96 - One More Thing
Extended Holiday
Ch 96: One More Thing
Act 13
“Battle is instinct.” Grif looked across at the young Kitsune before him. To most observers it would seem Grif was instructing a young male, who held a nodachi with the handle high and the blade slanted towards the ground. They would not see the honored granddaughter of two of their great masters looking determined to master the weapon. “You think of strategy, but you do not think of battle. It is a feeling, a rush, an impulse. It is the thunderstorm inside, the lighting striking the ground, the thunder crashing through the sky. Do not plan, simply do,” he instructed her.
Her ear twitched as a stone the size of a fist flew at her. In an instant, she jumped and spun, slashing with the blade and deflecting the blow.
Grif swept with a rake, catching her by the foot paw and flipping her over. “Don’t pause. Move forward. Block. Find an opening and press the attack,” Grif urged her. “Forget everything the priests taught you.”
Nanami spat the dirt from her mouth as she rose to try again, once more entering her battle stance. She smirked. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”
She repeated the deflection of the stone, this time moving to strike Grif’s rake by turning in mid air and using the momentum of the blade itself, only to be caught off guard by another rock from her right side.
“You're not dead, so ignore the pain,” Grif called as another rock came at her from behind.
Nanami grit her teeth and slashed down, cutting through the wooden rake like paper. She huffed as the bruises began to sting, and sweat ran down her brow. She grunted. “Too soft,” she muttered.
“You definitely have the potential.” Grif smiled as he looked at the rake. The cut was clean. “You’re going to be a real nightmare on the battlefield.”
“How about we just focus on the training?” She smirked, then produced a few scrolls from her bag. “These are techniques my grandfather wanted me to practice after he left, but no one is willing to teach me right now. You’re the closest thing I have to a sensei, so I think I can trust you to help me with this.”
“I’m honored,” Grif said, accepting one of the scrolls and opening it. His eyes scanned the scroll in a very familiar bird-like fashion. “This is ... really advanced stuff. He’s combined basic techniques to form such an advanced result.” Grif smirked. “You aren’t too attached to sleep, I take it?”
“You’re asking a shrine maiden who just helped banish a horde of demons and is still fighting now instead of going to sleep it off. What do you think?”
“Okay, we’re going to have to meet late at night to keep this whole thing under wraps. Also, here, you can borrow this,” Grif said, pulling a book from his bag. “You read Equish?”
“Naturally.”
“Many scholars would kill for this book. It technically doesn’t exist in your world. No questions,” he cut off sternly. “This is The Book of the Five Circles. It was written by a very skilled swordsman. I want you to make yourself a copy and return this to me before I leave. Understand?”
She nodded. “If it will help, I will do as you ask.”
“Uh, guys, we’ve got some monks that want to see you. Something about looking for Ping?” Vital Spark said as he approached the pair.
“I guess that's it for now then,” Grif said. “Practice forms one and three when you get a chance, and try to read the first chapter of that book,” Grif told her. “Now go, and I’ll cover for you.”
Nanami nodded and ran for the two warriors in question, chatting up with them like they were old friends. It would seem they must have known one another during the escort.
“Thanks for doing this.” Grif turned to Vital. “I know it seems underhanded, but she has so much potential, and she deserves a chance to express it.”
“You do understand why her grandfather does what he does though, right?”
“Fear isn’t a good excuse.” Grif shrugged. “A warrior can fight spirits just as a priest can. The only difference is the means.”
“Grif, it’s not fear. It’s love.”
“I hope I never restrict my daughters with such love. Love must always remember to allow for free will, or else it’s not much better than slavery.”
Vital sighed. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”
“Possibly.” Grif sighed. “But after a thousand years, you start to have doubts.” He chuckled.
“Oh, you know you’re not older than fifty.” Then Vital laughed. “You know, it’s weird having all my friends be more than twice my age.”
“Hammer Strike’s closer to triple,” Grif pointed out.
“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to punch you right now.”
Hammer Strike’s ear twitched as he put his cup back down. “I feel like someone is talking about me, and I’m not sure if it’s insulting or not…” He frowned and hummed faintly.
“How strange. So your ear twitches. Here in Neighpon, most of the time I sneeze when someone is talking about me like that,” Haku said pointedly as he drank his tea.
“Still sneeze your name after all these years?”
“Not too often anymore, but when I do, most people know to duck.” He chuckled. “If not, they learn just how hot my breath can be.”
“I bet that’s always fun.” Hammer Strike chuckled faintly. “How were things upon your return back here after our time together?”
“Chaotic, to say the least. There’s always a rebellion or uprising going on every few decades. If it weren’t for the blessing of the Goddess, I doubt the emperor’s line would be here today.”
“I guess some things never change, eh?”
“Regrettably. Things have gotten better with the policy changes we introduced, though. Few, if any, have to take a path prescribed by another. Unfortunately, my granddaughter happens to be one of those few.”
“She’ll find her path, one day, by some means,” Hammer Strike replied softly. “I’m sure of it.”
“If she is determined to take the path she wishes, I can only see one option for her.”
“There is always more than one path to everything, Haku. You should know that.”
“But the opportunity was never present before until now. I think you know what I’m getting at.”
“Then that means the paths will become clear sooner than you expect.”
“Then you will take her with you?”
“If that’s the path she want’s to take, then I can make it happen.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to hear it from me. Would one of you be able to approach her?”
Hammer Strike gave a faint grin.
“You already planned to at the wall, didn’t you?”
“I always enjoy planning at least five steps ahead. This time I wasn’t the only one thinking ahead on this topic.”
“Is that so?” He took another sip of his tea. “Then I do believe I owe you my thanks.”
“I’m not the one to thank. I’m not doing the talking.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I always enjoyed these talks.”
“The ones where you were always ahead?” Haku smirked.
“Those, too, but just … conversation in general.” He frowned. “I’m being seen more as a leader, and in the process, I don’t get to have just normal conversations about anything. My conversations with Pensword mostly consist of my work or his now.”
“Why not simply talk with them about it? You never seemed the type to shy away from it before.”
“I’ve tried. It doesn’t change.”
“Not even with Grif? I hear his bluntness is legendary.”
“He understands the problem, and tries to work against it, but that blood oath he made to me all those years ago still changes how he is around me to this day.”
“And this change disturbs you.”
“It’s just how it is. It’s how events played out.”
“Then change the course.”
“I will one day. One day.”
“Do not put off for tomorrow what you can do today.”
“Today is much too packed, as well as the rest of this week,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’ll wait for our return to Unity.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Haku. Now enough changing topics. I want to catch up on things, not talk about current events.”
Haku smiled sadly. “Well, I suppose we were going to hit this sooner or later.” He pulled down his robe to reveal a series of black circular markings over his fur on his shoulder. “Then let’s get you caught up.”
