Nímbasa Sanctuary.

[Estilo]

N Í M B A S A

S A N C T U A R Y

Deep within the wet and unforgiving jungle growing over the great turtle, a ruin of a civilization long forgotten hides. Its clandestine stone entrance is masked by the waves of vine and flora that dominate the landscape, sheltered in the shadows of a territory where terrifying beasts dwell. But if one were brave, daft, or lucky enough to come across it, they would stumble upon the doorway into a sanctuary few have seen for more than thousands of years. The stone that the entrance and its following hallway is compromised of is riddled with ancient carvings, the deep gray surface of its walls depicting legends and tales that seldom can ever read in this day and age. The archictecture of this ancient haven brims with an everlasting elegance-- dominated with examples of circular-shaped doorways, neatly tiled stone floors, and many depictions of dragons carved within its pillars, pedestals, statues, and walls.

The entire temple is approximately seventy by seventy meters all around, a squared piece of uncharted territory lost and shrouded within the jungle of the great turtle. While it undoubtedly delivers an impressive sight to behold at close distance, the mere fact that the stone sanctuary is overrun with leagues of vine and flora thousands of years in the making makes it near impossible to simply "stumble" upon. And, if past discoveries here had anything to prove, it was that the best compass was that of an individual who had already been here, and known of this locale beforehand. Traversing through the wilderness, amidst giant man-eating predators and poisonous death-traps, and without a proper sense of direction, mind you, had more than a few unlucky explorers killed in past ventures.

Aside from the perils preceding its discovery, however, any visitors fortunate enough to find this haven will find themselves being one of the few to have step foot into the ruins within a span of several millenia. While its hallways are engulfed in shadow, nary allowing enough sunlight to filter through the cracks in some walls, the rooms following the labyrinth along the sanctuary's sides are still very much accessible. Some contain treasures, others makeshift beds from adventurers of yore, and several other oddities. But the grandest of all the temple's rooms can be found at its center-- as the Pale Shrine. This circular area encompasses a radius of twenty meters, and the rooftop above it is built like a spire, reaching thirty meters above with a twenty inch square opening at its top. At the very center of this "shrine", and the sanctuary itself, the vicious bust of a pale dragon is carved into porcelain white marble.

The glistening pillar on which it resides glimmers with the sunshine that comes down from above, standing amidst a small pool of water that is nearly knee-deep. Carved into the walls of the Pale Shrine are hieroglyphics with visual representations of this "pale dragon" and its many battles. And, on a few portions of the wall surrounding the shrine, mummified corpses wrapped in ancient linen occupy the burial slots formed therein. Aside from the stone tables adorned with ancient embalming tools, the old campfire, and the exits to its north and south end, however, there is not much more to tell about the shrine.

At first glance.

---

Status: Private thread.

[Estilo]

5 DAYS EARLIER.

The sea of clouds that Fusa parted her way through was filled with a moisture that left specks of frigid raindrops on the surface of my already bitter cheeks. Despite the cold, however, to see the famous "island turtle" from so high above was quite the sight to behold. The "island" itself seemed to be stationary from my vantage point in the sky. But, like the rotation of the very earth on which we lived, many claimed the island was constantly adrift in the ocean. Its movements, however, were impossible to see for those without patience. Regardless of whether the turtle was moving along or not, however, I was anxious to proceed and explore the rumor given to me by a very old friend of mine from the vibrant city of Kami no Shima.

Did the secret to dragon's power lay hidden on a turtle's back?

It had only been a matter of days since I had been reunited with the dragon family that had served me so well in the First World War. Fusa and I were still beginning to get to know each other, as she had not been a part of my ventures before, while older dragons such as Tate and Oyabun had already known me from what seemed to be ages ago. But having them back inspired a drive to search for anything and everything that could help us in our upcoming endeavors. I was never a big treasure hunter to begin with, nor had I been excessively hungry for power. My evenings were better spent in peace and comfort, a byproduct of a diplomacy I learned to appreciate after the War. But dark times were coming. Whether they were meant for me, or for my opponents, depended on the cards we held. If this dragon temple could somehow help us, I'd find it.

