Unholy Prayers [MISSION] complete

[Ren Homma "Nazo"]

note- situational music is in italics

The piercing cry of the messenger hawk could be heard even from his humble little shop. His wings flapped hard against the desert gales as the poor creature made his descent into the village. Flapping his wings hard to slow its speed of descent into the roost feathers loosed themselves from their master before fluttering off in the wind being scattered across the vast desert of solitude. Upon gripping the wooden post with his strong talons the messenger hawk loosed another sharp caw as he alerted everyone to his presence. A sunagakure shinobi garbed in hues much akin to the desert's dusty dunes including that of a flak jacket, trousers, and sandals, rushed into the room to care for the desperate animal. However before he could even get to giving the fowl any water or food for his hard work, he noticed something. A crimson tassel hanging from the document tied around his leg with a light weight metallic rune for wing hanging from it. Immediately the shinobi collected the document and shipped it out to the next shinobi in line as quickly as he could before caring for the dear avian companion of none other than their most honored Daimyo.

The document went through a long process of exchanging hands from one chuunin carrier to another before finally reaching the assistant of the head jounin. It was not to the Kazekage that the document was delivered merely for the fact that the Kazekage was away on important duties at the time of the document's reception. Carefully yet quickly removing the tassle from the sealed document, the assistant opened the decree and then proceeded to address the head hancho.

Sonohara-sama it's a decree from the Daimyo.


In recent days we have discovered that many of the staff around our beloved Daimyo's Oasis have been mysteriously vanishing into what seemed to be thin air. No blood stains or trails were found, at least not quickly anyway. We launched thorough investigation into the affair and discovered in the nearby mountains bordering the coastline that a cult worshiping some demonic deity have taken up hold in the premises.

It had been discovered that this cult is performing dark rituals upon which living sacrifices are apparent to be necessary. As such we fear for the safety of our beloved Daimyo as all attempts thus far to annihilate this cult have been all for naught. As such our beloved Daimyo issues this official decree.

Eradicate this threat to the well being of Kaze no Kuni and protect the life of our beloved Daimyo.


Sonohara-sama, what will you do?

He assistant looked to the experienced man for insight as to what he thought of the whole ordeal. The tall, strong, dark haired man paced towards the wall of windows facing out towards the slumbering village. Stopping about a three foot reach away from their embrace he somewhat folded his arms across his chest as he stroked his beard with one hand in thought. It took the man several long moments, but eventually a solution came to him.

Our solution Akira...

His assistant looked up to the man as her chestnut brown tresses fell over her shoulders in curls. Upon the uttering of his next words her brilliant emerald eyes grew wide.

Fight fire with fire. We'll fight death with death...

He turned towards Akira his frame becoming thrown into shadow with the moon illuminating his back side.

Dispatch the Shinigami.

It was for that event that brought him there on that lovely night lit by the full moon. It had been a full twenty four hour cycle since he had been summoned by the head jounin, Sonohara and given his task. It was such a lovely task as well. It brought him here, in a southerly direction away from his home toward the coast towards the sandy ocean. He was here for one reason, and one reason only; to eradicate a group of cultists. Basically for a night full of fun and wonders. No one cared how they perished, only that they did which meant that the Shinigami could do what he wanted how he wanted.

Perfect.

With golden emerald hues perfectly attuned to the night's darkness trained on the staggering mountain peaks before him, the Shinigami came to the peak of a rather large dune before stopping a moment. A sinister smile threatened to split the Shinigami's pale face in two as he surveyed the mountain-scape. With the information he had received from the staff that worked for their out righteous Daimyo he knew well that the cult was at least located somewhere in his current vicinity which, of course, made the search a bit easier, albeit, not much. With a sweeping gesture of his left hand he brushed his lengthy ivory tresses over his shoulder and onto his strong yet also weak back. Another gesture with the opposite hand took to his bangs which normally shrouded his glorious orbs in mystery. Pushing upwards along his scalp before releasing the tufts of ivory with a wide outward sweep would allow the tresses to fall in such a manner as to perfectly frame his eyes without once more obscuring them from the dark of night.