Pensword dressed in his military armor. Today was when he would be shopping for a military weapon, something unique and alien to confuse his opponents. He checked one of his pouches again, confirming his wing blades were safe and secure. It was hard to lose the pair when they’d served him so well, but assuming he could receive a top quality weapon, he was willing to part with it.
He followed the directions Haku had given, and found himself standing in a large open stone building with a round furnace at its center. A bench off to the side held an assortment of tools and instruments. The anvil lay only a few feet from the entrance. A large, possibly black, though pensword could not be sure he wasn’t just covered in soot, three-tailed Kitsune stood over the back bench working on a knife with an engraving tool. So absorbed was he in his work that he hadn’t looked up or even acknowledged the Pegasus’ arrival.
Pensword stood silently and waited for the Blacksmith to finish. In Thestral tradition, the weaponsmith was a mighty and high position, and poor was the warrior that interrupted a smith in the middle of a project for his own desires. As he waited, Pensword recalled a legend of a warrior that stood three days before being granted the time to speak to the weapon smith.
The kitsune looked up for a moment, did a double take realizing it was a Pony in his forge, and then cleared his throat.
“Can I help you?”
Pensword nodded. “I learned you were a master amongst your peers. Haku gave you the highest recommendations. I was wondering if you would be willing to indulge in an old warrior’s notion.”
“I’m listening,” the smith said.
Pensword removed the saddlebag and carefully revealed the wingblades. “I was wondering if you could create something akin to this. This … was the weapon I was known for. I would like something made after the style of your people, if you are willing to take on the task.” As an afterthought, he made a note to himself to search the town for a pitch fork. Matthew may not be able to get his rare coins here, but they could make do with weapons, and both would be able to agree upon it, helping to strengthen their unity.
The Kitsune left his work and moved to the wingblades. He examined the design over and over again, almost greedily. “I wouldn’t be able to quote you,” he noted. “There is no way to know how much material it will take. Did you have a metal in mind?”
“The best for cutting edge and durability. I care not for the cost nor for the type of metal, only for the best my station can afford.”
“Come back in a week,” the smith said. “I’ll probably need to make adjustments at that point. It could be another couple days after that.”
“Very well, and the set you see before you, if you need to tear it apart, do so. That is for you to understand the workings of the Wingblade.”
“Yes, yes.” The Kitsune wasn’t even paying attention as he grabbed some paper and a piece of charcoal and began working on designs.
Pensword smiled, turning to the guide who had acted as translator for the conversation and nodded his head, signaling their departure.
Grif kicked himself as he thought about everything from prior to this moment. He stared up at the easily half ton black bear that greeted them when they arrived. He had initially thought the land inhabited only by Kitsune. Seeing the yokai before him caused his mind to jump to several statues of large racoons that he now realized had actually been watching them, or the fact that their glasses had been constantly refilling themselves during the banquet. It seemed other types of yokai did inhabit the land, leaving Grif with two obvious questions. First, which types were there? And second, why were they hiding?
“Welcome to the temple of warriors,” the deep gruff voice of the bear said as he bowed. “My name is Tohru, and at my master’s request, I will be your guide for the day.” His hair had been tied up in a bun reminiscent of a samurai or sumo wrestler. He certainly had the build for the latter.
Pensword looked up and did his best to quell the feeling of intimidation while Matthew was trying to understand why Tohru was tickling his memory. Fox Feather stood at his side as his escort, so in all technicality, this could well be viewed as a date. He wished the others could have come as well, but all of his other troops, including Lunar Fang, were currently engaged in interviews for the Kitsune libraries. He hoped that the Kitsune would fulfill their promise to give her a tour of the temple later when they were done with her interview.
“You‘ve competed in sumo?” Grif asked him.
“My brothers and I. We wrestle for dominance. I just happened to come out on top, so I was the one that had to defend our people when my … former master came.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” Grif said, “but I’ve noticed generally only Kitsune seem to walk about in the open. Are the Nekoyama cats napping? The Tanuki just shy?”
“Most of them are lesser spirits, bound to service, or occasionally volunteering for it. Servants are generally not seen or heard unless their master wishes it.”
“Too bad,” Grif said “I’ve heard Tanuki are much more impressive at transformations. Still, it’s an honor to have you guiding us, my friend.” Grif nodded his beak to Tohru
“It’s a pleasure. Many of the strongest of us yokai stay here and tend the temple while training future warriors for combat and field work. My mother happens to be one of the finest instructors in all of Neighpon. Just … don’t mention her height if you meet her.” He tapped his claws nervously.
“I am Grif. This is commander Pensword, his wife, Fox Feather, and my wife, Avalon. By the looks of things, my friend, you know quality in battle, and wisdom as well. I imagine quality in some of the delicacies of the culture, so tell me, where will we begin?”
“The training yard, where our acolytes are put through weapons training and guided meditation to help them find their center, and achieve inner peace.”
Pensword felt intrigued to see this unique method of training. Perhaps he might be able to utilize it back at New Unity with the new cadets. Matthew, on the other hand, was interested in the inner peace, and what that could offer him as he tried to maintain harmony with his Pony half.
Tohru led them past a great shrine gong forged from solid gold hanging from two thick ropes. Just beyond it lay the stone courtyard and the great red arches that symbolized passing from the realm of the physical to the realm of the spiritual. Here, many Kitsune, Tanuki, Nekos, and others passed through row after row of students, adjusting posture, administering chastisement, and otherwise aiding in the student’s development. Occasionally, a stray bray would break out as a student found himself turned into a donkey as punishment for slacking off.
“We also have a separate courtyard where hand-to-hand combat is practiced by our more gifted students. You can see them over there now, as a matter of fact.”
“Tsunami strike!” a voice yelled as a small yellow blur moved through the air suddenly, unleashing a large blast of water towards the other end of an arena. For a moment the blur stopped moving, just long enough for them to make out a tiny-looking Kitsune with the fur on his head shaved almost to the skin, wearing a red training garb.
“Seismic kick!” A large bull-like figure wearing a similar red gi and an unmistakable stetson shouted, stomping onto the ground and sending up a large chunk of earth and stone to block the water strike.
A large weasel flipped off the earth user’s back, then smacked his hands together, sending a massive shockwave of wind in the small yellow Kitsune’s direction. “Typhoon boom!”
“Ha! Nice try, Rai, but not this time,” a boisterous voice called from the skies. “Judolette Flip!” A massive wave of fire consumed the tunnel as a bird-like creature descended. Her delicate legs were ringed in glowing metal, making them unbreakable as her talons flashed. Her feathered wings fluttered and wavered between white, gold, and red with just a hint of black beneath her beak and in the ruff of her torso. Her crest was also black, and flowed backwards into two jutting portions that looked more like pigtails. Her blue eyes flashed as she grinned.
