sunshine_ooc | Test Drive

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Test Drive

Sunshineverse

Okay everyone, it's time to test some people out! The rules of the game are simple. You have a character you would like to try out as a native to the setting of this game. You want to see if this is the right setting to play said character in, right?

Well, then all you have to do is drop them into this post as a top level comment with this as the header:
Character name | Series (OC's just put Original here) | Planned Village Affiliation

Then you comment around and play with everyone else!

If you need some ideas on how to get started, you can drop your character in during the middle of a mission, have them at an eatery around their village, or maybe even just doing weapons practice. It's up to you how you want to set out, so feel free to put your characters in this version of the Naruto universe however it most seems appropriate. Just be sure to say where you put them somewhere in your post though, otherwise two people might not even be threading in the same country.

One last thing! Remember that your character was born in this universe, so whatever else you decide, your character is a world native, even if they might be a tourist in the village you decided to test them out on.

And that's it. Just be good to each other and have fun! Threads you do here can count toward future activity checks, so long as the person you're threading with gets in too. These threads can also be used for samples on your application.

Locations	General Info	Characters	World
♦ Main Community ♦ Message Community ♦ OOC Community ♦ History Journal ♦ Application Journal ♦ Mod Journal ♦ sunshinemods	♦ Premise ♦ Rules ♦ F.A.Q. ♦ Player Contact ♦ Player Ideas ♦ Event Calendar	♦ Character History FAQ ♦ Taken ♦ Applications ♦ Reserves ♦ Hiatus ♦ Drop	♦ Country Navigation ♦ Backstory List ♦ Mission FAQ ♦ Mission List ♦ Maps

Threaded | Flat

He hadn't intended to stand up his appointment, but he'd had a last minute emergency that he'd had to deal with before he could actually get there... which meant he was going at a dead spring across the village, white coat flapping in his wake as one of his hands held the hat down on his head. He would never understand how his sensei had ever gotten anywhere on time when people would just spring up like that...

He definitely had never mastered the art, and he skidded to a halt just inside the building to see if the person he was meeting had... given up and left.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Water had always played a significant part in Itachi's life. During the war securing fresh untainted water had been the most important thing. When fires would spring up, water was needed to douse them. The rivers banks, overgrown during those times, had been a place to hide, and then the river had somehow become the place he and Shisui always met to talk and train and sometimes just to sit and watch the water, breathing in and out.

That was probably why Itachi chose the river when he needed a place to think. The sound of running water calmed him. The river banks he knew so well made him feel safe. It used to be more isolated, but a bridge had recently been built over the river not too far off as Konoha grew. Itachi didn't see that as a reason to change his favorite river bank haunt. It was also a great place to remove the stitches that kept pulling when he tried to make his hands go too quickly through signs. By snipping the key stitches he could have more movement in his hand, and the wound was almost healed anyway. The only thing he'd get, if anything, would be a slightly larger scar on already scarred hands. Genjutsu and ninjutsu being his best assets, he needed to be able to preform hand signs with accuracy and speed.

Also they itched and were honestly just about ready to come out anyway. Anyone passing by would probably just think he was meditating or doing the stand-off Uchiha thing.

Izumo sighed as he shifted his armful of files. He headed along the street steadily until he was nearly bowled over by a brace of running Genin: then in two quick bounds he was on top of the roof and walking along the ninja highway of Konoha. He was delivering various files to various heads of offices. It wasn't his usual job, but time-sensitive information had to be delivered by trusted agents. While Izumo loved to have fun, was a known prankster on occasion and was always ready for a night out, when he was on duty he was on duty and that was that.

He jogged down a powerline, disturbing several pigeons, then bounced down between the poer pole and a building to get back to street level. ANBU headquarters was this way, and Izumo knew the route by heart. Hard not to, when he knew just about every inch of his own village, after all.

Edited 2013-12-15 22:29 (UTC)

Hayate coughed a little as he headed through the villages gates. Fresh back from a mission, he was dusty with travel and sore from the fight: he really hoped his ribs weren't broken. They were tender and ached with every coughing fit. Hayate cursed his allergies and hefted his pack higher. Mission debrief, paperwork, then home where he could shower and clean his katana and sit in the sun and not do anything remotely involved with guarding, petty provincal polotics, or fighting with bandits on his way home.

Really. Bandits. It was almost insulting and nearly embarrassing.