As though she had read my mind, the slender white wyrm I rode dropped into a nosedive, cutting downwards through the air as we shot out of the clouds, and towards the tapestry of glistening blue ocean below. My boots buckled into the harness, and my hands held onto the reins tightly, as my wild mane of crimson rippled with the gusts of wind. Within a matter of seconds, we had closed the distance between us and the island turtle considerably. And before long, Fusa arced her scaled body into a steady glide over the vast jungle below us. What sounded like a massive tiger roared from down below. And, when the wind finally calmed, I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved the wine-stained map given to me in Kami no Shima. It was time to find and explore this "dragon temple".

Fusa was better at the searching aspect of this journey than I had initially expected. Despite the fact that dragon-kind were airborne creatures, with particularly good eye-sight, the jungle below us was quite a confusing entanglement of vine and flora-- so much of it, in fact, that it encompassed the entirety of the territory we searched like an ocean of green hues. Yet, even without the advice I gave after scrutinizing every last detail on the map, Fusa seemed to always be a step ahead of me. Seeing what I could not see, taking the initiative as she dove into the wild of the jungle and maneuvered her way through the massive trees and hanging moss. Eventually, however, she found a clearing to safely land. And she spoke, "We are near."

[Estilo]

The afternoon air was thick with heat, the incessant sounds of birds and exotic bugs reverberating throughout the wild jungle backdrop. Upon Fusa's expertly executed landing-- and after she'd tucked in her sunrise orange wings-- I would swing my legs over to one side and hop off the harness on her back. My boots landed soundlessly onto the soft brown soil below. The clearing we were in was surrounded with jungle at all sides and, just when I was beginning to have doubts about the certainty of the direction I was meant to go, I received an unexpected nudge from Fusa's snout. "Oi!" I remarked, staggering forward for a moment before turning to the slender white wyrm. I'd straighten my sleeves with an open palm as she responded.

"Your directions pointed that way, Dovahkiin." She replied in her typical calm growl. I turned to see the thick field of jungle trees awaiting me afar, the waves of hanging vines that hung on trees like snakes, the large groupings of wet leaves that blotted out the very sky above. "Though I may not be capable of accompanying you the rest of the way, I am confident that the revakqoth your map speaks of hides there-- in the wilds."

I'd nod in agreement, casting her a glance as she turned to fly away. "Stick to the skies, in case I need you. And watch out for my flare." But even as I spoke, that word she had used still bounced around in my mind, demanding to be noticed. Revakqoth. I'd been around dragons long enough to pick up on a few words in their language, but it had been so long ago. And, as Fusa and I went our separate ways for the time being, my mind raced to answer the riddle of this word. Dovahkiin was easy enough. It meant Dragonborn. Revak was the equivalent of ancient. But qoth... I'd only heard the word once before.

I stopped in my tracks, and turned over my shoulder to glance at the wyrm. She'd known about this locale after all.

"Fusa." I spoke, stopping her a moment before she extended her slender orange wings to fly. "Ancient tomb? To whom?"

A moment of silence washed over us both, the roar of an unseen beast echoing throughout the backdrop of this strange island. And, when she finally decided to answer, Fusa would turn her reptilian gaze towards me. "Sahrotsahviing." And, with nothing else to say, she left, a quick gust of wind signaling her speedy departure to the blue skies above. I watched as her porcelain white frame disapppeared behind the clouds of green that shielded the jungle from most of the sun's rays. When she had gone, I would turn to my appointed destination and ponder the name she had given me. And the reasons behind Fusa's rather unusual behavior. What was I to expect out of this "dragon temple"? And did Fusa have some sort of connection to it? I'd walk on, into the jungle, as these questions persisted.

[Estilo]

The jungle was a cruel mistress. It radiated with a warm and rare beauty that I had seldom seen before, supplemented by the awe-inspiring realization that this entire landscape-- the flora, the fauna, the very soil beneath my feet-- was carried on the back of an ancient creature many have dared to call divine. But this beauty came with deadly secrets. Massive beasts roamed the wilds, predators and prey alike. They fought, and fed, and navigated their territory on a constant basis-- inhabiting cavernous dwellings, hiding in the giant trees that loomed over the fields of thick roots, which were embedded into the very ground itself. Needless to say, I strove to make each step I took a silent one, and kept my senses on alert.

