Mori Oni the Strength of the Wind

Mori has bright pink hair that she wears in a ponytail which branches into three tails at the back of her skull. Her eyes, and lipstick are also plays on the same color of pink, only differing in the shades by a bit. As such this brings out her deep tan of a skin tone which stretches tightly over her well muscled body and well endowed chest. She is not what one would call delicate, standing at seven foot five she weighs over three hundred and fifty pounds, mostly muscle but some obvious parts are more fatty.

Growing up Mori was always different than the regular air benders in her temple. They were more agile, and had finesse where as she had power and might. Even at the young age of eight she had proven to be the physically strongest in the temple. As such instead of jumping around she would train through free weights and punching bags. Early on when she began bending air she would bring only the most oxygen filled air in for her to breathe allowing her to grow much bigger than the average air bender, and human for that matter. All throughout she trained and secluded herself from her peers allowing her to become strong in the body and in air bending.

While this prevented her from forming bonds with the other air monks of her temple, it made her strong in the solidarity. This allowed her to climb to the rank of general at such a young age. However when she was thirteen and only a captain she killed her first person.

It was a dark, damp day and it had been raining earlier so the whole field smelled of wet grass. As such any scent from before was washed away by the rain, and it's aftereffects. Crickets could be heard chirping, and the then five foot ten Mori tried to remain hidden in the grass. She had taken the time to add black and green skin paint to the natural tan of her skin in hopes it would serve as a sort of camouflage. Her hair was a then subdued brown, and she blended in better than one might expect. That day, Mori had decided to go off hunting for a boar, she was by herself in the territory owned by Earth and grew hungry halfway through the day.

Of course the claim that she was a growing girl rang in her head, and forced her to decide to hunt instead of continue on her journey. Of course that was not quite in the cards as she stumbled upon a group of bandits. They were twenty feet ahead of her, and arranged in a semi circle standing and kicking at something in the middle. Figuring she should do what an air monk would do, Mori twisted her fingers which in turn caused a huge gust to knock them across their backs and at kidney level. The blast of air knocked them across the prone figure as Mori then raced forward to grab the now revealed child. The young boy probably only two years her junior sat huddled in a ball, cuts and bruises littered his small body and dirt and tears matted his face. Not pausing for an introduction, Mori simply picked the boy up in one hand and began running the other way.

Out of the five bandits who had been hit, only three were getting back up. One was puking on his knees, and the other was still dazed on the ground. However those three quickly gave chase one brandishing a sword, another a spear and the third carried nothing revealing himself to be either a hand to hand fighter or a bender. Mori hit the tree line, and threw the boy up into an eight foot high limb where he squealed before grabbing for his life to the oak. Turning around she twisted her torso and delivered a punch to the swordsman who was in the process of winding back for a cut. The hit got him in the chest and threw the man backwards onto the spear of his friend who promptly dropped his weapon. A bad choice and this time when Mori threw her fist forward a great blast of wind came forward instead. The force hit him directly in the small of his spine and broke him like a ragdoll. The third finished his dance and a plume of flames reached toward Mori like an angry hand...before the oxygen from it was sucked through into a vice which clamped on opposite sides of the man's left forearm and upper arm. As soon as it was in place both slammed forward with startling strength bending the man's arm in the wrong direction and snapping it into a bloody mess.

Turning around again, Mori two jumped the tree and again yanked the boy into her grasp before running off again this time getting away from the group.

The ballad of Royce Ko Five Nine is long and arduous, and the perfectionist himself would love for me to detail ever little part of his life but I will not. Instead I will be detailing parts of his life that are eventful. Nah just kidding heres a tale of the time he went onto an island in search of the special fruit.

Selling off children, and raping villagers is such a piratey thing but not something Royce could ever get the hang of in his travels. For no matter how long the man had voyaged these things just didn't appeal to him, instead he was one who fought for justice. Stealing from thieves, torturing murderers and the like. However that is enough about Royce's character for now we must focus on what he did on this day on an island of the coast of Kirigakure.

It was known to most as Karate island a place with many masters of the said art, and a place were Royce would begin his earthy dig. The sun shone brightly as the greyblue hull of his ship rose above the waves. The seas parted from the rounded top of the hull falling off it like a rainy downpour in some long lost jungle. Seagulls quacked their protest as the ship rose above from the azure depths and disturbed their flying patterns. It wasn't a large ship but neither was it small, and soon scurrying could be heard from below and the faux-boat on top would shutter with a creaking from the door that rested on the bottom of the planks. The door was a bright cherry red and was a sharp contrast with the rest of the ship but fit in well with the rest of the faux-boat that was the crow's nest. The inside of the boat was the same cherry red and hid the door quite well, the outside of the faux-boat or the hull was just a simple woody-brown.

Speaking of Royce, he emerged from the door and shook his medium length wgute hair out of his eye. He was dressed in just black suit pants and had a shovel hung over his left shoulder. Inside his mouth was a cigarette that had just recently been lit giving off its putrid smell, and the cherry matching the color of the door as the ash flew in the wind. The flaky particles would flutter past and move towards his destination a sandy beach filled with white-gold sand that reminded him of his homeland.