“All right, students, that’s enough. We have guests,” a familiar voice called. An elderly Kitsune with a blue vest and white garments stepped out. A slim green snake with tiny arms and legs hung from his shoulders.
“You do not need to stop on my account. I am a warrior, and I enjoy watching training,” Pensword said.
“Hey, it’s you!” the snake zipped through the air to cling to Pensword’s face and let out a giddy squeal. “The legendary Pensword!” He whipped out a heavy book from thin air behind his back and shoved it in the Pegasus’ face. “Can I have your autograph? Oh Please, oh please, oh please, let me have your autograph!”
“Who are you?” Pensword asked, crossing his eyes to look at this creature hugging his face. He barely managed to restrain Matthew’s impulse to scream.
“You must forgive Dojo,” the older Kitsune chuckled as he approached. “He is our local dragon, and the descendant of the guardian dragon who protects the royal palace.”
“You need a ride, I’m at your service,” Dojo said with a grin and a bow.
The entire group spread their wings as if to make a point.
Pensword just smiled as he folded his wings. “I can give you an autograph if you want. Still, thank you for your … rather enthusiastic greeting.”
“So you’ll sign my autograph book?” Dojo’s eyes suddenly grew cartoonishly huge as he squeed his excitement.
“Sure,” Pensword answered as he took the proffered brush and inkwell. “One question. Would putting my signature into this book bind me to some spell or the like?”
“No, no! What do you take me for, a fallen Imugi? Yeesh. I’m not my sleazy brother, you know.”
“I have to be careful. Different culture and magic,” Pensword answered as he signed his name.
“Thanks.” Dojo extended a clawed hand to shake. Pensword obliged. Dojo let out another squeal. “I’ll never wash this hand again.”
“Impressive little gust your weasel student there created. When does he learn to hurt his opponent?” Grif chuckled
“The point of his style is redirection,” the older monk explained. “When he is ready, he will learn how to use the wind as you do.”
“As in he redirects the spectator’s attention by making little gusts of wind instead of throwing actual force at the opponent?“
“As in I could wipe the floor with you any day of the week,” the weasel boasted with a toothy smirk.
“Raimundo!” the master scolded.
“The wind is about being clever.” Grif stared him down with his own self-satisfied smirk. “So how exactly did you get control of it?”
He shrugged. “I’m a natural.” He extended his paws smoothly to either side in a casual shrug.
There was a blast of wind from the spot Grif had stood. Almost instantly he reappeared in front of Raimundo. “One attack doesn’t make you a natural, kiddo. It makes you predictable.”
“Oh yeah? Then predict this!” In a blur of motion he was gone. A giant shockwave blew towards Grif from behind.
Pensword smirked.
Grif made no point to move as the shockwave hit him and blew past. His fur and feathers ruffled in the breeze. The area around them went silent as Grif flew slowly to the ground and walked over to Avalon. There was a loud clunk as Grif untied his armor and let his weapons harness slip to the ground. His holster came next, followed by each and every one of his stilettos. Naked and completely unarmed, Grif turned to Raimundo and made his way back over to him. “You know, I’m a few days off my workout. So come on, weasel boy. Just me and you.” He smirked with total and complete confidence. “Let's see how you do.”
“Raimundo. As you friend, and your senior, I must stand against this foolishness. If it were me, it would be another story. After all, I am the strongest, most talented, most experienced, and best monk here. But you, Raimundo, you are still undisciplined. You cannot even walk on five fingers yet! I must urge you to reconsider!” he said as he stood in front of the relatively taller weasel.
Raimundo casually grabbed the Kitsune by the head and pushed him aside, leaving drag marks on the cobblestones. “Yeah, yeah, whatever short stuff. Just because you’ve been training longer doesn’t mean you know everything.”
“I don’t know, Rai, the little guy kinda has a point this time,” the bull-headed oni said. “That there fella's got a lot of magic on his side. All you’ve got is your base element so far.”
“You, too, Clay?” Raimundo complained. “Geez, guys. You worry too much.”
“Or not enough,” Grif taunted.
“Rai, don’t be an idiot. You know we’re not ready. You haven’t even been able to so much as touch Master Fung yet,” the bird-girl said.
“Don’t worry, pretty bird, I won’t hurt your boyfriend too badly,” Grif called back.
A blood vessel throbbed on the side of her head, and an aura of flames surrounded her as she turned to face the Gryphon. “That’s it, let me at him! Let me at him!” she screeched, breathing flames from her mouth, even as the ogre and Kitsune clutched at her arms and legs to keep her steady.
“Oh, Avalon, sweetie, it looks like I hit a nerve.” Grif chuckled.
“Please, Kimiko. Now is not the time for letting your anger get the best of you,” the yellow one said. “Remember the storm!”
The girl was actively trying to snap her beak at her captors. “Oh we’re way past the storm, Omi,” Kimiko seethed.
“Easy there, Darlin’. This here’s Rai’s fight. He picked it, and now he’s gotta reap what he’s sown. Now … settle … down!” the bull-headed ogre grunted as he held Kimiko back.
“Come on!” Grif called with a cocky smirk. “I’ve got stuff to do today.”
“Well this is going to be fun,” Pensword muttered as he settled on his hooves to watch.
Raimundo chuckled. “I’m part of the wind, bro. If I wanted to, I could leave a hundred cuts on you in all the right places, and you’d never even see me.”
“Overconfidence most often leads down the path of victory for only a short while before winding its way to the valley of defeat,” Master Fung quipped.
“Well this time, it’s not going down that way,” Raimundo countered. And then he was gone.
For a moment Grif did nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he ducked just as Raimundo’s fist materialized where his head had been. “Too slow,” Grif said as he locked his talons around the weasel’s arm and used the yokai’s momentum to throw him forward. “Try again.”
This time, Raimundo favored a series of feints, leaving behind multiple clones before they attacked as one.
Grif extended his left wing and swept it out, sending a heavy gust at the entire group.
They all clapped their hands together. Only one released the typhoon.
“Just like that,” Grif said from behind Raimundo as the after-image fizzled out of existence, “you give it all away.” Grabbing the weasel by the collar, he flipped around and sent Raimundo hurtling towards the ground. “Try again.”
Raimundo barely kept himself from slamming into the stones and breaking practically every bone in his body. Angry, he flashed his claws, letting their light catch in the morning sun as he glared.
“You’re not the only one with weapons, boy,” Grif said, flashing his talons. “Put those butter knives away before you get hurt.”
Raimundo charged, his body blurring as he rushed on all four legs. The wind seemed almost to howl behind him as his eyes glowed red.