But against such experienced hunters as tigers and colossal spiders, even I wasn't spared an uneventful stroll through the jungle. When I wasn't diligently following the directions on my map-- taking note of the landmarks mentioned on it, and carefully advancing thereafter-- I was fighting off attacks from creatures who desired to devour my flesh. The spider's, even in number, were easy enough to scare off or kill. But the tiger's I was, more often than not, forced to outsmart, outmaneuver, and escape from. Yet, despite the exhaustion I felt afterwards, I tried to maintain a positive outlook on the situation. Things would have definitely been much worse without the map to guide me, especially with the maze-like conditions here.

Moments after I had passed the last landmark mentioned-- a rock that had been, through the mystery of nature, formed into what seemed to vaguely resemble a horse's head-- I had finally found the temple I had been searching for. It was vast, and ancient, and truly a marvel to behold, situated within a sunken plateau of leaves and vine. Such a position allowed the temple, despite the tall spire at its center, to still remain shrouded beneath the leaves overhead. As such, even the great Fusa could not have spotted it from overhead. The mighty trees of the jungle seemed to arc over the temple below it with their wide-spanning amount of flora, shielding it as a mother hawk's wings would shield their chick from the rest of the world.

Brimming with a juvenile excitement I hadn't felt since Vera and I escaped the Etsuko Manor, I formed an ear-to-ear smile and hurried down the steep hill before me. With the vines below constantly attempting to have me trip and fall, however, I still needed to play it cautious. Yet, within moments, I was at the front entrance to the temple. Darkness hummed past the large, circular entranceway. Vines hung down from above it, a flight of stone steps preceded it, and two long extinguished fire pits stood on each side. I advanced, too amazed by the discovery and exploration to utter a word, and strode into its dark depths. Inside, the jungle and all its ancient sounds echoed with life.

[Estilo]

The slightest of winds that managed to drift into the shadowy hallways of this ancient haven were amplified in sound, their whispers and whistles echoing throughout the dilapidated ruins. The few rays of faint sunlight that managed to filter through the cracks of the ruin provided enough illumination to mind my steps as I walked on, through circular doorways and past stone walls. A part of me yearned to stop and investigate the hieroglyphics carved intricately into these walls, each displaying a different scene in cryptic images, paired beside a script of phonetic language I had never seen before. But these curiosities, including the many rooms that I passed, could wait a little longer. For now, I needed to reach the center of this architectural beauty. And Fusa hated to be kept waiting.

Though the pathways within this sanctuary were, at times, confusing, I managed to make my way towards the center in good time. It was then that the distinct fragrance of fresh water graced my nostrils. There, at the center of this spacious clearing, a pillar of weak sunlight shone above the bust of a ferocious dragon, carved into a thick mound of porcelain white marble. Surrounding this carefully carved sculpture was a small pool of still water. Green moss grew around the edges of this pool, and millions of specks of dust could be seen floating about in the sunlight that shone down on it. I was awestruck, taking in my surrounding thoroughly as I stood, the dragon seemingly staring straight at me as it kept its fanged maw agape in an eternal roar. This was the center-- but where to go now?

It was then that I found, much to my amazement, a skeleton sitting against the stone wall to my left, wearing a tattered robe and positioned before a pile of old campfire remains. I strode towards this oddity quickly, dropping to a swift crouch as I examined the scene. The condition of the skeleton suggested it was more than a hundred years old, perhaps even older. And while I had noticed burial slots surrounding this room, and an array of embalming tools on the few stone tables that occupied it, I knew this particular set of human remains didn't necessarily belong here. This person had, surely, been an explorer of some sort. And, when I spotted the satchel to the skeleton's side, I quickly reached for it, burning with a desire to discover some form of evidence that might tell me otherwise.

I opened it carefully, very much aware that the fabric it was composed of was weak and could tear at any moment. Upon searching its varied contents-- which included a set of charcoal pencils, rolled up pieces of parchment, and a long defunct compass-- only one item caught my immediate interest. A journal. Tenderly, I pulled it out of the satchel, and set it upon the stone floor before me for further investigation. Upon unlocking the golden buckle that kept the journal closed, my gloved fingers opened the ancient tome, the leather croaking as it was eased into spilling the secrets it contained within its old pages-- for what was the first time in over a hundred years.

