Not Even Dungeons Are Free of Politics

[Nick]

Fuhen had visited Dungeon Country exactly once in his life, and for exactly one day. He had been attracted at a young age to the appeal of these so-called dungeons, dangerous places where riches could be made in a matter of moments with the skill of a warrior and the intuition of a samurai... But then, he'd gotten in far, far over his head, and nearly died. He did not return, and chalked it up to a bounty that wouldn't be collected, a waste of time and a lesson learned.

That had been nearly ten years ago, and on the anniversary of that near-death experience, Fuhen was in his little castle, sitting on his little throne, and talking to his fellow little people, who had managed to form a polite and orderly line. Some were there to make requests, others to offer gifts, likely with the intention of swaying the Shogun to their favor in future endeavors. Each request was listened to intently, but Fuhen did not make these decisions on his own, his aide ever-present at his side for political dealings, and representatives of the various cultures that made up the Heart Empire flanked him to offer their advice.

One man stepped forwards though, that none of them recognized. A rather impoverished older man who claimed to be from their neighbors in Dungeon Country, and who was desperately requesting aid. It seemed that Aimi's extremist viewpoints on spirits had lead him through dungeon country... and led him to killing one of the ruling spirits there, which for awhile had made things a lot calmer... Until the other spirits realized there was a power gap to fill. His aide advised him against dealing with it himself, but he knew full well this was the kind of thing that Fuhen lived for.

That led him to where he was today, by himself, standing in Haira, the capital of Dungeon Country. The people were... A lot quieter than he remembered, and some of the larger dungeon entrances which were once guarded by skilled samurai were now bare, some collapsed completely, others just clearly uncared for... Save for the largest one, roughly located in the center of the town, that the people had built a small pagoda around. He looked deep into the stairway from above, and made a face. This one was much larger than the one he'd almost died in years ago, but he'd grown a lot since then. Surely things would be better this time, right?

The larger the dungeon, the stronger the spirit inside of it was, and this one housed none other than Laksha, the earth spirit. Fuhen didn't have a plan yet on how he was going to deal with the spirit, nor did he have a plan on how dealing with this spirit would fix the problems the country was having, but he DID know that the only person who would know the delicate political landscape of the spirits would be one of them. He began stretching, bending over to touch his toes, and doing the reverse to stretch his back. This was going to be a hard one.

[Izanagi]

In these times of peace, Ichiro had come to enjoy returning to the mainland. He had settled in within his home village in Waterfall country for several months, finally returning to his aging father and to find his sister full-grown and wed to a chief of another thriving village. The reunion had been bittersweet, 12 long years on the road and then sailing the vast seas. And what had he really accomplished? He had become stronger to be sure, having trained under legendary shinobi. And so too had his connections grown vast, having crossed paths with many influential figures and yet ultimately, he was never a leader or anyone of importance himself. As a pirate he had lived by a strict code, one he believed to be honorable. And as a member of Chishiki he had sought knowledge above all else, learning and mingling with the brightest minds of the world from Knowledge country. But still, he was not yet satisfied, and he found himself straying from his desire to strengthen his homeland. Ever more, he sought greater adventure, new experiences and a broader understanding of the world. It simply wasn’t in him to settle down in any one place, and so he ventured forth away from home once again.

His traveling companion, Sumire had been inclined to stay by his side. She reminded him of the naïve boy he had once been, the one who wanted to heal and help any in need and gain strength for his people. Before greed and war had corrupted him. But perhaps there could be some compromise to be found. In their adventuring, the pair naturally heard of the plight of Dungeon country. And what better place to find excitement and reward? And not only that but to help those in need while doing so. In his youth he had been wary of dungeons, deeming them quite dangerous and only for accomplished warriors. But now both himself and Sumire were B-ranked adventurers. Surely, they could hold their own and test their might against some of the infamous dungeons.