Seconds before those claws reached Grif’s face, he grabbed Raimundo’s arm and held it aloft. The look on his face was blank as he lifted a lethally sharp talon up to Raimundo’s neck. The tip dug in ever so slightly. “You listen up, and listen good, boy. I have killed far too many with these claws to know how deadly having them can be. One swipe of the hand can hurt your enemies, and your friends. These blades don’t distinguish because you feel they should. With a flick of this finger, I could leave your bloodied carcass lying on the ground. Do you understand me?” Grif’s eyes bored into the weasel’s. “Answer me,” he ordered.
Raimundo gulped, but otherwise remained silent. His glare didn’t have much fire behind it anymore, though.
“I believe you have made your point, Avatar of Winds,” Master Fung said smoothly. “If you would kindly put young Raimundo down, he and I have some things to discuss.”
“If I ever hear you turned your claws on an ally, I will find you,” Grif whispered before withdrawing his talons and releasing the yokai.
“I don’t know whether to be amazed or frightened,” Tohru said honestly as Grif approached.
Pensword looked at the Weasel, then at Grif, then at his own wings, and frowned. He had just been upstaged by a weasel, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of that. Grif, he could understand, but a bit of his pride had been pricked at seeing what Raimundo could do.
Kimiko made short work of raimundo, knocking him on the side of his head with a well-placed kick while the bull-headed ogre did the same with his fist for the other side. Two throbbing lumps stood on either side of the weasel’s head as the monks retreated within the temple.
Tohru shook his head. “And these four are supposed to become some of the empire’s greatest defenders.” He sighed. “They have a long ways to go.”
“Wearing your temper on your sleeve can be deadly,” Grif noted as they headed for the exit. “Now how about finding us a tea shop?”
“I know just the place. It’s called the Jasmine Dragon.”
“You know, Shifu, they really do make an excellent herbal tea here,” Vital Spark said with a smile as he took another pleasant sip from the cup. “And it feels so peaceful.”
“Glad you think so,” Clover said as she took in the scent of her own tea carefully.
“I never did get to try jasmine before. Chamomile and mint were my usuals, and the occasional fruit tea.” He took another sniff and added just a tad more honey before stirring and sipping. “Just right.”
“And very relaxing, too,” a somewhat portly grey Kitsune said as he stroked his beard. “My nephew and I raise all our own plants. As you can see, tea always tastes better when brewed fresh from the source.” He winked. “Of course, it helps being over three hundred years old.”
Vital laughed. “Were it not for the tails, I would think you were no older than a century. Thank you so much for such a wonderful treat, and for the lotus flowers.”
The old Kitsune bowed. “It is, as always, a pleasure to serve my customers. Though, I am curious what a pair of Unicorns such as yourselves are doing so deep within the capital. It’s a rare thing for an outsider to visit our humble shop.”
“We’re here with Lord Hammer Strike, who was invited by Master Haku,” Clover explained. “I merely wanted to see the sights without the bias of the guide.”
“An excellent decision indeed. The Heaven’s Crest is always a good tourist site. Many a young kit seeks to gain wisdom beyond their years from the ancient imoogi and the celestial dragons that are said to dwell there,” he suggested.
“Maybe.” Clover nodded. “It would be enlightening to learn more about your culture.”
The bell rang, and the old Kitsune bowed respectfully. “Excuse me. It would appear we have new customers. Call my nephew if you have any need for further assistance.” With that, he approached the door to behold yet another Unicorn mare. “Well, the spirits have been very kind to me today, it would seem. Such a lovely lady with such a handsome friend. Will it be a table for two?”
Rarity giggled. “My, what impeccable manners.”
“Any who did not show you the proper respect would deserve none in return. I am Iroh. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon.”
“We’ve heard some great recommendations,” Hammer Strike commented. “I am Hammer Strike, and this is Rarity.”
“Ah, the legend become real enters into my humble tea shop. Truly this is a blessing. Come, come, please, make yourselves at home. We have quite a selection to choose from, but for one such as yourself, I would recommend our special blend. Good for releasing tension in the muscles and calming the mind.” He led them to a booth across the aisle from the other two Unicorns.
“Ah, Vital, Clover, what a coincidence,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Hammer Strike.” Clover nodded.
“Haku did recommend it. We figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to check it out,” Vital said with a smile. “Their jasmine tea is really good.”
“Is that so? Maybe I’ll have to give it a try. I hear the nobles love to import tea from Neighpon. Why, Celestia often orders blends from the capital, if gossip is to be believed.”
“And the fact that we continue to enjoy her patronage is always satisfying,” Iroh said. “So what will it be for the two of you today? Some rice cakes, perhaps, and a few dumplings with your tea?”
“Oh, that sounds positively divine. When you say dumplings, do you mean gyoza?”
“The lady is quite knowledgeable. Yes. We make an excellent vegetable gyoza, though if it is prefered, we can add meat to the mixture,” he said pointedly as he looked to Hammer Strike.
“Just vegetable is fine,” Hammer Strike replied.
The tiny bell over the tea shop door rang once more, and a spry looking Kitsune with red fur and a scar over his left eye smiled.
“Tohru, what brings you all the way out here? I thought we already gave you your mother’s order.”
“I come with new customers.” The great bear laughed. “Just be careful, Zuko. Things always seem to get more lively when they’re around.” Tohru stepped aside to make room for Grif, Pensword, Fox Feather, and Avalon to pass through.
“Will that all be one big table then?” Zuko asked. “Or would you prefer separate?”
“I would prefer a lone table for Fox Feather and I.”
“I’d also like to ask about acquiring a large order of tea when we’re done,” Grif said.
“Of course. I’ll send Uncle over with our list for you to browse while you dine. This way, please.” Zuko smiled as he led them towards a pair of booths and set up their menus. “You’re just in time for our lunch specials to open.”
“I look forward to seeing what you have,” Fox Feather replied, smiling.
“I realize you probably do not carry sushi, but is it possible to get takoyaki?” Grif asked as they followed him.
“Of course. Uncle loves the stuff almost as much as he does his tea.” Zuko chuckled. “Just take a look at your menus, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your orders. I need to get Tohru’s usual seat.”
Tohru blushed. “It’s not like I meant to break all those chairs….”
True to his word, a few minutes later, Zuko was carrying a sturdy metal chair a good three to five times his size. He dropped it with a heavy grunt, and Tohru sat down, still blushing.
Fox Feather wasted no time, and smiled as a somewhat winded Zuko turned to their table. “I want your best sake.” She looked to Pensword. “And as for him,” she said, pointing to the commander with a wing, “he would like to try your finest green tea.” She looked at the menu and smiled. “You prepared an Equestrian variant? You really do know how to prepare, don’t you? Well done. For my meal, I’ll have the grilled salmon on rice with….” She frowned. “I don’t recognize those words, but I think I would enjoy that.”
