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A Forceful Stranger; Personal Saga, COMPLETE
Topic Started: Oct 9 2014, 04:00 AM (305 Views)
Dorje
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In the North of Earth’s great main continent sweeping mountains could be easily found, mountains often filled and covered with snow and ice the further North one went. In the most extreme of these ranges, in the mountains that were tallest and furthest from the warmer regions down South, a monastery existed. This Monastery was one of those homes of the martial artist, of warriors who sought a purity of spirit through the perfection of body, and mastery of the arts of combat. For hundreds of years, a strong tradition had been formed, the belief that true peace of spirit came from mastery of fist, mastery of blade, and had set itself up in one of the harshest locations available, a place where it would truly take strong and enduring humans to survive. Carved into the mountainside it was a sweeping temple of stone bricks, painstakingly placed and shaped. It could house several hundred individuals at one time, nearly a thousand, with rooms, lavatories, meditation chambers, and eating halls for them all. The great sweeping stone temple was set against a large mountain always capped with ice and snow, and directly West of this castle, were the Training Fields. These fields were the only flat ground of any good size for quite a while, nearly half a square mile of area that had been carved and pummeled into the mountainside, each monk that had ever come to this monastery had carved out a bit more, pushing the mountain back with hard labor and sweat. It was here that the monks trained, they ran, performed strenuous physical exercises, and sparred with each other to improve their skill in the arts of fist and blade.

A few dozen of the two hundred or so monks that currently dwelled in the monastery were out on the training fields right now. Two of the older and more experienced monks were leading newcomers in exercises and in practicing the basic forms of the Forceful Fist that the monks practiced, another small group of five were taking turns, practicing with blunt practice swords and sparring with each other, the first to be hit on the head or body had to sit down and let another take their place, slowly cycling each other through as they practiced, and then off near the mountainside, were two of the more skilled warriors at the monastery, Dorje and Tashi. They looked rather similar, but that was due largely to how the monks dressed. Baggy blue trousers with simple, sturdy boots with metallic shin guards, bracers that went from elbow to wrist, done in black. Their chests were all bare, except for braided, thick ropes that went around their sides and over one shoulder as a kind of belt and harness, that was where the sheathed blade would be held when they wore their blades, and finally they all sported large tattoos of some animal, and face hiding headguards. These guards had a metal strip over the forehead, and then a heavy metal mask over the nose and mouth, leaving the eyes almost completely unfettered and providing very little in the way of limited vision. Of course it left the eyes a bit more vulnerable than with your usual helmet, but the monks considered it a fine trade off.

Tashi and Dorje had differences in their physical form, where Tashi was tall and slender, with a lean, wiry build, Dorje was a few inches shorter, with more heavy, solid muscle lining his body, giving him a thicker appearance. They both had dark black hair, but where Dorje had a leaping tiger inked onto his left shoulder and arm, Tashi had a soaring Eagle. The two were facing each other, roughly three meters or so of distance between the two warrior monks. It was early morning, and that meant some early morning training, and both believed that there was no better training than a good, solid spar. Both monks brought their hands up, pushing fist into open palm and then bowing slightly to their opponent, and then, they brought arms up. Both their bodies turned so that they were partially turned to the side, with their right hands up and back near the shoulder, and the left hand somewhat forward towards their foes. If they were fully armed with blades then their right hands would be positioned perfectly to reach up and draw the sword quickly for a quick mixed attack of fist and blade. However, this was a simple spar, and of just their hand to hand skills, the sheaths hung empty on their backs, their swords left in their rooms in the monastery proper. Both had something of a...prideful look to the way they held themselves, if they were less disciplined, if they had been trained and raised in a less disciplined setting than this monastery. Instead of trash talk, they would instead speak with their fists and use that to show the other up.

For a moment they regarded each other, but Tashi knew full well that there was no way to goad Dorje into making the first move, for all his pride in being the monastery’s strongest fighter Dorje had the patience of a glacier at times. So, the more slender man showed that he was the faster as he suddenly darted forward, it was a series of three quick ‘hops’ careful, long legged steps that ate up the three meters between him and Dorje in a moment, and then immediately his left hand, the forward hand, darted out in a quick jab towards his rival’s chest. However, Dorje brought his own left hand forward to the side, his open palm, with fingers just loosely curled slapped into Tashi’s, diverting his punch slightly while Dorje suddenly moved forward, his own palm now going towards Tashi’s chest! Now the leaner monk was forced to bring his left arm into action, his body twisting as he slapped Dorje’s palm aside, his right going back and then forward in a renewed thrust, he couldn’t attack with his right while his arm was outside Dorje’s center!