[Estilo]

This place was called Nímbasa.

It was written within the first entry of the journal, paired beside its draconic translation, a set of symbols just like the ones that adorned the walls of this ancient haven. The journel went on to translate many of these symbols and their different meanings, most importantly, in a language that I understood. Aside from the translations, a bulk of the tome was filled with dated journal entries that this person-- a scholar from an ancient continent of yore-- had written long ago. This place was called Nímbasa. And it was the ancient tomb and sanctuary of the great dragon Sahrotsahviing, translated as the "Mighty Phantom Wing". Fusa had, as I had expected, been right. But the journal spoke not of the secret to "dragon's power", the very secret I desired to unearth. After skimming through its contents once more, I stood up. The journal I would keep, to aid me in my study and translation of the dragon language after I finished exploring.

Yet, as it would appear, there seemed to be nothing else to explore in this sanctuary. Despite my eagerness to find another lead. But I wouldn't be dissuaded so easily from my cause. So I continued to examine the interior of this spacious shrine, quietly approaching the burial slots, and mummified corpses, and artifacts that remained. The journal had mentioned something about the human corpses being sacrifices to Sahrotsahviing. Each one of them an honored warrior in their time, a league of servants the mighty wyrm is said to command in the afterlife. As alien as this precursor culture was, I found it fascinating. But if the corpses of Sahrotsahviing's legion were here, then where had the dragon's remains been buried?

I found no immediate answer in the journal I had obtained. So, instead, I focused on doing a little research of my own. With the translations in hand, I advanced towards the portion of stone wall closest to the northern entrance of this central shrine-- where the hieroglyphics that spanned across both sides of the room seemingly began. A large portion of this wall depicted an image: a full-grown dragon, resembling the dragon carved into the marble, gloriously emerging from a shattered egg. Thanks to the age-old work of the scholar I had found, I managed to translate the majority of the draconic text found at the sides of this image-- but found nothing of note. The image had simply been depicting the birth of Sahrotsahviing, with the text providing a supplementary, and rather poetic, perspective.

Every scene I came across thereafter detailed the exploits of this mighty, and once infamous, wyrm. Together, they crafted an epic about a lone conqueror, rebelling against his royal family to set out on his own and grasp ultimate power. The pale dragon had vanquished entire cities and towns, battled against beasts of the ocean and earth, and had even ruled over a civilization of human beings, who had worshipped it as a deity among mortals. This cult following the dragon had produced, however, seemed to have been the reason behind its demise. As I neared the end of the hieroglyphics presented, I saw images of man rebelling against the pale dragon-- and assisted by other dragons, no less. Whether the worship of mortals had been a taboo to the race, or whether the dragon's had simply feared Sahrotsahviing's power, I would never truly know.

But together, man and dragon defeated the legendary wyrm.

[Estilo]

On one of the last images provided, I saw what appeared to be the pale dragon's corpse on a funeral pyre, a storm of ashes billowing down from below it. These ashes spiraled downwards, funneled into a large tomb with the dragon's silhouette carved onto its surface. The text beside it read: "Therein resides the physical remains of Sahrotsahviing. the Pale Conqueror. For from the ash he was born, and to the ash he has returned, forever ruling over his legion in the thirty-seventh dead world." And, with that, the story of Sahrotsahviing ended. All that followed on the shrine's wall was an insignia carved into the stone, a diamond shaped in the form of a fire-spewing wyrm.

Although the content I had translated proved to be a more than interesting read-- and had, quite frankly, left me with a desire to read the other hieroglyphics in this sanctuary-- I was slightly frustrated not to have found another lead on the "dragon's power" yet. I'd been here for the better half of an hour now, translating and scrutinizing every last detail, but it all seemed to amount to nothing when it came to continuing my search. Finding the location of Sahrotsahviing's final resting place, however, was the key. I was sure of it. And if it wasn't up here, then the only logical place it could be hidden was down below.

