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Hyozan: Open, Sukai: Open, Kazan: Open Joki: Open

The Overseer of Execution. The Grand Curator.admin. Xaito.
Don't Write At 5 AM Plot-

All have been laid to rest, all expect memories. Throughout the years, shinobi - men and women - have learned how to preserve the memories of thousand of great shinobi that have lived, and then have passed. Though, they never managed to gain the memories of Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, and Uchiha Sasuke. These three ninjas are wildly known as the Three Heroes of the world. They are the mirror images of their legendary Sannin teachers, and touched everyone's life in some sort of way. Their memory though has been scattered across the world, and the pieces of their chakra find themselves locked away in certain men and women, wildly known as the Kages of today. They are the shadows and guardians of today's new era, and they seem to wait for something to happen. They await for Madara Uchiha to return, the Fourth Shinobi War had been created by none ever than Obito Uchiha, Kakashi's old friend whom he thought had died. In this war, numerous men and women died trying to protect all that they thought was right and true, in the end - Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke had perished by giving up their lives to kill Madara and Obito Uchiha. Their chakra awoken a sleeping God, whom took the combined power of the ten bijuu, kurama and the eight tailed bijuu's life source and basically recreated life anew. These memories however, are gone, and cannot be recreated or found in any memory book, or even in text. This story is being told through the combined chakra fragments of the Legendary Heroes that each Kage takes upon their death and inserts into a crystal fragment. However, life as everyone now knows, is finally changing. Kazengakure and Hyozangakure had finally came to an agreement of forming a grand alliance between their villages, rumored that they were related by distant cousins, this alliance would be greater than any had ever seen. The day of the treaty being signed, and thus the festival on the island of Heiwa, a new danger had awaken that day. The Sage of Six Paths was unable to keep a dark entity in slumber from the grave and beyond; a new five tailed bijuu - the Hydra - had awoken. In a fit of rage and unknown, the Hydra destroyed half of the festival grounds, killing more than five thousand civilians and shinobi alike. The Bijuu set it's eyes on the building where the witnessing six kages were located, and destroyed the entire building. Three months had passed, and Sannins of each village filled the spots of the Kages, as many hoped that one day there would be news that someone had survived the attack. Only the Hyozangakure's kage had returned, apparently unaware of what happened. Because of this, many of the villages have returned hostile towards each other, many blaming Hyozengakure for the attack that killed each of the Kage's. Slowly, men and women of each village are elected to fill the Kage spots of each of the village, alliances are being forged and mended. But can anyone form a great alliance to take down Hydria, and once again, scatter all of the tailed beasts across the world?

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PostSubject: Don't Write At 5 AM   Don't Write At 5 AM Icon_minitimeWed Jun 10, 2015 10:49 am

Man would meet man once again on this day, not without reason, however. Two combatants were to duke it out with each other to no end, except perhaps death. A tradition of which has trended since near the beginning of time, good ole hand-to-hand combat and the expense of another man's entertainment. What made it so interesting was, there were no rules binding them down. The building was absent of any commentators, nothing about this battle was traditional, no referee or anything of the sort, just complete savagery. The only organized portion of it was whom was to fight and what time they were to arrive, besides that ... there was nothing to regulate the actions of these men took. Even then, it wasn't heavily regulated to the point where it made any difference. People bypassed this rule by arriving late or early all the time. Jabo always believed the freedom of combat to be the reason why he enjoyed these fights so much. The adrenaline of the endless possibilities, being constantly against the odds, it all gave him endless bliss.  He had to think on his feet, otherwise he would die, and death was definitely not an option. Precautions were taken, however, to prevent the sneaking of entering of any weapons or things that could possibly be used as weapons.

The building the bout was to be held in towered at roughly fifty meters high, and twenty-five meters in width. This one much more rigid and old, wearing away with the ages, just as everything does. Two entrances stood on the north and south side of the building, each of them being approximately twenty-five meters apart from each other. The entrances themselves being two rectangular doors adjacent to each other. A bar was attached to the outside to each door in the center to open the doors by pushing them. These were the only two ways to exit and enter in the entire building. Both entrances lead to the arena inside. A hallway seven meters long, ten meters in height, and five meters wide paved the way to anyone who entered, which lead to the arena. However, a long, black cloth covered the ending of the tunnel, draping over the entrance. Following that was the arena eight meters away. The ceiling dropped down to be about ten meters lower than the actual height of the, which held the ring. It laid dead-center on the inside of the building, fifteen meters from the north and south entrances, as well as the walls of the west and east sides were. Stands full of fans covered about ten meters of the walls on the east and west. A barricade surrounds the stands about two meters high with stairs to climb them in certain spots. The ring itself was quite large for its size, being ten meters by ten meters. This was much larger than the average ring, boxing or any other sport. The canvas stands about two meters high from the ground and in each corner are padded posts about a few meters high, holding up the ropes. In total there are four ropes on each side of the square-shaped ring with about a meter distance separating each. On the north and south sides of the ring was a staircase a few steps high, used by contestants to climb inside the ring. Outside the ring the floor in which surrounded it was made of a white marble. Light was particularly absent in the entirety of the building, except for the ring. Directly above it hanging down from the ceiling were an array of lights, arranged in such a way that they only shined on the ring itself. Other than that it was darkness. You couldn't really see the combatants coming into the ring until they got ready to enter the ring where the light shined properly.

