[Journal 1][P][Unique Dream][Loading...]

If you had asked her, she would be open and tell you that she lived a normal childhood of love and validation. She would tell you her family was warm and accepting because they hadn’t done anything other than that for her. Now? Now she didn’t know.

She had been born into her family to Augustus and Belhora; their love story recounted as dreamy and somewhat ‘star-crossed lovers’. Her only siblings had ever been female and they lived on the barest technicality of in the village parameters, on enough land for them to roam and not have neighbors close by.

Today, one of her older sisters was returning from pilgrimage- her father had told them the day before and the whole house was ecstatic except for their father who was working in the basement on their family traditional occupation, Black Market body part dealing. His title was Butcher and her mother was a Butcher Wife, and together they made sure the village and the community continued to stay happy and healthy by disposing of any toxins. Degenerates. Troublemakers. The old. The sick. The weak. Her father worked diligently to trim off the rotten parts of the village and ensure only the healthy parts remained; He called it ‘trimming the fat’ but it was part of the sacred way of life.

Her and her sisters all hoped that once their training was done, they too would become named and titled. To become attentive, helpful members of society and keep their communities lush with prosperity by doing the good and just work of Butchering. They could bring their family no greater joy than to join the scattered masses of Butchers, and spread their roots in a destitute and corrupt community to bring it back to it’s best form. She however, eagerly awaited her sister’s arrival from pilgrimage to tell them all the stories of the outside world and it’s ways. Maybe God had chosen her as a disciple in her travels and she had ascended to being both a Butcher and an acolyte of Jashinism; a pinnacle of achievement and honor to their family by possessing both. “She’s here!” Someone whispered and they all rushed through the hall and down the stairs as her mother shouted for them to not run through the homestead but they went to the largest window on the ground floor and climbed into the view to look outside at the ankle-high grasses gently floating in the breeze.

Two figures were walking towards the home. Two women; one unknown and one recorded in their family under the name ‘Opal’, her blonde hair flowing in the wind and her eyes alight with fire. She however pulled away from her sisters and went down to the basement to tell her father. She knocked and he bade her entry and she walked in, seeing a human body on his lab table; dead and looking up at the ceiling. The chest cavity cut open and the skin resting to show the dull insides that were slowly losing their living gleam. How sad. “OH hello.” Her father said as he looked back at her, “Come to see me work, little bird?” He asked as he turned to her in his bloodied smock,

“Opal is here.” She said then looked at the body. “Can I watch?” He nodded and she excitedly rushed past him to the otherside of the table where there was nothing- but she grabbed a nearby chair from his desk and pulled it over, setting it down and sitting in it attentively. “Is this client work or village work?”

[WC: 598]
[Entry 1 of 9]

“Village work.” He answered. Village work was the phrase they used for when they worked for the communities they lived in. Client work was for themselves or when they were fulfilling black market requests for never-named buyers. It was against the Butcher’s code to give names because it was outside of their occupation and way of life; they were intended to remain unbiased and neutral during their work. Morals and emotions were for their lives while their honorable profession was for their livelihood and the separation of self from work was impressed upon them from an early age with utmost importance. Only a Butcher Wife was allowed to intermingle the two as it was their job to ensure the peaceful cohabitation and mutual benefit of the Butcher and his community. The gender was not important; their liasonism was and though strong wives were welcome their father advised them to select someone a bit meeker; they would be more psychologically inclined to protect their livelihood, the family and the culture rather than save themselves. In short; the more codependent the better. “Today’s is unique work… but educational for all.” Her father said as he pushed his hands back into the carcass of the animal on his table, “Today, the community asked me to help.” She blinked in confusion,

“The… community asked?” She questioned and he let out a thoughtful but agreeable ‘hm’, “I thought you said the community rarely asked for help…”

“That is right; rarely in the sense that there is a possibility and it cannot be completely ruled out.” He said and looked at her, “I have been asked to be a coroner and this animal needs a cause of death; I need to report one to the community.” He reached up a bloody glove towards the chains and hooks hanging from the ceiling; a Butcher’s workstation staple. To hang bodies waiting to be worked on and spare parts, as well as tools. This time, his array of tools were handed and he selected a pair of surgical scissors before lifting them off the hook and moving back into the cavity with them, “What do you see, little bird?” She got up and stood near the body and sucked in a breath. It was beginning to smell badly but the effort of preserving village work was less compared to client work. Clients came first.