Then he swept his arms outwards towards the sides as his lengthy black sleeves once again fell over their bony frames. Slowly his arms dropped downward and backward before finally his hands were but a mere foot away from his body with palms out stretched forwards direction. He was beyond elated. He was excited for the events to come. He couldn't wait for the blood rain to come, and come it would one way or another. Knocking his head back slightly as his precious orbs glance up towards the moon his lips parted a bit uttering a sinister cackle.

"Khehe, tonight the moon shall be dyed crimson. It'll be so beautiful, right... Saika?" His body slouched forwards a bit and he held his head with his right hand covering the same eye. He subsided into a fit of laughter that coughed and wheezed for several moments before finally he fell eerily silent. Both of his arms dropped to his sides and his body slouched forward enough that most of his ivory tresses had fallen over his slender shoulders. Then finally his body shook, once more with a small bit of laughter, "Khehe, I should get going. The rain will never come without its herald."

He began to move onward once more taking one staggering step after another that soon enough turned into a brisk walk and eventually a run followed by several bounds as he leaped from one mountain cliff face to another scaling the rocky formation. He gathered chakra around his feet and finger tips as he made his bounds so that he might stick to the vertical cliff face rather than worry about being able to clear the necessary height limits for reaching the next ledge. Doing so helped the man make quick work of the mountain's heights and eventually gave him what many would call a bird's eye view of the surrounding area.

High up in the reaches of the desert mountain peaks, the Shinigami was granted a wondrous view of the surrounding area, but it was not for the view that he had come here, but rather to listen to the world below him. So he closed his precious gem hued orbs and attuned his ears to the voices of nature looking for anything that would perhaps be out of the ordinary. It would not take the Shinigami long to locate something amiss.

GWAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The cry echoed off of the mountain's faced before fading away closer to the oasis of their so called, precious Daimyo. So that was why they needed the mountains, to use as a sound barrier. It was smart, but not smart enough to outwit the Shinigami. He released his hold on the western mountain's face and dropped down to the ridge about midway down the southern mountain. He knew already that the cultists would be close in proximity simply because of how well the cry had echoed. Shifting his position around the mountain's perimeter he slowly and carefully scouted the area around himself scouring it for the exact source of where the blood curdling cry he originated.

KYAAAAAAAAAH!

The Shinigami's attention was snapped to the direct east of him as another cry rang out. However something was definitely off with this one. This time the cry had definitely belonged to a much higher pitched voice. A female perhaps as contrasted to the more deep masculine voice from before. Those damn cultists. They were having fun without inviting the Shinigami to their little party. How dare they? Well he would show them what happens when you do not invite the god of death to your little blood baths. That's right, they would all perish. Not because he was orders to eradicate them, but rather because he wanted his own fun, and fun he would have.

However he could only stop to wonder. How would he end them? Would he capture them all and pin them to the walls with steak knives? Would he perhaps carve into each and every one of them ever so delicately and force them all to listen as their comrades screamed bloody murder from the excruciating pain? Would he perhaps tear out their entrails and hang them from the ceiling via it? Oh there were so many ways to pick apart a human being's life he simply did not know where to begin.

How about arriving at the party first? Yes, that would do, after all, he could figure out what to do with all of them once he got there. No matter what he did decide to do though, this was already guaranteed to be one hell of a bloody night filled with unholy sacraments.


Word Count: 1646

[Ren Homma "Nazo"]

He bounded from mountain ridge to crumbling mountain ridge with the wind whistling in his ears and the cries of utter agony guiding him through the moon lit night. It took him a total of ten elapsed minutes in order for him to gain sight of his destination. It was a well built structure that appeared to be made almost entirely out of stone. There were several stained glass windows that allowed light to filter into the unholy structure but not allow prying eyes to gain sight. There was even some sort of structure that appeared to be a sort of chapel. Lucky him, there was a large enough window on the southern side of the building in the chapel that he could make his entrance through. With that insidious smile stretching across his features once more he could already almost taste it.

The salty iron composition of their blood as it splattered onto his cheeks and lips. It was oh so delicious.

Slouching forward again he allowed his left arm to drop down while he once again held his head with his right hand. Oh how glorious it would be to tear each and every one of them apart with his bare hands. He simply couldn't wait to hear them scream in agony. He couldn't wait to rip out their beating hearts. To gouge out their bloodied eyes. To wring the life from all of them. Ah yes, he was filled with anticipation.

GWAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Ah the screams. They were but the appetizer, and soon, oh so soon, would come the main course.

She licked her lips as her crimson gaze caught sight of the blood dripping now down his back. Several lacerations cried the crimson tears as his throat ran dry from screams of the purest agony. The chains holding him still and standing rattled ceaselessly as the whip cracked. One. Two. Three times the whip cracked against his skin baring even more sweet succulent tender flesh on his bared chest. Tears, clear and crimson alike, streaked down his body and he cried with his hoarse voice to the heavens. Yet nothing answered him. He would find no salvation.

The clicking of her heeled boots caused him much worry. They were painfully slow in the coming. Click clack. Click clack. Her heels clicked against the blood stained ivory tile floor. Then she came into view of his amethyst eyes and he could do nothing but quiver and shake with fear. She was oh so beautiful. Large chest, perhaps D cups. Lilac tresses that fell in curls over her shoulders. Rose red lip stick. Painfully beautiful tight clothing. Pale skin just slightly tanned so as to not look frail. She was the epitome of beauty, and she was oh so beautifully terrifying.

She reached over the altar table with long, thin, out stretched fingers. Her crimson nails hovering inches above a large selection of tools for her disposal. Oh what would she use next? The bone saw? No, not yet. The butcher knife? No, too crude. Aha, the scalpel. Yes this would be perfect. She picked it up ever so gingerly and turned towards the fiery haired man. Her slimy appendage licked over her cherry red lips as she approached him giving her the appearance of a true psychopathic killer. Now really close in to him she placed one hand on his left cheek as she pressed him close to herself. Resting his chin just between her large bosom, he was forced to do nothing but whimper like a wounded puppy and look up at her. Then, she raised the scalpel, and drew it ever so lightly and carefully across his face. From left to right. Up and down. Diagonal. Everywhere she wanted to carve, but only slightly, only enough to cause the blood to begin to bubble through the skin.

"Ehehe, where should I hurt you? Here? No maybe here? No no, here. Aha~!" Her once seductive grin grew manic as she drove the scalpel right through the man's right eye causing him to scream bloody murder. Deeper and deeper she drove the scalpel into his skull until it was about half way up the shaft, then brutally she twisted the blade clockwise causing the man to scream ever louder before suddenly yanking it out bringing any of the material of his eye remaining with it. Blood splattered everywhere. All across her plentiful bosom, and her rosy red lips. Especially down her hand and arm. It even further stained the once innocent tile floor.

"Ehehe, men are so easy to break." She then dropped the scalpel, allowing it to clatter on the floor as she drew her lips close to his face. Then her slimy appendage snaked its way between her lips and drew across his right cheek from chin to socket lapping up his crimson tears. "Ah... so sweet."

Word Count: 811

[Ren Homma "Nazo"]

"My my, it seems you've made quite the mess."

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a creepy yet masculine voice echoed through out the room. It caused her hand to slip with the new tool she had collected and slit her toy's throat causing the unfortunate man to pass soon after from lack of any more crimson tears to give. Saddened by her little pet's death she sighed and dropped the new tool she had been using which would have allowed it to clatter to the ground had it not mysteriously begun to float. Astounded by this witch craft, she leaped back several feet her heels then skidding across the crimson puddles on the ivory tile dragging streaks of crimson across those yet to be stained.

"Find the intruder, I want his hea-" She stopped mid sentence when her ruby red orbs caught sight of her assistant. The young woman was floating in the air grasping at her neck which obviously appeared to have some sort of thin thread wrapped around it strangling her. There was only one issue, she couldn't see any thread. Slowly the young woman grew paler and paler. Her chestnut curls flopped to and fro as her body squirmed to try and free herself. Her ebony nails clawed at her throat trying to grant her air, but it was all for naught. After ten long tormenting minutes, all of her movements finally ceased. Her legs stopped kicking. Her arms dropped to her sides, and her head hung back as if looking toward the sky. Those once beautiful sapphire eyes of hers now clouded with the ever creeping shroud of death. "Tch, damn him. What kind of witch craft is this!?"

