The Rebuilding and Reforming of the Clans

[Ciata]

Martusa, the city that was spared destruction due to the sacrifice of a third of the Raja Borah when threatened by rouge enemy forces from Shimandu, however, it was not spared twice. During the rather short war against the rebel forces, Martusa was a hot spot for clashes between the rising rebel forces and the valiant Chit-Raka freedom fighters. Though they were iron willed, their weapons were virtual antiques, fighting against armour and guns with their traditional spears, bows, and captured firearms which were poorly used. The city quickly fell and the strikes against the rebel forces occupying it only brought down harsh judgment, laying several entire city blocks to waste. Now that the rebel forces have been vanquished, the rebuilding efforts have begun as the winter months set in, bringing much welcome cooler weather to the region.

Amidst the reconstruction there has given rise to a rumor to one who appears to be what is known as the Shoo-Baw, or the restorer promised long ago in prophecy. This figure, seemingly coming at the perfect and predicted time, when the clans are virtualy leaderless and destroyed, prophecy seems to unfold as rumors or miracles spread.

The southern clans differ from the northern ones in that the Ciatan that generaly make them up have shorter, lighter fur for the warmer area. Also they make a habbit of wearing far less clothing than the robes and cloakes of their northern brethren, often with some wearing little more than the neccecities when at work or at play in the southernmost clans. The atmosphere is also much lighter, being that they have a much longer growth season and dont have to labor as hard to grow the food they need for winter, which is spent mainly indoors learning or doing some of the various crafts they have time for. The people still prefer clat vessels to the "un-natural" types such as plastic, and enjoy making and decorating them themselves.

Martusa was long known for it's seasonal festivals and wonderfull dances, which has grown over the years into a vibrant display of acrobatics and long, energetic dances. The people of Martusa are taking a much needed break from their constant work to take part in their coming of winter festival. The attitudes of the Chit-Raka and Ciatan living in the city are always ready to bound back from any adversity and into a party of some sort to raise their spirits.

As decorations and preperations are finished, they launch into their party mode, casting off the worries and sorrows of past months as they lighten their paws to their lively and pulsing music that echos across the flat ground for hours

[image]

As dancers like the one above frolic amid the celebration, there is a more somber conversation going on among some of the town leaders,

"We've run out wine, there just isn't any left."

"We hardly had any to begin with, those cursed rebels drank nearly all of it while they were here."

"What are we going to do now? Our winter's festival has always been famous for it's dandylion and chenin wine to warm the stomachs before the cold winters come."

"It's going to put a damper on the party to be sure when they find out we dont have any more."

"Perhaps I could help."

The main group turns around to look at a rather plain, southern Ciatan standing there who's only special decoration would be his eyes from which the feeling of caring pours forth.

One of the men recognizes him though, "Wait, aren't you the one they call the Shoo-Baw? Of course you can help, if you would that is. We've run out of wine and the festival has virtualy just begun."

The group clamors at this as he asks, "Where do you keep the wine tuns?"

"Over there, in that building, right through that door sir."

They follow the Shoo-Baw into the large building which is dominated by two huge barrels, capable of holding about 250 gallons a piece, are held.

"The left held the dandylion wine, and the right the chenin, but as soon as the rebels found out about it, they drained it and we had just started to fill it with our stores just now, and we ran out quickly."

The Shoo-Baw walks up to the right tun and knocks on it, and instead of a hollow echo, it gives off a more faint sound, one of a barrel filled with liquid. Hearing this the group clamors for a cup and open the nozel, which was formely empty, and out comes chenin wine, smelling perfectly aged. They go over and test the dandylion, and it proves to sound full and taste perfect as well.

They all turn excitedly around to thank the Shoo-Baw, but he had already left, leaving gidy, but confused Ciatan with fuel for their annual party.

[Ciata]

A tradition, like many in Ciata, which has been carried out for centuries. The clan's martial arts tournament. It began some 800 years ago before the clans were ever united. Legend has it that it was a duel between the southern Rabana' clan's Hamintan and northern Zhang Yi clan's Kardon. They both were legendary masters of the sword and champions of their halves of the land. They met in Paradoria, a large city that existed between the two halves, to see who was the greatest sword fighter in the land. Hamintan pitted his Nan Dao, the burning fate, against Kardon's katana, the wind's justice.