“I… I see signs of a fight.” She said, “I see defensive wounds and a couple blows that went through but then… there’s an injection mark here behind the ear.” That didn’t make any sense. “Shouldn’t it be… either or? Injection or fight?”

“Society doesn't work like we do, but yes; normally, it’s either or.” Her father confirmed and he pulled away from the body to allow her to look everything over. “What do you think the cause of death is?” She didn’t know but she looked her father in the eyes to tell him so,

“I’m sorry but I don’t know… if you happen to know, could you enlighten me?” She asked and he tapped the injection site behind the ear...

[WC: 517]
[Entry 2 of 9]

“This was done post-mortem to throw the coroner off the true cause of death.” He said as he walked away from the table and to the deep sink in the basement, “It is a frequent tactic for people trying to cover their tracks; get the faucet for me, would you?” She ran over and turned the faucet on for him to wash off his gloves, “Would you say that the scent of death is a bit too pungent?” She agreed and he voiced, “You know what to do in response then, right?” She had to think about it a moment but incense, a fan and a window were involved. “It should be second-nature to you.”

“I… light incense in the room opposite of a window, turn on the fan and open the window, right?” She asked and he nodded calmly as she went about to do that. Then he sent her off while he cleaned up to get her mother who was resting in her room. She had been the official wife but once she fell ill and could not patrol the territory lines, her father had reluctantly gotten a second Butcher Wife to take on the more active parts of the honorable role while their mother recovered. She knocked on the door before entering and her mother looked up from the client files she was going over; part of her role was to review requests and decide their order. Or if the Butcher will take them on at all. “Hi mama.” She greeted and her mother smiled at her,

“Hello little Velvetine.” She said,

“Opal is back-” She started saying before another woman rushing into the room,

“Lady Belhora, there is a Jonin and a few chunin heading this way.” The woman was Sumire; the secondary and lower-ranking Butcher Wife. The terms she was using were referring to shinobi; ninja warriors that roamed the lands in high and low esteem that lived in the community- or rather, ‘The village’ they did. Normally the interactions they had with there were few and far between because they were never entirely good. They came around when there was crime and blamed them for it; murders and rapes and plundering were blamed on her family or her and her sisters. It was counterproductive to kill needlessly; it was against the family tradition and codes. The shinobi didn’t see that and when they came around they brought chaos and left negativity in their wake, “I believe we should corral the children indoors.”

“Opal is to be titled today, we were going to go have it outdoors… Did you not try to reason with them?” Her mother asked and Sumire responded,

“Yes but when I identified myself they determined they would come to speak about the ‘polygamy of it all’-” Hina said but she interjected and asked what ‘polygamy’ was and Sumire answered, “Where one man has many wives.” Marriage was not entirely part of their culture; the roles of Butcher and Butcher’s Wife were symbiotic more than romantic with the uncommon situation here and there. “I’m sorry.” Her mother sighed, “I have told Augustus already.” Her mother rose to her feet,

“Come on child; Sumire, clean up everything.” Her mother said as Sumire nodded and left to do what was ordered of her and her mother handed off the files to her, then left the room and she followed down the hall to the staircase leading to the lower floors. Her father was there in a fresh change of clothes, “You’re uncovered,dear.” She said and he nodded, making a hand sigh and changing his appearance completely to that of a fair skinned man with brown eyes and brown hair. Hardly distinguishable from anyone else in the village. Opal stood in the room as well,

[WC: 631]
[Entry 3 of 9]

“Should I consider their visit… hostile?” Opal asked their father who looked to her,

“This is not your territory; do not overstep yourself, daughter.” Augustus said firmly and she nodded, her partner next to her, “Go stay with your sisters; if something happens, the next generation must survive.” Opal nodded and as she and her mother exited the stairwell, Opal and her partner climbed it to the 2nd floor where the rooms were while Augustua looked at her mother, “Did Sumire tell you what it was about?” He asked and then a series of knocks came at the door to which he looked at the door then looked back at her, “Are you well enough to handle this?” She gave a weak smile,

“This is one of the better days, I think I should be able to manage for a little bit.” Her mother looked at her, “Go and pick up the side room in case they come in.” She nodded and went to the room beside the front door as her parents answered the door and she picked up stray toys that were meant to entertain her youngest siblings and quietly put them away in the secluded toy bin in the room; trying to hear what parts of the conversation she could but then moved and hid behind the door to listen.