Then again, low on chakra and tired in the early-morning twilight, he'd had to rely on very little but his own fast footwork and fighting instincts. He was fast, but ten to one just weren't good odds, even for a tired ninja. The one with the naginata had been very good, too.

Hayate walked down the village street and smiled, because he was home and it was good to be home.

There wasn't a lot of time in between his duties at the Academy and his shift for the Missions Room, but there was enough to head home and drop the latest tests there (for grading once his sift was over) and to grab a quick bite to eat.

There was even enough time for him to take a walk through the village enroute to his next duty.

So here he is, hands in his pockets as he strolled down the street, his spirits high as he watched the citizens of Konoha move about their daily business, the sun high and a light breeze to tease his bangs from their ponytail...

all this meant, of course, that it was only a matter of what, who, and when before something broke through his enjoyment of the peaceful afternoon, right?

Right.

It starts out merely a ripple in the wind, the subtlest of disturbances that kicks up dust and sends it spiraling in eddies midair. And they had all stood there waiting for him to make a move, yet were too slow to see it coming, too slow to track the beast that cut through the wind. Sound tries to keep up after him, and the whistle of his blade slicing through veins and cartilage go unheard for several moments.

...Till he comes to a standstill, his image flickering into existence, now no longer a ghost.

And the roar of the wind finally catching up erupts behind him. Shisui waits, ears tuned in anticipation of the familiar sound. The Sharingan spins as his eyes shift sideways, then flit back to focus in front, not wanting to see what came next.

The mournful weeping of carotids raining blood ensue, and Shisui closes his eyes for a moment while the dull thud of the thick liquid hitting the ground ensues-- dull because the ground seems to immediately swallow it up. And warm because he gets caught in the rain.

"Hn. Who's next?"

//ooc: Apparently he's on some mission? |8

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Everything was just as it should be. Perfect, immortal-- a masterpiece. Until--

No.

Nope.

No...

No.

No way

"HELL WILL RAIN DOWN ON WHOEVER DREW A MOLE ON MY MASTERPIECE!!"

You know if no-one's going to own up, he's going to crush a village, right?

Getting outside of Kirigakure was one of the most relieving feelings, not being under the constant scrutiny and pressure that came with both having a bloodline and being as talented as he'd proven to them time and time again over the years. Even being twenty now, he still was just barely above five feet and looking just as much of a porcelain doll as he had been as a child. Haku rarely complained about these developments, knowing full well that looking the part of the innocent made his missions far easier as no one tended to ever suspect him of having any power or any ability to be a threat to anyone. How wrong those people had been as soon as they hit the floor, whether dead or unconscious, it all ended the same way.

Any sense of good, any purity that existed within him so many years ago had been almost completely killed due to necessity to the Mizukage, that he couldn't possibly live in a tumultuous village such as that and not know how to kill his heart and emotions.

This time, this time he was instead doing recon work, exploring the lands and areas around the other villages in order to bring back intelligence. Strictly given orders to kill anyone that tried to stop him, or at the very least leave them out of it and not knowing what happened to them if they wandered too close to him.

Therefore he remained in the trees amongst the leaves or rocks when he could, using his small stature as an advantage.

As much of a conniving kunoichi Yugito was, she was also a creature of habit when she could afford it. That included going out to a cliff outside the village borders once ever Sunday evening (when missions didn't interfere), taking an hour to meditate and soothe the Cat. Then she would pull her shamisen from her back.

It was as much training as it was an art. Warm ups, scales, slow songs and then complex dances, falling in and out of the major and minor tones. As fast and as dramatic as she could manage, as controlled and mercenary as she'd been trained. The Cat was fairly uninterested, only stirring to warn Yugito that someone was approaching--as if she hadn't realized it herself. Most people knew not to interrupt her.

Except for Bee. Her shoulders stiffened slightly at the thought that it could be him, and Yugito went into a faster, more aggressive movement.

If he tried to add rap lyrics to her playing one more time, she would show him exactly how much she appreciated it.

Not a morning person and without a mission or training to be up for, Naruto has managed to roll himself out of bed sometime around noon and drag himself to Ichiraku's dressed in short pants, sandals, and a t-shirt.

"Miso with pork." He ordered around a yawn, propping his chin on his hand and scratching a spot on his left butt cheek with his chopstick.