“Make that two,” Pensword added as his hoof ran over the picture on the menu.
“We’ll take a pot of green tea with peach blossom, three orders of takoyaki seasoned however your uncle considers best, and two orders of sakuramochi afterwards,” Grif ordered with only a brief glance at the menu.
“You never did mention how you knew about our takoyaki, not to mention the other dishes,” Zuko noted. “Have you been to Neighpon before?”
“Zuko,” a gruff voice spoke up, “don’t go questioning my customers. Some secrets should remain secret.” Iroh fixed zuko with a knowing stare that, while not a glare, seemed equally withering.
Zuko’s ears dropped as his tail grew limp. “Yes, Uncle.”
“There was no need,” Grif said as Zuko walked away. “But still, thank you. I was hoping to speak with you about purchasing a rather considerable amount of tea.”
“Of course. My stock is always open to those with an appreciation for tea.” The older Kitsune laughed as he clutched to his belly. “Of course, I would need to know which types you need. After all, an old fox like me can only make so much in a year.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have Celestia’s diplomatic resources to keep importing it, so I would require buying at least a year's worth by a measure of a kettle a day, of every green tea type you have available.”
Iroh burst into a coughing fit. “That much? And how long would I have to fulfill such an order?”
“About a week, give or take a day or so.”
“Such an order would require quite a few laborers. You’re sure you can help to pay them all?” Iroh asked as he rubbed his chin pensively.
Grif presented Iroh with the gold tablet.
“... I see,” Iroh said.
“It isn’t ideal, but given that our countries have no economic policy set up that either of us knows, it is all I can do right now.”
Iroh looked Grif over carefully, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny circular tile to place in front of the Gryphon. “Consider this a gift for the business, then. I would certainly say you’ve earned it.” Pulling his hand back, the tile was revealed to have the design of a beautiful blossoming lotus flower that had been painstakingly carved and stained.
A shock of understanding passed behind Grif’s eyes. “I see you favor the white lotus mark,” he said, not realizing what he’d said as he picked it up.
A glint of satisfaction shone in Iroh’s eyes as he smiled. “Not many still cling to the old ways.”
“But those who do can always find a friend?” Grif answered back, the blue swirling in his eyes as the words echoed in his mind.
“Tell me, Grif, are you familiar with pai sho?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been given the opportunity to learn to play,” Grif noted. “What with a war to fight and the game being only known to a select few outside your country,” he answered honestly. “But it’s always been an ambition of mine to learn.”
“Stop by the store after we close tonight. It would be my pleasure to teach you.”
“Thank you. I look forward to it,” Grif said, taking a quick glance around as he stowed the tile away. Just for a moment, he met Clover’s gaze, but she looked away immediately. Grif shrugged and lowered his beak with respect to Iroh before the scent of their food approaching hit his nose, and he raised his head to see the tea and dumplings being served. “Ah, good. You're going to love this, Avalon,” he said as if nothing had happened as he reached with a pair of chopsticks and grabbed one of the dumplings, stuffing it into his beak whole.
Avalon laughed. “That eager, Grif? I suppose it must be delicious, then.” She reached over and speared a dumpling with her talon before popping it into her beak. Her pupils dilated as she swallowed, and she immediately proceeded to follow after her husband’s example as the pair entered an eating frenzy.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but grumble faintly as he was led through the halls of the palace toward the royal archives. As much as he didn’t want to do this, Haku persuaded him into helping the scholars clear up some problems and answer some questions. Of course, he wouldn’t answer everything, but he’d still give something, so they could get off his back.
As was to be expected of the royal archives, they took up the greatest amount of space the Pony lord had ever seen. Bright green and red shelves towered above him, each laden with thousands of scrolls that had been neatly sealed and organized according to the Kitsune scholars’ unique system. It took about five minutes of walking through a literal maze of identical paths before they finally arrived at what appeared to be a conservatory of some type. An indentation in the ground led to a place where an individual could stand to give presentations while colleagues and scholars would sit in the chairs surrounding and rising from that point, allowing for peer criticism and review. Every one of those seats was packed, and several more Kitsune were standing to the side as he waded through the crowd. He sighed. This was going to be a long session, wasn’t it?
“Well now. And here I thought it was going to be a small group…” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but comment. “I am really glad I don’t need a translator,” he muttered in Neighponese.
“At least you won’t have to worry about nobles breathing down your neck?” his escort suggested timidly. The young kit was little more than an assistant, not even in his thirtieth year yet.
“For now; but things tend to change absurdly fast.”
“Your voice will be magically modified to carry across the consortium, so you won’t need to worry about shouting. Good luck, Hammer Strike, and thank you for doing this.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way to the center of the room. “All right, let’s get this over with. So, how do we go about this, you guys ask questions and I answer?”
“That is correct. I shall go first,” one Kitsune spoke. “I have a scroll of questions from some of the younger kits….” He trailed off. “Of course, they put in one of the silly questions.” The Kitsune sighed. “It is an ancient tradition, which has been followed in our consortium from the beginning of time.” He took a deep breath and took on a serious air. “What is your Name?”
“Hammer Strike.”
“What is your favorite Quest?”
“...It would have to be,” he paused, humming to himself. “I don’t think I could list a favorite. They are all very memorable.”
“What is your favorite Color?”
Hammer Strike quietly looked to his blue kimono, remembered his blue coat, and thought to the blue banners of his noble house. “Blue.”
“Thank you. What is your...” He stopped and looked to one of the other Kitsune pleadingly. The elder motioned for him to continue. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “What is the maximum flight velocity of an unladen swallow?”
“Yes.”
“By the gods, he’s solved it! All the secrets of space and time lie open before my very eyes!”
“Wow, from how the rest of the nation acts, I didn’t see that coming. I thought a sense of humor was a rare trait.”
The scholar rolled his eyes. “Forgive my nephew’s impertinence. He inherited a rather unfortunate sarcastic streak and a lack of respect for his elders. I can’t imagine where he gets it from.”
“Wow, that sounds somewhat familiar,” Hammer Strike commented in Draconic.
“Anyways, with that out of the way, the floor is open for questioning. Hammer Strike, you may choose whom you will to ask among those gathered here. We will do our best not to take up too much of your time.”
“Alright then, so ... I guess I’ll pick at random,” Hammer Strike commented as he pointed to the first raised paw he spotted.
“Where and when were you born, Hammer Strike? We’ve had sightings of you throughout time, but we have yet to pinpoint your origins.”
“Paenitet. Ego non dico,” Hammer replied, shaking his head.
The Kitsune immediately wrote it down.
