After being led into the training room and issued the challenge, Don Krueger took a deep breath. Breathing in the scent of sand, oil and iron. 
“So we hit a dummy, crack a core and then we get to fight?” 
It was clear that despite the cat’s diminutive size, it packed a fair amount of power into its strike. Don was also acutely aware that he was getting on in age, and no longer in his prime. Twenty years ago, the grizzled man could have fought a bear with his bare hands. This dummy would have crumbled under a single blow. 
He reached out and placed an open palm on one of the reed cores. Feeling its rough texture. Pressing lightly to get a fell of the hardness and give. 
Twenty years ago he would have easily put his fist right through it. Now he wasn’t so sure. Don had more or less retired from the adventuring business more then a decade ago when he lost his left eye. He grew lazy with his training and age has caught up to him. 
He had been in a bar fight a couple weeks before, and won, but it made him realise just how far he’d fallen. If his younger self could see him now, Don was sure it would be a look of shame. 

[i]Reminiscing about the past isn’t going to make you stronger.[/i]

He snapped back to the moment. This tournament was the first step to getting back to his former glory. Hitting a dummy should be the easy part. 
Don drew his hand off the core. Made a fist, and threw a solid straight punch. Aiming right at the core. 

(Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) = 6)