Welcome to Modern Fantasy Quest, the tale of Tristan, a modern-day paladin in a not-so-secular world.

Questions/Comments/Criticism is welcome at any time pls no bully

>>3895794
>”So you will be accompanying me in my investigations?”

>>3895795
>"After seeing the kids, I'm having second thoughts about my peace of mind living here."

There isn't a quick test we can do, like testing blood for mercury?

Also we oughta set up that trap for Nathan so we can go ahead and recondition without worry.

>Combine Options

“After seeing the kids, I’m having second thoughts about my peace of mind living here.” You tell Ike honestly.

“What, you don’t like kids?” Ike asks.

“I don’t know much about them,” You admit.

“I see,” Ike says, “Asha and Josh are well-behaved though. They only harass adults they know well. Besides, you’re only here for a few days, probably not even a week …”

“Couldn’t you simply test my blood for Mercury?” You point out.

Ike sighs, “I thought about that too, but I gave up on the idea. I don’t have the knowledge to do it with kitchen supplies and ordering any special mercury testing equipment would draw attention to us.”

Ike had a point. Quicksilver was one of the most commonly used components to spellcasting. Therefore, rented equipment for testing for mercury would be extremely suspicious to anyone hunting for magic-users. In a small city like Winterpine, there was very little chance that a rental of such gear would go unnoticed. The Templar could probably organize one to be delivered to you, but it would take several days at least, the same amount of time as just staying with Ike.

“This is all to observe me for neurological symptoms of mercury poisoning, correct?” You ask, “So if I were to operate from here, you would accompany me during my investigations?

“Yes, You’ve got it.” Ike answers.

>”Very well. That seems acceptable.”

>”That is acceptable. But please ask for a mercury testing kit to be sent in your next radio check-in.”

>”I’ll just rent a mercury testing kit. I have no time to waste.”

>”Do you have any tips to deal with Asha and Josh?”

>Other

>>3897521
>"Very well. That seems acceptable. "

The kids objections was more a their safety standpoint than worries about relationships

>”Very well. That seems acceptable.”

“Very well, that seems acceptable.” You say, “My concern was mostly for whether I was endangering the children here by staying in their home.”

“So you’re not concerned about dealing with them at all?” Ike asks.

You shake your head, “There’s nothing not straightforward about getting along with children. Besides, you said that they only harass adults they know well.”

“Perfect,” Ike says, “I’m sure your stay here will be peaceful then.”

“That is exactly what I want.” You say, “Although, I’m still wondering, how did you set up your defences without the family noticing?”

Ike laughs, “Oh, that? I snuck in while they were on vacation. They travel a lot. Anyways, I tore down a few wall faces, stuck a few charms and sigils in the insulation … I also drew some small, covert magic circles in the shadowy parts of the closets. The beauty of the whole setup is that it’s composed of many layered spells that are each relatively weak so it basically powers itself. I think this house is near a ley line or something.”

You nod. “I see. You were lucky your family happened to live in a good location.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t believe it either.” Ike admits.

>”Do you have a leyline map for Winterpine?”

>”If you don’t mind, I’d like to check over the defences you set up.”

>”To truly be safe, I need to set a trap for Nathan. Do you have any ideas?”

>”So, where will I be staying?”

>Other

>>3899170
>”So, where will I be staying?”

>>3899170
>To be truly safe, I need to set a trap for Nathan. Do you have any ideas?

>Combine Options

“To truly be safe, I need to set up a trap for Nathan,” You tell Ike, “Do you have any ideas?”

“I haven’t fought him, so I wouldn’t know how to approach him,” Ike says, “What do you know about his capabilities?”

“Nathan’s quite the capable opponent,” You say. You think back to your encounter with him in Jungczant’s office. “Physically, he’s stronger than me to a significant degree …”

“Superhuman strength?”

“Not quite, only borderline,” You reply. From what you had seen (and felt, getting kicked), Nathan’s strength was around the limit of what was theoretically possible for a human, though certainly not one with a normal lifestyle. “However, the level of speed he displayed was superhuman.”