“Master Haku mentioned that you destroyed windigos with a display of magic he’d never seen before. By his account, it was different from your usual fire. Can you elaborate on this?” a silvery-grey Kitsune asked.
“I use something more than magic, but know that this power has only been taught to three individuals, and even then, they will never know as much as I have learned. It would drive them mad, or kill them,” Hammer Strike replied as his hooves burst into normal orange fire, then shifted to a blue hue. After a moment he extinguished the flames and stood, awaiting the response or next question.
“I am amazed to see a being utilize foxfire so… effortlessly. the rumors of your fire control are just as valid as they make it out to be.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint laugh and shook his head as he heard the Kitsune’s response. “Sorry, but I utilize something… a lot more than foxfire.”
“That, but… the laws of fire.... Only Celestia and Kitsune can control fire that finely.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it’s a type of fire you might never be able to recreate? I also want to tell you to never try, as it could kill you very quickly, and burn your soul into nothingness.”
The Kitsune gaped.
After a long period of uncomfortable silence, the next one raised her hand.
“How many weapons have you mastered, and how long did it take for you to reach that level of mastery?”
“Uh … Yes to the first part, and long enough for the second part.”
“We’ve noticed you’ve recently declared your engagement. Does this mean that you have no plans for vanishing again for the foreseeable future?”
“I hope not, but you never know what will happen. I have hope, though, to settle down, perhaps have a child… and I guess, I don’t know, perhaps vanish … for good. To pass on, leaving a legacy behind that will never be forgotten.”
“And what are your opinions on destiny? Also, how did you manage to remain so young when you are well over a thousand years old? Is it something to do with your biology?”
“To answer that simply, I stayed so young all that time because, technically, I always had something to do. There was always something I was needed for. But for the first time, I think there isn’t much more to my road.”
“And what if the world needs you later down the road?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll be there. Keep in mind, though, I won’t be around to solve every problem in the world. I am mortal. I will be gone one day.”
“I hope not. We need to solve our problems without some last minute save all the time. How else will we teach our kits to be self reliant.”
“Don’t worry. I typically only show up when needed, not if you can solve the problem yourselves.”
The questions continued for several hours as Kitsune came and went, each with their own questions. Some asked for advice, others for information on Hammer Strike’s personal life, and others on his relationships. Eventually, the time finally came for the forum to come to an end as the great gong rang for the evening’s meal. Hammer Strike sighed with relief as the Kitsune dispersed.
“And now you know the rigors we faced when we first returned home,” Haku said with a chuckle as he approached his old friend and teacher.
“I’m sure you were all questioned more. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would have been questioned more if they weren’t limited to how much they could ask…”
“If they could, they would keep you here for days at a time. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”
“I believe it…”
“Would you care to join me for dinner?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “Sure.”
Pensword looked at Lunar Fang, and briefly over at the other Kitsune. He had been bristling his feathers. “Lunar Fang… this is the third time I have had to leave Moon River, and you and Fox Feather both had to come this time. I am the absent father, and I am really disliking that.” He growled. Thankfully, few could understand his Equestrian words. “So you and I are going to need to find the best present possible to make up for us being gone. I am also taking three days off, because the next time, High Chieftess Luna will be the only authority to prevent me from taking my daughter on my next journey.” He shook his head. “According to our schedule, it is Fox Feather’s turn to be interviewed today for her personal account of certain events during the war.” Pensword had stopped in their walk. They could hear the shouts of various venders in the distance, and they knew they were heading in the right direction.
“When we return home,” Lunar Fang said, wrapping a wing around Pensword, “why don’t the four of us take a private vacation for a week? Before the bill goes through.”
“I like that thought,” Pensword answered. “I think I know just where to go, too. Mountainside Falls would be a great place to visit for the week. I can show you the falls, some of the hills around, and … we can see how it has changed from a thousand … from the ruins we saw it in last.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Lunar Fang said as she gave him a kiss.
“Thank you.” Pensword returned the kiss to her cheek. Better to play it safe when the culture here might be offended at public displays of affection. “So…” He looked around the market. “What should we get Moon River?” He twitched an ear as he heard the shouts of the native language of the region all around him. Sure enough, as they turned they next corner, they found the street lined with stalls.
“Are you sure we’re in the right section?” Lunar Fang asked as they examined the baubles and small toys around them. “Shouldn’t we be in the weapons district?” she teased.
“Yes, but I am also shopping for Matthew’s nieces,” he whispered back. “Plus, I think a carving would do nicely with the weapon, and as a little something for you and Fox Feather.”
“Well then, where should we start?” Lunar Fang asked.
“The animal carvings. I think something flying, since as my niece loves to fly so much.” He smirked. “What do you think?”
“What about these?” Lunar Fang said, gesturing her hoof over two jade crane carvings.
“I think they would look great, just maybe not for a...” he paused. “I think four year old. Maybe to her mom for trust,” he added. He looked around at a few of the other toys. “Oh, that looks fun.” The item was a brass ball painted to look like blue flames were licking at its edges. “I think she would enjoy that.”
“It does seem quite eye-catching, Lunar Fang agreed
“Thank you.” He trained his eyes about and smiled as he moved to a small silk doll of a Kitsune with the tails attached to little strings. It was most likely a stage puppet, but it would make a perfect addition to his niece’s menagerie. Besides, he had to buy for a lot more than just those little girls.
“Was there anything else you would like to find, Pensword Sama?” the guide asked.
“Well, I do not know if this is right for me to ask, but do you have any masks? Also where are some of the weapons that are for sale?”
“Masks are normally saved for festivals and carnivals, but I believe I know of a vendor who may be able to help you. As for weapons, that depends on the type you are looking for.”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang. In Thestral culture it was the Mare who picked the first weapons for the child. He turned back to the Kitsune, nodding his assent. “Then take us to this vendor.”
The Kitsune bowed and guided them to a back stall where a humble array of ceremonial masks had been laid on a cloth over the top of a large wooden crate. Many more masks hung on pegs behind the makeshift counter, and the Kitsune manning the stand smiled welcomingly.
“Welcome, welcome. Come, see my wares. I have much to sell, much to see, yes.” He nodded rapidly and grinned with squinting eyes. His accent was heavy, and a long braid hung behind him as his two tails swayed gently in the breeze. “What can Fong do for you today?”
“First, I am amazed you can speak Equish, so I commend you on knowing that tongue,” Pensword answered as he looked over the masks, hiding the surprise of seeing a very familiar yellow fox mask. A bright blue shining ocarina suddenly flashed across Pensword’s memory, along with just about every piece of lore associated with it and its universe. He could hardly believe that Matthew still remembered that story after all this time. “I am interested in some of your masks,” he answered, letting his ear twitch in the direction of the yellow mask, and the white masks above them.