As the legend goes they fought sword against sword for two days, until the two battered weapons both broke in a ferocious blow. They spent another day fighting paw to paw, both fighting for their clan's and their side's honor, as well as their own pride. There had never been a more evenly matched pair of warriors, and when the dust and snow settled, both had collapsed, still locked in struggle. After they had been taken back by their respective sides and rested and healed, they met again, this time in peace, and vowed to meet again a year later to fight again. That tradition continued on through the years, and as the two halves of the land broke up again into clans, they continued sending their own champions to face off for the pride of their clans. Also they continued the tradition of the first battle and kept the bouts non-lethal.

The time for the tournament has once again come, and the city of Paradoria has prepared for the three days of fighting. The first rounds are devoted to the reason for the first meeting, the champion of the sword, where all types of blades clash to see who the greatest blade master is. The second set of rounds are devoted to un-armed combat, just as the two of old resorted to. The last area is where all weapons and forms of fighting are open, to see who is indeed the greatest fighter. Only traditional, blunted or otherwise weapons are used, and staying non-lethal is a top priority, but for many warriors they train all year and their whole lives to enter, and the competition is fierce, as skills passed down for centuries and perfected are put to the test.

Already there are some 150 top fighters come to compete, and still a couple days before the start of the rounds. The draw for these fighters is often not just honor and pride; there is a certain amount of reward that goes along with a victory, not only immediate, but also long term in having a title such as the best warrior among all the clans. Because of this there are many who compete, not for honor, but for a chance for greatness and riches, or for some, survival. The occupation or wandering warrior doesn't pay much after the war was over, and even with local officials recruiting their own private forces to keep the peace, there are many who drift about, training and doing odd jobs and escorts and the like. Many of the contenders at the yearly competitions are these type, often desperate and on hard times, because it is said that true masters stay away from such publicity and the rich compete for honor and reputation, and some to simply test their skills and improve or to secure future jobs for top officials in need of body guards.

One of the more desperate ones is a Chit-Raka male, known as Thunder Zhao Choy. He enters late in the afternoon into the registering office for the competitions to sign up to compete. His face was once very fair and handsome, but now is starting to show the weathering of his travels and the harshness of the life he has lived. His eyes seem permanently burdened by some old inner wound that keeps them from flaring up with excitement as he enters to be checked in to compete in this tournament. His enters the room in his best, but still aging maroon cloak with yellow cuffs and edges that zigzag across and his weapon, a spear made of a dense, black wood and bronze colored metal coating the top part of the shaft near the blade which is rather long, about a foot, topping off the weapon which stands altogether at about eight feet. There were no other warriors there at the time, so he walks up to the desk to give the couple of Ciatan females who had been chatting before he came in his information.

"Hello sir, I assume you are here to register for the competition." the left one chimes, for the dozenth time that day.
"Yes, I am Thunder Whip Choy. I'm here for the all around weapons competition."
"Alright, Mr. Choy, I'll also need your weapon type, age, and martial art styles."
"I use my spear, and I am trained in Choy-Le-Fut kung fu, my great-grandfather's system, and I'm 38."
"Alright sir, you'll need to check and sign here *the right one hands him the filled out form* and remember to check your weapon in with the inspector and read the safety and conduct rules well."
He scribbles his signature of his fighting name on the sheet and hands it back over and turns and starts walking out with the left girl calling out, "Good luck sir."
He gives off a tired sigh, "Well, that's over with at least." And heads back down the wide street that has started to become more sparse with its walkers, even though it is still crowded with the visitors, come to watch the tournament. He and his weapon get more than a few admiring and wondering looks from the people come to see the battles as he ignores the crowds and the looks as he heads back to the small hotel with his head drooping from a long day of traveling from the southern deserts.