Yet, the more muscular monk demonstrated his skill in minimizing his own movements, his left hand, slapped aside, went a bit down and then up, pushing Tashi’s arm up as his palm went forward...and this time slammed into Tashi’s side, just below his armpit and sending him staggering backwards from the force of the blow. He grunted, and then flexed slowly, restoring his balance as he brought his arms back up, both the monks regaining their basic stances. First strike had gone to Dorje, as usual, but also as usual Tashi didn’t intend to give up that quickly! The taller fighter moved forward again and their fists went into a blur of motion once more. Their focus was on keeping their palms and fists centered on the foe, keeping their arms inside the other’s so that their attacks were harder to dodge, harder to avoid. If one’s fists were within the other’s radius then one could easily sweep the other’s blows aside while pushing in to strike at the opponent’s chest, torso or the more vulnerable neck. It was a largely static duel, the two only taking a few steps back and forth at a time, and there was a great absence in kicks. The Forceful Fist taught very spartan use of kicks, they were powerful tools but also slow and prone to leaving one very open if blocked or dodged, however, it did have some useful purposes in the midst of a rapid, frantic melee, as Tashi was about to demonstrate.

Suddenly, after slapping aside one of Dorje’s palm thrusts, he stepped forward, and his knee surged upwards, going for Dorje’s gut. Predictably, Dorje brought both palms down, slamming them flat against Tashi’s leg, halting the knee’s forward motion and keeping it from slamming into his gut. Yet, that was when Tashi brought both his hands forward, the fingers pointed upwards, both going into a hard slam towards Dorje’s thickly muscled chest. He thought fast though, and ducked, practically hunching over Tashi’s knee, this made one palm miss, but the other slammed squarely into his head. He rocked back, his head jerking back, tendons straining as the palm pushed against his head, but he shifted, and forced his head to the side, and brought it down, the palm sliding over the back of his head and back! Dorje approached Tashi, his body twisting, his arms were already down so he just turned, and brought up one elbow, before suddenly jerking forward in a hard slam! His elbow slammed into Tashi’s side, and the taller monk actually lifted several inches off the ground as Dorje shoved into him hard, and sent him stumbling back, a pained grunt emerging from Tashi’s mouth. However, this time Tashi didn’t get time to recover, Dorje kept moving with the elbow thrust, his legs going across the ground in two hard steps, using the momentum from the slam, his arms came apart, as he twisted to the other side, and his right arm came out, the open palm slamming into Tashi’s gut. Dorje’s opponent let out a loud gasp through his faceguard and went sailing back, skidding across the icy field before coming to a slow stop, one hand covering the place where Dorje’s hard palm had slammed into him.

“Guh...I yield...and that hurt.” Tashi gasped out, panting slightly from the exertion of their sparring match.

Dorje nodded, and then repeated the fist punching palm bow from earlier, and then grinned, the feature just barely visible thanks to the slight crinkling of his eyes above the mask. “I think that fight lasted about six minutes Tashi, you’re starting to last longer against me.”

The other monk nodded, weakly repeating the gesture before walking over to his friend. “It helps that you’re so slow, but it would help more if you were as fragile as you are slow. I thought I had you there when I got a direct hit on your head.”

“Well what can I say? The elders always have said I was a thickheaded youth.” Dorje joked, patting his friend on the back as they started to head back to the monastery proper while the grunts of others working and practicing followed them. “Now, come Tashi, let’s go get something to eat, and then we’ll go for a run, I’m feeling confident this morning, I feel like I can beat you all the way down the mountain!”

“Ha, you might be a strong warrior Dorje, but I still have better speed than you, the day you outrun me is the day I eat my faceguard.” Tashi was quick to reply, the two adopting a less formal and silent approach now that the battle was done with. Outside battle speech was more permitted, although that might be more the elders realizing that keeping youths from trying to talk to each other was all but impossible. Still the two didn’t waste very much time on boasting, just a few boasts here and there to whet their appetites for the training that would come after they ate, once they had gotten those initial taunts out of the way they changed the conversation to actual advice and criticism on how the other had fought. Tashi suggesting that Dorje should start ducking his head as he moved to minimize how much damage the palm did, Dorje pointing out ways to enhance that knee, such as only attacking with one hand, that the other could then smash in on the opponent’s position after they dodged or blocked. This advice took on a more detailed and fine aspect as they got their bowls of simple, plain white rice, it was a monastery, not a fancy restaurant, the meals were simple, the only meat was during dinner’s and even then it wasn’t seasoned, and sat down to eat, taking off their faceguards and setting them to their right. Here one could finally see a more significant difference between Tashi and Dorje, Tashi’s face was thinner, and his nose a bit longer, while Dorje had a more squat, rounded nose, and a scar. It started on the right side, just below and past the nose, and trailed down over his lips and ended on the left side of his chin, it was small, not too big. It was a relic from a training accident, during a time when Dorje had foolishly forgone his faceguard during some personal training. It made them a bit easier to tell apart as they ate and spoke.

Yet, as they spoke they noticed something, thanks to the incredibly harsh environment of the monastery, the monks all developed at least a small, slight ability with ki, that was stronger with some, such as Dorje. This was honed in a couple ways, but most prominently they, like many humans of Earth, could sense ki, and they could sense something approaching the monastery...something powerful. “What’s that?” Tashi asked, looking up towards it. Dorje’s gaze moved towards his, the monastery knew very little of the world outside, only what few rumors and news was brought by the villagers who brought the monastery supplies, food and water. They were small, backwards hunting and fishing communities, with a few farmers thrown in, and oftentimes they were the last to hear of anything, well...second to last. Whatever it was approaching it was stronger than most of the monks here, was it a threat, a visitor? They did occasionally receive visitors from the world outside after all.

