Name: Improved Speed
Rank: C
Type: Physical Based
Physical Requirements: N/A
Training Requirements: A 600 word training post is required to gain this special characteristic.
Description: The first level in the art of speed accessible to those who have undergone intense training in high speed movement. The possessor of this talent has an increased speed of 20% which makes them slightly faster. They can cross distances quicker than others would expect and outrun others with little effort.

Name: Improved Perception
Rank: C
Type: Mental Based
Physical Requirements: N/A
Training Requirements: A 600 word training post is required to gain this special characteristic.
Description: The ninja trains their skill in perception and analyzing their environment to more distinct levels. Most physical motions are identified and picked up by the ninja whether its a movement in a leaf or a change in temperature. This skill is handy when faced with Genjutsu as it makes the user capable in identifying an illusion of C-Rank or lower. However although they can sense the Genjutsu they must rely on other methods of breaking the spell. The ninja also becomes extremely perceptive and observant when it comes to people, being able to pick out mood changes or better understand character. In addition, this skill becomes useful in combat, where the Ninja grows to understand the patterns, habits and the 'rhythm' of the opponent over periods of time.

Name: Evasiveness
Rank: C
Type: Physical
Physical Requirements: None.
Training Requirements: A 600 word training post is required to gain this special characteristic.
Description: The ninja trains their ability in more advanced evasive maneuvers which serves the purpose of avoiding enemy attacks. The survivability of the ninja increases as they are now capable of executing quicker flips and dodging basic forms of physical attacks by reading an enemies movement.

Life in the Shigumo clan is never easy, not even for those with a natural inclination towards battle and slaughter.  It’s a life of carefully controlled training and mental conditioning with the single minded aim of creating the worlds most effective and cold hearted assassins.  This fact is true for all who are born on Mistclaw valley, a fog choked valley beneath a tall, claw shaped mountain.  This was true for both of Takado’s parents, and it also holds true for her.  Her mother and father both had their upbringing among the clan, suffering horrible abuse from their own parents and their teachers alike.  Turned into heartless killing machines, they both passed down this tradition of abuse and harsh conditioning to their only child.  There was no time spent growing as a family, and only shortly after Takado took her first steps did she toddle her way in a life of misery and training.

In the first moments after her birth there was a tender moment where her mother held her for the first time, and silently whispered the girl’s true name within her ear.  Takado she was named, though it was not a name that stuck.  The whisper of her mother was sealed away into secrecy, for the Shigumo clan values secrecy above all.  Instead she was given next to her father, who dubbed her with the single moniker with which she would grow up.  Kageru, he called her, and the medical priests of the clan baptized her with a small handful of blood and added that name to their ledger.  She would grow up from there, her true name known only to herself and her mother.  For the first two years of her life she spent much of her time with her mother, and life was good.  She was an agreeable child, content to eat and sleep away her days under the careful watch of her medically inclined mother, but while she was still learning to talk and walk that would all change.  Her mother was not one filled with love and joy at Takado’s birth, and instead was only preparing herself for the day which she’d be handed off to the rest of the clan of careful training, and conditioning of both her mind and her body.

That day came shortly after her third birthday when she’s finally gained better control over her motor skills and was ready to begin school.  Like most children she learned the basics of spelling and counting, but unlike most even her early years were filled with anatomy and philosophy.  The Shigumo are trained early to ensure that each of them looses any sense of morality or guilt, to hone and sharpen them into brutal weapons of the utmost efficiency.  It was after beginning her schooling that she took full grasp of her new name, and never again heard the word Takado spoken softly from her mother’s lips.  Instead everything changed, and what had been a peaceful life became one filled with pain, suffering, and not a single ounce of comfort.  She slept on a wooden plank, ate only a thin gruel of crushed wheat and water served with a small piece of boiled fish floating in it.  Her drinks were no longer milk, but tepid water drawn from the slow moving streams and hot springs in their small mountain valley.