He arrives at the small hotel which is well off the main and upper areas of the city, one of the few that had any rooms left, and likely he had only gotten one because he was a competitor. He walks in and is greeted with a bow from the male Ciatan working the desk in his gray uniform. He nods in reply and heads up the flight of stairs whose green carpet is starting to thread from all of the claws that had passed over it, mainly Chit-Raka rear claws that can't retract to begin with. He heads down the narrow hallway and finally makes it back to his room, 27, and opens the door, which lacks a lock due to the general trust of the people, only a slot to hold cards such as, "Occupied" or, "Do not disturb".

He steps in and looks into the room which is only lit now by a single desk light, and for the first time all day his eyes soften and a trace of a smile comes across his muzzle. Laid out on the bed was his daughter, her rather odd body that is not quite fully matured yet, sprawled out still in her sand and white colored outfit on the covers and cushions. Which compared to their usual bedding arrangement when traveling, a bed roll and their spare clothes as a pillow, was luxurious. She was worn out from another long day of walking and he knew she had probably tried to wait for him in the short while he was gone, but had quickly dozed off anyway. He found himself, as usual, pitying her and the things she had to go through and sat down on the bed after placing his spear against the wall beside him and started to pet her lightish gold head.

She was one of the few, and likely soon to be less than a few in a few years, Ciatan and Chit-Raka cross-breeds. She had short limbs than a Chit-Raka and a thicker body structure. Her fur was also of medium length and milky white with a gold tint and larger spots than a Chit-Raka, but smaller than a Ciatan's. Her tail was also an in-between mix, long enough so that it just barely touches the ground, but only a couple inches thick.

She began to become slightly conscious, at least enough to start purring without being awake enough to wonder who was petting her, or barely enough to know that someone was. A few happy memories drift across Choy's mind watching her sleep and listening and feeling her per as he gently stroked her head and he is lost in nostalgia for a few minutes before realizing again just how tired he was. He carefully gets up off the bed and takes off his outer cloak, giving a slight shiver at the cold of mid-winter in a much cooler area than he usually roamed, and he carefully slides under some of the covers and quickly drifts off to sleep to the sound of his daughter's lingering purring. As the father Choy slept, many other warriors wandered through the streets and buildings of this central city. Others, younger and with fewer cares of responsibilities, enjoyed the treatment as, at least temporary, celebrities, giving impromptu displays of their skills intoxicated by either/or the atmosphere of the tournament starting the next day, or the drinks they were treated to.
The tournament has always been a testing ground for many types of warriors. From young students recently weaned from their master's teachings or trying to make a name for themselves to seasoned fighters looking to improve their reputation to secure better jobs as guards, police, or escorts to masters seeking to find suitable competition or settle old rivalries inside the stadium. The tournaments are always full of characters from all over, and sometimes beyond, the land of Ciata, some with noble intent, some not so noble.