“Let’s finish eating Tashi, and then we’ll take a look, no sense in letting the food go to waste.” There was no reason to assume it was a threat, not yet, it was just a high power, but as Dorje suited his own words, he felt a small chill, as if something was about to go very wrong.

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Tashi and Dorje wasted little time with that strong ki signature hovering just outside the temple. They both finished their rice, and carried them back to the kitchen. Then it was a brief bit of washing so that their dishes were clean and they were headed outside. Of course, while they were both eager, they had no reason to assume anything was bad, it was probably just a traveling fighter come to spar with the monks after all. So they didn’t actually get out of the temple and back onto the training fields until about six minutes later. However, by that point the visitor to the monastery had gotten going, and was making quite the nuisance of himself. The figure was dressed in strange armour, it was made of a flexible material that was foreign to TAshi and Dorje, consisting of tightly, narrow strips of some yellowish armor, with white edging over the pecs and stomach, with rounded shoulder pads sticking out to the sides, with matching dark blue braces on the arms, complete with boots, and the armor flared out in a kind of combat skirt down over the thighs. He had some kind of furry belt around his waist, and his hair was spiked up, five spikes that went down the center of his head in a row, a...mohawk Dorje thought it was called. The strange clothing though was consistent with rumors that the villages had been carrying up to the monastery for the past couple of weeks, of the strange beings that had taken over the world supposedly, seizing the planet for their own. The fighting had all been far from the monastery and these tiny communities that surrounded it though, so this was Dorje’s first time seeing one of these Saiyans.

The saiyan though had a cruel, wide grin on his face, and one of the other monks was groaning on the icy ground, two others moving up to him to help him up and carry him away. “Come on, I know you’re just a bunch of weak Earthers, but can’t at least one of you put up a decent fight?” The saiyan loudly and arrogantly proclaims. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened, the saiyan showed up, challenged the monks, one of them stepped forward, and the saiyan beat him down and then started boasting. His voice was loud, aggravating and highly annoying, it made the ‘trash talk’ that Tashi and Dorje often got in trouble for look like the most moderate and restrained conversation possible! It immediately got both Tashi and Dorje’s back up, however, Dorje put his hand in front of his friend, and they exchanged a look. Dorje was the strongest fighter at the monastery, he had the right to represent the Forceful Fist, and so Tashi stepped back. Dorje walked forward, drawing eyes of the other monks, except the two helping the beaten comrade back to the temple, and naturally the saiyan looked towards him as well.

“I will spar with you comrade, if you are so eager for a fight.” Dorje said, his words somewhat cutting, it was one thing to learn how to fight, to take pride in one’s ability to fight, but only fools continually sought fights out against all other things.

Yet, the saiyan did not even seem to notice the comment on his restraint and balance, instead he just grinned, and brought a hand up to touch some strange device that covered one eye on his head...Dorje could see strange symbols light up on the other side, obviously lettering or numbers of some sort, but just what were they? “Well, you seem like you’ve actually got some strength to you, so alright, let’s see if at least one of you Earthers can entertain me.” With that he brought his hands up, his left was up high, while his right was back and low, his legs spreading, Dorje simply bowed, pressing fist to open palm and then folding at the waist, before he straightened and his arms went out, right up near his right shoulder, his left hand forward just past his own waist, body turned slightly to the side. Then, he waited, brown eyes watching the saiyan’s own black ones as the saiyan looked back at him. Fortunately, the strange alien, who didn’t look too different from Dorje’s own kind, surged forward, he went for an opening knee, and Dorje quickly turned, both palms coming down and impacting upon the knee, stopping its forward movement. However, the saiyan’s left fist came hammering in right after that, only for Dorje’s right palm to move up and push it up and away from his face, but his left then had to go stop the saiyan’s right from doing the same thing! Yet, immediately after that, the saiyan surged forward, and his head slammed into Dorje’s bare chest, shrewdly avoiding slamming into the armoured head, the impact made Dorje grunt as he skidded backwards, the two separated by the hard impact.

That hit had hurt, this saiyan was skilled, and he was grinning, “Well I’m impressed Earther, you actually took a hit.” He said in an arrogant manner, why did he speak like that, why did he talk during combat? That was a distraction to ones own concentration, was he really so confident that he could beat Dorje that he didn’t need to focus on it? The arrogant manner of the saiyan, so different from what Dorje was used to, was getting his back up, was really starting to get under his skin, and he adopted his combat stance again. He would show this ‘saiyan’ what it meant to be truly dedicated to martial arts! It was uncommon for Dorje to take the first move, but he did so this time! Two long strides took him up towards the saiyan, where his left palm lashed out for his chest, the saiyan stepped to the side, his body twisting so that the palm swept past, and here there was a difference, the saiyan was expecting an attack from the right hand, with Dorje’s whole body turning to put power into it, something that he would have great time to counter, but that’s not what Dorje did. His body tensed, his fingers curled into a fist, and his left hand swung up and back, slamming into the saiyan’s chest, making him stagger backwards. It wasn’t a truly painful blow, but it was enough to take him off guard. Then that hand flashed up, the fist grazing his chin and rocking his head back, it didn’t have anywhere near the strength of an uppercut, but it sent his head back, and forced him to take a few steps back in surprise to get some distance.

