Crunchiest_Leaf

"Time again for kiku to chop off evil do-ah feets" The ratman gave, sharpening his feet chopping sword

Beneath the Honourable village of Sakuragakure, beneath its cherry blossom-covered streets, lies a shadowy art where ancient rat rituals thrive. Deep within the sacred sewers, elder rats, revered as mystics and soothsayers, perform the dubious practice - "Shippo no Muki." Often wise and venerated individuals; these guardians of the old ways, commune with the spirits of the earth, water and fate, using small, hand-carved wooden cards imbued with ancestral symbols - and the energies of those that came before them. In candle-lit chambers, surrounded by the echoes of whispered prayers, these tellers of the underworld arrange their cards in intricate patterns, each showing a gateway to the unseen direction of one’s soul, as they channel the will of the kami to guide those who seek their insight. Below you may get a brief outlook on what the kami have in store for your day - but for more important, or detailed fortunes, visit Sakuragakure, and seek out a rat soothsayer! (DISCLAIMER - IF YOUR FORTUNE DOES NOT PLAY OUT - YOU SHOULD HAVE PAYED MORE) Your Day Today will… …Be… … \/ Comment Your Fortune Below \/ "Aiyah... Today will Absolutely be Plagued by Gut Health ..."

one day the musin will rise up with a magic they can learn 🐀 very based FA regardless! +1

"peetah-sama...." the ratman would sob, having received his final lesson in alchemy from his old friend only moments before his passing.

A missive sits; pinned to the entrance of each sewer tunnel, underway and caven-grotto. Translated for the benefit of those it sought to give heed, of the coming hostilities of war. Nezukai Kikurage, Shochō of the noble clan Nezukai, Red Samurai of Sakuragakure, puts forth this missive with a stalwart and resolute heart. Our ancestor built these sewers, his essence and spirit woven into every brick, every tunnel. The great Doku-Doku, first of our kind, fashioned these sacred halls for us, the rat people, with the mandate to protect and preserve them for all time. It is a legacy we honour and a duty we uphold with unwavering commitment. Less than ten years ago, in the spirit of peace, mutual respect and positive Kani, we extended a VERY generous offer to you, the Wonk people. We proposed a pact of peace, requesting that you vacate our ancestral sewers and cease your squatting upon our sacred territory. This offer, given with an open hand, was submitted in good faith, to prevent conflict and foster harmony between our races. Yet, your disrespect of this peace deal, your audacious decision to remain in our sewers, and attack the very Shochō of clan Nezukai has left us with no choice but to defend our birthright, and purge all that croaks within the sewers. The time for talk has long since passed. Now, the clashing of blades and the cries of war will echo through these tunnels. Hear me well, Wonk people: there will be no mercy. You have defiled our heritage, disrespected our ancestors, and spurned our peaceful coexistence. The wrath of the Nezukai clan will descend upon you with the force of a thousand floods. The sewers will flow with the blood and slime of those who dare to challenge the rightful descendants of Doku-Doku. And the feet of every slain wonk will decorate our gates as a warning for other swamp dwelling dregs that would see to usurp our sewer home. Prepare yourselves, for the coming war is inevitable. We will reclaim what is ours, and we will honour the sacrifice and eternal service of the great Doku-Doku with the justice and ferocity he entrusted to us. The Nezukai clan shall prevail, as it has vowed to do so, guided by honour, duty, and the unbreakable bond of our shared heritage. Let this missive serve as your final notification. There will be no time to flee, there will be no further negotiations. The choice, Wonk people, was yours to make, and now the time of peace has passed. The time of Tunnel and Claw has come. Nezukai Kikurage Shochō of the noble clan Nezukai Red Samurai of Sakuragakure

wariwari.... more lightstones

very pog, and very based

Kikurage looks over the missive from his lord, and favourite battle-buddy, putting on his bandana - ready for round three with hemlock, his boney arch nemesis