The rules of the tournament have protective standards set in place guarding both vital area of the body such as the heart with pads, and blunting or padding weapons to avoid serious injuries. However even with these things set in place there are always risks in fighting at such a level, and there have been many cases of deaths inside the tournament, and someone who kills a number of other competitors over the years is not allowed to re-enter again. The one who took the life is acquitted of the act, it being in a fighting tournament but he is also thrown out of that year's tournament under most circumstances. For this reason some enter the tournament with the sole purpose of taking another competitor’s life, most often one whom the one has a grudge against or has even been paid to kill for whatever reason their employer holds for another's death.
Such persons almost always enter under a false name, have little contact with other people when inside the city, wear some sort of disguise usually, and leave soon after their being thrown out of the tournament, so they would be able to move about and re-enter freely again.
Their reasons, employers, and their motives remain unknown to those who move around them. One such character stands watching a room on the second floor of a 3 floor hotel on the back streets of the city, disappointed as the lights go out so soon. Wrapping the heavy cloak tighter about it's thin frame, it lurks bad to one of the more up-scale hotels on the main street to also rest up for the next day of competitions, but only after paying a visit to one of the judges in charge of picking the competitors for the free-weapons competition and making a suggestion and an "un-related gift" as to a few breakdowns in the competition's order.
Choy woke up early the next morning, earlier than usual, to the feeling of his daughter slipping out of bed as carefully as she could, probably to go to a nearby restaurant and order him a breakfast to prepare him for the long day ahead of him. As much as he loved his daughter and protected her, he though it best to let her go and get it by herself, even if it was in a strange, large, crowded city, full of fighters from all over the clans. There usually was little to fear in any Ciatan city so he pretended not to notice and laid there dozing off again as she dressed and slipped out on her errand.
He woke again to the light from the window shinning in his eyes, prying him from his world of dreams and back to the reality that today he must fight, and fight with much on the line. Another reality set in, “Where’s my daughter?” Going to the window and looking outside at the sun he had to gather his thoughts for a moment as to what month it was before he guessed the time. “It’s about nine a clock, where is she? She slipped out about six. The places shouldn’t be that crowded. The opening ceremonies start at ten.”
As he rushed to get dressed he heard a soft paw knocking at his door. “Ah, that must be her.” Quickly walking over, smelling fresh food, and opening it, still half behind the door out of habit from his years of working in various security jobs, he is presented with not only his daughter standing there with breakfast under a cheap cloth in a small reed basket, but also an adult male Chit-Raka. “Tang!” The Chit-Raka, about his age, though looking better for it, comes in laughing and they grasp each other’s upper arms and touch foreheads in greetings. “Yes, it’s me. Sorry for delaying your breakfast, but when I saw your daughter, and how could anyone mistake her; I had to ask up on just what you’ve been doing these past few years and then we ate and I carried on as usual. She does have the better qualities of both you and…” He pauses, remembering Choy’s dislike of bringing up those painful memories, “…her. Why I think she got her looks and grace and eyes and maybe your ears, though I’m not sure.” “Oh, my best quality huh?” He gives him a playful shove and goes over to where his daughter had sat down the breakfast of toasted bread strips, a spicy dipping sauce, and fish which are cheap and plentiful in Paradoria, it being the largest fishing city in the country. He looks over to his daughter who has sat down on the bed with her feet folded up under her. “You’ve already eaten?” She just nods her head and watches with a little smile as her father digs into the food and chats with his old friend.
“So, I think I can guess why you’re here.” “Yep, here to compete in the sword duals.” “Still use your twins?” “Of course! I am Twin Tang after all.” Choy just grunts at that. “You actually changed your name to that? I still think that double broad swords are a bit of an unfair advantage.” “Well of course, how else am I supposed to win?” They both laugh at that and remain quite there-after for a little bit as Choy finishes his food quickly. Suddenly Tang remembers something, slapping his leg. “Guess who else is here.” Choy pauses and looks over to him, “I don’t know, a lot of fighters. Who?” “Kazaka San Wu.” “San is here too?” “Yep. Competing in the fist fighting of course, still using his Karate stuff. He competes every year from what I’ve heard.” Choy perks his ears and looks at him, “And just how do you find out all of this?” He gives a toothy grin. “Aw…I just ask.” “Uh-huh, ask who? Those girls at the registering desk?” “Those gals? Of course not, not at the desk at least.” He gives another grin as Choy shakes his head. “You really should just learn to ask, it’s cheaper that way rather than taking them out for a drink or something.” “But they work so hard…and how could I only take one of them out for a break and a drink?” “And was that all you took them out for?” “That and asking them about who was coming and who was in my brackets of course.” “Nothing else?” “Of course! Remember what the master says about mating before practice or competitions, “Never mate within 24 hours of training or fighting so you may have jing shen, or your maximum energy.”” “Yeah, and you would know. Anyway, it really is getting close to time for the starting ceremonies, we really should get going.” “That we should.” And without another word of minute wasted the three grab their weapons and/or cloaks and depart for the stadium.