Now Dorje twirled, his feet spreading and his whole body turning as his right hand finally came in a hard open palm that struck the saiyan in the stomach, sending him skidding back himself. His face was one of surprise, however, to showcase the sheer difference in discipline and focus between them, Dorje gave no snide comment, and merely regained his standard, basic stance once more. The saiyan stared at him in some surprise, before his jaw tightened, visibly clenching in a most satisfactory manner. Yet, the strange man with the mohawk suddenly surged forward, a look of anger on his face, why did he get angry that his opponent had landed a hit? Was his reason for coming here not to find a worthwhile opponent? Yet, Dorje could not ask, and needed to focus regardless, the saiyan came in with a powerful punch from his right hand, the fist coming in from the side in a cross. Dorje’s hand intercepted, the open palm slamming into the saiyan’s hand and diverting the punch, while his right darted forward in another hard slam to his opponent’s stomach. However, the saiyan’s body shifted right, while his right arm threw itself back away from Dorje’s deflecting had, and his left hand went forward. There was a sense of gathering power...and then a bright light engulfed Dorje’s vision. There was a massive explosion and he was thrown backwards, his chest erupting in pain as if his entire chest had been struck by a massive hand! He managed to keep his feet, skidding across the ice as smoke drifted up from his chest where the ki blast had hit. His vision cleared quickly and he stared at the saiyan in surprise, he had never encountered anything like that before!

The saiyan seemed to know that too, and aimed a half open palm at Dorje’s feet, before shooting another blast of ki. Dorje skipped backwards, one hand coming up to shield himself as chips of ice and rock were thrown up by the blast. Yet, the saiyan launched another after that, and then another, the off guard monk, dodging and leaping to try and avoid the blasts. “That’s it, dance Earther, ahahaha!” He called out arrogantly, and those words, again he spoke during a fight, and now he wasn’t even fighting he was making a mockery of the monk! Anger blazed in Dorje’s eyes, but anger would get him nowhere here, these strange projectiles needed calm and focus to be avoided and woven through that Dorje could get close to the arrogant fighter. He needed focus, and the monastery taught all its members a specific heightened sense of mind...called the Oneness. It was a mental trick really, a way of distancing the mind from the sensations of the body to heighten their awareness and how they thought and reacted. So, Dorje inhaled and exhaled slowly as he danced and jumped around the blasts, he focused his thoughts and feelings all into one tight spot in his mind, he visualized it all being piled together, until all of his mental processes were in one small pile in the great emptiness of his mind, and then pushed those thoughts into the very back of his mind. His mind was empty of all thoughts or emotions, empty of all conflict here, his thoughts and feelings isolated into this tiny little pocket in the back of his head. With this his senses were ‘heightened’ at least in the sense that he was using them fully, by removing all thought and feeling the only input his mind had to worry over, was that which his senses were providing him, the feel of the cold on his skin, the sight of the blasts moving through the air, it was all enhanced, he could see everything, even though the sensations were in the back of his head, the actual effects of the cold, the pain of his bruises, the sting of the cold, they were someone else’s pain, on someone else’s body.

He started to dodge more easily, his limbs moving more cleanly, while Dorje didn’t quite know how to explain it, the truth was that the monastery’s oneness was a way of...powering up, a way of unleashing the full power that no being could keep up at all times due to the strain that would put on themselves. It was an unintended, but useful side effect of initiating the Oneness, some might say that the other effects of it were purely psychological, and it was the only truly meaningful one, but those people were not Dorje. Suddenly he sprang into motion, weaving his way through the blasts, he leaped over one, and then ducked as he landed, his legs going into a lunge that kept him going forward. He quickly got his legs back next to each other just in time to sidestep another, and by now the saiyan’s expression had gone from grinning, to surprised. A blast he shot hit Dorje in the shoulder, an explosion of smoke rising up, but he kept going forward, it was someone else’s shoulder, someone else’s pain. The monk kept going forward, and now he was too close for the saiyan to keep up the blasts, that and if the saiyan tried he would find himself getting pummeled relentlessly, for the very moment Dorje was in range, he attacked.

He was like an engine of attack, his body pivoting back and forth as his hands flew into a flurry of motion. Palm after palm went forward, the motion of one going forward was used to pull the other palm back so that that palm then going forward would pull the first palm back. AGain and again, his body moving with as much speed as his bulky body could muster, and the saiyan was put immediately onto the back foot. His own fists were a blur as he struggled to defend against the implacable assault, Dorje putting everything he had into this, pulling back only as far as he absolutely had to, thrusting just enough to get the full impact, and then back and the other went forward. The saiyan was moving quick to try and keep up with the combination of rapid, light attacks and the minimal movement used to minimize the effects of Dorje’s weak speed, but he was still taking hits. A palm slammed into his shoulder, sending him staggering, he blocked the other palm only for the returning left to take him in the chest, and then the right took him straight in the face, bringing a muffled grunt as he reeled back. Then, Dorje suddenly brought his left leg up in a sweeping kick to the left side. The saiyan though, reacted quickly, his arms seized it, grunting as it impacted his side, but he had a firm grip on the bastard! He grinned widely, but dorje...Dorje broke that little rule about not speaking, just this once...just for the satisfaction of it. “You’re open.”