"The First Great Rat" A book sits atop a dusty shelf, old, battered and forgotten. A seeming translation of a translation at a glance - a story captured upon paper, though not by those who first spoke it. No author, nor references would be found, be they erased with the weathering of time, or rather forgotten altogether. A large black rat, with piercing red eyes adorns the cover. … Long ago, in the time before men, elves or even dwarves there were animals; though far fewer than we see today. Simple creatures, akin to mice we see today, were however abundant. Their sprawling twig nests across grassy plains showed just how successful they had become - enjoying bountiful berries, and a seemingly unending supply of grain from the grasses in which they lived. Sprouting seemingly from the ground, these mice multiplied, tenfold… a hundredfold… A A thousand times over - though delicate and frail creatures, there was no real cause for worry for them - the berries would last, and the grain would flow for as long as mice had tails. Or so they had convinced themselves. After a particularly harsh winter, sleepy mice awoke from their nests to find no berries for them to eat, and very little grain left over from the previous autumn. The bushes that had sustained them had withered in the cold, leaving only hewn twigs and rotten seeds in their stead. The grasses were not as unfortunate, though the nice had been left with barely enough to live in, and barely enough grain to sustain their terrific number. Though the line to doom would be thin, with careful sacrifice and hope, the mice could endure this famine, until the new growth of the coming summer into autumn. Fear however had already found itself in the hearts of many of the mice. They had never been without, and did not know if the coming harvests would be as harsh as the spring they had awoken to. This led many to hoard what little grain they could get their whiskers upon; leaving many with none. Tensions grew in the coming weeks, into months - and where many in the beginning had hoped for a forgiving autumn - the harvest had gone forgotten. War and distrust had the mice in its grips, the once tight-knit nests and grassen communes had devolved into bitter battles, rending skin from tails, fingers from hands, and lives from entire families. Where the new autumn grain sat plentiful upon grassy heads, the most foul and terrible of battles were seen. Fuelled all in ferocity by fear of the coming winter, and what might be left in its wake come spring. Nameless spirits looked upon the mice with sadness and tragic grief. Nameless as none with the gift of word had been to give them names, beyond thought and the occasional thankful squeak. With hearts full of pain, for the mice that had once been, the spirits saw but one way forward. If the mice could not be trusted to share, and to cast out the greed that had wormed its way into their souls like a worm might a rotten apple - the spirits would teach them with a force yet unseen. Not out of hatred, but of hope that a balance once lost could be found again. Without mice. Great beasts were forged in the divine lights of the nameless spirits, unlike any that they had trodden upon the grassy plains before. They had great and terrible claws; not for digging or for reaching itches, but for rending flesh from bone and trapping souls in their grips. They had Great fanged teeth, not for husking grains, nor for the grooming of fur, but for the crunching of bone. Great eyes, not for loving gaze upon family, but to find and to catch in even the darkest of nights. They came in the night, taking and destroying - leaving only chewed bones and strewn fur in their wake. Without prejudice, remorse or even malice, these beasts swept like a winter’s fog, flooding through the plains. Never having even imagined such things, the mice were defenceless; no hidey-holes, no tree roots, nowhere for them to hide from the piercing radiant moon, and the dark things that prowled within its glow. This lasted for 13 nights; only halted by the pleading prayers of one meek and mouse, calling not for himself to be spared, nor for the forgiveness of his family; but rather the acceptance of the sins of his people as a whole, asking only for a chance to start again. For many more moons, the prayers of this mouse fell upon deaf ears - though gradually - after thirteen times as many moons, with his devotion, remorse and determination more of the spirits took interest. Soon the congregation to hear out the little mouse grew into a spiralling mass; stirred with whispers and discussion from plains for beyond - whistling through the trees and dancing amongst the blades of grass. A message came as a lul in the chaos; not as word but as feeling. A bargain from the spirits, accepting the mouse’s pleas for a second chance - though with a harsh reminder of what had already come to pass, and what would come if actions were repeated. The mouse, steadfast in his redoubled resolve of his side of the deal; and with that it began. The spirits reached out with endless tendrils blue, gripping at his features and wrapping him in their powers. Such as they had with the beasts sought to erase his people, the spirits forged the mouse. Great Claws, not for catching or slashing; but for digging. burrowing and building in earth too hard and unforgiving to mear mice, Great piercing eyes, not for finding and chasing, but whose glow would light even the darkest of path, Great stench to drive out the beasts of the night from a new home built, Great writhing fur of black, thick and dense, to hide from the most determined of pursuer. With the dying of the mouse’s previous form, it was replaced - similar yet different, greater than before, but no-longer kin the the mice that had committed such sins against the balance. Stood now upon the soft earth, a great rat; the first of its kind to tread upon the earth. Leaving the clearing of the spirits, the rat sought out his family, similarly repentant to himself he gathered them each into a great column, an exodus from grassy nests - now torn and sundered across a moonlit waste. Though not all would follow him, choosing instead to remain, determined to fight against the moon, the beasts, and the mice they so eagerly tried to compete against for any scraps of grain that remained from the forgotten harvest of the year before. Marching onwards, the rat and his kin delved first into soft soils, clearing and building paths into the belly of the earth. Where the ground became tougher and harder claws in turn became hardened through work, until all could dig freely. Where the light from above faded into blackness, eyes grew brighter in turn until all could see freely in the absence of sun. Where food became short and warmth lesser, hearts grew closer and sharing amongst kin brought ease in times of hardship. Where a stench had once been, a welcoming scent was shared amongst them; a marker of their new family and the bond between each member. Before long, the mouse-kin the rat had brought upon his pilgrimage resembled what he had become - greater than they were before; changed compared to the kin they had left behind in the world above. As was the home they had come to recognise within burrowed earth. Different to the homely grassy nests of their kin, though warm with the energies that mice had lost their grasp upon. After many moons beneath the surface - what once was mouse was all but lost; new ways, new teachings and lessons learned, a sprawling nest took shape, welcoming all rats within its halls, with the grand architect - the first of their kind - never resting. Though one thing had been noted by these new rats; the curse that had led to their fall was ever present, more and more rats began to appear, multiplying tenfold, a hundred fold.... The first great rat, still with the weight of loss ever upon his soul, with the fear of what horrors the spirits might unleash should he fail his duty made a vow to himself and his people. The nest would be endless, sprawling in the deep - large enough for an unending number of rats, so that the sins of the past might not be repeated. And so he remained digging - endlessly - expanding this ever growing home within the deep, so that the rats would want not for space, or food or that which their forgotten kin had fallen folly to. And so - to this day, the first great rat continues - digging, building and remembering the mistakes of the past; and all rats, though forgotten in original name, remember his vow, and his sacrifice made for them. … A scrawling would be made on the backmost page of the book reading; “Kiku nevah forget - doku-doku.” A small four fingered hand print would be left aside

