Zeroth

Goblin Quest

@TheMushroomLord

"I Thought I'd Go Straight in My Second Life, But My Class is [Drug Dealer]!?"

His harem is just a bunch of junkies willing to do lewd things for their fix and the MC is desperately trying to find new ingredients to keep their insatiable madness from ripping him apart. In the process he starts a fantasy version of the Opium Wars and reduces the greatest Empire of the world to ruin.

Goblin Quest

"the goblin would continue [...] beating the spherical animal trapped inside his underwear against the trees."

I'm honestly amazed at my own brain for even crafting this sentence.

Goblin Quest

S A I T O
Forest

The First Hunt, Part Two

---

"--yaAAAAAH!"

Crack!

Saito's staff snapped in half upon striking the beasts's armored plate--it had curled up, and only reflex had saved the goblin's foot from being trapped in there with it. As the "young" greenskin stumbled back, the Scaled Shrew wobbled back and forth with nary a squeak. He blinked as he watched his prey--he had honestly not expected that. Although his memories were locked away, even if he had them he would have been genuinely confused--in the old world he had never actually seen something like an armadillo.

The creature's shell had no holes like a turtle's--Does this place have turtles?--and it seemed perfectly content to stay tightly sealed until, presumably, whatever predator chose to leave it alone. His staff was no proper weapon, but it had been green wood, not dry or brittle, and still it had snapped. So obviously this armor couldn't be broken by simple means. Saito glanced down at his broken staff's pieces. They had splintery ends, but he doubted they would be sharp or sturdy enough to pierce the armor. What if I drive them with the rock? The wood is probably too soft, the tips will blunt.

He tossed his broken weapon aside, and noted the Shrew's still exposed tail...

No, wait. I wondered if the creature could use it as a weapon...and to leave it exposed to attack like this is odd. He removed the berries and rock from his loincloth and placed them on the ground. Those spines might stick me when I grab it. Are they barbed or poisonous? He wasn't sure if such thoughts came from the cautious instinct of a Goblin, a creature so naturally weak and feeble and stupid, or if they came from the hazy dreams he could not recall.

With a tug at the knot on his hip, his loincloth came undone. Though now exposed in all his green glory to the elements, Saito did not care much for modesty at the moment. He wrapped the filthy undergarments--were these made of cloth, or pelts of creatures hunted by other goblins?--around the rolled-up Scaled Shrew, tying a plain knot and pulling it as tight as he could.

Now the creature's defense had become its cage. It might be strong enough to break the loincloth, but Saito doubted it would do so without a struggle. In the meantime, he grabbed the spare ends of the clothing and, with a grunt, lifted his prey.

Feet wobbling, muscles taut with effort, he started to spin. He whirled the makeshift net around his head, building up momentum with his whole body until he had its weight suspended. He kept the Shrew going with just his arms now, and though his run meandered like that of a drunkard, he set course for the largest tree he could see.

With all the strength and speed he could muster, as well as the built up centrifugal force--not that his goblin mind really understood such a thing right now--Saito dashed towards the sturdy wood and swung the Scaled Shrew with all his might.

"DORYAAAAAAH!"

He tried to slam the beast against the trunk. If he couldn't pierce the armor, then perhaps he could crush the foe's soft body inside it, like bouncing someone's brain inside their skull pan with a hard punch to cause a concussion. He wouldn't stop at just one attempt either--until he was certain the other monster was dead, the goblin would continue to heave and heft and spin, beating the spherical animal trapped inside his underwear against the trees.

Some part of him marveled at this odd turn of events. The other part really wanted to eat that Shrew.

Goblin Quest

Or how Saito feels like a japanese Bear Grylls but in a a small green body.

@RC3

*Saito pointing, with dramatic shading ala Jojo/Hokuto*
IMP-UROVISE, ADAPTU, OVAH-KAM.

Goblin Quest

S A I T O
Forest

The First Hunt

---

As Saito found the trail of berries, he took note of their size, shape, color, and the texture he felt when he picked them up. He tucked a handful away, alongside his rock in his loincloth. Probably not entirely sanitary to have things rubbing his unmentionables in there, but it was his own body and he hadn't been rolling in dirt like some of the others. He could test the berries for poison later, but for now he wanted whatever creature had been gathering them.

He saw the creature from behind, and almost mistook it for a stone at first. Its dull, brown plated hide could even pass for tree bark, but he could hear it whuffling as it enjoyed its meal.

A hard shell. The tail seems to be sectioned too--are the plates bony? Can the spines on its tail be used as a weapon?

As Saito crouched in the brush, he didn't want to spend too long analyzing the opponent. If it finished eating, he had no doubt it would pick up on his presence. For now it was enough to know this: It was a rodent, so it had claws and fangs. It had armor, and possibly a spiny tail. It was smaller than him, but its forelimbs looked powerful, and its hindlimbs looked fast.