Yet, even with this realization, I saw no clear path that could lead me to a chamber of some sort undergound. I looked around. During my youth as a traveling swordsman, I had explored my fair share of abandoned labyrinths and dungeons. And, more often than not, the most obvious thing in the room was the key to any secret that lay hidden therein. It was with this thought in mind that I gazed upon the porcelain white bust of the pale dragon, surrounded by the still waters of the pool. I approached it, the soles of my boots stepping across the small stone pathway that saved me from having to actually step into the knee-deep water. Its pure white eyes, as if alive, seemed to glare straight at me. Its wide open mouth, filled with rows of sharp teeth, seemed prepared to take a quick bite out of me.

And it was then that I noticed it.

Something was wrong with this picture. Tentatively, I reached up to lay a single finger on one of its long teeth. There was one for each corner of its mouth, a tooth longer and sharper than the others. But they didn't belong there. A quick glance towards one of the many depictions of the pale dragon confirmed that. And, when I turned to inspect the sculpture's teeth a little more closely, I noticed that the positions where these long teeth belonged-- at the front ends of its mouth-- had been filled in with two smaller ones. It could have been nothing but an error on the artist's behalf. But it was odd enough to garner my curiosity. So, without another hesitation, I attempted to correct that mistake. And, to my surprise, the long teeth slid right out of their sockets, leaving two barely noticeable dents behind.

[Estilo]

With the detached long teeth-- crafted out of the very marble the dragon bust was sculptured out of-- in the palm of one hand, I proceeded to attempt to detach the smaller teeth that occupied their given positions. After having done so, I would then proceed to fitting the teeth within the appropriate slots: two long teeth on the front ends, and the two smaller teeth at the corners of the pale dragon's mouth. Upon fitting the final tooth, a deep growl came up from beneath the stone-tiled floor. I took an immediate procession of steps backward. The very room I was in seemed to tremble ominously, the intensity of the rumble growing with each passing second, until, to my astonished surpise, the water within the pool began to sink.

The correction of the sculpture's teeth had set in motion a series of occurences that I had not been prepared for at all, but was nonetheless relieved to see. It had, after all, been the key to discovering the entranceway to the yet unexplored tombs beneath the temple. Within a matter of moments, during which the stone tiles at the pool's floor slowly sunk downwards, the water that had once been there had been completely drained. What remained was a flight of stairs, spiraling around the marble statue, and into the dark depths of the tomb below. I could barely contain the grin on my face as I gazed upon it, wondering how such an ancient civilization could have built such an intricate mechanism as the one that had revealed these stairs to me. But my excitement did not diminish my caution.

Any number of traps or dangers could be awaiting me down there. And it would be wise to come up with an escape plan should the worst come to pass. Luckily, I had just the thing. Swiftly, I would issue three hand seals, the fingertips on my right hand glowing with a vivid yellow hue promptly thereafter. And, with accurate precision, I would slide my right hand into the dragon's msw, and slap the bottom of its mouth. Though I could not see it, I knew that the shiki-- the legendary Hiraishin formula-- I had cast had formed there. I could feel it. And, as such, I was granted immediate access to this room whenever I pleased. With this in place, I was content with moving on.

So I did, proceeding down the spiraling flight of stone steps, hoping to find what I was looking for at its end. The mere fact that there was enough land mass on the giant turtle's back to even have an "underground" struck me then. Like Nímbasa, the great turtle had many mysteries I had yet to unravel and investigate. And, just as I had been pondering the length of my stay on this territory, I had finally reached the end of the hidden stairs. It had led me to a spacious and large room, approximately forty by forty meters all around, covered in rubble, adorned with atone tablets on its walls and roof, and filled with dilapidated treasures. But the centerpiece of this tucked away part of the ancient haven lay at its very center.

The tomb of Sahrotsahviing.

[Estilo]

The tomb of the pale dragon appeared just as it had been depicted on the hieroglyphic up above, a large rectangular shaped grave crafted with stone and engraved with a depiction of Sahrotsahviing's skeletal remains. If the hieroglyphic was right, however, the tomb would only be filled with the ashes of the mighty wyrm. And it would take great effort to pry the top half of the tomb off-- a stone lid I presumed was several tons heavy. As fascinating as this tomb and the treasures that surrounded it were, though, I continued to scan the rest of the large chamber in search of other objects of note. Without a complete source of light, however, the chamber remained too dim to examine. So I pulled out a set of matches from my coat pocket, and approached the fire pit waiting straight before me.