“Anything else?” Ike asks.

You think back farther to when you had first encountered him, how he had escaped the mob of cultists almost as if he had known they were coming … And the way he had attacked you back in Jungczant’s office … it was like he had been ready to attack before he had even entered the room ...

“He has some sort of advanced sensory ability,” You conclude, “Either some extrasensory ability, or simply vastly superhuman base senses,”

“Are you sure it might not be a form of scrying or clairvoyance?” Ike points out.

“No, he didn’t fight like a spellcaster or mage.” You say, “He’s also quite stealthy, he evaded a mob of cultists without being seen once …”

Ike thinks over what you said. “I’ll have to think about this. Nathan seems like a really annoying opponent to have to take down. How about we talk about what we can come up with after thinking about it for a while?”

“That is prudent,” You agree. All good planning and preparation could be forced into fruition, “I have one question though …”

“What’s that?”

“Where will I be staying here?”

…

You look around your own room, the guest room. After you had asked Ike that question, he had laughed, rubbed his head, and admitted that he had completely forgotten about showing you your own room.

“I’ll let you get settled in.” Ike had said, returning to his own room. Not that you had much settling in to do, all you had were the clothes on your back as well as the supplies in your pocket.

It was … actually a bit nicer than Ike’s room. For one, it was above ground. It was less cramped, although Ike’s room had been filled with his belongings so perhaps not by that much.

So this would be where you would be staying for the next few days …

>You’ll rest for a bit. Then it’s time to get back to work.

>You’ll rest until mid-afternoon. The events of last night had left you worn out, even if you could suppress your feeling of exhaustion.

>You don’t intend to do anything for the rest of the day. Now that you’re no longer in danger, you feel your exhaustion setting in and you’re feeling bone-tired.

>There’s no need to rest. You’ll grit your teeth and do something productive.

>Other

>>3900565
>You’ll rest until mid-afternoon. The events of last night had left you worn out, even if you could suppress your feeling of exhaustion.

I dunno about our suppression of exhaustion, it might be tied into conditioning.

Whoa, only one vote?

>Rest until mid-afternoon

You decide to rest until mid-afternoon. The events of last night had left you worn out. Even if you could suppress your feeling of exhaustion, that didn’t mean you did not have a need for recuperation. Experimentally, you try lying down on your bed. Immediately, you were surprised by how comfortably, deliciously soft it was. It felt like you were sinking into the mattress, sinking into a deep sleep …

…

You huddle, ankle-deep in water, leaning against the featureless brick wall, hidden in the heart of the maze of alleyways that spread out through the city like some malignant tumour. Just out of your sight, just outside of the border of what you could perceive in the ever present dark, the shadows were writhing.

He wasn’t coming. You didn’t know how long you had waited. you didn’t know when you realized you were waiting for him. You still didn’t know who you were waiting for.

>You’re done waiting. Who knows how much longer it will be. It’s time to get up and walk.

>Just a little longer. If you’re patient and wait just a little longer, he’ll come. You’re sure of it.

>You don’t want to move. Waiting was all you knew how to do. And the shadows scared you.

> ,,, Who were you?

>Other

>>3901902
>Just a little longer. If you’re patient and wait just a little longer, he’ll come. You’re sure of it.

>>3901902
>Just a little longer

Oooh flashbacks

>>3901902
>Just a little longer. If you’re patient and wait just a little longer, he’ll come. You’re sure of it.

>Just a little longer

If you’re patient and wait just a little longer, he will come. You’re sure of it. All you have to do is wait just a little longer …

…

When was he coming?

…

Were the shadows closing in?

…

“Tristan … Tristan …”
Something was beckoning you.

“Hey, Tristan …”
You look to your side, then directly ahead of you. You quickly avert your eyes. The shadows were nauseating to look at.