Takado was spared most of the experimentation, a rare good side of being born into the main branch of the family, and was instead instructed in matters of the mind.  By six they had given up on teaching her anything to do with the medical school, mostly because she had little talent for precise chakra control and even less talent for memorizing the names of every bone and organ in the body, and instead began instructing her in the art of seals.  She was shown to be a prodigy in such an area, wielding a paint brush with so much skill she might have been crafted into the family’s finest artist.  Of course, painting pretty pictures was not encouraged, and instead she learned how to form kanji, how to order them, and how to push her chakra into the seals she drew to bring their power to the surface.  The family had no secret seals to speak of, so she learned the very basics of how to seal weapons, supplies, and the bodies of victims into her scrolls.  

These lessons were punctuated by lengthy weapons training, as ever single Shigumo clansman is expected to hone their talent with a sword into a brutally efficient form of slaughter.  A quick and quite kill is their preferred method, striking from an unseen location to dispatch their enemy before they have a chance to raise alarm, or even fight back.  It is not a simple thing to learn, and the body and mind must both be trained.  The body must learn speed and strength, as well as precision and the proper style of wielding the graceful curved blade of a katana; while the mind must be sharpened and conditioned to act without hesitation or remorse.  The pursuit to these ends is what brought the most suffering into Takado’s life, and what truly transformed her from Takado, into the brutal killer Kageru.

It was punishing as much as it was educational, her various teachers taking to her with ruthless brutality.  They pulled no punches, even if she was only five years old and growing.  Over and over she found herself beaten into the ground, completely unable to defend her self against the surperb skill of her clan elders.  Each night she’d go to bed sore and in pain, more and more growing to hate her life, but when she dared to voice a complaint the beatings would be much more severe, sometimes taking her to within the last thread of her existence. She’d recover some in her sleep, medics healing most of her wounds, though each ‘lesson’ would bring with it more scars.  Over and over she’d come close enough to her death to make most parents worry, but mother and father alike would only chastise her in her hospital bed about her lack of growth and tell her she needs to try harder.  There was good reason for it, for those who fail to become effective assassins only resign themselves to a life of torturous experimentation, and trials of the clan’s poisons and curses.

Though it took her some time, Kageru did begin to lose her emotions and fear with age.  She began to pick up in skill, and even stopped complaining about her miserable life, and the amount of pain she was being put through.  By the age of 11 she’d lost the last of her baby teeth, and traditional coming of age practices were put into effect.  It is one of their final trials to ensure that grim Shigumo Clan resolve is set firmly in place before potential shinobi are released into the world to attend a ninja academy, from which to learn more secrets to bring back to their family.  At 12 she’d begun to blossom into a woman, and with her teeth now fully in place, she was brought down into one of the various medical labs, and bound tightly to a bed.  There trained medics plied the tools of their trade and with rasp and file ground down the edges of her teeth, bringing them to a fine and bestial point.  These sharpened, shark like teeth are the hallmark of her clan, and those who pass the ordeal without screaming in pain are forever marked as true assassins in their family, and will be able to receive more advanced training in the way of assassinations.  Though Kageru grunted, whined, and shed tears, she managed to remain mostly silent and thus barely passed the ordeal.

One year later Kageru had become all her parents had ever hoped for, losing her childhood smile and sense of wonder, and instead becoming a sharp, attentive, and well disciplined student.  Her fear of being beaten or tortured had given her a sharp mind which was able to pick up on lessons the first time, and removed from her mind any notion to complain to her teachers no matter how difficult or trying her lessons might be.  Being finally sent away from her family, these life lessons would turn out to serve her very well, making her one of the quietest, yet most serious students in her class.  Leaving home was a trial in itself, her heart singing for joy, yet her mind not allowing a single hint of relief to show on her face.  The Shigumo would still know where she was, they would monitor her growth, and if need be they would step in to correct her, where her teachers might not.  The life of torture wasn't over, it was just taking a back seat to her academy life, always looming behind her with the threat of pain, or worse, to keep her quietly working towards the goal of becoming a highly dangerous, and superbly skilled assassin.