With a swipe, a spark, and a flick, I had managed to ignite the flames within the fire pit in an instant. Its gift of illumination, however, wasn't restricted to that one source. No, the fire pit had been positioned at the forefront of this chamber for a reason, and the reason became clear within a few moment's of time. The flames I had sparked to life spread its influence via a network of carved lines that ran all across the room, and what I presumed to be pre-placed trails of oil managed to promptly ignite the torches placed parallel to each other on each of the walls. By the time it was over, the entire room was illuminated.

With this newfound source of light, I managed to clearly spot a large stone tablet standing upright at the other side of the room. As I approached it-- passing by several small rooms in the chamber, tables, and the dragon's tomb itself-- I began to recognize the symbols engraved on this stone tablet as that of the draconic language translated in the journal I had found. Despite the fact that the surrounding hieroglyphics seemed to provide a wealth of information and knowledge, this stone tablet I approached stood apart from all other sources, outshone only by Sahrotsahviing's tomb. Retrieving my guide to the language inscribed upon it, I stopped a few feet away from it and began to translate. As it turned out, this was exactly what I'd been looking for. The secret to dragon's power.

"Honed in battle's pyre," I read to myself. "The body grows strong... under winter's icy breath... meditation for the soul... but through dragon's cunning... power flows through us all... patience truimphs over reckless ascent... understanding allows the passage of progress... a spirit hardened like ebony ore... a fire born in darkness." There was more. But those first few lines compelled me to take a moment to ponder. And, as I looked around, I decided that my stay in this sanctuary would be longer than I had expected. And that, perhaps, this was truly the best place to operate out of for the time being. Nímbasa was now mine. And I had a lot of delayed spring cleaning to do.

[Estilo]

S A H R O T S A H V I I N G ' S

S E P U L C H E R

Since the discovery of Nímbasa's underground burial chambers, the exiled Nidaime Raikage has outfitted and reformed the entire haven to his needs. While above ground the locale seems relatively unchanged, the vagabond has taken measures to ensure he has quick and easy access into, and out of, his clandestine sanctuary. Aside from the shiki he had previously placed on the pale dragon's marble bust, he has taken the liberty of keeping the two detachable small teeth at the corners of the statue's mouth. Without them, the hidden staircase has retracted to its original form, and the pool of water has been filled with the most recent of rain falls to shower the jungle.

Without the two small teeth, the primary entranceway into the sepulcher has since become inaccessible. So, another entranceway is used to enter and exit the chamber, located within the chamber itself. This doorway leads into a long tunnel deep beneath the stone and earth. The tunnel leads to an undisclosed location somewhere in the jungle, where a hidden bunker hatch resides. This doorway is located at the far end of the sepulcher, towards the north-east corner. At the center of the burial chamber, built over the very tomb of Sahrotsahviing itself, is a massive red tent. This serves as the Raikage's temporary home, despite the small rooms surrounding it.

Under this large explorer's tent, Sahrotsahviing's sarcophagus takes upon the role of an exceptionally big table. Piles of books, pieces of parchment, scrawled upon maps, and scattered notes have been stacked upon this unorthodox piece of furniture, a perfect example behind the organized chaos of an archaeologist and adventurer. The tomb has more than enough room for just research material, however. In addition, rucksacks full of plants, herbs, relics, and other equipment have been placed upon it as well. Despite the considerable amount of room the sarcophagus takes up, there is still enough space for a mattress at the north-east corner of the tent. At the north-west corner, a small pot of stew slowly boils over a calm campfire.

Sahrotsahviing's sepulcher has been cleaned up a bit since its discovery. No longer do large portions of rubble impede navigation around the spacious burial chamber, and the small stone rooms surrounding the tomb have been cleared of debris as well, any embalming tools and treasures found there organized neatly into one specific room at the end. The hieroglyphics adorning the stone walls are free of clutter and open to translation, with the journal kept in the Raikage's tent. The haven is always kept well-lit with the torches and fire pit within, their emanated warmth balancing out with the frigid temperature naturally found within this underground chamber.