But then who was calling your name? You don’t understand ... You don’t understand … You don’t understand this at all …

>Curl up in a ball, shut your eyes, cover your ears. You don’t want to understand … no, no no ...

>Force yourself to look at the shadows

>Look up

>... So your name’s Tristan.

>Other

>>3903510
>Curl up in a ball, shut your eyes, cover your ears. You don’t want to understand … no, no no ...

>>3903510
>Look up
To the lord above

Rolled 1 (1d2)

It's been a while since we had a tie.

>Odds - Curl up in a ball
>Evens - Look up

>Curl up in a ball

You curl up into a ball and refuse to look at the shadows.
No, no, no, you refuse to understand. To block out the beckoning of the voice, you cover your ears as well.

“Triiistaan,” the evil voice calls. The dark and cold were closing in. Surrounding and enveloping your body on all sides.

“Trriiiiiiisssstttannnn!” The evil voice croons, hideously distorted, shifting in tone with every letter, seemingly right in front of you ...

No! You refuse to look, to uncurl or to uncover your ears no matter what you felt breathing on, blanketing, immersing your body …

You don’t understand ... You don’t understand ... You refuse to understand ... You refuse to understand …

“TRISTAN!” Someone’s hammering on your door.
“Are you in there?” Ah, it was Ike. Where were you? Ah, that’s right, you were in Ike’s family’s home. In the guest bedroom.

“Yes?” You groggily reply. You lift your head off the pillow. It was damp with sweat. Your clothes were too.

“It’s dinnertime, You coming?”

You stare blankly at your room. It was dimly lit, illuminated by the soft beams of the twilight sun … Was it this late already?

>”Yes, I’m coming.”

>”Give me just a second.”

>”What time is it?”

>”... Am I awake?”

>>3905337
>”Yes, I’m coming.”

>>3905337
>Give me just a second

Maybe we should redo the conditioning

>>3905374
You would need an atelier to redo the conditioning

Rolled 6 (1d6)

Tie so rolling 1d6

>Odds - "Yes, I'm coming"
>Evens - "Give me just one second"

>”Give me just one second,”

“Give me just one second,” You reply.

What was that? Your dream … You had … no, you couldn’t remember what had happened. Had it been abnormal? It was hard to tell. With the activities a typical Templar was involved in, strange and provocative dreams were only to be expected eventually.

More concerning was how badly you had overslept. You had intended to wake in the afternoon. In the past, your power naps had only lasted four hours before you usually woke up. But this time, you had slept until evening. That was more than a full night’s sleep. You had even needed to be woken up by Ike. The more you think about it, the more it seemed like a symptom of an unraveling of your conditioning. You decide you’ll ask Ike to borrow a copy of the spells of reconditioning from his atelier as soon as you get a chance.

Well, at least you feel well-rested. Now, for dinner …

…

“And then Mrs. Abidi told Timothy ‘I don’t care how sick you were. Your mother came to pick up your homework and bring it home, so I expect it to be done when you come in.’. But he was sick, right? I mean, who does their homework when they have the flu?” Josh chatters in between bites of chicken.

“Well, maybe Timothy wouldn’t get homework when he’s sick if he handed it in when he was healthy.” Asha points out, “Pass the broccoli?”

Dinner at the Washington’s was as rowdy as you had expected it to be. But as Ike had promised, none of the rowdiness was directed your way, leaving you to enjoy an admittedly delicious chicken casserole. In fact, both Ike and the parents talked very little in comparison to Josh’s description of how his day went, occasionally interrupted by a snide comment from Asha.

“Timothy isn’t the one that doesn’t hand in his assignments. That’s Liam.” Josh corrects his sister as he hands over the bowl of broccoli.

“Well I don’t know the names of all your friends ...” Asha haughtily replies as she scoops a hefty amount of broccoli onto her plate.

“Your sister’s right,” Shirley chimes in to her children’s conversation, “You can still work when you’re sick.”

“Well of course you think so Mom! You brought me work when I was sick … anyways, what do you think, Dad?”

