My application, made with the few edits we discussed. Let me know if anything else needs work.

[b][color=lightseagreen]Name:[/color][/b]
Saito

[b][color=lightseagreen]Age:[/color][/b] 
Day 3

[b][color=lightseagreen]Gender:[/color][/b]
Male

[b][color=lightseagreen]Race:[/color][/b] 
Goblin

[b][color=lightseagreen]Appearance:[/color][/b]
Though many male goblins are as bald as they are ugly, Saito bears a distinct tuft of hair that sweeps toward the right side of his hairline. It's a dark shade of auburn, glinting red in the right light. His eyes are a light honey amber, but narrow and sharp as if he's used to either squinting or glaring. Though just as scrawny as the rest of his littermates, he has slightly larger hands and feet, implying that when he's full grown he might be of decent size for a greenskin.

[b][color=lightseagreen]Level:[/color][/b] 
1

[b][color=lightseagreen]Personality:[/color][/b]
Saito acts much like an old, austere man. Though respectful, he often doesn't mince words or bother with trifles. Often stern and stoic, but not terribly hard to get along with--however, he seems to have little patience for some of the...less scrupulous behaviors of goblins. He can be quiet and still for long periods of time, before suddenly jumping up to put whatever idea he's been thinking of into action. When interacting with others he behaves much like a teacher or a strict parent, but it's not as if he doesn't know how to laugh. His anger, however, is unusual--he doesn't hide it, nor does he shout it to the heavens. It isn't a cold fury, or red faced bluster. It is more like...an acknowledgement. Like writing a name down in a book.

[b][color=lightseagreen]Past Life:[/color][/b]
[hider=Legacy of a Martial Artist]Born to the Saito family and given the name Yamato, in his previous life the boy grew up in rural Japan. His father was a former soldier turned farmer, his mother was a schoolteacher, and his grandfather was a traditional Karate master. Under his grandfather and father's tutelage, at an old fashioned dojo nestled in the mountains with only a handful of students, Saito took to martial arts like a duck to water at the tender age of 7.

Only 4 years later, the Imperial Japanese Army would seize Manchuria, and World War II would begin in earnest. Saito's father was called back to the army, and did not return. His grandfather made his training stricter, harsher, with the intent that Saito would inherit the family legacy--and the boy was determined to stand proudly even with such a weight on his shoulders.

By 1943, the boy was a man. He had high marks in academia, and was an accomplished Karateka in both school-level competitions and professional tournaments. Though only 23 and still in University (pursuing a degree in Physiology), Saito found himself subject to the nation's changing draft laws as the war grew more desperate. While on tour in the military, he traveled to both China and Korea...and though these were dark times, many he would not only regret, but never speak of again, these experiences allowed him to see many things that appealed to his inner warrior.

Saito survived the war, with distinguished service. By the end of this horror, he was content that he had done his duty as a Japanese man, and was more than ready to accept whatever consequences came with the nation's surrender. By some stroke of fate, he found himself returning to Karate training in the martial arts' birthplace of Okinawa...and, of all things, many of his students were American soldiers! He also found himself exposed to the Westerners' martial arts, boxing and wrestling, and became enamored with the desire to learn more--especially from one soldier in particular, a man by the name of Jack Dempsey. 

Becoming the official head of his grandfather's dojo, which by this point had expanded, at a young age meant that Saito Yamata had quite the ordeal to prove himself among other older, more established masters. His grandfather's health was beginning to wane, but there were still other students capable of taking care of day to day business. In order to improve himself, and further his understanding of what he had seen--in China, in Korea, from the Americans, and much more--he began to travel the world.

In Taiwan, after stumbling through many unsavory channels to find information--and beating up several bands of local thugs--he tracked down a man known as the disciple of a "Spear God." Saito wished he could have encountered the original master himself, but he was more than happy to jump through seemingly endless hoops--a former Japanese soldier was obviously unwelcome--until he could experience the art known as Bajiquan. In Hong Kong, he once again bowed his head and even begged until a grandmaster of Wing Chun agreed to teach him. He also met a young man at this time, less than half his age, but blindingly fast and somewhat a philosopher. Though their time as fellow students was short, Saito considered the youth to be one of his greatest rivals--but, because he was Japanese and the young man had some foreign blood, Saito didn't want to make a big deal out of their friendship for fear that it would further affect the already negative reputation the youngster had among many older, more conservative martial artists.