Though as they journeyed through the land, it came as a surprise to find so many dungeons in states of ruin and neglect. It seemed the war had taken a toll. The samurai of these lands had suffered many casualties. It saddened the man, knowing that without their leader Kaguya Aimi, Gold country and the Land of Plains and Seas where Sumire hailed from would likely be in similar states of disarray. “These lands aren’t what I expected. I can feel the scars of war here, at least some of the larger dungeons have been maintained it seems” the man mused as they approached a prominent dungeon in the heart of Haira. “I fear what kind of spirit resides inside. The locals say there is unrest among them. I only hope we don’t make matters worse” the dark skin woman remarked, her pale white eyes eerily difficult to decipher, but her voice was soft and thoughtful in these moments. While she was known for bouts of recklessness she had learned a great reverence for the natural world and the spirits that governed it. “We’ll tread carefully, if there’s treasure to be found we’ll claim it, but I don’t want to cause hardship for these people any more than you do” he agreed while running a ring laden hand through his scruffy beard.

As the two approached the entrance the lanky frame of an apparent samurai came into view. Ichiro’s icy blue eyes assessed the man, but he found it difficult to get a gauge of his strength. “A local? Do you think he’ll help us?” Sumire asked in a hushed tone. The cautious native of Waterfall country cupped his chin, lightly stroking his beard. Something about the man seemed somehow familiar, especially the frog patterned clothing. “No, not a local. Could that really be?” he wondered aloud to himself. He had attended the Fur country festivals many years ago and heard the tales, but such memories seemed so distant now. Still, one couldn’t forget that basket of swords and the lanky gait. “This could be quite interesting after all” he decided as he approached the man, leaving Sumire quite confused. Such festivities were well before the time she left the land of Plains and Seas. “Excuse me, my name is Takeda Ichiro and this is Kinoko Sumire. We’re travelers from distant lands looking to help bring stability to the people of this country. Would you lend us your strength and join us in exploring this dungeon?” he inquired boldly. If this was the man, he thought he was, then it seemed fate had aligned and it was likely there goals were on and the same. Of course, on the off chance it was an imposter, Ichiro would remain vigilant and wary. Sumire, likewise, would stand a few meters back from Ichiro, ready to protect him if needed. “We would be very grateful for any assistance you can offer” the woman added politely, bowing slightly before drawing back her hood. At her wrists and along her neck were vibrant blue and purple mushrooms growing from her skin. Her pale white eyes appeared almost as if she were blind but she made no indication of being impaired.

[Nick]

As the tall man bent and stretched, his body audibly popped, creaked, and groaned in protest. He was getting older, and while he didn't feel it much in the day to day, moments like this reminded him that he'd led a very full life, and that the world was not aging with him, even if it was changing at a rapid pace. One day, he thought, he would be the wise old man at the top of the mountain... Probably in a steam-powered wheelchair that shot out swords. Yeah, that sounded appropriate. He would give advice to traveling samurai in the form of vague, unsolicited prophecy that would lead them to discover their purposes in life. Or maybe he'd get to meet Takiyasha-hime again, tell her he'd fulfilled his own purpose. The future was still far, though, and as long as he'd lived, he figured he had at least another good run of the same in him.

He was still stretching and musing about the future that might be when he heard someone call out to him, and he turned to look at the pair approaching. His mind went into overdrive before Ichiro had finished introducing the pair, looking for signs of something. He had only recently slain the Mizukage in some kind of misguided assassination attempt in his own lands, had he set up for more to chase after him? Was he in danger of these assassins coming after him no matter where he went, now? As his mind raced, though, and his eyes wandered over the pair, and Ichiro finished speaking, his eyes took in a few different qualities.

The man who spoke first was familiar, not that they had met directly, or even necessarily passed each other in the streets, but his facial structure, his light regional accent and dialect reminded him a lot of home. The man didn't seem like he was from River Country, but certainly somewhere nearby. The woman at his side, while far less familiar, was immediately recognizable by the mushrooms sprouting from her body, and slightly less so from her darker complexion. Fuhen's look of deep contemplation was quickly replaced by an all-too-friendly grin as he raised a hand up in greeting.