"Throw in an Apology about me 'orse that yer lads offed 'an 'al call it a day" Ser Bedwyr, the templar knight, garbed in orange would grumble - pinning the missive above his counter for him to ponder while baking.

永遠のネズミの巣 - Eternal Rat's Nest Drifting, a soft melody sang out through the under-earth; a flute in the sakura-gakure sewers. The song drew a picture upon the heart, of two nameless musin - entangled in a dance beneath a radiant moon, their edges swaying through a gentle rain of blossoms. Soon however, as the the night grew on - the music would fade, along with the dimming candles dotted carefully about Kikurage's family shrine. The soft whistle of musin slumber would overtake the peaceful rememberance, as the lone shinobi took to the realm of dreams. Though the gentle grip of sleep would not hold kiku for long. One eye would open. Followed thereafter, albeit reluctantly, by the other. Dokuuuuu.....Doooookuuuuuu..... A dull thrum would lift dust from the floor; Loose Debris agitated by the very sound, fleeing towards the door. ...Dokuuuuu.....Doooookkkk..... Kikurage remained still; frozen in place by the very heartbeat of the sewers. Though not of fear, of the unknown or otherwise. Kiku remained still out of respect. Respect for what - or rather who had been stirring the fabric of the underground at such an hour. "Doku-Dokuどくどく" Kikurage would answer - staring out into the darkness, past the small musin sized threshold of the shrine. A darkness thick enough to dull a sword - thick even enough to be groomed with a brush. A great red eye would open upon the other side of the sill, a piercing hue gifting a glow upon all in its gaze. rippling and writhing around the border - the darkness jostled as the familiar rumble came once again. candles sent dancing across the shrine floor, with the once resting ornaments hung above stirred into a clammouring song. The great Rat-Kami had arrived. Perched now upon his knees, kikurage watched on in repectful silence - his own crimson eyes reflecting the ominous glow within the illuminated shrine. Thereafter the voice came. "....Kikurage...." the voice came, the loose debris now fleeing back towards kikurage as it jumped and tumbled at the behest of the voice. "...Slimy, slippery, stealers..." came next, words full of spite - laced with green mists, hovering about the doorway. "ancient adversaries cling to the roots... wretched wonk userpers... " Kikurage's fists clenched; knowing full well of the wonks in question. Wallowing deep under norland, an enclave of wonks had made their home. "you have brought much honour to your resting parents, to your village and all Nezumiネズミ. I have taken notice". Kikurage's head bowed to the words. "Arirato Doku-Doku-sama..."; though before he could finish, another rumbling came, drowning out kiku's meager voice in comparisson. "You will bring me the feet of every wonk, so that they might know who's sacred nest they tread... You will bring me their hands, so they might reconsider picking up their crude blades against Nezumi ever again... and you will bring me their eyes, so they may never again glance upon the beauty of my realm; built in my care. A nest for Ten Thousand Nezumi, ruled forever in my name". Kikurage threw forwards, placing his blade upon the floor before himself and before the great-rat-kami. "Kiku do this. Make Rattu home be free of ancient wonk enemy, bring Doku-Doku GREAT HONOUR! bring all rattu GREAT HONOUR and bring hims parents GREAT HONOUR". With this, a final rythm would come. A great rumbling as the great eye flicked fowards - leaving down through the winding sewer passages. Dokuuuuuuu.....Dokuuuuuuuuu... Kikurage would once again be left in darkness, the distant thrumming dying down as Doku-Doku made his way; the dust finding itself scatted peacefully across the floor once again.