In Thailand, he studied for some time with the fierce kickboxers known for their shins of iron and devastating elbow and knee strikes. In California, he fought many amateur bouts as a boxer. Going professional did not appeal to him--if he wanted money or fame, there were far better ways to attain that than getting punched in the head constantly. And he still had things he had to do.

After more than a decade of various travels--though he returned home more than once between trips--and having continued his Karate training all the while, Saito felt himself experienced, practiced, and accomplished enough to truly take over his grandfather's school. Over the next half century, he continued to constantly seek self-improvement and more knowledge while teaching. His students became masters and opened schools in their own right. Their students became masters and opened schools of their own. He married, had children, and raised two of the three of them (one son preferred to be a businessman, and that was quite alright) to be respected masters as well. His family legacy, though connected more by teachings than blood, spread to the United States, Germany, and the United Kingdom. He continued to travel well into his old age--a life of hard training, as well as mental and spiritual discipline, blessed him with wonderful health and long life like his grandfather--and he never stopped learning.

The morning after his 100th birthday, he rose before the sun was up as he always did. Despite drinking more than usual at the celebration last night, his head felt clear and the crisp, chilly air on top of the mountain was fresh in his lungs. As he always did, he bowed when he entered the dojo, and lit the incense under the portraits of all the past masters, including his grandfather. On a strange whim, he decided to practice only the basics today--fundamentals, he believed, should remain important throughout one's life. How many times, he wondered, had he been forced to clear his mind of preconceptions, and seek the innocence of childhood once again? Taking up the first stance he had ever learned--Kiba-dachi, the horse stance--he began to peform 100 repetitions of the most basic technique of Karate, the straight punch known as the Seiken.

Despite his age, his battered, threadbare Gi still snapped like a whip with each blow. His arms, tanned a leathery brown and crisscrossed with scars, still held sinew like steel cables though their mass had begun to wither away. Each breath inflated his torso, swelling the wrinkled flesh and tightening the muscles so that his ribcage didn't stand out quite so much as it usually did these days. His posture was not rigid, and yet he seemed as unmovable as the earth itself. Hard, and soft. Yin, and Yang. Heaven, and Earth. In deep meditation, as each punch thrummed the air, he contemplated these things.

He had more than enough to be content. He had done all he could be expected to do, and more. He did not mind, if he never grew past this point. 

But to say he no longer had anything to reach for, that simply would not do. He was not burdened with the inner drive, the consuming fire of youth. He no longer entertained the dream of every man--who, at some point, wishes to be the strongest man in the world. But still, he thought it would be nice. To see how much further he could go. Yet, he did not mind if he didn't. That was just the way things were. There was no harm in it. 

Lost in thought, he had already surpassed his intention of 100 Seiken. On a mere whim, he sought to send his fist beyond its final destination. He performed the 108th punch. His kiai shook the dojo, and brought his youngest son and the grandchildren running down the hall in surprise. His legs pushed power up from the balls of his feet, his hips torqued, his shoulders rolled. He felt...something...surge through his fist. As if an icy, yet relieving chill swept through him.

Ah, was this what the silly little shows his granchildren loved called "spirit energy," perhaps? He sighed peacefully, but did not breathe back in. More than ten feet in front of him, across the wooden floor, at the instant his punch was complete, the flame on the incense had blown out.

Yamato Saito passed from this world with a smile. He was still standing in proper form, with his fist extended.[/hider]

[b][color=lightseagreen]Talent(s):[/color][/b][LIST]
[*]Martial Arts
[*]Physical Conditioning[/LIST]
[b][color=lightseagreen]Skill(s):[/color][/b] [LIST]
[*][b]Dark Eye[/b] (Passive) E-Rank
[*][b]Absorption[/b] (Remaining Uses: 8)[/LIST]
[b][color=lightseagreen]Inventory:[/color][/b]--