"Aye! A strange first greeting, but I willnae fault ye for it!" The frog prince laughed, and a flash of sadness crossed his eyes. How long had it been since he'd had an adventuring companion? Many of his companions he worried he may never see again. The fat monk, the fox boy, his lightbound friend, the man from the wellspring of spirits... And the golden king, of course. All gone. The sadness was quickly replaced by the same happy look he usually wore. "We'll call it a trade!" He said, with a laugh, pulling a two swords out of the basket with one hand, and flipping around to pass them to the pair handle first. "Hold on to these for the day, and maybe tell me a good story or two, and I'll fight by your side, aye?"

The swords were a precaution for their safety, mostly. He felt the strength of at least somewhat seasoned warriors from them, but a dungeon like this could prove to be beyond seasoned warriors, and he worried, beyond even the Shogun himself. Having his blades on them would mean he could get to them quicker, and know what was going on around them, worst came to worst. "Be nice tae have a friendly pair o' faces around. Call me Fuhen! ...Kinda dark in there, dinnae suppose either of ye brought a torch, eh?"

[Izanagi]

Ichiro looked up at the man as he neared, over a foot taller than him despite his humble appearance the samurai was an imposing figure, nonetheless. One could almost mistake him for a weapons merchant with that basket of swords he carried around. But Ichiro was sure of it as he spoke, this man was one of the Riverfolk. He had traded with such individuals many times and had spent some time travelling through their lands in his youth. It was a welcome thing, to be reminded so strongly of home. There were rivalries of course between neighboring nations, but more than ever Waterfall and River had become united, first by the rogue shinobi of Kirigakure and then absorbed together into the Heart Empire along with Sumire’s homeland. Still, Waterfall country in particular was a cutthroat nation of mercenaries, one could never be truly at ease even between kinsmen of neighboring villages let alone countries.

The man of many talents chuckled lightly in agreement, “Aye, right you are. Fate has a peculiar way of bringing the right people together. I sense it is good fortune that our paths have crossed” he considered. His icy blue eyes gleamed with a knowing look before turning his attention to Sumire, “What did I say? I told you he was an adventurer like us?” he grinned, gesturing the woman closer and patting her on the back. Sumire nodded, sighing audibly in relief. She had of course been optimistic about the chance for assistance and was grateful for an extra hand. Accepting the sword she held it a bit awkwardly, never being one to wield a weapon beyond a simple knife. “Thank you. I’ve never actually used a sword before” she realized suddenly, somehow after years of travelling with pirates she had never felt the need to learn. The idea of killing someone was still unsettling to her, even if she had caused deaths and been indirectly complicit. Taking a step back and giving it a few waves around she decided holding it with two hands was more comfortable ,though she had mostly seen one-handed swashbuckling with sabres and small blades.

Ichiro eyed the offered sword warily, he had his own of course, and holding onto another without a scabbard would be rather awkward. Yet, he felt it would be some kind of insult or failed test to refuse the man. It was best to earn trust he decided and so he accepted the weapon, feeling quite comfortable with it. Though he suspected there was some trick to these swords, a way for the man to use them against them somehow if they gave him a reason to. “Spin ye a yarn, ya say? Aye, there be tales to be told” he smirked as his accent changed. Ichiro was a well-traveled man and one who easily adapted to his surroundings. He could trade eloquent words with the most accomplished scholars or drink and spin grand stories with the lowest of peasants and whores. Each was equally comfortable and two drastically different halves of himself. Weighing the blade in his grip, he looked it over. He preferred his shorter swords for enclosed spaces but there was no telling what they would face inside the dungeon. “Fuhen, eh? I’ve heard that name whispered and cheered…” he mused, stroking his chin again before nodding to the woman. “Light the way, Sumire” he instructed. “With pleasure” she replied with a smile, happy to show off her talents as she glowed briefly with chakra before approaching and touching the ground at the entrance the dungeon. Mushrooms began to sprout from the ground and the walls alike, continuing throughout. And then another glow of chakra and suddenly the mushrooms would eminate a soft blue glow, illuminating everything before them. She would continue spawning such glowing mushrooms periodically as they ventured forth. Though she would allow the warriors among them to lead.

