Under The Sun

It was the day after her intrusion into the Dome Of The Rock to retrieve the Shaytan's shattered blade. and as if it sensed her sin, the Israeli sun seemed to beat down upon her in full. She trekked the sandy City Of Jerusalem in casual clothing, and upon her back was a case that resembled a keyboard case, in which she held her own Blades Of Kagtsuchi along with the ruined sword. She just left the room she broke into for shelter, to gather her mind and spirit, she was ready to continue her pursuit for the arcane cult, the League Of Shadows.

The Okami Mask, shifting in form to seem as if it were inconspicuous sunglass, albeit a bit large, sniffed out the trail, which snaked through the busy limestone streets, and out of her view. And so, she paced. There were odd glares at her oversized black sweater, and baggy pants, used to hide her usual attire underneath, and while she had no issues with the added heat, she the perspiration of her flesh seemed to disagree.

''You're better than this' She had told her body. Whenever she felt the need to sit and relax, she reminded her body of its superiority to others. That it shouldn't need what others needed, and it could last longer without any signs of her weakness showing. And, as usual, it listened. Passing the scene of her crime, she noticed they were conducting a search for what had happened. Even several imam were summoned to bless the grounds where the 'demon wolf' had emerged.

...

She had walked for hours, the trail extending far outwards into the limestone structures that was the Israeli desert. Surrounded by nothing but the cliffs and mountains of the desert, The Wolf In Human Skin, continued to push silently. Until the sound of a group of hooves were heard far behind her. "Loss ma'am?" A man called out to her in Hebrew, she turned around to find a small caravan of camels, around six, and a truck, a kind of pickup, driving besides her. The men had their skin marked with experience with the sun, tanned to a golden brown and with beards that ranged from jet black goatees to peppered and long.

"Yes." The lie was basic, she wasn't exactly skilled with social espionage, but it seemed to have satisfied the man in the truck.

"Well, hope in, surely the A/C can do you some good. I'd prefer you not become food for the wildlife out here. The Sun is something intense." She didn't hesitate with the offer, climbing into the empty passenger seat. The black leather interior scathed her exposed skin, but she said nothing, placing the case behind her. "You can put that in the truck you kno-"

"No." Cutting the man off. "Drive and I'll tell you the directions."

An odd look was passed her way, but the man pressed the gas pedal, and the vehicle kicked into acceleration, prompting Kokoro to grip onto the handle attached to the ceiling. The drive took a while, having to lead her turn down the man's attempts at small talk, but eventually the trail ended at an abandoned cathedral, "Drop me off here." She demanded. And before the truck stopped, she had already leapt out the door. "Manner isn't something they teach in America?" She didn't bother correcting him, and continued to follow the trail, into the church ahead.

@raysh_al_shaytan @darkchild

@nuempress_: I'll have a response later

@nuempress_: @darkchild:

The ancient cathedral held an uneasy energy, a perversion which resonated from well beyond its many shadows in-spite of the visual signs of prolonged neglect and abandonment. Though it was clear that, once upon a time, this sacred structure had been home to something macabre. Something forbidden, even murderous if only in its dogmatic theology. This was a house of death and those who had worshipped here had loyally knelt at the feet of the Father of Assassins. The devil's favorite death dealer, Raysh Al Shaytan. There came a sudden disruption from beneath the abandoned church, a thunderous quake that momentarily shook the sacred mosque's ancient foundation. Almost as if the supernatural synagogue had awakened with a haunting earth shaking exhale. And perhaps it had. From neither here nor there a crippled over figure in a black and cryptic cloak of ceremonial prestige appeared. A golden scythe lay clutched within his abnormally disfigured fingers. Nails like claws, teeth like spears, the snow colored ecclesiastic was far from human, yet as he spoke, as he greeted the unexpected arrival with a poet's sense of grace, he had at least presented himself to of had the social empathy of one. "Welcome. Not many a traveler ever find this place" the eerie theologian conveyed Slowly maneuvering through the church, the Last Dragon took a relaxed seat along the decorated pews, resting his elongated reaper alongside his emaciated frame. "The lucky few who do, are only ever looking for one thing. So tell me, my friend. What is that you seek, in this house of death?"

@the_last_dragon:

All stood still as the draconic deacon of demise made his appearance, the shadows seemed to accept his presence, almost appearing at one with him. Kokoro mimicked the stillness, as if moving would disrupt the solemnity within the atmosphere. The welcome flew over her socially inept head, her focus being on the Last Dragon's inhuman nature and movements. The humanoid made his way through the twists and turns of the dark church with an umbra's familiarity.

"The lucky few who do, are only ever looking for one thing. So tell me, my friend. What is that you seek, in this house of death?"

The House of Death, it instilled an ever-so brief chill. The weight that she was dealing with things beyond her and started to settle in, knowledge of darker powers reigned ahead of her. It made her want to push forward. Switching to her own native language - her Hebrew was too basic to express the extent of what she wanted- The Mistress Of Savagery, began to make her appeal. "I want to find the League Of Shadows." It was cold and without pleasantries, bare words of her barer desires.