His strategy would be thus: Cut off the escape, and negate the defense. How to do that in the most effecient manner? Without even realizing, his hands had imperceptibly shifted on the staff he held. His right hand, the stronger hand, closed upon the rod down a third of its length. His left hand palmed the butt end, and as his grip tightened the heel of his wrist and his pinky were braced against the bottom while the rest of his fingers wrapped hard around the shaft. His forward hand was held a little looser, to enable a sort of sliding action, but while his palm was supple his fingers were rigid so he wouldn't lose his hold.

Saito's breathing was not shallow, only slow. His muscles relaxed. He felt a shift in his core, as the ball of his back foot built up pressure against the ground.

"All things entail rising and falling timing. You must be able to discern this." I must not rush, yet I must not delay.

A breeze picked up. A leaf fluttered on the air. The Scaled Shrew shook berry juice from its nose, and he could tell from the movement of its head that it refocused on the food in its paws.

In the moment it committed to its next action--finishing its berries--in the instant the leaf fell between them, in the space between "decision" and "action." Saito's body moved without input from his mind.

He lunged, he thrust with both hands. All momentum traveling forward. The staff's tip came in low. Shoulders and hips drove power down its length.

Saito plunged the staff up under the Scaled Shrew, between its belly and its back legs. At the instant the creature realized his presence he had already planted his feet. As his thighs and core tightened, he pushed down through his knees and his arms leveraged the staff. His back hand pushed down, his right hand pulled up. Now the muscles in his scrawny body stood taut as he released air from his diaphragm--

"Seiiii--!"

He wanted to sweep the creature up. He hoped his staff would block its legs as it tried to run. Most predators would be bigger than this creature and attack it from above--hence why its armor was along its back. It would have less on its underside.

If he was successful in hoisting the creature upon his staff, either flipping it over or slamming it down, Saito's next move would be simple: Pin it under his foot, and strike without mercy until its breath ceased.

His face had distorted into an expression of utter fury, eyes blazing with Murderous Intent. Sakki! Messatsu! His staff, still fresh with sap, thrummed.

"--yaAAAAAH!"

The battlecry startled birds from the branches. It carried a malice entirely unique to nature's own dance of predator and prey. Even some of the other goblins, back at the cave, might be able to hear it and feel the power and focus behind it.

Goblin Quest

S A I T O
Cave >> Forest

Beginnings, Weapons, and the Hunt

---

This...is not right. I do not understand, but I know it is not as it should be.

Slowly, he flexed his fingers. The young goblin clenched his fist tight, and looked at the hairless green arms. Too small. Too smooth. Too soft. Where were...his scars? Did he have scars? And were his fingers and knuckles supposed to be calloused?

I...died? And now I am this...creature. A...A yokai?

Yokai. Oni. Do I know what that is? My memories are unclear.

He tried to recall something from before. How did he know he had died? How had he come to be in this new body? He looked across the cave at those like him. They bashed rocks together, or slept, or wandered about like children. Just like when his little ones had learned to walk...What?

His lip twisted and his stomach rumbled. He had awakened, after what seemed like a long time of drifting in and out of consciousness, and upon finding himself in a cave full of odd creatures--like that older one that marked his forehead--had moved to put his back against the wall. But as time passed and none of the others showed any hostility--except for that one that bit another's ear, but that seemed like play--he had begun to observe them...and it wasn't doing much good. He was too hungry to think. These memories were too foggy to grasp. It frustrated him. As if his own mind, like this clumsy and frail body, was not entirely under his own control.

"The real purpose of...to purge oneself...to obtain control of one's own character." I didn't say that. Someone else did...someone I knew?

He pushed away from the wall. He placed a hand on his belly as it rumbled. His eyes darted from side to side when he heard a strange whisper...but none of the others were speaking to him. He couldn't understand any words, and he was not currently in danger.

"Do nothing which is of no use." That one is much easier to remember. Now, what is useful?

If he could not remember his past, then it should be put to the side for now. If he was hungry, then he needed to eat. The cave served as shelter. Survival was the priority.

The goblin stopped just short of the cave's mouth. He pressed himself against the nearest wall, and crept slowly to the rocky edge. As his eyes squinted against the bright light, he poked out his head. There would be food outside, he felt, but there might also be danger. Where was he? What was the environment? Were there boars or bears here? It would be easier to find edible plants than it would to hunt, but if the creatures of this place were like Yokai, there was no telling what kind of plants he would encounter either. Rather than risk eating poison or making himself sick, it would be better to find meat. If he found an animal, even if he couldn't catch it, maybe he could see what kind of berries or roots it ate and take some for himself.