He really should do laundry. Finding something that was mostly clean-the spot on his t-shirt was only three days old-was something of a challenge today.

Even the most hardened of warriors relied heavily on what precious time they could spare for some form of relaxation. Though, one could argue that this mission, in itself, could be considered a form of relaxation. Hand selected as a member of the Mizukage’s personal group, Kimimaro was taken far outside of his homeland and into an area he wasn’t entirely familiar with, Konohagakure. Though not a full stranger to the land of fire, this certainly was the first time he could truly take in the Leaf village as a whole. Not thoroughly impressed as a whole with what he saw, there was something that even he couldn’t find fault in, the gardens that laid within the forests.

When released for a short break, Kimimaro bypassed the hustle of the local businesses along with the bustle of the crowded streets in favor of something with a lot more solidarity. Just along the outskirts of the forest that borderlined the village, the man set up shop in a leafy area that held various kinds of flower life. The scents seemed to seemingly blend in with one another, forming an ever present fragrance that didn’t threaten to induce headaches. To think various species of these types of flowers could grow so freely without the aid of a greenhouse or gardener was something that warranted curiosity.

Hovering above a small patch of fully bloomed Calla, the man’s usual hardened expression softened slightly as he stared curiously down at its white petals. Reaching forward, the Kiri nin placed a gentle hand against the pearl colored flower, gently gliding his fingers downwards, curious to how soft it truly was.

Strolling down the roads of Konoha was not a new thing; he'd been doing it since he could remember. But back then, it was out of duty, always hypervigilant, always on the watch-out for the enemy. More often than not, he remembered, he was also watching out for anything he could have said or done lest someone should get the wrong idea. Building up that trust had taken nearly a lifetime, and now, looking up at the Hokage mountain from where he stood, Kagami smiles proudly. He'd been around before Konoha had come to be, and he was one of the few who still remembered what it was like to be Uchiha, both within and without the clan, and later, as part of the village.

Who knew that he'd live to see an Uchiha's face carved on that rock, looking down on the village, watching over them? Besides protecting Konoha, that had always been a dream.

So there he was, standing in the middle of the busy road, not a care in the world for the old lady (much older than him!) trying to cross around him, or the little kid chasing a ball and headed straight towards his knee. ...Not to mention, there was quite the laden cabbage cart coming his way and the poor guy pushing it towards the market place was having trouble seeing past the pile of cabbages to even notice the shinobi there.

Shikamaru was no stranger to Konoha, he had spent his entire life in this village after all. A yawn as he sat, waiting to turn in his latest report. Mendosuke he thinks to himself, being a ninja had not turned out as simple as he thought it would.

But, his friends needed him.so as lazy as he can be, he fought on, he stayed. He excelled, his tactical abilities were basically unmatched.

He was called in, gave his report, then dismissed. Which meant Shikamaru went home, got his shougi board and is now walking toward Asuma's grave.

It wasn't unusual to find Temari on the training grounds early in the morning. It was her preferred way to wake up, work out the kinks, and prepare for the coming day. It also proved to keep her alert and limber, her senses open to everything around her.

Ironically, today she was having something of a late start and it showed in her movements. Instead of the usual practiced flow they were jerky with her rising self-annoyance. There was no reason to be this behind this morning and she was pushing herself all the harder to make up for it. Her face a mask of disapproval as she worked herself through a punishing workout, the only thing that could make it better was if someone deigned to join her.

She was... well, she wasn't sure where she was, exactly. Somewhere soft, warm, and quiet. Her head didn't pulse with hangover, her limbs didn't ache with the after-effects of a fight, and she didn't have the vague feeling she should leave, like when she had some ill-advised one night stand.

So, instead of worrying, she kept her eyes screwed shut and her body relaxed, and hoped for a few more hours of sleep before the world intruded on her.

For all the times that Hinata has left the village on a mission, the part she least looks forward to is returning to the Hyuuga Compound. The feeling of lack that overwhelms her far outweighs the feeling of unsuitablity when she leaves. While her father has begun to show some interest in her again all these years later, the fact remains that most returns to Konoha were anything but happy. She much expected to enter the compound without so much as raising a whisper of surprise.

Which was why she was doing everything to prolong her time away by returning to the clearing where Kurenai began her teams training when she was twelve. It was still within Konoha but it was a peaceful place, one where she could go over her performance in solitude and determine what needed work for next time.