“Schoolwork is important,” Cornelius vaguely says. To you, it seemed that he was trying to be as noncommittal as possible even if he inadvertently sounded like he was favouring his wife’s position.

>“You can work as long as you can pick up a pencil.”

>”You can only study if you’re capable of studying.”

>”What grade are you two in?”

>”This chicken casserole is exceptional. Shirley, is it you that cooked it?”

>Other

>>3906811
>"Depends on how sick you are. The common cold rarely gets bad enough to completely prevent studying."

>>3906811
>”This chicken casserole is exceptional. Shirley, is it you that cooked it?”

>Combine options

“This chicken casserole is amazing,” You loudly complement the food in an attempt to escape sitting through a burgeoning family feud, “Shirley, is it you that cooked it?”

Your ploy seems to work Shirley visibly brightens from your compliment, “Please, enjoy!”

“Hey, Ike, what do you think about having to work when you’re sick?” Josh asks.

“Hmm,” Ike muses, “That’s pretty tough. I think a good general rule is to work as long as you’re able, but not to push yourself too hard because you might injure yourself if you do.”

“I doubt you would injure yourself by pushing yourself too hard while you have the common cold,” You chime in, “It rarely gets bad enough to completely prevent studying.”

“Yeah, but Tim was sick with the flu.” Josh points out.

“Well, you weren’t that time Mom brought you work from school,” Asha replies, “Anyways, what do you know about studying? You just practise Kung Fu all day.”

“Hey, gongfu is very <<impressive>>. You need <<Good willpower>> to be able to <<practise>>.” Shirley jumps in again, substituting cantonese phrases for the english phrases she didn’t know.

“Exactly,” Ike gestures in agreement to his aunt’s statement, “I had to work very hard to get as good as I did … at BAJIQUAN. It’s BAJIQUAN, not simple Kung Fu.”

“Yeah, but are you really good?” Josh asks.

>”I can vouch for Ike’s skill in martial arts.”

>”Josh isn’t completely wrong. Didn’t Bajiquan originate from the northern Shaolin temple?”

>”My teacher … was a noteworthy practitioner of Bajiquan … It’s a solid style.

>Stay silent. You smell a ruckus coming.

>Other

>>3908378
>Stay silent

We've never truly fought Ike so we wouldn't know.

>>3908378
>Stay silent. You smell a ruckus coming.

>Stay silent

You decide not to weigh in on the debate between Ike and the kids.
“Well, it would depend on what you mean by ‘good’,” Ike tells Josh, “By the standards of most people, yes. By the standards of real martial artists, I’m around respectable.”

“So are you a black belt in it?” Josh asks, trying to contextualize Ike’s skill in an understandable way. Personally, you had faith that Ike was a phenomenal fighter by anyone’s standards, it was a requirement for survival as a Knight of the Templar.

“Not all martial arts measure skill with belts.” Ike replies.
“I didn’t know that,” Josh humbly admits before continuing his interrogation, “Who would win? You, are a black belt in karate?”

Ike laughs at the question, “Me, obviously. Most karate black belts are really weak.”

You watch as their yammering becomes more and more animated. Then, Cornelius leans in to you.

“So, are you in missionary work like Ike, Tristan?” Cornelius asks, making some conversation while Ike and Josh prattle on in the background.

>”Yes I am. That’s how I met him.”

>”No I’m not. I’m a psychologist.”

>”I heard you were involved in mission work as well.”

>Other

>>3909718
>"Yes I am. That's how we met, actually. "

>>3909718
>”No I’m not. I’m a psychologist.”

Rolled 2 (1d6)

We're tied so I'll roll a 1d6

>Odds - "Yes, I am a missionary."
>Evens - "No, I'm a psychologist."

>”No I’m not. I’m a psychologist.”

“No I’m not. I’m a clinical psychologist.” You reply to Cornelius.