“Good afternoon, we’re looking into a missing person’s case… we ran into one of your wives in town and she wasn’t too forthcoming with information.” An unfamiliar male voice said and she watched through the crack of the open door and the door frame as something was handed to her father and he took it, “This is Kouzai Yamanaka; an up and coming jounin. He went missing yesterday.” Her mother looked at the article as well, “Allow me to be blunt; we were wondering if you knew anything.” Her father handed the article back,

“I only have my wife, Belhora, here; if you are referring to the dark-haired woman, she is my new caretaker, Sumire.” Her father answered, “No, we haven’t.”

“The village leader said you were working on a body.” The voice said and she thought back to the body that had been in his workshop, on the table slab. It had been a male. She got a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach,

“Yes, he contracted me to find a cause of death.” He said and they asked to see the body and her mother stepped in,

“Are you implying that we killed a Jounin?” She asked, “The leader contracted my husband to find a cause of death with the boy that he provided: certainly if there is a mix up and it happens to be the boy you’re looking for, it would not be our fault-”

“Are you passing the blame off on our leader?” The man demanded and she replied coolly,

“No, I am saying if there is a match of the body in our morgue to your missing persons, it is an egregious mistake.” Belhora replied.

[WC: 506]
[Entry 4 of 9]

“May we come in and examine the body?” The man asked and Augustus put his hand on her mother’s arm,

“Yes; this way.” Her father said and led a group of five men through the living and family rooms and to his lab. Belhora looked over and saw her then came into the room and opened the door. She was pale. She looked horrified and terrified, and Opal came into the room,

“Should we evacuate?” Opal asked and Belhora stood up and covered her mouth,

“They’re framing us.” She whispered in muted horror, “How can they be so obvious?” Personally, her head hurt and she felt dizzy.

What if they had done it? What if they had killed and worked on someone outside of the natural order of things? It was common knowledge among the family that Shinobi were not entirely kind to those who harmed their kin and they had never been entirely kind to them before. Was it possible for an ill-placed carcass to destroy them? Now it seemed like that's what was happening. “Thank you for your cooperation and I’m sure the leader looks forward to your findings.” Augustus thanked them and shut the door behind them and looked at his family who stood there anxiously, “Opal, take you and your sisters and set up chairs in the yard for your anointing.” She left with them but looked back to see her father, her mother and Sumire going into the room reserved for guests that their recently departed ones had ignored. She tried to not think about what she heard but slowly the negativity began to seep into her. Like ink hungrily devouring empty paper edges, it was spreading with it’s nameless, shapeless tentacles and clawing to take over and completely turn black the warm and happy picture of her life. Now past-tense.

The sun was warm in the ankle-high grass as she and her sisters all sat in folding wooden lawn chairs in a semicircle. Opal and her partner in the middle and one of her parents on either side of her. Her father spoke but his voice faded out as something inside her spoke,

What if we are murderers? What if we are wrong?

His voice was gone but he was smiling as he spoke to Opal- or was he speaking of her? It doesn’t matter anymore. The voice grumbled as she watched her father continue to move his mouth but no words came out. She felt cold and it began in the tips of her fingernails and webbed it’s way up, growing greedy as it gained traction and began to move faster and faster as she watched in slowed motion the titling of her returning sister.

It is you, who are corrupt. The voice of doubt gurgled, All of this is a lie.

Her parents would never lie to her. Never. They were- no, they ARE- good people. When she saw her sisters clapping she clapped happily too- That too, is mine, thief; take not from me that you do not possess yourself. The voice protested as sound returned to her world and it returned to moving normally once more.

[WC: 526]
[Entry 5 of 9]

“Say your goodbyes now, my little doves; Tomorrow morning, Opal and her Butcher Wife will go off to find their own territory, as tradition dictates.” Her father boomed proudly and the family roared and cheered with pride, happiness and well wishes. However, the voice had done its work and the poisoned seeds of self-doubt began to change. Her sleep was nightmare-riddled for the first time in months; though her newly anointed had left early in the morning, the threat to their clan of the shinobi lurked. Every shadow, every just-out-of-eyeshot movement, every flutter of a curtain it took residence in. Maybe that was just for her. Things weren’t the same. Her world seemed to be more somber-toned now. Sumire’s bubble room seemed solemn as she finished helping with the more strenuous activities her mother couldn’t handle and left to do her territory patrol. Her mother however sat at the table and she approached her mother who looked stressed and tired; dark purple moons under her eyes. Her father came into the kitchen momentarily to exchange paperwork- client requests filled and awaiting pick ups, inventories of left over parts and suggestions for biohazard disposal, as well as taking a look at the new cases to work on with his current workload- and left to his lab after rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Are we monsters?” She asked and her mother looked at her,