Then his right leg lifted up, pushing off the ground in a half jump, it soared up as his body went Horizontal, his left leg twisting in the saiyan’s grasp as his right came in, and the leg slammed into the side of the saiyan’s head. It was a brutal solid impact, and one that was rarely used, he used the saiyan’s own grip on his left leg as the anchor to unleash the powerful attack with his right, it was a very special gamble, a technique not taught to beginners at the monastery, but one that if used correctly, if used smartly, could inflict some serious damage, such as now. His grip on Dorje’s leg vanished, and the human completed his flipping spin, landing facing away from the saiyan, his body in a half crouch, legs out behind him, toes dug into the ice and one hand catching himself. Then he leaped up and spun, his arms coming up in preparation for the saiyan’s counter attack...but he needn’t have bothered. The saiyan was still holding his cheek, stunned, back from where he’d staggered back...there was actually bit of blood leaking out of his nose from the force of the impact to the side of his head. “You...you little…” His face was a picture of fury, which still baffled Dorje, the man had deliberately come here seeking an opponent, and now he got upset when that opponent was skilled? This battle was still far from over after all! “I’ll kill you! I’ll blow this whole place to smithereens!” His arms went down to his sides and he bent forward as he gave a rather...shocking exclamation, but what was more worrying was the fiery white aura that surrounded him, and the way the ground started to tremble, his power was rising significantly, and Dorje warily brought his fists back up.

Yet, right as the strange mohawk bearing saiyan was about to attack, another voice cut in, “Omat, the hell are you doing?!” Dorje looked up, and saw another saiyan. This one though had a skin tight blue suit with white gloves and boots, and his body armor was white with the yellow stripes on shoulder pads and stomach plate. He was a bit taller than Mohawk, but a bit slimmer, if still well roped with muscle. His hair was shaped into four waxed spikes, they drooped on the back of his head, the lower two went just past the small of his back while the top two ended right past his shoulders. His power though was...impressive, awe inspiring in fact, Dorje had never felt anything like it!

The other saiyan immediately froze, that powerful aura vanishing as he looked up in surprise...and a little fear. “I...Asparo, these Earthers, they-”

“Are you telling me that you can’t even handle a few Earthers?” The new saiyan, this...Asparo, asked contemptuously, arms folded as he floated down to the ground and settled down to the ice.

“I...no, of course not Asparo, it’s ju-”

“Just nothing, you were supposed to be finding us some entertainment on this backwater rock.” The clearly superior saiyan rudely interrupted before. For Dorje it was clear that Asparo was stronger, and probably of a higher rank than Omat...but, their interaction baffled him. There was no respect, and no friendship that he could see...it looked more like a bully and some poor fool he forced into following him to inflate his ego...but this man didn’t need a follower, his power was incredible!

“Yeah well…”

“What happened to your face? What did this Earther manage to actually hit you?” With that the tougher saiyan turned to look at Dorje, and he too had one of those strange devices on his head, which he tapped, making those symbols appear. “oho, not bad Earther, you’ve actually got a small amount of strength...a small amount.” It was strange, he didn’t sound as insulting as the other...was it possible that his disrespectful attitude towards this Omat was purely because of how Omat himself acted? It didn’t excuse this saiyan from not teaching Omat a better way to conduct himself as a warrior, but it did alleviate some of his behavior, if only very slightly. “Well then, what say you try me? If you could hurt him like that you might actually be worth a few moments of my time.”

Fighting a warrior like this would end in defeat for Dorje, something that didn’t hold much appeal to the strongest warrior in the monastery, but...if he could manage to at least earn such a warrior’s respect that would bring him great honor and respect, just one solid blow could do it, even if he was utterly pummeled. All the monks around, and a couple dozen had gathered to observe the spar between the stranger and Dorje, could sense Aspero’s power. Besides which, if he observed carefully, even when he was beaten, he might learn something useful, so he nodded, “I would be honored, Aspero. I am Dorje, of the Forceful Fist.”

“Hoh, that hesitation. Can it be you can sense ki Earther? You’ve got some serious balls then if you can.” With that he adopted a combat stance, his legs spreading wide, his left hand went up by his head, fingers curled, while his right went back to his side and just a bit behind him. Dorje gave him the same fist to palm bow, and then adopted his own stance. “Well then Earther, come on, impress me.” At that challenge, and the refusal to use Dorje’s name given in good respect, spurred the monk on to land at least one solid blow. He moved forward, two long steps closing the gap to Aspero as his left palm lashed out for the exposed chest of the Saiyan. Yet, Aspero’s left arm moved as a blur, and knocked the palm down before it could hit and then his right darted forward, surging to strike Dorje in the chest, his own arm tried to catch it, and he managed to hit it right as he was slapped in the chest, making him stagger backwards a few steps in shock. This saiyan was incredibly fast! Yet, Dorje quickly recovered, giving himself a shake as he strove to focus, forcing his thoughts back into that pocket, clearing his mind completely, that was someone else’s surprise, someone else’s shock. Then he surged forward again.