[Estilo]

Having returned from my latest excursion, I tossed the rucksack full of medical supplies onto the sarcophogus, pacing towards the stew I'd left over the fire a little over an hour ago. Its aroma-- a drool inducing blend of vegetables and meat-- graced my nostrils as I took hold of a wooden spoon, and slowly began to stir its contents. I'd been living in this ancient ruin for a week now, and I found that the best option to ridding one's tomb of the stench of dust and moss was a well-cooked meal. Now realizing the medley I had prepared was indeed ready, I could now prepare my satchel for the long journey ahead.

I grabbed everything I deemed necessary and neatly organized it into the sack, including the scholar's journal, and an assortment of writing materials. Alongside herbal supplements, such as leaves from the coyote tobacco plant to help keep me awake, I stashed items that I had brought along with me since the events in Hanasho. The strange gem. Gear's letter. The golden locket. Items that carried guilt and sadness, but were nonetheless precious to me now. But they served as important reminders. I was not Esau. Or Jigen. I was Atlas. And though they were both a part of me now, this was my life to live.

The satchel was good to go, and I zipped it shut, securing it to my belt, and positioning it at the base of my lower back. Swiping my hooded robe off the coat rack, I swiftly placed it on, multitasking as I snuffed out the campfire with a few kicks of dust. The robe, crafted with midnight black fabric and stopping halfway along my forelegs, shrouded the equally as dark pieces of armor I wore beneath it. I flung its wide-brimmed hood over my head, casting a deep shadow over the upper-half of my face, as I exited my expedition tent. There was still one last matter to attend to before leaving. One last failsafe.

Issuing three hand seals, I took the liberty of assigning another shiki to this sanctuary. One that would lead me directly to Sahrotsahviing's sepulcher. So I placed it on the forefront of a chest-high metal pillar-- what I presumed to be an altar of some sort-- that stood just before the entrance of my tent and the sarcophogus encased by it. It was small enough to avoid detection, and would appear as nothing more than another symbol within the ruins, to a trained but ignorant eye. With the formula to my hiraishin here, however, I could now proceed to retrieving the pot of stew I had cooked, and taking it above ground to Fusa. I gave my cozy little home one last look from beneath the hood, holding the steaming pot firmly by its handle. And I cracked a small smile, before simply vanishing.

-- Exit.

[Messatsu!]

+100!

[Estilo]

Note: It's highly advised that you read all the posts prior to this one before posting yourself. These posts contain information and key plot points that may or may not aid you in the consistency (and accuracy) of anything you write about hereafter.

---

N A R R A T O R

The world around you evolves in an instant.

One moment, you're standing in the living room of a luxurious penthouse, gazing into the one-eyed stare of a man you've known for quite some time. And the next, the dusty atmosphere of an underground tomb hits all of your senses like a wave of lukewarm water. Your pupils slightly dilate, adjusting to the dim lighting of lit torches. The climate has grown considerably warmer, and the fragrance of old rock and moss reaches your nostrils quickly. It swiftly becomes clear that you are not in Kumogakure no Sato anymore. You stand before the explorer's tent in Sahrotsahving's Sepulcher:

SPOILER: Click to show

There is a doorway located at the far end of the sepulcher, towards the north-east corner. This doorway leads into a long tunnel deep beneath the stone and earth. The tunnel leads to an undisclosed location somewhere in the jungle, where a hidden bunker hatch resides. At the center of the burial chamber, built over the very tomb of Sahrotsahviing itself, is a massive red tent. This serves as the Raikage's temporary home, despite the small rooms surrounding it.

Under this large explorer's tent, Sahrotsahviing's sarcophagus takes upon the role of an exceptionally big table. Piles of books, pieces of parchment, scrawled upon maps, and scattered notes have been stacked upon this unorthodox piece of furniture, a perfect example behind the organized chaos of an archaeologist and adventurer. The tomb has more than enough room for just research material, however. In addition, rucksacks full of plants, herbs, relics, and other equipment have been placed upon it as well. Despite the considerable amount of room the sarcophagus takes up, there is still enough space for a mattress at the north-east corner of the tent. At the north-west corner, a small pot of stew slowly boils over a calm campfire.

Sahrotsahviing's sepulcher has been cleaned up a bit since its discovery. No longer do large portions of rubble impede navigation around the spacious burial chamber, and the small stone rooms surrounding the tomb have been cleared of debris as well, any embalming tools and treasures found there organized neatly into one specific room at the end. The hieroglyphics adorning the stone walls are free of clutter and open to translation, with the journal kept in the Raikage's tent. The haven is always kept well-lit with the torches and fire pit within, their emanated warmth balancing out with the frigid temperature naturally found within this underground chamber.