[Ciata]

As they exit the backstreet hotel their thoughts focus on the upcoming competitions. “So, did your two sources tell you just how many are competing this year?” “Yes, actually that is one of the hottest topics everywhere in the city. If you got out more you would know that.” Ma-Tang winks and nudges Choy with that. “Do they say it’s because of the war?” “Of course, don’t you know, everything, good and bad, is because of the war. They say a lot of masters came out of their hidden training, and a lot of young guns went out and proved themselves and now are left thirsting for more battle.” Choy just nods and keeps walking. “They say masters came out of the woodworks when the invaders came to their towns. The average Lee next door or your gardener would whip out a can of woop-tail when their friends and neighbors were threatened. They also say a few true masters revealed themselves.” This finally gets a reaction out of Choy, “Really? I had begun to think that there weren’t any left, it’s been so long since our master died.” Ma-Tang and Choy both lower their heads and touch their foreheads then point to the heavens in recognition of their old master. “Yep, he was a piece of work alright.” Tang agrees. They have a brief pause in conversation on that note as they near the stadium, neither seeming all that excited about the upcoming fights, though Sha Mo’s tail is twitching back and forth revealing her feelings about it. Tang, always looking about at the ladies, catches a glimpse of her tail quickly swaying back and forth and grins. “Is this your first time to actually see a tournament? You were too young last time to remember probably.” She tries to stay her tail and nods “Yes, the only other time I was just four and don’t remember much.” Choy adds, “I didn’t let her see any of the actual fights back then. I usually had San watch after her while I was away.” “Ah, good old honorable San, a tad stale in character and a pain at a party, but painfully loyal.” “Yeah, I can’t wait to meet back up with him and see how he has fared these years.” “How long has it been for you two? You don’t exactly go on many northern vacations these days.” They’ve finally reached entrance for the competitors and their servants and now have to stand in line to be checked off and shown their way to their seats. “Well, last time I saw him was two years after my last tournament here when I was helping escort a large convoy of southern goods up to the old border at Shekinu. He was in charge of the group that was to take the goods into old Ciata at the time and we spent a couple days in the town catching up. So it’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other.” Tang shakes his head, “And I thought we haven’t seen each other in a long time, though three years still is far too long.” “That it is.” The two pause again and move up in the line, finally getting checked in among all the other fighters, a few of which Choy remembered seeing before. The large Ciatan who was checking off names stops Sha Mo. “Hey who are you here with?” She shrinks back slightly and fiddles with her necklace, “Oh umm, I’m here with my father, Choy.” “Thunder Zhao Choy?” “Yes, he’s right there.” The guard nods in approval. “Alright, move along miss.” She scurries to catch up with her father who had just turned around to look for her. “Hey dear, what kept you?” He asks as she catches up with them. “Oh, nothing, it was just the guy back there asking who I was with or if I was competing or something like that.” At that Tang chuckles, “Oh yeah, you look more like one of those giddy fan girls than a fighter here. Speaking of which Choy, have you taught her much?” Choy shakes his head as they set off down the hall to the stadium entrance. “No, not much, just some basic Tai Chi for exercise and basic defense. I’m hoping her life with be a bit more dignified than mine, and have less need for our type of skills.” Sha Mo nods, “Aye, our ways aren’t easy, and the life has its serious ups and downs, especially in your case. I don’t blame you for wanting her to live a different life, but now is the time for you to start living it Sha Mo. Huh, at six-teen there were very few things I’ve done by now that I hadn’t done by then and that was…” He gives out a slight hiss. “…about twenty years ago.” Choy spots a sign denoting where the warriors and their attenders are too split and go their own ways, one into the preparing areas where each fighter is given a small room in which to keep his weapons, clothing, medicine, and to rest in between rounds. “Okay Sha Mo, this is where we split up. We should be done in about half an hour or so and then be back to wait for our turn for combat.” She stops and looks anxiously down the hall filled with servants and friends of the fighters who are going their separate ways to wait or set up their master’s things. “Don’t worry dear, there is an observation deck made special for the competitors and the rest down here to watch. You can go and watch from there if you want and we can come get you after the thing is over.” This pleases her a bit and her expression and relaxes, “Good, I was worried about being alone with all of these people in here.” “I know, but it’ll be okay, after this either me, Tang, or San will be here with you.” She nods and turns, pausing for a moment to gather her will before leaving her father and starts down the long passageway full of interesting characters and total strangers.