Dorje’s palms lashed out, striking towards chest, face, stomach, and shoulders. Yet, Aspero was there to intercept every palm thrust, to deflect every fist! He had an amused smirk on his face, and it was painfully obvious that he was toying with Dorje, and Dorje was getting more and more frustrated. He wasn’t so proud as to think he could win, but he was certain that he was good enough to get in at least one blow, one shot, that was all he wanted, and he would have it! The monk stepped back, his assault ceasing for just a hairsbreadth, before his left palm thrust up towards Aspero’s head. Yet, a split second later he pulled it back as his right, clenched into a fist slammed towards the gut, a feint! It worked too, the saiyan’s arm went up to stop the attack that didn’t land, but he had another, his other arm came in and grabbed Dorje’s wrist right as the knuckles made contact with his armor...but that didn’t stop the attack. Dorje’s ki was thrust up into the punch, it was forced into it, filling it up, before it forcibly emerged from the fist. It slammed into Aspero’s armor...and he actually staggered backwards in shock as the ki added a hard impact despite the ceasing of his fist’s momentum.

“Well now, you really do hit hard Dorje...but I hit harder.” The monk took a moment to register that Aspero had used his actual name, and then suddenly the saiyan moved at a blinding speed. Dorje’s mind hadn’t even processed his movement when he felt himself folding over the fist that had landed into his gut. The pain didn’t actually come until he was flying through the air, his body sent hurtling by the tremendous, powerful impact, and then, he hit the ground, bright searing pain blotted out all thought...and he fell into darkness.

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Consciousness returned slowly to the monk, awareness returning gradually. Sensation returned as his eyes rolled and stirred beneath his eyelids, he could feel something soft and warm draped over his body, tucked in under his chin...a blanket, and the firm, if softer than the floor, object was a pallet. He slowly twitched his fingers and then curled them...and became aware of a lingering soreness in his stomach. Right, the ‘spar’ with Aspero, although it honestly hadn’t been much of a spar. Dorje had been taken out in one hit...although, he had managed to land one solid blow, thanks to the Blast Punch. That was something to be proud of, something to appreciate, he shouldn’t knock something like that. One blow was something, if something small. Now, he opened his eyes to look up and outwards, and...yes he was in his room, his quarters in the monastery. He had not been injured too greatly, or one of the monks trained in medicine and healing would be in his room to watch over him. His head guard was set onto the chest that held his few meager possessions, and he slowly sat up. His hand rubbed his stomach, where a bruise had formed over the toned muscles beneath the skin. He headed over to his head guard and examined it, it was intact and fine, not too surprising, he hadn’t taken any headshots. Then, Dorje realized that he was actually rather hungry, he had likely been out for several hours. For his own curiosity he looked out the window and...the sun was setting, it had been morning when he had fought the two saiyans. Oh yes, it was definitely time to get some dinner.

So he headed out into the halls after slipping his boots back on. From there it was a simple thing to head on to the dining hall and get dinner, dinner was the only meal that actually had meat in it in addition to the usual, simple white rice. While Dorje ate he thought, his mind wandered on tracks that it had so rarely wandered down before the saiyans had arrived this morning. It was strange how one simple event could make one think of new things but...Dorje could not help but think...of the world outside. Always before, the world outside was this strange, mysterious place, where people knew little of honor and balance, where they didn’t know the value of silent respect and intense concentration. It was a strange place full of fantastic things that simply baffled him, flying cars, massive spires that reached to the skies, and even aliens that came to conquer or trade. Why would one need a flying car? Could they not simply run where they needed to go? Why did the aliens come to conquer? What was the point in owning anyone through brute force other than to be a bully? For most of his life he had simply accepted these things and then continued to go about his days training his fists in the monastery….but now, now he wondered. The outside world had produced fighters of terrifying strength, to the point where Dorje couldn’t comprehend them. Could they be considered normal warriors? Were they exceptional among their own kind, or were they simply normal, the villagers had said the saiyans were supposed to be of great power...so what would a true leader or great warrior of the saiyans be like? Was Aspero such a warrior, or was he only average, or just slightly above average?

Dorje did not know, and where tales of flying machines and great spires had been mere simple curiosities that did not much worry him, the thought of such warriors, of a people where such incredible strength was commonplace...that idea haunted him, it filled him with a devilish desire that he simply could not place. It bothered him immensely...but he did not know what to do, and so he went back to his training. Yet, there was something that bothered him as he trained, he still sparred and practiced, he worked in his swordsmanship and his martial arts, he trained with Tashi, taught some of the new monks in the basics of the Forceful Fist, and two days passed...but that feeling kept niggling at him, it kept nagging at his consciousness...and he was starting to place what it was, he was starting to figure out just what it was that had been bothering him so badly, and it was something he needed to discuss with the Elder, the ‘head monk’ at the monastery so to speak. So, he went to see him. The Elder was the...well oldest, great age could confer great wisdom with experience, so the monastery firmly believed and firmly taught. The Elder was a skilled warrior, with ages of experience, and according to the other monks, had come from outside the monastery, having appeared to them as a full grown man with a list of adventures behind him, seeking quiet solitude to continue his training, and the monastery had taken him in with open arms.