Her first year at the academy went very well, and though she made no friends, she was taught to not need friends.  Sitting silently in the background she only listened to her instructor and absorbed every single word he said.  He spoke of things she found ridiculous, the ideas of friendship and the bond between shinobi prime among them.  The idea of teamwork was simple enough, it was a more efficient way to kill, but forging relationships had been something she was incapable of ever since she’d managed to make a few friends among her clan.  Of course, two had died during their training, and Kageru herself had run the other through with her sword, so the idea of friendship was simply off the table as far as her mind was concerned.  It wasn’t much of a problem, as her silent demeanor left few wanting to talk to her, those who did strike up conversation often fled for the hills the moment she opened her mouth.

Few could find any sense of comfort around her, and when her sharpened teeth were exposed, most of the other children made excuses to leave, and avoided her.  Quickly she became the topic of a whispering campaign, the students around her implying she was some manner of demon, a monster, or a wild animal transformed into a human through the use of some forbidden jutsu.  The fact that often enough her lips were coated with her own blood, and the inside of her mouth glistened red with the stuff, did not help her situation at all. Still, she kept her heart concealed within a shell of cold stone and let the rumors and insults roll off her back.  Instead she focused on her learning.  If she could not win them over, and in fact she never tried, she could at least outshine them with her already honed ninja talents.  This was how the first year passed, and at the end of it her instructors determined she was not yet suitable to claim the title of shinobi.  She was retained as a student and promised another year to learn and grow.

This did not go over well at home, for the Shigumo clan have no love for failure.  Again she was taken into the training yards, and both of her parents took turn ‘testing’ her sword play.  She lost a great deal of blood the first night, and more and more each night of her punishment, for months on end.  Every day they would scold her, calling her worthless and explaining to her that she should have already been given her headband.  Kageru kept silent through it all, shedding tears only once, when she’d been left alone and well injured in the training yard.  In a growing puddle of her own blood she’d broken down, curling up tightly on the ground and letting tears leave her eyes for the first time in many years.  Before long she was not alone, and her mother had returned to check on the status of her only daughter.  Seeing her in such a state, nothing moved in her heart.  She leaned down to her child and placed a hand on her shoulder.  There was no comfort, no love, only a few words. Weak.  Pathetic.  Worthless.  These words echoed through Kageru’s mind and when she looked up, her mother could see her tears, and the blood leaking steadily from the corners of her mouth.

Even this did not faze the woman who’d given birth to her, and in a single fluid motion she drew up her hand and delivered a solid backhand across her daughter’s face.  The sharpened, claw like fingernails parted a wide crease across her cheek, giving her both a reason to cry, and the only scar to mar her otherwise pristine face.  She was left there again, her mother walking away in disgust and leaving the young girl there in a crumpled heap of despair and anguish.  The next morning she was still in the same clothes, blood staining her face and hands, her robes and her body, all ablaze with pain.  She was woken up with a kick to her ribs, and within ten minutes was once more being put through her training.  It was enough to almost kill her, not physically but mentally, the breakdown of her will that very day leaving her the eternally hollow shell she was soon to become.  They did not even treat her wounds, calling them trivial and hardly worth mention.  When the punishing lessons were over, she was dragged to her room and thrown into her bed.  There they left her, giving her time to recover, with only a pitcher of water and bowl of wheat gruel to eat, before the lessons would resume the next day.

It was misery, worse than the rest of her childhood combined, but the next day she put her stone mask back on, and killed off the last remaining bits of emotion in her heart.  She held her sword weakly, but began to show promise once again, lashing out not with anger or the desire to kill her instructors, but with the need to appease them and avoid any more of the torment they had been visiting upon her.  The next months continued with this abuse, each night leaving her worse off than the one before, only ceasing the week before she was to return to the ninja academy for her classes.  That week she spent in the hospital, trained medics carefully sewing the worst of her wounds closed while chakra was funneled through her to mend her internal injuries.  By the time she returned to Kumogakure she seemed no worse off than when she left, save the single scar visible over her cheek.  Her mother had insisted it be left to forever remind Kageru of the danger she was still in should she fail to pass her exams in the upcoming year.