The fashionable knight upon receiving the missive would grimace - scrunching it up and tossing it. "oh THAT king of Balian" he'd go about his day.

+100

[!] Ser Bedwyr curls the corners of his moustache, half asleep still, having been only briefly awake in the time between waking up and being gifted land in the shire. "Does this make me a duke? - bloody hell, now I need to build a house" [!] He thereafter goes back to bed.

"At' isnae very Froggy Chair" the knight would offer to the missive

Bedwyr nodded, a pious grin passing across his face

"Cannae wait fer the 'wack-a-mori™' game - time fer some ... re-enactment." Bedwyr would add, gripping his heretic bonking mallet.

Love me church Love me king 'ate Darkspawn 'ate 'Eretics nuff sed

I love the smell of napalm in the morning

A notice had been passed to each and every guard of the barrowland marches, attached would be a robust key with a familiar 4 pointed star-shaped pattern LEVYMEN OF THE MARCHES you are being issued with a key to our siege equipment. you shall be issued with one and one only. if you lose it tough luck. within the latch mechanism for each of the machines has been retrofitted a tension pin system that requires the insertion of your keys in order for the latch to catch when cranking them back. once your key has been inserted, operate as usual. DO NOT leave them unattended. If you leave the machine, take your key. If I find your key in a machine you will be in the cells. - notice of - Serjeant Bedwyr, Siegemaster of the Barrowlands

... A Public service announcement addressed to all has been pinned in the Barrowton Tavern ... - Notice - Please be aware - the introduction of lizards to quell the increase in bugs has begun. our first mating pair has found their home within the barrow-greens, and are doing GOD's work, battling the Mori menace by consuming their dark pest spawn across our lands. - Description - These lizards are small, up to about 8 inches in length, dark-green with wings for flight. recognisable by their bulging eyes, shadowed by black bands. though laid back in nature, often found basking on rocks, these little fellas can be quite feisty if provoked. Though worry not! lest you be the size of a beetle, their bites are quite harmless to people. The diet of these lizards consists primarily of small to medium sized insects; though given enough time to grow, they can even take on small rodents, such as mice and rats. so next you venture out into the barrows - keep an eye out for our newest recruits and may they remain in our prayers - Afterword - Anyone found to be poaching or in any way hindering the efforts of the lizards will be subject to Bedwyr's wrath feel free to give the lizards any tasty snacks such as bugs, slugs, or mice. ...

A large armoured knight would grumble upon reading the paper - "Aye that Atilan lad 'ad a bag of 'the poor beasties bones - is'nae right killin poor creatures fer sport - was'nae harmin anyone"