His chambers were in the center of the temple and it was there that Dorje traveled, nodding to the other monks he passed, before he knocked on the doorway to the Elder’s chambers, he had no door either, but he also had no windows, and a small shrine to the spirits that oversaw everything dominated the wall opposite the doorway, candles lit and arranged all along it. Above the shrine, set on a board against the wall, was the Elder’s head guard and sword. The elder himself was kneeling in front of the shrine, head bowed, his few wisps of white hair sticking up on his head. His body had the look of what was once an incredibly fit form, now slowly succumbing to age, the definition of muscles still there, but...looser, smaller, and less impressive than the tight, toned bodies of younger humans. It was still the body of an old master, of someone who could still fight and with great ease, but one that was clearly starting to fade as well, a statue slowly giving way to the weathering winds. “You may enter.” His voice was deep...but with a slight rasp to it, even his voice starting to fade with the years.

“Pardon the intrusion Elder, but, I wished to speak with you.” Dorje said as he stepped into the room, the elder did not turn around from the shrine yet, but he did acknowledge.

“Ahhhh, Dorje, I have been expecting you.” With that the old monk stood up, rising to his feet and slowly turning around. Stark blue eyes, rather different from those of anyone else stared at the young warrior, and those eyes had not faded, they had lost none of their sharpness, none of their vibrancy, and with his nose curved down like that...he looked almost like the falcon tattooed onto his left shoulder.

“You have?” That took Dorje aback, a confused look arising upon his face.

“Oh yes, ever since I heard of what happened with those two saiyans who visited us a few days ago.” He started to circle around the room, a string of prayer beads in hand as he spoke, “You have been feeling...restless, strange thoughts have been filling your head and you’re not quite sure what to do about them, how to act or deal with them.”

The look upon the young fighter’s face was one of...utter surprise and shock. “Yes, that’s what’s going on. Elder how did you know? What’s going on?”

“You, young Dorje, have been afflicted with Wanderlust. You desire to see the world outside, your subconscious wants to see what the world, and maybe even the worlds, have to offer you.” The words sent a chill through Dorje but...they felt true, at being told straight out that he wanted to leave the monastery and see the world...it made certain sense. His thoughts had been on the world outside, on the strangers who came from it. “You know that some monks leave on pilgrimages yes?”

“Of course.” Dorje said, his head snapping up as he was asked a direct question. “Yet, what does that have to do with this?”

“It’s simple Dorje.” the Elder said with a light chuckle, “Most of the time, well over half, the monks that leave on pilgrimages have such a wanderlust. WE do not try to crush your desire to see the world, if it comes up, we encourage it. We send you out with our blessing on a journey of self discovery, to sate your curiosity, and use this opportunity to grow and learn, and become a better warrior, a better individual.” He waited until Dorje nodded, but then spoke up again, “However, I must ensure that you are ready, you are the greatest warrior at this monastery but there are more important things than simple strength of fists. I must test you and ensure that your mind is steady enough, that you are prepared in both body and mind.” As he spoke, the elder altered his course, until he was heading back to the altar. “Fetch your gear Dorje, both sword and mask. Our next words will be exchanged with fists.” With those words, the elder lifted his mask off the mount, and Dorje, still surprised, quickly left to get it. A duel with the elder, Dorje might be stronger, but he had no doubts that the Elder was still skilled, that there was knowledge and wisdom he could grant in the exchange of fists that Dorje could not think of. So, he moved, he practically ran through the halls, much to the consternation of other monks around him. He rushed to his room, and fetched his head guard, strapping it to his head quickly, hiding nose and the scarred mouth. He fetched his sword, lightly curved and designed for speed and fast, quick slashing, quite similar to the ‘katana’ that was used often in the world outside the monastery. He strapped this to his back so that the hilt was sticking out over his right shoulder, and then rushed back to the elder’s chamber.

The wizened old warrior was waiting, sitting cross legged with eyes closed. His own blade on his back and his mask on, with his hooked nose hidden, he looked much like an older version of Dorje. He rose as the young warrior entered the room, and his fists raised, right arm by his right shoulder, left hand forward. The young monk stepped forward, and then did the same, he did not know if he would truly be using his sword here...and well he wouldn’t put it past the elder, but he intended to show his beliefs, to demonstrate his balance and steadiness of mind here in this fight. Both inhaled and exhaled slowly, as both adopted the Oneness, both monks emptied their minds, forced all extraneous thought and emotion into the very backs of their heads, tucked into a pocket separated from the mind so that all focus was on the information provided by their senses, with all distractions gone, their true powers emerged, powers rising as a gentle breeze was stirred up by the two powers facing each other. They slowly started to edge towards each other and then...the elder struck. HIs left palm lashed out in a basic opening move, and Dorje’s own left deflected it, sliding under the elder’s arm in an open palm strike aimed at the side. However, the elder brought his left hand down and turned, in a move that Dorje hadn’t been expecting he trapped Dorje’s left hand, and then his right went forward to strike at the youth’s muscled chest!