Not expecting violence the man hadn't brought his giant cleaver along with him, perhaps that had been a mistake, perhaps not. Only time would tell Royce told himself as he flexed his back and cracked his neck to relieve the tension built up there by his muscles from awkward sleep. With a yawn he dropped the shovel into a sword position on his left hip and sprung upwards into the air. With a slight twist he landed bare footed in the sand where it was wet from the waves. It seemed like a short leap but the sub was moored more than hundreds of feet off the coast, and the one fisherman who saw him do this stared shocked at Royce who gave him a little wave.

"Hello sir, would you happen to know the laws about digging on this island here?" Royce asked his voice with a thick accent of the desert upon it. The voice was like a hot desert wind and sounded slightly raspy yet as smooth as honey.

"Digging? Whatever for?" croaked the man, he was old and his voice revealed that more than his appearance. The fisherman was balding with a long flowing mane of white hair that dropped over his back and fell onto the dock he sat upon like a coiled snake. The dock he sat upon looked as ancient as the man himself and the water lapped up against it making soft noises which played as background music for the rest of their conversation. The pole the man held in his right hand was made of bamboo, yet Royce guessed the man had caught some big game before. The twinkly in his eyes betrayed his calmer, old man demeanor. The old man was dressed in hip waders and flannel, but beneath the spindly looking arms Royce sensed power. However again, only time would tell, perhaps he had some interesting stories Royce thought to himself as he figured around for his reply.

"A certain fruit" replied Royce after a brief moment, it was said slowly as the man had paused only to inhale his cigarette or that would be how it seemed to the other contestant in the conversation. He had to be careful with his words from here on as suddenly Royce got the feeling they were not alone. Perhaps leaving the cleaver was an awful idea.

"Well we have to test those who wish to taste the horrid fruit, you understand don't you?" the old man said his voice turning sharp half way through as he quickly stood up his hair still being coiled on the deck due to its enormous length. As he said this four others seemingly materialized out of nowhere to surround Royce who now grasped the shovel in both hands and spit out his cigarette.

"Come at me then, if you dare" Royce hissed as he spread his feet and slightly hunched his back, the cigarette had been spit towards the second man who was now jumping out of it's way. Which was exactly what the man wanted, and he moved quicker than a bullet shot from a gun swinging the shovel from a lower left position up towards the right in a move that would have clove the man in half from mid thigh to upper ribs had he carried his weapon. As it was now he simply sent the man leftwards towards the other two who were rushing towards him. Stealing a quick glance, Royce noticed the old man still stood in the same spot, eyes closed as if he were preparing something. That was bad, but for now Royce knew with a backwards jump that he needed to focus on these three for he doubted the one he hit was out of this battle yet.

Ducking his head Royce dodged the first quick jab and he brought his skull upwards while the man's arm was still extended with a powerful jump from his legs connecting his skull to the man's elbow in a move that gave off a sickening snap that could be heard across the beach. He hadn't meant to hurt the man that bad and Royce recoiled in horror before the third man punched him square in the chest sending him flying into the ocean and skipping across the waves like a rock. These guys may have been slower than him but their strength was definitely on his level. With a growl at himself for daring to even let his guard down for once second the man quickly maneuvered around the waves in the shallow part. Luckily he hadn't been thrown too far and his pride hurt more than the strike. Now however he was without his shovel, but all remorse was gone as the sand pirate known as Royce passed judgement on the "fisherman". They were all guilty in his mind and now he could fight without worry, and he did so now as he sent the shovel flying towards the man he had first hit who was just getting up. It truly was just a distraction to the third man, the one who had hit him. The second was still standing although his arm slumped and it was bleeding through the sleeve. One more hit to the arm and that man wouldn't dare fight again.

The shovel clanged off the man's forehead with a dull thud and he slumped into the sands. Luckily he had been hit with the handle and not the spade, the third followed the shovel's movements and shouted a late wording and Royce used this distraction to pay the man back with the same attack he had given to the earlier distracted pirate. Royce's punch however sent the man even farther and may have broken his sternum.

"Stop this now, you're no match for me and you're only hurting yourselves" Royce said his voice smooth and without any labored breathing. He said this to the still standing men, the one with the broken arm and the one he had talked to earlier. Now all he had to do was wait for a reply.

"Grab your blade, I will not stop this fight before I get my chance" the man roared as suddenly the man he injured before handed a sheathed blade to Royce. The man looked at him in shock before taking the weapon and unsheathing it. Just in time it would seem as he brought it up to block the old man's downward chop. Royce looked up with shock as he felt his knees grind against each other. The man was wielding an axe thrice his size. How that was possible Royce didn't know but he suddenly gave way and rolled off to the left with a quick slash that drew first blood along the old man's left side of his torso. It was merely a flesh wound and something Royce doubted would stop or even slow down the man at all in fact if he had to guess he would guess the man wouldn't even feel the blood that trickled down his flank spilling it's dark crimson color from a pore just below his armpit.