“The shinobi say harsh things because they don’t understand us, honey.” Belhora answered calmly as she straightened up in her chair, “What do you think? All of you have hunted with me and your father…as individuals and people, you make your own opinions.” She hesitated,

“It doesn’t… It doesn’t feel right.” She answered, “If the Shinobi made a bad contract then it’s the Shinobi’s fault…father didn’t hunt this one, he was given to us.” Now that she thought about it, her father had been hunting less and taking on more requests form the community, “I think… I think maybe they are trying to get rid of us.” Her mother nodded, “I...Father has always said we don’t hunt children and we don’t hunt people who are good people… but even if we hunt, and we get parts for the client… doesn't that mean we killed someone either way?”

“Yes. It does.” Her mother answered, “I hope when you are Named, you will think of these things as you travel and grow.” Her mother said and nodded towards the lab, “Go and see your father; ask him when your Naming is.” She left and went to her father’s side in his lab, watching him in his smock and gloves. “Hello, little bird.” He greeted calmly as he put a few human body parts in a tub of ice; a leg here, an arm there. She didn’t mind it anymore; the education of the practice desensitized and informed.

“Mom says I’m supposed to ask when my Naming is.” She said hopefully and he looked at her, “I… I want to talk about the Shinobi too.” He nodded,

“With the titling of your sister, we can now move forward with your Naming, little bird.” Her father said and he continued to work, “What about the Shinobi?”

“Do you think we… as a clan… have a good standing with the Shinobi?” She asked and he didn't answer right away even as she waited for an immediate response. Then she added, “Has there always been animosity between us?”

[WC: 574]
[Entry 6 of 9]

“What difficult questions you ask, little bird, but once you are Named and you go out on pilgrimage, you will find all of your answers as God deems.” Her father said as he picked up a clipboard and took off a pen from the top of it, marking off a few things on a small stack of attached papers, “Butchers, as one point long ago, were savage and uncivilized; we would collect our client’s requests from graveyards, coffins and even… battlefields. Sometimes plague carts. Before we cared for quality, we cared for quantity.” She furrowed her brow in confusion and even slight disgust,

“Battlefields?” She questioned, “But… that is forbidden.”

“Now it is; but at one point we were no different than vultures. Coming in on the dead and picking the viable parts.” He smiled at her, “We have adapted and continue to do so; there is only the dire need to scavenge now, little bird. Code allows scavenging for personal replacement in dire circumstances.” He flipped a page on the clipboard and went back to writing, scribbling something out, “Shinobi are honorable; we have mutual taboos, where as they enjoy working in plain sight, we are adapted to working in the dark. There are always going to be some grey areas when you mix white and black… however, the amiableness relies on each person.” He had answered her but also effectively dodged her question, “I look forward to your Naming; I have been eagerly awaiting it, name and all.” She perked up,

“Birth name and all?” She asked hopefully and he nodded as he flipped another page, “You believe I will return from pilgrimage as Opal did?”

“Hope is the poison of humanity, my sweet little bird; As is tradition, when you will be singularly nammed when you go on pilgrimage and formally named when you return for your title.” Her father said and paused, “However… I feel we must amend those traditions as times are… changing. I will speak to your mother and we will come to an agreement.”

“Are the Shinobi in the way?” She asked and he sighed,

“Yes…much like abused animals, they tend to distrust and lash out at those who intend to rehabilitate them.” Her father sighed as he flipped the paged over and handed the clipboard and pen over to her, “Take those to your mother please; this client has been most impatient.”