The native of waterfall country cautiously ventured forward alongside his new companion. “I have traveled the world, sailed the seas and crossed many lands. I have seen horrors: Living skeletons, monsters, and demons in human flesh, and so too have I seen Gods and Saints that heal mortal wounds with their mere presence. Places of wonder and riches, and realms that defy the laws of nature. What sort of tale would you have me recount?” he wondered. He was not nearly the storyteller his captain Kaisui was, that man was a true pirate through and through. But Ichiro had a vast wealth of life experiences to draw from. Despite being rather unremarkable himself he had a way of crossing paths with the most powerful and influential beings to walk to earth. And as fate had it, Fuhen himself was one such man.

Jutsu UsedShow

~Mycelium Spy Network
C-ranked Kinojutsu
The user gathers Mycorrhiza and touches the ground, creating a wide-spreading mesh of mycelium just beneath the surface which travels up to a distance equal to the user's Control (35) stat in meters in diameter at a Speed of [20] and with [10] Strength. For every 5 meters the mycelium travels, a small white mushroom will sprout. These mushrooms have a Strength of [10] and are constantly creating spores. These spores can be used for other Kinojutsu.

Light the Way
D-Ranked Kinojutsu
The user can focus on spores and/or existing mushroom within [35] meters causing them to glow blue or purple. The intensity can vary ranging from dim to just slightly uncomfortably bright to look at. The glowing persists for up to 5 posts and can be turned off at will.

[Nick]

The Frog's eyes widened a bit at the appearance of the mushrooms popping up along their path, giving the dungeon an eerie glow, but lighting the way sufficiently all the same. He had met the clan head of the Kinoko when he had come to bring Gold Country into the Heart Empire, but he had never really seen their mushroom horticulture in action, this trip might prove to be interesting in lots of ways, at this rate! With a snap of his fingers, the basket of swords would disappear in a puff of pink petals, leaving only the ones that he'd passed along to the adventuring duo in their grasps, and he'd waltz forwards alongside Ichiro boldly, a bit of a spring in his step.

As was often the case in these dungeons, the initial door led in a descent into the earth, though as they passed about halfway down the staircase, and just as the entrance got very dark and no end to the stairs was in sight, the trio would be able to feel a shift in the air, and if any of them bothered to look back, the entrance would be totally unable to be seen as they seemed to pass into the dungeons domain proper. A piece of Aimi's soul that he'd recovered from Kasai lived on inside of him, and he felt that molten gold burn inside of him, its hatred of spirits burned bright... But it was not a hatred Fuhen could reciprocate. He had met the Frog spirits who served underneath Takiyasha-hime, and each of them had passed on their gifts to him. They had been good people in their own rights, their knowledge lending him the strength to continue on in the darkest depths of his internal war that raged while trying to help as many people as possible during the war.

"Your life sounds familiar somehow, Ichiro!" He said as they continued to descend the steps. Internally he thought of how to answer the question, and raised a hand to stroke his chin. He'd also lived through many of the things listed, and while his childhood obsession with tales of great samurai slaying demon warlords had led him to the path he followed to this day... Well, now he often lived those tales. "Tell me a story about... Love." He smiled as he said it, wondering if the pair walking with him were lovers, or perhaps if the story would bring up something of interest, something a little different than he'd seen so often in his travels.

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, they would be met with a solid wall, and hallways going off in both directions, made of single pieces of stone, all carved together. On the wall directly in front of them would be a sign, the top half was almost impossible to read, as it was scratched out, and likely held some kind of hint on which direction to go. The bottom half was scratched into the sign, rather than painted on as the top was, and it read simply. "Closed. No treasures to be found any more."

"...Do dungeons close for the season?" He asked aloud, staring at the sign in some kind of disbelief, before cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting out to the dungeon. "Well I suppose we should just pack it up and go on home, aye?" His voice echoed through the seemingly empty hallways, and he shook his head, before turning to Ichiro and Sumire and winking and whispering conspiratorily. "Of course the more they dinnae want ye to be in it, the neater stuff is probably inside." He looked left, then right, then shrugged and reached out, grabbing the wooden sign off the wall, and tucking it under his arm. "If the sign's nae up, it's nae closed any more, aye?"

As if that was how things actually worked, he started to whistle a jaunty little tune, before casually turning on his heel and starting to walk down the leftmost path.