The scent of iron was thick in the air not only from the blood and weapons but something else Royce gathered. It was so thick the desert pirate could taste it upon his lips and tongue it permeated his senses and irked him to no end. Not because of the mystery but because it distracted him as his opponent unloaded with slashes quicker than should have been impossible they came from awkward angles that no man holding that long a weapon could have done. Quickly blocking them and giving up land, Royce soon once again felt the water wash away the sand that had grown along his feet. The water washed along his feet and cooled down the blood that had become heated during this battle. But that wasn't what Royce noticed, he noticed that the weapon wasn't truly as large as it seemed it wasn't an axe either. Nay the whole thing was naught but an illusion designed for some reason that Royce was yet to discern. What he could tell from the attacks however was that it was an odd pole armed that was bladed. Only the lower one eight of the weapon was wooden and non-bladed thus only allowing a hand hold there. Which was why the elder man hadnt slid his hands up to gain more of an advantage when the blades clashed. Someone else may not have noticed this but for Royce who prided himself with attention to detail it was obvious as a sore thumb or a red flag waving in purgatory the red blossoming from the white nothingness. This was how out of place the style was and as such this gave Royce a slight advantage for he could play a trick on the man, once perhaps just once but knowing the desert rogue it would be enough.

Now the only decision left for Royce was to kill the man or not, surely he deserved it for attacking Royce for this pathetic reason, yet Royce was sure he killed one if not two of his companions for surely that explained the blood red sand near the man who lay perfectly still away from the battle, shovel still covering him like some make shift gravestone. The man whom he punched was still missing and judging by the time he would have had stumbled back by now but Royce always assumed people endured like himself. This was rarely if ever the case, however Royce was only focused on the battle as the waves crashed around them the sound of metal clanging on metal had long since blured into one continuous hum as their blades moved faster than most could watch. Quite frankly Royce was extremely surprised that he hadn't broke the cheap katana loaned to him by the broken armed man. It would happen soon if Royce would guess right and as such he needed his opening. Knowing that blades moved slower in water as was true with most surface things Royce had lured the fisherman deeper into the water and they were at about hip level when he struck under cover of the water. His right foot moved forward then backward in the blink of an eye and tore the water apart exposing the sand beneath for a moment which was when the old man looked down. Using this opportunity Royce stepped right into where the axe blade would have been and brought the pommel of the bent and battered sword upward in a violent strike that hit the man under the chin and knocked him upward violently into the air as if he were a duck taking flight off a pond. The blow was so powerful in fact that it hit the man back into the shallows, barely any water was there to break his fall.

"Are we done now? Are we finally done?" Royce yelled at the top of his lungs, through it all that was the most energy he had expelled this whole time. He huffed afterwards and climbed out of the sea, his cigarettes were ruined and that realization just reached him. Much like a fuse running up to a bomb, he no longer cared about these men and their fighting. He should not have been attacked in the first place, it was not his fault for his actions now he told himself. His eyes burst like a solar flare their color switched over from blue to a black with crimson flecks. They widened from their usual lazy half slitted appearance to a now wide eyed look. It was crazy along with the full teethed smile that now shown on his face. Letting loose a maniacal laugh he quickly rushed forward with his blade pointed downward before flicking it upward and throwing part of the sea towards the man who was now holding his elbow and trying to brace it. It was like a lion eyeing up his prey who was this time a mouse. There was nowhere for this mouse to run however no holes for it to crawl in and the lion knew exactly where it was, it would crush it now and here. Royce's patience had run dry and the pirate had snapped his mental state was now something else, it was not his and the eyes like some bloody sky seemed to devour everything they saw. Like a lion with two snakes for eyes in fact would be a better analogy for this demon who now used the man's body. The wave crashed into the man and hurled him over his companion's body. With a flash that body was now a corpse as Royce did a downward stab severing the man's spine in a crimson flush springing from the earthy body below. There was no cry of pain for the man had already been killed as obvious from the dent in his forehead where the skull caved in from the earlier attack. Royce would have pitied this but the demon which held his body cared not, as he brought the blade up and flung the corpse at the man who had been flung by the wave. They both went flying until they hit a tree with a snap. Turning with the speed of a bolt of lighting arcing across the sky Royce gave a laugh as the old man with the long pole arm struggled to get up. Before he could however in one slash the pirate buried his blade in both legs of the man. Mid thigh down into the bones and with a hard wrench he tore the handle loose from the blade which stuck in the legs and forced the man to flip over himself many times before landing back with a dull thud. The once pristine beach was now filled with the dark red blood from the men who had tested the pirate's strength. Whether or not they intended to kill him was irrelevant, and the demon waited a while before leaving the body of Royce as he waded back out in the water to get more smokes from his ship.

This was done as Suna was destroyed by an earthquake, leaving the jounin without a home. As the submarine delivered him to the barrens that he once called his home, the man would drop his head band in the rubble and begin his life as a wanderer.