“Are we going to kill the Shinobi?” She asked and he looked at her, “It wouldn’t be a problem, right? There was only four or five of them against all of us-”

“You would do well to remember the bigger picture.” Augustus said, “If we kill them; more will come. Did you not observe that from hiding behind the door and learning they came for their friend?” She had not, “Let’s say hypothetically we kill that group and the group that comes afterwards, and until no one else comes forward. Not only have we gone against the doctrine of killing senselessly, we have ruined the village by destroying the ecosystem and the community. The socioeconomic status of this village relied on checks and balances and should we kill all the Shinobi, there will not only be an overabundance of wasted parts that we could not sell fast enough to ensure viability, but our clan would be exposed, our livelihood and there would be no population to trim. We would starve and that misfortune would follow to the next community we go to.” He crossed his arms as he explained all this but uncrossed them and waved a hand towards the direction of the kitchen, “Your mother is sick; she would not be able to make the journey to another community and then I would be destitute and we would have lost thirty years of wisdom from our family tree with her passing. For a while, yes, I could carry on her role but eventually it would overcome me; work would become scarce, your sisters would begin to starve and die, and this branch would suffer all because- what, you wanted to kill some Shinobi?” She lowered her head.

[WC: 688]
[Entry 7 of 9]

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t think that far.” She said and he sighed, going to wash his gloved and she turned on the water for him to do so,

“God will bring you your first Butcher Wife on your travels and with them, you will grow and learn.” He said confidently, “You go now, little bird.” She left and the voice arose once more, whispering that there was no saving her. Not anymore. Not once the once perfect world had begun to crack. Her Naming was the next day;

“From this day forth, you will leave this homestead and travel for two years under the name of- Velvetine.” Her father said grandly and she smiled happily, “You will then begin pilgrimage; learning what the world has to offer and you will return to us on this day, March the 25th. We deem this day your birthday. Should you return, you will be titled… however.” The family hesitated, “Due to recent circumstances… you will also go forth with your birth name.” A murmur arose from the family outside of her, the two wives and her father.

“I thought… I was to receive my birth name after I was titled?” She- no, Velvetine- asked.

“That is tradition; but change begets change.” Her father answered, “You will carry your three names with you; to blend in with this changing world more naturally.” He turned to the congregation, “Send your love and wishes with your sister; she will leave in the morning.” She left and went back to the home so that her mother could help her pack and give her advice before she left. Velvetine- had been awaiting this day and had already made herself her official pilgrimage outfit. One of many she hoped to make. A sewing machine had helped in the creation of her outfit and she had been reading up for years on the shinobi; it was in their regimen that she needed to be aware of just the basics and they had been taught shinobi techniques vital to their own survival and their own destined occupations. She was happy; but the warmth of that happiness was slowly drained by the darker part in her soul.

No one can tell us no once we leave. The voice purred excitedly and she had settled on ignoring it; it was not benefitting her and feeding the thing would not help her.

As sundown fell, she felt something; a twang on the edge of her senses of anger and unsease. The voice whispered, Intruders. The unkind, ignorant intruders; fresh meat thy name is ‘self-defence’. It rambled and she sat up in her room in the new outfit. Her pilgrimage outfit was a ribbed, black thermal bodysuit with long, form fitting sleeves that ended with mid-thigh long shorts and a halter neckline. It was tradition for the second part of an outfit to be contributed by the head butcher wife and a travelling cloak made by the butcher; traditional symbolism of the clan going with her on her travels. She walked towards the window and reached out to the forest line past the grassy acreage to see if she could try and get more information; her sensory picking up several pairs of footsteps coming toward the homestead from three different directions. How delightful; they think by splitting up they will live. A foolish move; but welcome. We ought to greet them; no need to be meek since we have a name now. She conceded to the Voice because, for once, it was on the same page as her and she grabbed her travel bag of provisions and went downstairs with them, setting them by the door; her father already in the front room- “Are you leaving?” He asked and she responded,

“No, we are having an unwelcome company.” She said as the butcher wives came down, “Is everyone in for the night?”

[WC:648]
[Entry 8 of 9]

“Your sisters are finishing their night chores in the stables, barn and the fields; I’ll round them up.” Her father said as her mother touched her arm and drew her attention,

“Your second garment, Velvetine, and your cloak.” Her mother said happily as she handed over the second part of her travel outfit; a pair of dark grey pants that scrunch at her waist and she pulled them on right then and there, making sure to not catch them on her black heeled sandals. Sumire handed over a black, simple cloak that latched around her neckline and used her shoulders to hold it’s form up. She put that on as well and pulled her long braid of dusty, deep taupe hair and looked into a nearby mirror. Her clear, pale purple eyes looked determined but her chestnut skin and dark freckles against her soft features screamed of childishness. “Sumire and I will try to stop the other directions-” Then a series of fearful screams arose from outside and they all went to investigate. Velvetine ran towards the closest establishment while her father went to the farthest: the stables. By the time she had gotten there, it was already near the end as she watched a Shinobi slash her baby sister in half and another one behead another one of her sisters. One too young to begin training and the other set to begin in the coming winter.