It was sort of like debriefing herself on the mission; she knew what happened but the what wasn't of importance so much as the how. How could she make her next mission that little bit easier on her teammates so they wouldn't have to keep so much of a watchful eye on her. Not that she was a hindrance now, but she knew well she had a great deal to improve on even now.

Edited 2013-12-17 02:52 (UTC)

That was the worst C-Rank mission she had ever been on.

The fifteen-year-old girl sighed as she paid the worker in front of her, taking the takoyaki** she had ordered in return and making to seat herself on the bench. Why the hell her uncle made her take that mission assignment herself, she had no clue. It was just irritating to not be in real combat for a while, with the only way for her to really improve herself being through her training. She hadn't felt challenged since the chuunin exams!

... Granted, it took her three attempts to actually make chuunin. But still!

That was about when her eyes met with the passer-by before her, an eyebrow raised at them - whether it was because they looked interesting or because they were staring, who knew the reason why - but she didn't want to look away. Seemed like whoever this person was wasn't looking away either, though...

Eventually she did finish the baked treat she was eating and speared another as she asked in a not-so-friendly tone, "What're you looking at?"

[[OoC: *Working name; I might change her name for the sake of the game, depending on what other people are doing with other canon names. She's an OC who lives with (and trains under) her Jonin-ranked uncle with her teammates, and on top of that she works in her uncle's forge as an apprentice smith.
**Takoyaki is a name for octopus ball, and it's a battered/fried treat with a small piece of octopus in the center.]]

There was a chill breeze in the air...and she'd forgotten a jacket. That seemed to happen way too often. One thing was for sure, if she ever got a mission to a cold place in the winter she'd freeze to death. She was a tropical bird and she'd basically....settled on that.

Okay, maybe not. It wasn't as if she'd refuse to go on a mission to a cold place. It was just that the last time she'd went she'd passed out and found herself kidnapped ~~again~~ so it's probably best she not go on her own.

But that was neither here nor there. Today she had to focus on carrying the new supply of medical kits back to the hospital, and the rat of an assistant who was supposed to help her carry them was missing. Watch out anyone on the road, there is a jonin hurrying through the streets with her vision blocked by large crates that are probably full of needles.

"Excuse me!"

On a merchant's well-worn road, near the border between the Land of Hot Water and the Land of Fire, on a lazy, warm afternoon in late summer, a man in bright clothing sat at a ramshackle way-station, patiently measuring and weighing cut flowers.

The stop had seen better days. Little more than a wood hut with a roof and one wall cut out, it had space enough for three benches, a box for donations meant for its upkeep (currently filled with spiderwebs rather than coins), an empty niche were a good-luck idol for travelers had once sat, and bucket next to the entrance meant to catch rainwater in the interest of slating the thirst of dusty travelers. It was the only object that showed signs of use; someone had very recently scraped it clear of moss and refuse and refilled it from the not-too-distant-stream. The probable someone was looking fairly fresh-faced, though his colorful garb - belonging to a juggler, or a fortune-teller, or some such nonsense, surely - was still a little dusty from the road.

He sat at the foremost bench, a large, ornate box, nearly as tall as he, set on the ground next to him. It was from this that he pulled the flowers, opening and closing rows of drawers as he needed them.

At first glance, it would be next to impossible to tell that he was waiting for someone. But there would be, before long, a merchant on this merchant's road; a wealthy man, thickset, shrewd, who had a slightly wealthier rival.

Patrol duty was possibly the most boring and thankless task in the world.

During times of peace, missions requiring his… skills usually became more scarce. He couldn’t refuse more routine duties such as patrolling when there was little pretext for doing so, not if he wanted to avoid rumours of elitism amongst the ranks.

The Hokage was almost ridiculously perceptive. “You can see the clouds from the area where you’ll be stationed.”

And that was that.

This part of the border had always been more eventful. It was near several major trading routes, but the geography of the land (hilly, with a liberal covering of forest) made it an ideal spot for undetected infiltration. He’d come picnicking here once, a whim t and encountered no less than three foreigners. Two had been lost, and one was still in a cell after a rather unpleasant date with Ibiki.

A sound, barely perceptible, caught his attention. He melted into the shadows, senses on full alert.