The group finds their way down through the inner works of the massive stadium, who’s outside of consists of a massive sand colored dome with arched windows going straight up out of the sides through the massive walkways that are now crowded with spectators and representatives of possible future employers for those warriors out looking for a job, or open to taking a better one. Choy and Tang both are silent trying to focus on the long and trying day that likely awaits both of them. Following the crowd of distinguished competitors and also some less than distinguished ones, they finally make their way out into the center ground of the stadium and into a massive roar of anxiously awaiting fans and onlookers. The tails of the competitors flicker back and forth in excitement and the idea of impending battle.
After a few minutes of waiting for the last of the competitors to come trickling in, nearly all of the some 200 warriors are at least a bit nervous, if from nothing else from the some 25,000 pairs of staring eyes and roaring throats. Finally, with all of the competitors accounted for, the ceremony begins. Thunder Whip Choy and Hook Ma-Tang’s minds and eyes were anywhere but with the speaker whose monologue about the great history of the tournament, the story, the triumph over the recent invaders, bright future of the clans and so on, was being tuned out by most of the warriors who were likely all together for the only time for the whole tournament, before and after. This was one of the only free chances to size up the competition they would get. Analyzing eyes searched through the crowd gathered in the center of the stadium floor in loose rows trying to pick out who would be a possible future competitor, what their specialty was, weapon preference, martial arts style and so on. Choy and Ma-Tang, who were standing side-by-side, dressed in their maroon and jagged yellow and bright green, blue and red cloaks respectively. Ma-Tang leans over, keeping his head facing forward to the podium. “Spot San yet?” Choy shakes his head and replies, “No, but did you see the last two characters to come in?” “You mean the hooded ones?” Choy nods and Tang goes on, “Looked like a guy and a girl from their movement and size. Don’t think they are here together though, the girl kept glancing at the other one and he just ignored her.” Choy stops him with a grunt and a nod. Tang looks over at where he indicated where a large tiger was scratching his chin. Tang whispers, “Haven’t seen too many tigers, even after they were allowed to come into the Ciata. He’s big, and from the color of his paw he probably trains in Black Iron Paw, unless all tigers have solid black pads.” Both their ears perk upon catching something that the announcer was blaring, “Monks?” They both half whisper, half ask and start to look around, finally spotting three Ciatan monks, a massive one in a golden robe and two smaller ones in silver ones behind them in the back row where most of the other competitors were now also looking. “Sooo…” Ma-Tang starts, “The rumors were true, monks really are competing this year.” They both turn back around. “Choy. What do you think? The monks. I hope that huge one doesn’t use a sword.” He chuckles. “I doubt he’s here for that. Out of the three he’s the least likely to be in that area. I’d put my money on either bare paw fighting or something like a guan dao or a pair of massive twin hammers for someone his size, though he doesn’t seem like the slow and clumsy type.” “Yeah, I’d say that smaller one wields the sword and the old one is here for the fist fighting. He’s gonna make some poor kitten really embarrassed.”
None too quickly the announcer finished his speech and managed to succeed in getting the crowd even more excited about the upcoming fights and their voices roared in even more in expectation of the exciting battles due to play out before them. Even most of the younger fighters had gotten into the mindset for battle as the group went back to their preparation rooms for a short time while the stadium was being set up for the face-offs. As they turn around and walk off Choy taps his friends shoulder and points. “There he is.” Tang looks in-front of him about eight rows and spots San the Ciatan walking proudly in his hakama, a fancy divided outfit with wide and ruffled black lower half, and a loose white top with him family crests small on the front and large on his back. They keep their eyes on him as they walked back amid the roars of the crowd and in the middle of the group of warriors soon to be opponents.