“You are?” Cornelius says, sounding mildly surprised, “Should I be calling you ‘doctor’, then?”

“Please, I’m staying as your guest for too long for formality to be comfortable.”

You hear a barely suppressed squawk from across the table. You catch Shirley shoots her husband an accusatory glare for a split second, before her expression returns to the watchful repose it had been in before.

Just then …
“What? You’re going to be staying here, Tristan?” Josh exclaims loudly.

“Josh, you don’t have to yell everything you say you know!” Asha shouts back at her brother in annoyance of his sudden loudness.

>”Yes, I am.”

>”I hope you’re fine with that.”

>(Whisper to Cornelius) “I assume you didn’t tell your wife yet …”

>Other

>>3911563
>"I hope you're fine with that."

If not take it up with Ike lol

>>3911563
>”I hope you’re fine with that.”

>”I hope you’re fine with that,”

“I hope you’re fine with that,” You tell Josh.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Josh says, “Where are you staying? In the guest bedroom?”

You spend the rest of dinner talking to Josh. He was a smart kid, talkative, but not hyperactive. If anything, he was overly snarky, seemingly unable to resist a chance to insert a snide remark, sometimes inspiring haughty and criticizing comments from his sister. The conversation naturally turns to his daily life. You learn that Josh was in fifth grade while his sister was in the sixth grade. You learn that his best and least favorite subject was math, and, according to him, his sister was passable at everything, even if that wasn’t an excuse to be so high-and mighty.

That particular comment earned a strong reaction from Asha …

…

It was a good dinner you had, all things considered. Not only was the food delicious, you had managed to establish what was more or less a good relationship with the family.

Pick two options in order of priority

>You’ll offer to help with the dishes. It’s the least you can do.

>You’ll check on Ike and see what he’s doing. Maybe he’s thought of a few ideas for dealing with Nathan.

>You rested in the afternoon so now you’ll work. It’s time to prepare for an investigative foray into the city.

>You’ll relax in the living room. As a guest, it’s only polite to enjoy your host’s hospitality.

>Other

>>3913572
> Help with dishes
>Work

It's possible all the ghouls are dead now

>>3913572
>You’ll offer to help with the dishes. It’s the least you can do.
>You’ll check on Ike and see what he’s doing. Maybe he’s thought of a few ideas for dealing with Nathan.

>Offer to help with the dishes

You carry your dirty dishes out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Shirley was busy washing the dishes that had accumulated over the course of the day.

“Excuse me,” You say, catching Shirley’s attention. She turns around, dish and washcloth in hand, “Do you need any help with the dishes?”

“What’s that?” Shirley asks, taking a second to understand what you were saying, “Oh no, no, no. You guest. Go! Relax!”
Shirley allows you to deposit the plates, but insists you leave their actual washing to her.

… Well, you weren’t going to be helping to wash the dishes then. In that case, it was time for you to get to work.

You return to your room and grab your windbreaker. The outer part was still bloody, but it was a reversible jacket. The bloodstains would be hidden if you flipped it inside-out and it would still work just as well. As soon as your door is closed, you check your folding straightsword as well. With a flick, you send it telescoping to it’s full meter-long length. Satisfied that it was working properly, you retract it and slip it back into your pocket, alongside your pocket grimoire. This was all the gear you had, but that wasn’t going to stop you from launching an investigative foray of Winterpine tonight.

Now, the only thing left to do was get Ike, and you’d be ready.

You walk down into the basement, to Ike’s room. The door was closed. You knock on the door. “Ike,”

“Tristan? Just a second …”

You hear a click as Ike unlocks the door and lets you into his room, closing it quickly behind him as soon as you’re inside. He had his spear in his hand, although the tip was missing, sitting on the desk alongside a bottle of oil and a rag. Ike’s portable atelier was open on his bed, displaying a compartment lined with spearheads …

>”Preparing for a foray?” (Gesture at Ike’s gear)

>”Have you thought of a plan to deal with Nathan yet?”

