupid as mission with his new stupid ass team.

Word Count: 4507
Needed: 4500

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PostSubject: Re: Raion's Training   27th April 2017, 4:03 am

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