The next series of semesters went past all too quickly for her, and during them she spoke only a handful of words.  They were not answers to questions, just the admission that an accident during her sword training had visited the scar upon her cheek, and nothing more.  Her once cold demeanor had turned to ice, and not even the whispers of her classmates seemed to bother her any more.  Her instructor took note of the change that she’d gone through, and the new determination with which she approached every single task given to her.  She mastered her jutsu, and though suffered in the area of social relations; she was graduated that very year, and given her head band.  The very next day she vanished from sight, and none seemed able to find her.  Many of the other graduates had returned to their homes, but the idea of ever returning to Mistclaw Valley filled Kageru with nothing but terror and dismay.  Instead she took off into the mountains, and tried to simply vanish.

The mixture of relief and panic had set in upon graduation, as she had no place to go but home.  Her family would no doubt be pleased that she had graduated, but being pleased had never stayed their hand before.  She went into hiding, seeking out the snowy peaks of mountains as her new home, and hoping beyond hope to simply live out her life alone, or die quickly.  Such would not be the case, as a simple genin lacks the ability required to outrun a village with a talented tracking team.  Within a week she was returned to Kumo, and her elders held a sort of mock trial for her.  She spoke no words in her defense, but after her instructor has explained about her years in school, they seemed to have a change of heart.  She was placed under guard, and in lieu of being sent back to her family to live, she was gifted with her own apartment.  Instead of rushing her onto a team she was given a mission to stand watch over the academy doors, even if class was not in session.  It was a generous gift, one keeping her busy enough to not have to return to home.

Steady work would soon be the key to her life, something to keep her busy and keep her mind clear.  From a simple bouncer she grew into a bodyguard, silently escorting merchants too and from the markets of the Lightning Lands.  She never spoke to those around her, even those who tried to speak to her.  The odd few charismatic people that managed to stir any emotion inside her often broke off their efforts the moment they saw her smile, and the shark like teeth hidden behind her forever tense and pursed lips.  She never requested a team, and though it was mentioned to her more than once, she would only shake her head insistently.  Inside she had grown to believe the rumors spread about her, and in her own mirror all she saw was a monster.  A monster even her parents could not bring themselves to love.  This has been her life, another year passing to age her 15.  She is without a team, without friends, and without meaning in her life, though slowly her elders in Kumo are working to change that.  It has been whispered that in time she will be forced to work with other shinobi, and some have suggested some form of therapy to pull the girl out of her dismal depression, and reintegrate her into society.

The fog catching the early morning sunrise gave a surreal quality to the valley that could only be described as breath taking, a wash of color cutting between the two mountains bordering it drawing the eyes even more than the white peaks on either side.  It was beautiful, even Kageru had to admit it, though she’d never be able to voice such words aloud.  Patches of green stretched up the mountainsides, reaching out of the thick white clouds as though desperation for sunlight was pulling them from a foamy grave.  Verdant fingers seemed to reach for the sun, mottled among the stone cliffs and separated by a single thick river winding its way down jagged ridges and flowing in a dazzling waterfall, one well lost as it vanished into the low lying fog.  All of it was beautiful, but it was the rainbow that caught her eyes the most.

It was dazzling on its own, but penetrating the thick white fog it stood as a single band of color amid a blank white canvas of nature’s own splendor.  Mornings were always like this, this cold of the allowing the dense fog to form, a mist of large droplets slowly depositing itself on each blade of grass, each leaf, each rocky outcropping with little prejudice against what might be soaked by the coating.  From below the world was only a haze of white, but from the peak of Mistclaw Mountian it was a different story. The blue sky, the yellow sun, even the grey of the stone added dashes of color to cause the scene the simply stop the mind with its beauty, and force all who look upon it to pause if only to stare for a few fleeting moments.  These moments brought a stillness to Kageru’s mind, a gentle feeling of peace she could find no where else.  Beneath all that fog, lost in a jungle like tangle of marsh, trees and vines she knew her clan’s castle stood, the mist dripping in small rivulets down the thick stone walls and straining the eyes of the few clansmen chosen to keep watch through the night.  With in those walls adults were torturing children with that they called teaching, and tormenting other adults with what they called progress, and research.