>”I’ve thought of a plan to deal with Nathan. “(Write-in)

>”I’d like to borrow something from your atelier.” (What?)

>Other

>>3915545
>”Preparing for a foray?” (Gesture at Ike’s gear)

>”Preparing for a foray?”

“Preparing for a foray?” You gesture at Ike’s spear.

“Yeah,” Ike answers, “I was cleaning my spear. Just some standard maintenance.”

Ike walks over to his desk and gingerly lifts the spearhead with the oil rag, screwing the head of the spear back into place before giving it an experimental twirl. A telescoping spear would definitely be time-consuming to keep in working order. Most collapsible weapons were. Due to the number of moving parts, they required frequent oiling if they were to extend and retract as their users wished.

Ike twists the top segment of his spear. The shaft seemed to collapse in on itself to a length only about the length of Ike’s arm. “Hey, could you pass that duffel bag?”
Ike points at a duffel bag to the side, at your feet. You oblige, throwing him the bag. Ike casually snatches it out of the air and slips his collapsed spear inside ...

>”Don’t you find a spear unwieldy?”

>”Do you have an idea of a good place to investigate?”

>”Are you ready? Then let’s go.”

>Other

>>3917490
>Do you have an idea of a good place to investigate?

Spears are cool

>>3917490
>”Do you have an idea of a good place to investigate?”

>”Do you have an idea of a good place to investigate?”

“Do you have an idea of a good place to investigate?” You ask Ike. An investigation without an objective was rarely fruitful.

“I do,” Ike replies, “I’m thinking of investigating Winterpine Chapel. If anyone’s on our trail, they would have investigated Winterpine Chapel. If they searched through it, they may have left behind some signs.”

“I see. If Winterpine Chapel is in the same state we left it in, then it is safe for me to operate from here as well.”

“I was sorta thinking the same thing,” Ike admits, “We won’t be traveling directly from here though. I was thinking of taking a taxi halfway, stopping somewhere random, and walking the rest under the cover of the night ... We might be able to observe some of your Ghouls on the way.”

>”Your plan is too dangerous. Someone might find our trail.”

>”Your plan is good. Let’s go to Winterpine Chapel.”

>”We shouldn’t stop halfway there. I don’t think we’re prepared to deal with Ghouls.”

>”Your plan is good, but I have a better one.” (write-in)

>Other

>>3918891
>"Sounds good, let's go."

More like observe ghoul corpses with giant gaping cleaver wounds

>>3918891
>”Your plan is good. Let’s go to Winterpine Chapel.”

File: 1280-104387861-cellphone.jpg (375 KB, 1280x1920)

375 KB JPG

>”Your plan is good.”

“Your plan is good,” You approve, “Let’s go to Winterpine Chapel.”

“Right!” Ike says, “But first, here, take this. My number’s already in the contacts.”
Ike reaches into his portable atelier and throws you a cheap, disposable cellphone.
“In case we get separated,” Ike explains, “It was hard to get in contact with you before, now it’ll be easier.”

Phones were often a liability. They were too easily tracked, and provided tempting vectors for targeted memetic or other information-based magic. However, most portable ateliers included a limited supply of disposable phones for easy communication with allies. You could see why Ike thought your situation warranted one.

You pocket it. “Thank you.”

…

You and Ike hop onto a taxi a few blocks away from the Washington Home. You hid your face from view with the shadow of your windbreaker’s hood. Strangely enough, Ike didn’t bother to hide his. Nor did he wear any concealed armor like your bullet-proof windbreaker … then again, you didn’t know if his shirt was stab-proof or not. You would have to ask him later, when the taxi driver wasn’t able to listen.

But the trip between the Washington’s neighborhood and the vicinity of the chapel was not a short one, following a series of winding streets through the hilly suburbs.

>”Is it just me, or does Shirley not appreciate me staying?”

>”How well would you say I’m getting along with the kids?”

>”Bajiquan eh? Why not a more modernized or complete combat system?”