“What masks would you like?” Fong asked. “We have Oni, Kitsune, yokai, many, many more.”
“Well, I think a couple of the yellow Kitsune Masks, and a few of the white.”
“Oh, yes, yes, good for children, little fillies and foals. Very good, very good.” He nodded and bowed as he gathered the masks in question. “You have money?”
Pensword nodded his head, as he presented the imperial IOU to the merchant.
The merchant’s eyes widened. “Is that real?” he gaped. The translator nodded. “You take anything you like. I even show you special stock. Very rare, very valuable.”
Pensword pulled a Hammer Strike by raising an eyebrow, but in the end he nodded his assent.
Fong flipped the cloth, held it, then flipped it again. The old masks were gone. He laid it on the table and snapped his fingers. In a poof of smoke, jewelry, statuettes, daggers, short swords, even a set of shrine bells and a priestess outfit sat in pristine condition.
“You want it, I got it,” Fong said with a smile. “See something the lady like?”
“Dear?” He asked, looking to Lunar Fang.
Pensword couldn’t help but laugh outright at the look on Fong's face as Lunar Fang picked up one of the larger knives and examined it with the look of a small child examining a new toy.
“The lady has interesting taste. Strong weapons. Forged by Oni in Mount Kazan. Very durable.”
“You didn’t buy these from the same blacksmith,” Lunar Fang called him out instantly as she examined them. So many years of working with Hammer Strike had given her an eye for metal work. “Most of these didn’t even come from the same areas.”
“You question my sources?”
“I question your supplier,” Lunar Fang said with no acknowledgement of the tone. “I think he’s been scavenging weapons and feeding you a story.”
“But weapons are clean, well polished. Even come with fresh supplies to maintain. Very good.”
“I’m not accusing you, my friend, but you may want to question your supplier about the true origin of what he’s selling you. See here.” She pointed to one of the blades. “The sheen off the blade hides it a bit, but you can make out shallow gouges and scratches on the edge. That's caused by bone against the blade. And this one–” she pointed to another. “You can see the point has started to blunt. That comes from piercing armor.”
“But … but …” Fong’s eyes started to water.
“This blade, however.” She picked up one of the knives “This is a truly beautiful piece of work. The blade is sharp, the surface is smooth, and the smith’s indent is still fresh by the hilt.” She nodded. “I’ll take this knife.”
“I’ll take the other three she looked at,” Pensword said, hoping that would save face with the merchant.
Fong sniffled sadly and nodded.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Pensword asked as he offered to wrap the weapon as well.
Fong shook his head. “Fong must take care of his own matters, though you are kind to wish to help.” He ruffled inside a black sack for a time until he withdrew a small golden silk sack surrounding a rectangular shape. “Here. You help me. Now is time for me to return favor. This powerful guardian talisman called omamori. May save life one day. Please, take it with Fong’s thanks.” He bowed and proffered the item in question.
Pensword bowed his head and took the talisman with a wing. “Thank you. I shall wear it under my jacket,” he answered. Matthew did not think much about it, but Pensword was a firm believer in this type of protection.
“Arigato!” He bowed.
Pensword put the talisman over his neck and smiled as he felt the time had come to move to the next booth. Fong waved kindly after them as they left.
The path leading through the forest was well kept, and cherry blossoms danced on the wind as the many prayer notes and sacred ropes dedicated the trees, and protected them not only from evil, but from any that would seek to cut them down to use for their own fires. A series of arches lined the way, each a gate bearing a particular kanji for an aspect or path within the various sects of the Kitsune society. Hammer Strike passed through each, noting how five other symmetrical paths branched out from the main courtyard. The courtyard itself had been paved with a dark blue, almost black stone with flecks of clear crystal that reflected the sun, giving the appearance of the vast stretches of space and the spirit. Three main buildings surrounded the courtyard, one being the main shrine within the old temple. The other two appeared to be living quarters and the kitchen and dining room.
As Hammer Strike passed through the final arch, he noticed the many statues of Kitsune flanking on either side. Beneath the statues, a metal placard depicted their names, along with a brief description of the path they had taken in life. As he reached the courtyard proper, he looked down to see a large rectangular segment that had been set in with mortar, rather than the beautiful stone that surrounded it. A series of kanji stared back at him as he read through the dedication.
Pasu No Terra:
Does the Walker Choose the Path,
or the Path Choose the Walker?
“Have you come to pay your respects, or do you perhaps seek something more, Hammer Strike?”
The shrine maiden was tall and beautiful. A bandolier of seven bells hung from a clever leather strap designed to hold the clappers in place and prevent the cargo from ringing as she walked. Flowing black hair ran down her back, all the way to her waist. A ceremonial sword with a traditional hilt and guard sat belted to her waist, and unlike the maidens he had witnessed on the night the demons had attacked, this girl wore more practical clothing that had been dyed a shimmering blue. The silk woven into her form-fitting robe formed a series of cascading silver keys. A single white patch marked her forehead with a symbol Hammer Strike had never seen before.
“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?” He asked as he looked around. “I just went down a new path and ended up here.”
She smiled. “Then it is here you are meant to be. Most wanderers come when they don’t know where else to go. Others wish to make peace with the dead, so that they can move on. I assume you can still read our language. What do you think of our temple’s name?”
“An interesting choice, considering the six paths along the journey.”
“And those paths branch out into many more. This temple’s purpose is to help people to choose a path and start their journey. Where that journey takes them after will be up to them, and perhaps a little to fate and destiny. It is a question that plagues the soul: does the walker choose the path, or does the path choose the walker? It is my opinion that both prove equally true.”
“It makes sense either way, but my question lies at what if the path that is chosen did not exist until it was made?”
“Then perhaps it willed itself to be made. Or perhaps it waited for one to make it and find it, so that others may travel. Or perhaps you chose it simply by making it. As for you, Hammer Strike, you have indeed chosen a different path. It has been a long one, but all paths must eventually come to an end as you reach your ultimate destination. Are you prepared for when that time comes?”
“I would say I am, but considering how long I have been around, I don’t know,” he replied, sighing softly. “I’m not sure if I can say I’m quite done or if I will be done when the time comes.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, and perhaps not.” She looked closely at him, her expression pensive. “You are what would be considered a bit of an anomaly in the order of things. That puts you in a rather unique position.” She looked to the cherry trees and watched the branches sway in the breeze for a time. At last, she nodded her head and turned back to face Hammer Strike again. “Come with me. There is something you need to see.”