Outside the cave, sunlight shone through the trees revealing a luscious forest. He bent low to pick up a rock from the cave floor, and once he was certain there didn't seem to be anything in the immediate area he walked outside. For the first time he realized the cave had been unusually bright, despite no lamps, candles, or other light source. And if the cave was unusually bright, then the sun was almost painful. His already narrow eyes squinted even more. He closed one and then the other, careful to never close both at the same time while he waited for them to adjust, as he walked over to one of the nearer trees. He picked the one that had the lowest branches within reach, and tried to break one off with the rock. It had no sharp edge, and this body did not seem very strong, but after scoring one limb around its base he managed to climb up and come down on it with both feet, using his body weight to finish the job. As the broken branch fell, the goblin caught himself on another and hung there for several moments. On a whim he did a pull up, and grunted in satisfaction before he dropped back to the ground unharmed.

This body was weaker, but it wasn't weak, in a sense. Proportional to his size, he felt his muscles were fairly dense and elastic. Like a chimpanzee. ...I suppose, if that's what my memory thinks. But his size and weight did not give him great leverage to use whatever strength he might have.

Weakened, small, in unfamiliar territory, on the hunt. So it came naturally to seize a weapon. He picked up his broken branch, snapped the last two tapering, twiggy feet of it off, and began to bash off any smaller growths with the rock. Soon he had a short, rough, but functional staff in hand.

His guts seemed to roar and roll inside his body. Spending time to make this weapon had cost him time that he could be hunting...but, as little as he knew, something told him having the weapon would be better than not at this moment. As for what he could hunt...

He crouched low, and began moving into the underbrush. Just before he left eyeshot of the cave, he marked the dirt with his staff and tried to remember what the landscape looked like here. Then he traveled in a straight line, away from the cave, and watched the forest floor.

Whether by instinct, or his hazy memories, he knew that any animal would likely smell or hear him long before he saw them. As much as he tried, he couldn't silence himself completely...although, he felt his breath naturally slowing, and his steps stopped coming straight up and down on the ground. Instead his feet made a sort of sliding motion, using the side of the foot to take his weight at first and distribute it more evenly across the ground. With this method, his steps didn't thump, and he could brush leaves or sticks out of the way before coming down on them. Crescent Step...is that what it's called?

But the fact remained, animals would have sharper senses. So what he looked for were the signs they left behind, rather than the animal itself. Tracks? Droppings? Places where trees or grass had been rubbed frequently or trampled?

Saito the goblin gripped his staff, put aside all thoughts save the immediate present, and hunted in earnest.

Goblin Quest

Its currently May 24 where I'm at--

@RC3

*glances at computer clock*

Hol' up...

Goblin Quest

So many people copying my talent, lol. Just so y'all know, I didn't intend Physical Conditioning to mean "naturally buff gobbo muscles." It was meant more along the lines of "a natural talent for physical training" as in, things like pushups and situps either give more efficient results, or the recovery period is faster. It's "naturally benefiting more from exercise" rather than "being naturally athletic/strong."

Goblin Quest

Saito

Name:
Saito

Age:
Day 3

Gender:
Male

Race:
Goblin

Appearance:
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.

Level:
1 > First Hunt > 16 > Second Hunt > 30

Level Log

• First Hunt: Scaled Shrew
  • Crafted makeshift weapon (+1 Level)
  • Formulated a plan (+2 Levels)
  • Successful hunt (+8 Levels)
  • Killing Blow (+4 Levels)
• Second Hunt: Dragon Frog, w/Reshy
  • Formulated a plan (+2 levels)
  • Killing blow (+4 levels)
  • Successful hunt (+8 levels)

Personality:
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.

Past Life:

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.

Talent(s):

• Martial Arts
• Physical Conditioning
• Stealth

Skill(s):

• Dark Eye (Passive) E-Rank
• Absorption (Remaining Uses: 5/8)
• Lunging Strike: In a burst of speed, the user is able to quickly clear a large distance (two strides worth) before delivering an attack. The higher the rank, the faster and greater the distance. (Active)(E-Rank)
• Poison Resistance: Makes the user resistance to various poisons. With prolonged or repeated exposure to significant amounts, immunity may develop. The amount of poisons that do not effect the user become higher in number as this skill ranks up. (Passive)(E-Rank)
• Shell Defense: - When using objects made from organic shells, they will have increased defensive power. It makes breaking through their organic defenses harder. (Passive)(E-Rank)
• Defensive Stance: - When assuming a defensive stance, the user receives increased defenses against physical attacks. (Active)(E-Rank)

Inventory:
Scaled Hide x1 (Scale Shrew)
Scaled Tail x1 (Scale Shrew)
Pointy Stick x2 (Broken Staff)
Rock x1
Scaled Shrew Bones x2 (Femurs, half a foot long each)
Scaled Shrew Skull x1 (Fangs are small and not sharp, skull is small and fits in a goblin's hand)

Goblin Quest

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

Name:
Saito

Age:
Day 3

Gender:
Male

Race:
Goblin

Appearance:
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.

Level:
1

Personality:
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.

Past Life:

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.

Talent(s):

• Martial Arts
• Physical Conditioning

Skill(s):

• Dark Eye (Passive) E-Rank
• Absorption (Remaining Uses: 8)

Inventory:--