The younger fighter’s right hand darted in, moving the palm thrust up and sliding his right forward, only for the elder to trap that as well, but Dorje knew his game now. The elder’s knee came up to try and take advantage of Dorje’s lack of guard, only for the youth’s knee to slam up into his, the two attacks canceling each other out! Yet Dorje wasn’t finished there, his head surged forward, he was determined, he was set, he was going to prove his worth to the elder, and that meant he couldn’t hold himself back! HIs head surged forward, and slammed into the elder’s face guard with a heavy crack, sending his head reeling back, his grip loosened somewhat from the shock, and Dorje ripped his hands free. However, instead of back he pulled his left right and his right left, so that they met in the middle, his open palms just a few inches from the elder’s chest, and those inches vanished in a moment as he thrust both hands forward. They hit with a hard smack, the impact sending the elder skidding back, his feet dragging across the stone floor as his hands went out and he bent forward, before he recovered, getting his hands back up as the two stared at each other again. There was no need for the elder to state that that was an impressive recovery on Dorje’s part, the wary way he held his hands, the way he had immediately brought his defenses back up to defend had shown that more than enough, and Dorje’s willingness to wait for him to get ready showed his understanding that he had outplayed the elder. Then the two moved to each other again.

There palms blurred as they exchanged and traded, every now and then a fast knee rushed up only to be countered or met with another knee, the two slowly moved, slowly rotating back and forth as they fought. Yet, while the Elder was struggling, while sweat was running down both bodies as the Elder slowly took hit after hit, he was still going, showcasing an impressive stamina, an impressive vigor, and then suddenly the battle took on a drastic switch. It happened with a simple exchange, Dorje deflected a right palm thrust with his left, sending his own right forward, when the elder...ducked under it, and his left hand formed into a hard palm that surged upwards, it struck Dorje solidly on the chin, a hard upper palm, but it was more than that. There was a feeling of...force behind it, a feeling of an intense, sustained burst of ki. It was similar, very similar to the Burst Punch that the monks practiced here, but different, stronger, more….forceful. It lifted Dorje off his feet and sent him upwards, hurtling through the air until he slammed into the wall and fell down. That had been…a surprisingly painful attack, and he picked himself up slowly, his eyes holding a new wariness as he brought his fists up, but…”That is enough Dorje. You have proven your determination.”

Dorje blinked in surprise, but still he pushed palm to fist and bowed in respect to the end of the spar, while the elder did the same. Then he moved to sit back in front of the shrine, and beckoned Dorje closer, who walked forward and then sat down himself, folding his legs as he faced the elder. “Elder...that last attack...what was that?”

“That was a technique of my own design, refined from the technique that the Forceful Fist primarily teaches. It is a simple thing, the Force Palm, but useful. I will not teach it to you though.” He said simply, slowly unstrapping his head guard and setting it down next time.

“What? Why not?” Dorje asked, leaning forward despite himself

“It is simple, I have engraved the technique onto your body, and whether you can figure out how to replicate the Force Palm yourself..is a test, something to drive you, to keep you going during your journey outside. However, I have one other thing for you, a goal, a quest...more of a legend really.” The elder shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and Dorje wisely followed suit, and then, the elder spoke. “In distant legend it is spoken that a great spirit of the fist, a true supernatural master of martial arts beyond anything any man could compare to, rules over a great land of balance and peace. Only those who prove themselves are truly welcome in his land. Those who wish the opportunity to prove themselves must go on a journey of discovery. Those who have trained with the ancients, with great masters and fulfilled great and terrible tasks that they decide...one may be given such an opportunity, a chance to prove themselves worthy of this being’s gifts and training. That is your quest, a possible goalpost for your journey. You do not need to go after it, it is a vague legend that there is likely no truth to, but it might keep you going. When you seem to have nothing else to do, seek out a master, an old master of fist or blade, and have him teach you. For a start, seek out a Master Roshi, he teaches many martial artists here on Earth.”

Dorje listened quietly, and took in every last trace of those words. It was likely a legend, and a vague one at that, ‘train with a lot of old masters and a spirit might give you something’ and such forth. Legends like that were rather common, even with Dorje’s limited education. Still he stood up and bowed again, “Thank you elder.”

“Of course, let the spirits guide your pilgrimage Dorje, and may skill and balance guide your blade.” With that, Dorje turned and walked out of the room. It would take a bit to leave, those who left on pilgrimage were given some basic supplies, a bit of money, some food to keep them going, but after that they’d need to find a way to fend for themselves. Dorje’s time at the monastery was over for now, he was sure he’d return later, perhaps in a few years, a decade or two at worst..but return he would, and likely with a whole boatload of adventures, and skill and ability to outmatch even Aspero. Dorje’s journey, was just beginning.

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