If you care to investigate, you'll find that the circular doorway at the north-east corner of the sepulcher is, for some reason, open. Its dark depths are slightly foreboding, a low hum resonating from within, accompanied by the sound of pebbles falling from the ceiling within. There are, of course, other things to take note of in this clandestine sanctuary. The contents of the explorer's tent, for one. And the many hieroglyphics on the walls that surround you.

E X P L O R E R ' S T E N T

Interactive Objects

Rucksacks.
Ancient Journal.
Pot of Hot Soup.

S E P U L C H E R

Interactive Objects

Strange Tablet.
Circular Doorway.

[Yuki-chan]

[Enter. Permission granted]

A small flash of light could be seen when the female appeared in what appeared to be a cavern. She tried to steady herself while she tried to figure out where she was. Her eyes squinted a little as she attempted to adjust to the lack of light inside this place.
'Where am I?' thought Yukiko while her head moved around to see where she was. A couple of lit torches made it a bit easier for her to see what was in this place.

One of the first things that the young woman noticed was the temperature. Despite that it was underground or inside a mountain, the temperature was comfortable. The air smelled like a mix of moss combined with soil or some rocks...she was definitely not inside a building.
All of the walls had hieroglyphics on them, but the Chuunin was not sure what language they were in. They looked a bit familiar to those that she had seen on a class trip though.

Ice blue optics then spotted something that looked a bit out of place. It was a tent that was rather big with an opening. The other thing was a circular doorway at the end of the sepulcher. The door looked a bit eerie and the sounds of pebbles falling did not help either.
'I think I'll check the tent first before I move on to the sepulcher. Maybe I can find a couple clues' thought the female as she approached the tent.

She came closer to the tent and hoped it was empty. The brunette had no idea where she was apart from that it was probably somewhere in Kaminari no Kuni. 'I wonder why senpai wanted me to go here' pondered the young woman as she entered the tent.
She could see that there was something in there, but the lack of light meant that her vision was limited. Why had the man sent her to this place?

[Estilo]

N A R R A T O R

The illumination that the many lit torches within provided, contrary to Yukiko's initial state of vision, was actually quite substantial. It took her vibrant blue eyes a moment to adjust, but eventually she'd find that the spacious square sepulcher was as lit, and in visual detail, as any electrically-lit room she'd find in Kumogakure no Sato. Such was the unique-- and carefully crafted-- design of the room, using the orbs of corporeal fire light (that emanated off the multiple torches) to their full potential.

As such, the contents of the large explorer's tent she had come face-to-face with were almost immediately visible to her. The fact that there was a lit-- albeit small-- campfire within, slowly boiling a pot of stew that hung over it, only illuminated the interior of the gigantic tent even more. But, despite the various items within, perhaps the first thing that would catch her eye would be the unusually large stone tomb occupying a majority of the interior's space. This large rectangular sarcophagus has an equally as large engraving of a dragon's skeleton on its flat stone surface.

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Under this large explorer's tent, Sahrotsahviing's sarcophagus takes upon the role of an exceptionally big table. Piles of books, pieces of parchment, scrawled upon maps, and scattered notes have been stacked upon this unorthodox piece of furniture, a perfect example behind the organized chaos of an archaeologist and adventurer. The tomb has more than enough room for just research material, however. In addition, rucksacks full of plants, herbs, relics, and other equipment have been placed upon it as well. Despite the considerable amount of room the sarcophagus takes up, there is still enough space for a mattress at the north-east corner of the tent. At the north-west corner, a small pot of stew slowly boils over a calm campfire.

Aside from the strange sarcophagus, however, the next curiosity to grace her eyes would most likely be the tattered old journal on the mattress. But who could blame her if she went to explore the rest of the sepulcher instead? The perplexing stone tablet, standing upright on the other side of the room, could prove to be more interesting. Not to mention that passageway at the corner of the dusty old tomb, brimming with raw darkness, whispers seemingly beckoning for her to come and investigate what was hidden within.

The next course of action was hers to take.