That had been her life, one of suffering, one of torment, one which had molded a once soft child into a rock solid killer.  Still, in spite of that she cold not see it now, so it did not appear on her canvas.  Only the rainbow held her attention, and only it mattered.  The bands of color cut through the blank fog like a spectrum of all her forbidden possibilities.  The colors flowed perfectly within each other; an hour spent shading it just right with her pallet and brush. Red was her art, a prominent color, her joy replaced by the blood of her enemies.  If not for how often she saw that color it might have been her favorite, just like the stillness and quiet of painting was her favorite now.  Red faded away from the top of the arc, a narrow band of orange separating it from the central core of brilliant yellow.  Yellow was her parents, not the parents she had but the parents she had always wished for.  They were bright, and pleasing to the eye, the same color as the sun from which all life grows.  If she had yellow parents her life could have been so much different, but it was not to be the case.  No, her parents were black, dark as coal and useless for anything but stoking the flames of rage.  The brief thought of her parents brings a tinge of pain to her heart, one which doesn’t register in her eyes even in this sacred private time she works so hard for.

Lower still the spectrum of light fades into soft blues, shades the color the limitless sky, which could have once been her potential.  Her potential had been capped, however, if only thanks to a romantic interlude by her parents, and a twist of fate.  Someone else could have been born in her place, but they too would just suffer, as all did within the walls of the Death Spider Castle.  Why had it been her?  This was a question she had no answer for, and one she suspected she would never come to understand.  Fate was the simplest solution, and perhaps that was just all there was too it.  Someone had to live this life, and why shouldn’t it be her?  Beneath the blue the colors bled into aquamarine and purple, finally ending on a violet border as crisp as the red atop.  The violet was more beautiful than any flower could hope to be, tinged with subtle shades of green, but overpowered by light blues and darker purples.  It was breath taking, but what was it?  Possibility?  Potential? Was there any of either of those left in her world.  She reaches out softly, placing a fingertip against the still drying paint and smudging the violet shade just softly into the white fog which was the rainbow’s home.  Without the fog the sun would have no refraction, there would be no violent, no yellow or orange or red.  Potential?  Possibility?  Could someone so beautiful be born from something so bleak?  The thought tugged terribly on her cold heart, the emotion choking within her, threatening to mist her cold eyes.

No.  It wasn’t to be, for she was no rainbow.  She was what her family made her, and to them even this painting was a horrible sin.  Its beauty had no place in their world, and its peace was anathema to their very existence.  Kageru.. no, Takado closes her eyes to resist the growing tears within them for a moment, and when they reopen she picks her brush up once more.  It’d been five hours out here all alone atop a mountain.  Five hours she spent pouring her heart into a dazzling display of peace and color, and now she knew she had to sign it.  Dipping her brush into a vile of untouched black ink she moves carefully, weaving through the complicated motions required to scribe the only thing that had ever served as a signature for these wondrous works of art.  It was a simple rectangle, one she loved and hated, with intricate scrollwork of kanji and flowing script around which not only marked her art, but stole a small amount of her chakra.  Her signature was the last thing she ever painted on these, but not so those who see it would know what they were.

Once done she collects her bag, her paints and her brushes and turns her back on the painting.  Tears still threaten to fall, but they’d never manifest since the fateful night her mother had scolded her so cruelly.  No, now she had no tears, and with her tears her heart had died.  She reminded herself of this daily while gazing in a mirror and carefully dragging a finger over her scar.  Her finger ended in a sharp and strong fingernail, a human claw, the same sort of which had been at the end of her mother’s finger when that wound was opened, and the scar permitted to mar her for ever.  Even as she walks she can feel the rough ridge of tissue crossing her left cheek, and that alone gave her the strength to do what she needed.  She closes her eyes again and focuses, removing the rainbow from her mind as she releases some of her chakra, letting it connect and compliment the chakra in her signature.  She doesn’t even look back as heat and flame burst out behind her.  The explosive seal had been used on every painting she’d ever put to canvas, and even now the ensuing explosion shredded the work of art, engulfing it in splintering force and consuming it in cleansing fire.  The sound of the explosion barely registered in her mind, and she simply kept walking.  Before long she’d be back in Kumo, and it wouldn’t do to have emotion showing in her eyes or on her lips, in a place where people might see them.