It was time once again for him to display his skill in the art of combat. Everything seemed to be set in place. He was here a bit earlier than expected. The match was not yet set to start. There was ample time left to go until the start of the match. He had only graced this particular ring a few times. One thing in particular he peeped was the poor lighting in the building. This was something he would utilize for his advantage. Jabo was not a very tall man, only towering a mere five feet and eleven inches tall. He weighed no more than 170 pounds, though the majority of it was muscle and not fat. Fighting so often mean he kept in-shape, or tried to at least. He rocked a taper with a smooth line-up. The most interesting part of him this day was the attire in which he wore. On his large feet were gym shoes of black color, which fit comfortably and were easy to walk/run in. A white, short-sleeve, firm-fitting shirt covers most of his upper-body, and down below he wore sweatpants. The sweatpants were jet black in color as the night of a cold, winter day. They fit perfectly, not too tight, not too loose. Just about the same as the hoodie he wore, which was zipped all the way up and covered the white t-shirt he had on. The hood was black as well, and wouldn't restrain any movements he might make. Basically, any and all of his attire restricted little to no movement, and allowed him to move his limbs at their maximum speed, range, strength, etc.

"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

These words were uttered silently in a monotonous voice as he steadily progressed down the hallway leading to the arena. You would have thought the crowd would be roaring could be heard, but there was silence. The dropping of a pen could be heard hitting the ground, or the slightest sound in general. This gave him the impression that his opponent had not yet reached his destination. The crowd cheered gleefully with excitement in most cases of the combatants arriving. He knew his opponent was most likely not present yet, regardless as he himself was quite early. The match was not set just yet, which he didn't mind in the slightest. He had a certain lust for blood as of late, and would indeed get what he lusted for. In mere moments he reached the end of the tunnel. His opponent still had yet to come from their tunnel on the opposite side. Using his right hand he moved the curtain aside to view his surroundings, never stopping, and continuing to advance at a moderate pace. It wouldn't take long for him develop strategies, albeit certain variables would need to be tested. Everything had to be perfect, otherwise it meant his life and he was well aware of this fact. Thus, his casual movement towards the staircase not too far away from him continued. It proved correct; as little time went by, the silence prevailed. There was talking amongst the crowd now, yet not enough to warrant a contestant entering the ring. He took careful note of the darkness provided by the area outside of the ring. With the light shining brightly on the ring itself and nothing else he took full advantage of that. The crowd hadn't noticed him, and with that his plan became absolute. No more than five meters away from the staircase, his path changed. He turned to his right, crouching and speeding his movement up a tad bit, yet stepping in a way to not give off any sound from his footsteps or clothes he wore. He utilized the light shining down on the ring to maneuver around, and his general senses. Each step was taken with a certain gentleness. Upon reaching the corner, which took him no less than few moments he turned towards where the wall next to his opponent's tunnel was. Taking the same speed and vigilance he continued on, but still, nothing, just as he planned. Hopefully, his opponent wouldn't arrive too soon as that would surely deter his plans. Approaching the tunnel entrance, he took a bit more caution than before with his steps at about a meter away from the tunnel entrance. With no time to be neglected, he swiftly moved to about two meters from the outside of the tunnel entrance, crouching with his front facing the right of that entrance, and the stands some meters away from him.

He watched, he watched it all. There was nothing that he overlooked. This was what it felt like to be death. He felt exhilaration throughout his body, but he kept his composure while crouched in a stance maintaining his balance. It was all so ... evident. Such observation never went unrewarded, it was all for a purpose. This time the purpose of such was simple - the complete and utter defeat of his opponent by any means necessary in a preferably swift and flawless fashion, yet calculated and premeditated. His opponent was unknown to him so far, but soon he would be. With all the movement had done surely the match was to be started soon, not that it was a problem. Quietly he waited. The predator stalked his prey. He breathed shallow breaths to ensure his breathing was not heard by his opponent. Subsequently, a man walked out of the tunnel. The cloth was heard by Jabo with him being in such a close proximity of him. His eyes intense with bloodlust, he now treated with complete carefulness behind the man. With every step he took, Jabo took. He wasn't able to be seen, due to the lighting and was likely unheard due to the carefulness in stepping he took. Once his opponent was to made it to the steps, that's when the crowd roared with intensity. It echoed throughout the entire building. Little did the man named Theo whom he was behind know that they roared so loudly because his presence as well. The crowd was able to vaguely see him with the light casting a shadow onto the stairs; however, it was now too late. By the time his opponent would notice that, death would have struck - with an iron fist. A well-placed blow to the prey's temple with the all of the force he could produced while standing on steps would be delivered, using his body to put rotational force in the strike, which would be thrown immediately after the brief moment when the crowd would have been roaring on sight of the other challenger. Death himself had not yet been seen, only his shadow and the angle at which the light shined projected his shadow out of the opponent's line of sight. Following up the blow would be a chop, targeted at the opposition's pressure point located in the neck. Behind this chop much less force than the hook, but much more tactically positioned. Either way if either hit connected it would likely knock the opponent unconscious. If he were somehow found out he would be ready to react in a split second in a decisive and alert manner.
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