She led him past the dedication and approached the main shrine. Two warriors in white barred the entrance with twin glaives. With the assistance of a curt motion and an intimidating stare, the guards moved aside to let them pass. Inside, a burning pyre danced at the back wall beneath a tapestry portraying the kanji for choice. A large stone pedestal stood prominently in the center of the room. Its faces had been lined with candles and offerings of incense and rice. Two mounting legs had been laid evenly along the block’s edges, where a dim outline could barely be made out curving outward and up towards the ceiling on either side. Were it not for his sharp eyes, Hammer Strike could have sworn the sacred charms hanging on either end of the weapon were floating. The shrine bells hung over the sword, as if the god of the temple itself were watching over it.
“You know of Gakushu and his fate. Is that not so?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“It was a noble sacrifice, and a path he was happy to choose, even though he knew his death was at hand.” She approached the shrine and shook the bells, clapped her hands together, and bowed. When she had finished, she rose again. “This shrine is dedicated to Gakushu for his work, and all that he accomplished before he passed. This katana is one of his last creations, and one of his best.”
“He’s come so far from the young kit I trained. Would it be possible to … see the blade myself?” Hammer Strike asked. “I ... would very much like to see his best.”
“You are the one who mentioned making the path. Like all things, it is your choice.”
After a moment Hammer Strike reached out and grabbed the sheathed blade. The metal was cool to the touch, and as his eyes flared briefly, he could see the intricate spellwork that had gone into giving the sheath its nigh-perfect invisibility as a rainbow of tiny chained energies and characters flowed over, around, and through the metal. Perfection in all things. That’s what he’d taught Gakushu to strive for in his work. It appeared Gakushu had not put that lesson to waste.
He slowly pulled at the handle, and the sword emerged without so much as a sound. A deep dark blue metal stared back at him, its surface perfectly polished to the point where he could see himself in the broad side of the blade. The crescent curve and razor edge were carefully refined. He recognized the techniques. He’d taught them to that little kit all those years ago. Looking down to the base of the sword, he noticed a series of Kanji.
“‘I was made for the pathmaker,’” Hammer Strike read aloud. “...Wait a minute… Didn’t you just...?” He turned towards the shrine maiden.
“I did nothing but discuss the purpose of our temple. It is you who spoke of the maker.” She smiled. “It is possible I may have seen the inscription previously,” she conceded. “But your words are what moved me to bring you here. And it would appear I was not wrong in my decision,” she said, pointing towards the blade.
The kanji had begun to glow, letting out golden light that slowly spread along the honed edge like water. In a matter of moments, golden flames had engraved themselves into the metal, gilding the blade to add to its value, even as Hammer Strike felt the magic of the sword synchronizing with his own.
“It’s almost like he knew,” Hammer Strike said as he looked over the blade one more time.
“Before he passed, Gakushu said the sword would guide its master to the end of his path, wherever that path might lead. He seemed to favor breaking the mold, a trait he learned from you, no doubt.” The maiden smiled. “Will you name it?”
“I’m thinking … Ouroboros.”
“An interesting name. Tell me, pathmaker, would you like to pay your respects before you continue on your journey?”
“Yes.”
“Then I, Sabriel Abhorsen, am at your service,” she said with a formal bow. “Let us begin.”
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So much referencing! Time to find the links.
Well... not 'so much' referencing, but good ones.
yay ...
I now forsee shen gong wu making an appearance in the series....or at least in my head anyways. and I'm a bit sad there was no gecko reference.
Oh dear, messed up my timing with reading and replying, so getting late.
The cocky loudmouth in teh training areana, theres always one, but which way does he become, always the apprentice, or the turned master?
Is there hidden current of shop keepers behafviour to the Imperial IOU, as in sell the person with this what they want, or else?
Im trying to remember who Fong is, given its many years since Ive watched Jakie Chan Adventures, and I cant remember all teh Talismen names, designs and effects, r even if Lotus Blossom was one of them, as usually Lotus Eaters are time sleepers.
Still getting an undercurrent of feeling for some reason from teh tea room, I blame all teh demons hanging around, and then tehres the Temple, with all teh Yokai etc hiding not just from teh mortals, but so teh demons dont taste them as easily?
A basic copy of the existing design of Winglblades in a week I can understand for a master, but what variations can they add for the local speciality, rune crafting etc
Poor Hammer Strike, all those questions. I thought the answer to the first one was Saddle Arabian or Griffonian. As for the question of the shrine maiden about the paths. Yes. Even the maths is mind bending, never mind the actual realisation of what it means. Why do you think the Doctor is like that?
The Katana Of Last And First, the complexity of the design of teh sheath is such Im still not sure where the various transition levels are in self awareness for teh runic processing, just as a side effect of the complexity and amount.
Orouborous. Twists and turns are my master plan, you will find the answer where it all began.
7635888 first off the lotus blossom thing was taken from avatar the last air bender
second marco polo was given a golden tablet by Kublai kahn, whenever he purchased goods he was to show the tablet too the shopkeeper and they would send the bill to the palace, this is widly believed to be the first credit card
and third, ruenan and eragon made an epic sword in a single night, a week seems fine.
keep them coming booster
Ok so a xiaolin showdown and an Avatar the last air bender referance, forgive me if i didnt see the other possible refrences. I never dis like raimundo he was too much of a showboater even after he gets taught humility. Kickin chapter guys keep up the great work. Oh and if you can add in a guy who screams about his cabbages getting wrecked that would be funny. Also i hope penswords new wing blades can be spring loaded so he can fire them from his wings, and keeps refillblades on himself kinda like attack on titan.
On one hand, I applaud you for getting the eastern styled references out in a reasonable manner because of the location, rather than trying to force a situation where they work with the rest of the story. On the other, please stop hammering my nostalgia button for a bit. The spring is getting worn out.
Yeah... journies. The paths we take, they are unique to ourselves, though other's paths may parallel ours. Where have we come from, in our respective jounies, and where will the paths that which we trod upon lead?
I can only hope that when I reach where it is my path ends, I can look back and see that the choices I have made were the correct ones.
love that avatar bit whit the white lotus XD
I instantly squealed at this
YAY IROH
Reference of the east I see.
Oh my god!!!! I loved this entire scene! I was squealing like a little girl and laughing like a fox, I love Avatar, and you certainly gave a great homage. I hope we will see a little more of the white lotus, if not iroh himself.
And the Xiaolin Showdown reference before it really smashed my nostalgia. It took a bit to remember it, but when I did, wow. I watched some of that show on the fox box before it became 4kids. Damn, that was more than 15 years ago now, jesus.
And a Monty Python reference in the next scene to boot!! I'm a little disappointed he didn't ask the proper followup question though. And the poor happy mask salesman. Maybe we'll see him visit Unity and see little Link and Zelda. I'm still wondering where that plot is going to show up again.
And a bittersweet ending. Ouroboros, very fitting for hammer strike's path. What a wonderful chapter, I look forward to seeing all these plots tie themselves off soon. I love the story and the work you all put into it.