OCCShow
This is the intro thread of Damon. He should slowly be heading to the Ishiguro tower. Happy for him to bump into some fellow Ishiguro on the way. Once there he will get access to a space of his own and idk happy to take him on a spin after that. Just want to develop a feeling for the RPC. Feel free to ping me on Discord if you want
The place of his birth. Yet memories were spare and felt like patched together, as if they weren't his but instead stories etched into his mind, told and re-told by someone else.
It was early in the morning, the sun had barely risen from its nestled slumber behind the highland peaks. Fog drifted in and out of the wide and well traveled cobblestone paved road leading up to the capital. The wide ancestral river running past him splitting the summit before him in two.
Damon was well prepared for the road, a thick oversized fur jacket accentuating his otherwise frail frame. Long, loosely-fitted hakama pants and black boots ensured he stayed warm. A substantial leather pouch was slung over his back.
The Chunnin sighed, he thought to avoid the crowds by breaking tent early enough, it was not the case. The path was littered with carts, merchants, fishers and construction workers.
He pulled his fur-lined hood further down over his face, and slipped his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. "Tss...". He clenched his teeth in annoyance.
The Shinobi picked up the pace, and deftly manoeuvred past the horse drawn cart in front of him. He still had quite a way to go before reaching his destination.
By the time the line of people queening at the immigration halls came into sight, the sun had climbed well above the peaks, and it had gotten notably warmer.
Damon's irritation grew with every passing minute he stood waiting in the column of people. It was loud, foul-smelling, and in utter disarray. The voices of dozens of merchants in discussions of varying intensities blended with the pungent odor of horse manure, and mixed with the stench of sweat, overshadowed only by explosive arguments erupting somewhere within the large, temple-like building at the front of the line.
When it was finally his turn, he almost slapped the heavy envelope from his chest pocket onto the counter before him. The officers inside, mirroring his level of annoyance, barked at him, "Name and reason for visit?." He pulled the hood of his jacket back, unveiling his silver hair and headband, "Ishiguro, Damon, Shinobi matters" he snapped back. The man's eyes tightened for a second before quickly scanning the boy. "Says here you're from the North, huh, an Ishiguro? First time back in over 10 years?" "War orphan" Damon hissed at him. The man's shoulders dropped, and he became visibly calmer. "Alright, alright, kid, looks good, Raikage stamp and all. Welcome back home." Damon grabbed the piece of paper in passing, without another word, and marched deeper into the stone monastery.
When he emerged from the expansive, tunnel-like passage he found himself at a vast crossroad. His eyes widened in disbelief. Tier upon tier of stone structures rose up into the peaks of the summit, archways, overpasses and viaducts of various shapes and sizes connecting the two sides. It was unlike anything he had ever seen - the gut of a mountain come to life.
He could feel the anxiety in his throat, a sour lump he couldn't swallow. His eyes darted about attempting to carve out a path for himself while nervously shuffling about.
His final destination, the Ishiguro Tower, was on the western side of the town, that much he knew. Eager to finally break free from the crowds, the Shinobi crouched slightly, chakra surging through his legs in anticipation. Moments later, he propelled himself off the ground, a massive leap lifting him out of the masses onto a balcony above street level. After two more such jumps, he found himself standing on a much more isolated bridge.
He sighed again, and ran his hands through his hair, the single beaded strain of hair falling into the front of his face.
Now which way to this damn tower?