Animals. They're killing us like animals. How can they call us monsters? The voice screamed as she watched; frozen a moment. Their laughter drowned out her approach. “Served the murdering cultists right.” They joked as the bodies and their severed parts fell to the ground. They had already killed the animals in the stable; the old, broken in mares meant for the youngest to learn how to care for and ride, the horse she had been promised for her journey, the milking goats and even the feral cats and kittens that kept them company. Velvetine looked over to the wall to her right where the reins and leads for the horses had been- she grabbed one. She wanted to use ninjutsu; kill them on their own field but that would be honorable and they deserved to die the way they killed; barbarically. One had walked off and she took advantage of the distance and caught the other Shinobi’s neck in a loop she made of the lead, wrapping the lead around her fists.

Velvetine got a dark pleasure from the way the lead snapped and grew taunt in her palms; there was a thrilling tingle up her spine and through her mind when she put her knee against the shinobi’s back, between her shoulder blades and pulled back. Soft and tender, mentally finding the soft spot with the guiding hand of the darkness that had been growing on her like a parasite, then hard. Then it was the sounds of the world fading away once more as it had a few days ago and the only sounds she could hear were her own breathing- slow, calm, steady- and the strained gurgling of the Shinobi being strangled to death beneath her. She looked down to see progress; it was against code to take pleasure but now she was Named. Code was not as strict as it had before since there was only self-enforcement now. That worked in her favor- Oh, how we have waited; this is better than hunting. Is this why it is forbidden? It tastes exquisite. The air tasted of sweat and a candy sweetness; but when she returned to the moment and time moved once more, she remembered there were more Shinobi and they had come to her home and killed her siblings. She pulled the lead away from her in opposite directions and snapped his neck, letting the lead go and going off to the fields. There were three there- two facing off with a bull and one one of their cart oxes. She rushed over to that one and as she approached, the oxen charged the Shinboi, causing him to hesitate- and she snapped his neck. The bull killed another shinobi on it’s horn and Velvetine made quick work of the other one. The Bull was distressed and near a full-blown rage but she pulled the corpse off it’s horn and ensured it relaxed before going to the barn.

As she rounded the corner something flew at her in a black blur and she caught it then looked down- it was the head of one of her sisters. Still warm and eyes beginning to glaze over. Her excitement was replaced with the urge to vomit, a headache- “Velvetine.” Her father’s voice shouted from ahead and she flinched and dropped the head, looking forward to seeing his brandished holy weapon and fighting two Shinobi off, “Go.” She wanted to help but this was no longer her fight as the butcher wives’ presence was on her senses and she fled back to the homestead. She grabbed her things and she ran.She left behind the warmth of her once peaceful family life and left with her culture, her traditions, and the thrill of her kills on her mind.

Then she felt warmth on her body and the scene grew dark before she began to open her eyes, laying in her bed.

So it was… a dream? How vivid it had been… what a deep, lucid, intricate dream. She sat up in her bed and grabbed for her journal and a pen, and began writing this down. Perhaps one day… she could make a book and she let out a sharp laugh, “Could you image… me, a writer?”

[WC: 946]
[Entry 9 of 9]
[Total WC of all entries: 5,634 WC]

[CLAIMS]
[Thread WC: 5634]
[Claiming: 50 stat points + 12 AP points ]
[Jutsu Claims: Swamp of the Underworld (Mastery) ** Paying with 2300 WC from Character Creation Event (left over of 30k) + 3200 WC from this thread **
Seal of Suppression **1500 from this thread**
Remaining 934 WC towards Seal of Suppression (Mastery) ]

*6-22-2020* These Claims were made on incorrect WC*

*6--23-2020* *Fixed claims as follows: *
[CLAIMS]
[Thread WC: 5634]
[Claiming : 50 stat points+12 AP points]
[Jutsu Claims: Swamp of the Underworld 2750 to learn + 2750 for mastery (half hand seals) +2750 for Mastery (Handsealless) = 8250 // 3800 from Stat Page WC Bank + 4450 from this thread
Remaining 1184 towards Seal of Suppression ]