>Sit in silence

>>3920318
>"Bajiquan, eh? Why not something more modern or complete? "

>>3920318
>”Bajiquan eh? Why not a more modernized or complete combat system?”

>”Bajiquan eh? Why not a more modernized or complete combat system?”

“Bajiquan, eh?” You break the silence. There was a question you had been meaning to ask. In the modern day, most Templar were required to be adept in a hybrid martial art which streamlined the techniques of many other martial arts into a fighting system unrecognizable from its predecessors. The end result was one which allowed a Templar to utilize kinematics to deliver lethal amounts of force in the most efficient way in almost any situation, especially with their mercilessly conditioned bodies. What was more, it was a versatile foundation from which one could partially adapt strategies, if not techniques, from more specialized martial arts if the situation called for it. An experienced Templar could kill equally as well in a grapple, at kicking range, or with the point of a melee weapon.

… So why specialize in a mostly strike-based martial art instead?

“Why not a more modernized or complete combat system?” You ask.

“It’s the only I was taught,” Ike replies honestly, “My … teacher didn’t use anything else. He was pretty old-fashioned, I guess ...”

>”With such a specialized system, don’t you encounter difficulties dealing with more well-rounded opponents?”

>”My … teacher used mostly Bajiquan as well. But he still demanded I learn the standard hybrid system instead.”

>”Who was your … teacher?”

>Other

>>3922066
>"Who was your teacher? "

Inb4 same as ours

>>3922066
>”Who was your … teacher?”

>”Who was your … teacher?”

“Who was your … teacher?” You ask, almost saying Mentor.

“Tadeo,” Ike simply replies.

Tadeo, Tadeo … A simple first name wasn’t much to go by. But it wasn’t out of the ordinary for the real, chosen names of Templar members to lack one. It was the nature of an organization which recruited almost solely from orphans: Some could not even remember having a last name.

But Tadeo … You feel like you’ve heard the name before.

“Wait …” you say, “That name sounds familiar for some reason … you don’t mean Tadeo Sahagun, the student of Father Gregorius, the first disciple of Thomas the Dragon, do you?”

“Yeah, that’s who he was.” Ike replies.

Thomas the Dragon, or the Dragon of the East, was something of a folk hero for the Templar, a legendary warrior from the Templar’s early modern history who had brought back the knowledge of many eastern martial arts and body conditioning techniques. He had been instrumental in setting in motion the development of the Templar’s modern approach to combat. And each of his students had been a legend in their own right. Father Gregorius had near-singlehandedly kept South America pure during the Second World War, and had spent the early portion of the Cold War quashing the Dhampyr epidemic of the time. Tadeo was less famous, although there was no way a mediocre warrior would have been produced by such a legend … Ah, that was where you remembered the name Tadeo from. Years ago, you had studied an essay by him on the origins and evolution of the hybrid Templar martial art …

>“I don’t know much about your teacher, but I’ve heard of his teacher.”

>”I studied your teacher’s body of work.”

>”My own teacher was a student of Thomas the Dragon.”

>“Sorry, that’s who he was?” That was a strange way to put it.

Seriously? No one?

Are the options a bit too inconsequential? I could move on to the next thread where they get off the taxi., if that's what people prefer.

>>3926470
I might be insane, but I remember voting for
>“I don’t know much about your teacher, but I’ve heard of his teacher.”
and seeing a vote for
>“Sorry, that’s who he was?” That was a strange way to put it.

>>3923843
>My own teacher was a student of Thomas the Dragon

Sorry OP, bad weekend for me, working, abd 12 hour days at that

>>3926525
Don't know about that other vote you might of seen, but I'll take your vote.
Anon, you might want to get your conditioning checked
>>3927398
Too understandable. My sympathies anon.

I'm not confident in my ability to finish my update before the thread 404's itself, so we'll pick up next time, probably Monday.

END OF THREAD

>>3927538
Thanks for running!

>>3931569
New thread up.