"It's not witch craft." Once again she nearly jumped out of her skin as this time the voice seemed to come from right behind her. Turning on the ball of his foot her lilac tresses flew about her curvy form. Almost immediately her ruby red eyes set upon him. A tall almost lanky appearing man shrouded in black with ivory tresses that fell over his shoulders. However it wasn't this man's incredible frail appearance that struck even the slightest bit of fear into her heart but rather the twisted smile that crept across his face. "My my, aren't you the charming one." She folded her arms across her chest as her voice carried out across the room echoing with confidence. "If it's not witch craft then what is it, intruder?" The man's smile grew even wider as he held up an arm and out stretched his spindly fingers. At the gesture the woman could hear a distinct thud behind her that sounded like a body collapsing to the floor, likely her assistant. However then came the sharp pain in her lower back. She gasped instinctively for a moment and when the pang of pain returned followed by the distinct sound of liquid splatter she could only wonder what had bit her. Her curiousity did not remain for long as she saw the blood stained knife fly through the air past her and right into his out stretched hand. "Khehe, puppetry."

The woman shifted her weight to her other foot, as she did as an audible sizzling could be heard as her wound in her lower back healed itself. "I see, so you're another one of that accursed Daimyo's pawns then?" Her eyes were cold and hard, and yet at the same time filled with oh so much lust. Lust to draw his blood and tear him apart by stripping away every morsel of his skin away from his oh so juicy flesh. Just the thought of it made her lick her lips, however her mood soured a bit more as the shrouded man broke into laughter, "Guhehehehe, no no. I am not a pawn of his nor anyone for that matter." He flipped the knife around in his hand a couple of times examining it for a moment, "I... am a messenger of death..." The woman raised an eye brow at this statement, "Oh? And might I ask just what this messenger's name is?" The shrouded man laughed again before lowering his one hand and sweeping the other across his front as if in a mock bow, "You may simply address me as, your savior, Shinigami."

The woman licked her rosy red lips, "I see, well then Shinigami I am going to have to request..." She reached down into her plentiful bosom before pulling out a small sterling silver blade, perhaps some sort of wakizashi, "That you perish here and now." The expression on her face became rather emotionless at that moment as the seductive tone in her voice faded away. It was replaced with pure ice cold. Her golden crimson gaze met with his golden emerald gaze if only for a moment before she lunged at him pushing off with such incredible speeds that would make one swear she was perhaps once a kunoichi. Of what country, though, the Shinigami could not begin to surmise. He dodged the attack, however just barely as he received a sizable scratch on the lower right side of his abdomen.

With his cloak torn into the Shinigami sighed. It was a shame to see it go in such a manner, he had grown fond of the cloak, however now it was horrid. He would no long wear such an abomination. However when she lunged at him again, he found himself with no time to remove the cloak, instead he had to act quick. He formed a hand seal, however he was too slow to dodge the attack. It hit home in his lower back causing his body to bend to the force of her lunge. He gasped for air as the attack hit him, and all he heard was her sinister cackle.


Shikyo

Nazo


Word Count: 975

[Ren Homma "Nazo"]

"So you can hurt a death god, hehe, not so strong are you?" Her confident expression changed almost immediately after she uttered the last word. Her eyes grew wide as well, "WHAT!?" Her prey had melted into a pile of sand leaving nothing but the dirt grains and his cloak behind. "A shinobi is capable of so many things. Such as a technique to replace one's body with another object, like sand for example." His voice echoed through out the large chapel suggesting he was speaking from a good distance away. The woman looked around frantically for the missing Shinigami. Her lilac tresses flew about her form as she searched however she found no sign of the strange man. At least that was until she looked up and found him standing on the ceiling.

His hair fell down to earth as though like a curtain and revealed his glorious golden emerald orbs. The disastrous grin spread across his face sent chills down her spine and made her want to carve into his flesh even more so. Her grip tightened on her wakizashi as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She had no hope to reach him if he was up there. "My, apparently they can even perform acts of god. Standing on the ceiling, vanishing into thin air, you sir are one wonderful marvel." The seductive tone in her voice was back and almost seemed to be begging the Shinigami to get into bed with her, however, that would not be the case, even if he did descend to the mortal plane.