They finally get back inside the building and into some form of quiet and quicken their pace to catch San, which was unnecessary because his room was one of the first on the right. They approach his doorway and peek in to see him with his back to them checking on his sword. Tang grins at Choy and crouches as if to pounce him when San remarks, “Don’t even think about it Tang.” Tang’s grin turns into a frown and he flops back down his tail. “You never were any fun.” Kazaka San Wu turns and walks over to them with a little grin and touch foreheads in greetings. “So how have you two been?” Choy shrugs “Life hasn’t exactly been a vacation.” Tang gives Choy a playful bump and a wink. “Well, I’VE managed to enjoy myself.” San shakes his head. “Nothing changed I see.” Choy agrees. “Well you sure haven’t. Time seems to have treated you well. You seem about the same as I remember you from last time, good looks, good clothes…and a good family.” He throws in that last remark as young Ciatan girl who appears in her early teens walks, in after slight hesitation, past the two Chit-Raka. “Your daughter?” Tang asks with slight tone of disappointment. “Yes, this is my daughter, Nera” “Oh well, another prospect down the drain.” “What Tang is trying to say is that she inherited your stunning good looks.” Choy explains with a grin. “Well he’s just jealous because his daughter didn’t have any from his side to get.” San shakes his head. “It’s fairly easy to see that neither of you have changed much at all, hmm?” They shake their heads and Choy throws in, “My daughter is around the same age as yours, you must have had her right after the last time we saw each other, which would make her, 13, 14?” Nera finally speaks up, “I turn 14 in two weeks.” “Ah, mine’s 16, and is probably wondering where I went off to. She was supposed to be watching the ceremony. Did you see her up there? She’s hard to miss, she’s a Chit-Raka and Ciatan mix.” Nera thinks and then shakes her head. “I didn’t see her, though there were over a hundred Chattan up there.” Tang dismisses it with a wave of his paw. “She’s probably just waiting back at Choy’s room and was sitting in the back and scampered out as soon as it was over. She seems a bit shy, you don’t let her out much do you Choy?” “No, I’m ashamed to say neither of us have too many real friends anymore down there. We’ve been living everywhere and nowhere, taking odd jobs, security, escort, whatever I can get. I do have to stay away from the more dangerous, and therefore the higher paying ones because I can’t put Sha Mo into serious danger.” After a moment of consideration, San responds, “I can understand how that feels Choy, but you can’t hide her from this world from her forever. Any walk of life in this land has some type of danger in it, no matter how well guarded something may be, or how well trained you are, things happen that we do not wish for and cannot stop. We all know this far too well…” The three old friends stand there in silent recognition of what San implied, leaving Nera in the dark about what they experienced in the past. “In any case…” Tang breaks the silence, “we had better get ready for the first round of the tournament!” San nods, “Ah yes, to battle.” “What are you competing in this time San? The sword or empty pawed?” Choy inquires. “Both. I’ve been training in unarmed combat especially in the past years, to always be ready and able to defend, even if my blade is not with me. Not that I’ve been slacking off with it either though.” “Blast it all!” Tang exclaims, “I was hoping to get lucky one year and not have someone who knows MOST my tricks in the same area as me.” San scoffs at that, “Last time I checked you only had one.” “Last time I checked I only needed one to beat you, but yes, I do have a few more tricks up my sleeves this time around.”
San and Tang stand smirking at each other as Choy’s mind again returns to his daughter. “Well sirs, miss, I really must go ease my daughter’s fears and go back to my room. Have fun catching up, and don’t forget to check the listings for when your fights are.” The three watch Choy exit with puzzled expressions and voice the questions that came to their minds at his sudden departure. “What’s up with him?” San asks. “I don’t know…” Tang replies, “…he’s changed a lot. These years have not been kind to him. Life never was with Choy, but I’m afraid him losing…her, did more to him than we will ever know.” “Father,” Nera wanders out loud, “what are you talking about? Why is he so…far off?” “You mean why does he leave the company of his long lost friends? Why does he stare into space with hollow, tired eyes? Why he acts as if alone while in the midst of others? That’s a long story dear, one not fit to tell here and now. It’s best just to say that he lost someone very dear to him, and part of his heart and soul went with her.” The grin from Tang’s face disappears, “She was very dear to all of us, like sister, and to Choy, far more.” The three stand in weighted silence before Tang perks back up again. “Anyway, we have a tournament to fight, and who knows, we just may meet in it together. You had better be at your best San, I haven’t had many cushions to get fat and lazy on.” Tang gives a playful wink and scampers out the doorway off to his own preparation room, the three going their separate ways again.