The light shifted shifted as the silence returned. The sun was setting outside, and the darkness from within the church would encase the desert in its entirety as the moon made its appearance. Her attention had shifted as well, changing from her conversant to the environment around her. The trailed she smelled was gone,instead, what filled her nose was spirits of darkness and demise. As if the shadows had come alive to become her council, her witness, and her jury. She didn't make a move, as she continued to watch her surroundings before looming back to meet the eyes of the Last Dragon

@nuempress_:

I seek the League of Shadows

"OOOH!" An impossible level of mountain shifting bass rocked the ancient mosque. "I see. Well then, you have started off this incredible journey of yours on the right foot." The Last Dragon stood up into his hunched and crippled arch, using his scythe as a modified cane to aide in his ascension up the small collection of stairs leading to the temple's holy pulpit. Despite his physically diminished state the cryptic cleric spoke with a level of unbreakable confidence and self-assurance. An old and charismatic story if ever there was one, the Last Dragon theatrically began to regale the wandering warrior with lost tales of the League. Its murderous creation all the way through the infamous Shadow Wars, and battle of the Shaytans. "So in the end, were they mystical ninjas? Perhaps supernatural Ṣaḥābah?" offering a momentary shrug, "Who's to say." With a showman's sense of the dramatic, and the theatricality of a pure performer, the Last Dragon shot his arms high into the air. His lavish ceremonial robes loosely hanging off his emaciated frame before rows and rows of wall hung torches erupted into flames. The traditional banners of the League of Shadows unfolded from the rafters to be gazed upon with fabled splendor. The abandoned tabernacle was suddenly brought into the sacrilegious light. "The League was abandoned by its father. His pursuits of the mystical arts has caused him to neglect his obligations as the Al Shaytan, so I must ask, what use could you have of a dragon with no head?"

@raysh_al_shaytan: check pm

@the_last_dragon:

The stories she heard, of defeat and espionage, of darkness prevailing. Of how the death goddess watched over her servants. They were grand. Much more than what she had imagined, meaning more knowledge was within the darkness the league hid within. She was that much more determined to find it, with a mask covering her face, only the thinning if her lips revealed her newfound determination.

With the rising of the flames, banishing some of the shadows, and covering the room with a dark sobriety, the Sigil Of the League of Shadows were revealed before her, rows of vermillion Hydra. They flanked the sides of the antechamber, ending before they reached the ancient abbot. Within the light, her nerves have settled. She knew that danger wasn't extinguished but light had a natural calming effect

Regaining a sense of ease, she approached the pew. Stopping only when she was few meters away, she was still unsure of the the priest. His words were spoken with regal, and his actions with aged wisdom. But his intentions were still hidden away. The fact that he effortlessly switched to her native tongue without a second thought, meant he held great knowledge. But on what, and what could he do with that knowledge

And he also smelled of ceremonial ashes.

"What use could you have of a dragon with no head?

She was caught up her own defense that she had seemed to mess an important segment. But from what that sentence, she could gather what he meant. That the League Of Shadows lost its master. However, when she glaced at the sign, it was a Hydra. And the Hydra always had a head. "Maybe not for now, but eventually someone with rise or become its head. As for my own goals, a headless dragon still has meat and bones. I wish to find the dark secrets they harbor and use them for my own good.' She hadn't the social presence of mind to lie, not really considering that this might be a trap anymore. Only answering the question truthfully.

@nuempress_:

Column Head

"Or perhaps one already has?" the performative abbot of assassins playfully riddled . One minute he was there, hunched over behind the church's podium, the next he was gone. Only to reappear out of nowhere uncomfortably hunched over the Wolf in Human Skin's shoulder. With a serpent like concertina the high priest repositioned his dilapidated body out in front of the supernatural shinobi of savagery. Angling his ancient head in ways that would suggest a sort of visual examination. As if looking for any hint of impurities, ailments or other disqualifying traits His finger began to shake as it was directed at the Empress. "You are no stranger to dark secrets. Combat or even leadership. In order to obtain the knowledge you seek you will need all three. You will need to become a Dark Arashikage. The new Shaytan of the League. But in order to do that you must complete the 3 Ordeals." The Last Dragon involuntarily shivered for a moment before dragging his crippled body back to the benches for a much needed seat. "You must go now. Soon, soon" he stuttered. "soon the first Ordeal shall reveal itself to you. What you do after that, is up to you."

@the_last_dragon:

The Dragon appeared behind Kokoro, causing her to instinctively tense. She didn't turn around, but let the raspy voice of the elder priest flow through her ears. He spoke of three Ordeals, something she had considered but not seriously. Figuring that most members of the League Of Shadows were brought in either in shackles or raised from birth. The Mistress Of Savagery listened intently this time, not wanting to miss any details, but instead she encountered the unexpected. A stutter within the high ranking clergy's voice.

For if someone with the knowledge and darkness such as he, were to find these Three Ordeals unnerving, then they were more than that. However, she was ready, or at least she had total confidence that she was. She was strung over fire for four days, and beaten for nothing more than an annual ritual, a ritual she had some faith in. But still, the anticipation for the unknown revealed itself from within her as little more than exhaling a split moment longer than she should've.

"I will be back, Dragon." She gave the elder, a slight bow. A sign of respect even she knew how to express, before turning to leave into the darkness of the cold desert. As she stepped out, she felt a burden that she didn't know was there, lifted off of her. However, the feeling of lightness was replaced by the feeling of eyes. Eyes within the multitude of shadows, eyes within the grains of sand, and eyes within the very moon itself. Yet, she continued to trek, her memory, being perfect, traced a route back to the city of Jerusalem. Trekking within the sand, and beginning her arduously mundane journey once more