Edited 2013-12-17 22:46 (UTC)

Sometimes, Natsumi felt that she was one of the only shinobi in all of Konoha who preferred D-rank missions. Admittedly, the D-rank missions she was most often sent on involved work that played to her strengths. If it was a food-related mission, she was more likely than anyone else to be given that assignment, and she appreciated the Hokage's consideration. While arguably some of it could be seen as placing a qualified person accordingly, she doubted any other Hokage would be quite so considerate about giving a young jounin so many D-ranked missions just because she preferred them.

Sadly, this mission she'd come back from had not been D-rank. It had been an A-rank mission, and a stressful one at that. Though Natsumi's injuries were mild enough that medical attention wasn't needed, she was exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. She wasn't certain she even had the energy to cook herself dinner, and her hobby was normally what she used to unwind.

It was a long walk home, too. In the end, she decided it would be best to order something for herself. She'd just have to find the closest place that was still good enough to meet her standards. Natsumi devoted almost as much time to becoming a proficient cook as she did to her training, and the only reason she didn't devote more time to cooking than training was because she had relatives and teammates that she didn't want to let down. She had high standards, even for fast food. It took a certain amount of care to make something that wasn't bland and mass-processed.

There was a stand that sold soba noodles that would do nicely. Natsumi arrived, placed her order, and waited while they prepared her meal. As she waited, her eyes began to shut, and she slumped to the side, falling asleep on the shoulder of the person next to her.

He’d turned this into an art form.

(When Minato-sensei had taught him advanced cloaking techniques, this had definitely not been his intention.)

Taking off his vest, he rolled it up into a vague cylindrical shape and wedged it between his lower back and the wall. Next, he placed a well-worn book in his lap with almost reverent care. Lastly, as an afterthought, a clone poofed into existence, rolling his eyes before seeking to a higher vantage point.

Kakashi had found, over the many years that he’d been shirking his responsibilities, that clones were far more reliable lookouts than small children (still fighting the law suit from that one) or dogs.

Perfect.

Or it was, until a flash of thought (courtesy of one disgruntled clone) and the sound of footsteps popped his beautifully-built bubble of solitude.

Edited (because poofef isn't a word D:) 2013-12-20 00:52 (UTC)

How strange these countries tended to be, all wary yet respectful of her no matter where she happened to go. Her black cloak was never removed from her form more than showing her eyes and face, knowing full well what would happen if people happened to see her... deformities, as she liked to call them. Therefore her blue and purple hair was hidden neatly beneath her clothing as well as hiding the horn that also occupied her head.

Body was stiff as she took refuge from her journey, sitting quietly on a bench at one of the little trader outposts not far from one of the villages. Hands delicately rested upon her knees, lip bitten as she allowed her mind to wander.

While she hadn't been in Hoshigakure for some time, she still held to the weather of that place, finding that she was sensitive to different environments. Bearing in mind her duties as a priestess (and avid fortune teller, but that was a side-business all in its own), she kept her attention on the area around her, listening for anyone that would call out towards her.

Wings were held tightly to her body, also hidden beneath the cloak but having a slightly strange bulge on her back which she merely attributed to being hunchbacked. It wasn't as if anyone ever truly questioned her on the matter.

His first mission as Jounin: exchange a scroll he was given for one that Konoha's leader would hand him. He did not care to hazard what the scrolls were. He had done countless missions like these, although none were as far as that one village, nor as important. He was also never on his own, but his rank along with his abilities made him a trusted shinobi, which was why he was chosen.

He gave a grin even as he pulled on his glove with his teeth, flexing his fingers before using that next split-second to grab onto a branch, feeling its distinct roughness at his fingertips and flinging himself forward. Feet touched upon a branch large enough for him to rest, and he gave a nod as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains.
It was probably safe to assume Konoha had gotten word that they would receive a visitor by now.

In a few hours, perhaps a little before the sun made its way back up, he would have reached his destination.

He had one day off in between missions. That was the thought that passed through his head as he crossed through the gate back into Konoha. The more missions he took then the less the Hokage bothered him about getting his own set of genin to teach. It might mean that he has less days off to relax but at the moment it was exactly what he needed. Nearly four years had passed since that mission. Better to be occupied than sitting around with time to think about it.

Habit nearly took him to the hospital but after a moment he headed towards the Hokage's office. Kakashi's pace is unhurried as he shifted his travel pack away from the bruise he'd received.

Threaded | Flat

Obito Uchiha | Naruto | Konoha

Itachi Uchiha | Naruto | Konoha