[color=f7941d][b]Skall - The Skinwalker[/b][/color]

It was with a small amount of reverence that Skall stood just outside the village of Gobi. There was always an odd mixture of spiritually sound peace before blood was she en masse. Sitting upon a blanket laid out upon the sand, the young assassin watched as a figure or two moved about the village. His presence was subtle: a dust cloak wrapped around his shoulders and a conical straw hat atop his head as he pretended to hunch over in a drunken stupor, empty sake bottles laid out before him. 

And so Skall waited quietly, hoping that his father would remain unharmed without him at arm's length. It was difficult to watch other shinobi remain close at hand in the brotherhood of clanship whilst he drifted on the outer edges of Uemura's world. Edges that were usually crusting with dried blood. But that is where he was told to be, and so he remained.

The toxins that remained on his person were of precious value for the moment with the clan's stores pillaged. He would have to use them sparingly if at all, instead relying more on his weaponry and, if occasion warranted it, his hazy red gift.

Letting out a mock hiccup, Skall's eyes darted to movement on the horizon. His eyes were well adjusted to the dark though not capable of seeing through it in its entirety. Either the rest of his clan were arriving soon, or he had drank a little too much of the sake. It was necessary to pull off the role of a drunkard, if only for the sake of the scent of his breath should a passerby interact with him.