Soon the Shinigami dropped off of the ceiling and flipped around in the air so that he was right side up once again. Then, he landed with such ease upon the slick tile floor, that it almost seemed, to the woman, as though a divine being had descended upon her. However, at that moment, instead of praising him, she lunged at him again intending to deliver a flurry of strikes to his chest. About mid way through her lunge she noticed something was off. He wasn't bothering to dodge her strike. Why!? When her blade seemed to finally pierce his flesh, she found her answer.

She hadn't struck hard enough, he wore armor under his clothing for protection and the blade only sunk into him about two centimeters. It still did damage, but the attack, he had let her hit to lure her in. She felt a horrendous pain in her abdominal area and soon found herself coughing and hacking, and there after, crimson vomit spilled onto the once pure floor. "Khhhh, how?" She grunted as she strained to look up at the beautiful man before her. When her eyes finally did rise to see his face, she saw a horrendously horrify smile spread across it. "Time for some fun."

Her screams of pain rang out into the room soon after his words were uttered. More crimson tears spilled upon the porcelain tiles as first he tore the flesh from her abdomen. In a futile attempt to lash back out at him, she tore the wakizashi from his armor and struck at him again. However he caught the blade in his left hand allowing it to pierce his flesh and run all the way up to the guard. He then curled his fingers around her hand, not letting her run away. "Aaaah the pain. It's so wonderful, wouldn't you agree?" He jerked his right hand forward with chakra seething at his fingertips.

She cried out in pain again as she felt a searing pain in her right bicep. She cried even harder as she saw her right arm fly across the room now a useless pile of flesh and bone. With a sickening splashing sound, large amounts of crimson tears spilled onto the floor again and again. After long moments of tearing into her once beautiful flesh the Shinigami pulled her whimpering form close to him, embracing her for a moment, "Wouldn't you agree, once something is lost it will never return?"

A sharp gasp ensued there after, before getting stuck in her chest. Pain filled her entire form, but never one such as this as he tore into her through the open wound in her abdomen. She could feel his fingers writhe inside of her for long moments that seemed to pass as eons rather than seconds or even minutes. Her eyes were wide with disbelief as she saw nothing but the crimson pool beneath their feet grow and grow because of his hand. She would have cried out in pain once more as she felt him jerk things out of place inside of her, or even as she felt him enter her, however, she could not muster even the slightest bit of strength to do so. All there was now, was the breath slowly leaving her lungs, the pool of crimson, and the horrendous pain that writhed through her form.

"So wonderful," she could barely make out his words as she felt him suddenly jerk his hands away from her form. The room, began to spin violently around her as she crumpled to the floor. Was this what death was like? She was almost certain it was, but with clouded thoughts, she could not tell. Looking up at the shinigami now from the pool of her own making, she could no longer make heads or tails of what he was. "Ahhh, still so much to do."

He knelt down next to her still barely breathing for and once again he entered her. He writhed his fingers around inside of her groping for anything he could grasp before suddenly, and violently, yanking it out. He saw her body react violently as it seemed to seize and before long, as the crimson pool grew still, it stopped. Everything just stopped. He no longer heard her take sharp breaths, or even felt a heart beat from coursing blood with the remaining hand inside of her. He felt, nothing. She had expired and so had his fun. A shame. "Indeed, something lost will never return. That is something I learned long ago, when I accidentally murdered her." He slowly rose up to his feet his head hung for a moment as he almost seemed sad that she had gone. She was a fun one, but ah well, there were other people he could torture in this world, and so long as he knew he had that, he could still have his fun again and again.

For now, with bloodied hands and clothing, the Shinigami approached the bolted shut double doors across the room where he now heard banging from the sorry sods on the other side. There was still so much work to do. So many lives to save. Ah yes, the Unholy Sacrament would soon come to an end.

It would take the Shinigami a matter of minutes to put an end to the little game they were playing, and by the time the sun rose the next day, the body count would be a total of fifteen and the church that the group had decided to defile, would be consumed in a hell fire. As for the Shinigami, he watched the flames cackle for a while from the high reaches of the near by mountain. By the time the first wooden beam fell, he was gone. His destination was a simple one. His humble little shop back in Sunagakure where he could begin to work on his next little research project. Of course, after he reported the mission's progress that is.

Total Word Count: 4697