Thirsty Soku and the Righteous Man
"Listen, you freeloading maggots!" The refugee column ground to a halt at the edge of the broad stone bridge over the treacherous river. The path was blocked by three armed men; an officer wearing a tailored brown uniform over scale mail, his assistant, similarly garbed, and a shabby mercenary in cobbled-together armor, with at least half-a-dozen weapons strapped to his back, and a jug of sake dangling from a shoulder-strap.
"Too many of you worthless refugees have been coming over this bridge into the Kingdom of Nagatha and overstaying your welcome. Our streets are crowded with your filth! And don't think you'll be treated any better anywhere else in the Hundred Kingdoms - they don't want you either."
The refugees stood silent, cowed by the officer's anger. They had journeyed far to escape the depredations of Ma-Ha-Suchi; surely the Hundred Kingdoms would offer them sanctuary?
"But the Oligarchs, in their infinite wisdom" - The mercenary rolled his eyes at this, a gesture not seen by the officer - "...have decided that you may still cross our ancient bridge and enter our noble realm. But - you must each pay a toll to enter! We don't want feeloaders. Three jade pieces a head, with no exceptions."
The refugees' frowns turned to moans of despair. None among them had any food to spare, much less any jade! Some of them fell to the ground and began to weep; others simply shouldered their packs and turned east along the river, in search of perhaps another kingdom that might be willing to accept them. But one man among them was not cowed.
A monk put down a large bundle that he had been carrying, and walked forward to the foot of the bridge, a martial staff in his hand. "Folly! Shame! Heaven itself weeps to see your intransigence. Have you no mercy or compassion, soldier? Look at them! Their fortune is not in carven jade - these are hardworking farmers; nothing would please them more than to spend their days toiling to fulfill the bounty of the earth. Let them through, find them work, and they will bring your kingdom the prosperity to endure a thousand winters."
These words brought tears to the officer's eyes. He daubed at his cheeks with a handkerchief, and after a brief consultation with his assistant, he cleared his throat. "Such moving words! Truly have you spoken. Sergeant, let these people pass unmolested. Let them..."
"Now wait just a darn second." The shabby mercenary stepped forward. "You get an officer's salary, but I'm payed on commission. If they don't pay you, your boss doesn't pay me. And if I don't get paid, I get *very* cranky."
The officer blinked his eyes and shook his head, as if waking from a dream. "Uhh... of course, you're right. The tolls must be collected."
"Will you not reconsider, you heartless man?" The monk took a step onto the bridge proper.
The officer regarded him cooly. "Thirsty Soku, this man has set foot on Nagatha land without paying the toll. Kill him as an example to the others."
The mercenary sighed and drew a short stabbing blade. "Sorry 'bout this, holy man. A job's a job." He moved to stab the monk, who expertly blocked the strike with his staff. A second stab - a second block. And a third. And a fourth.
"Oh. You're one of THOSE monks. Well, I can deal with that." He tossed the short sword to his left hand, and drew a much longer blade with his right. A fifth and sixth block. A seventh and eighth. A ninth... and on the tenth, the monk exploded forward, sending a shockwave that knocked the officer and some of the closer refugees flat on their backs, and kicked up a spray of water from the nearby river banks.
When the dust cleared, of both Soku's blades were shattered... but he had not moved an inch. The monk frowned. "That was the Heavenly Guardian Defense! How do you know such a thing?"
Soku threw away the shattered weapons in disgust, took a step back, and drew a gleaming jade battle-axe. He spat upon the ground. "Great. Not just one of *those* monks, but one who knows the name of my fighting style. Wonderful. Terriffic. This just isn't my day." Now it was his turn to explode forward; this shockwave knocked the two uniformed officers clean off the bridge and into the broad river, and propelled the monk backward, sending refugees scattering like runners before the bull.
When the dust cleared, the monk's staff was unbroken, his stance unperturbed... and he stood thirty feet further from the bridge.
"Ah," said the mercenary. "That's why you know my fighting style. This could be a problem."
"It won't be a problem if you let these poor wretches past."
"Can't do that, friar. A job's a job. Seven-Auroch-Stampede Strike!" Soku charged forward again with two magnificent blows. The monk parried one, but the second ripped the staff from his hands. As Soku prepared a third, the monk reached out one hand, and the his large bundle, twenty feet away, suddenly unwrapped itself and an enormous ornate orihalcum blade sprung forward to his grasp. This time when Soko charged, he was met with a terriffic barrier of essence as both warriors splayed forth their Anima in iconic form. "Karmic Inversion Riposte!" cried the monk.
The dust cleared much more quickly this time, propelled outward by twin suns dawning at the river's edge. Neither budged. Sword and Axe locked edge to edge, a study in balance and equilibrium.
The monk regarded Soku with newfound respect. "You are among the few to have ever countered the Karmic Inversion Ripose!"
Soku spat on the ground. "Karmic inversion don't mean squat to me. My luck's bad enough as it is." Their weapons still locked in a deadly embrace, he shifted his stance slightly. "That was a nice trick baldy. Here's one of my own! Destroyer-Of-A-Thousand-Barrooms!"
Without releasing his left hand from the axe's hilt, his right pulled back with stunning, essence-fuelled speed and drove itself directly into the monk's gut with astounding force. Nameless Ravine staggered and fell, as his anima banner flickered and was gone.
"Not bad, eh? I invented it myself." Thirsty Soku took a deep gulp of sake, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and turned back towards the bridge. He stopped in his tracks and stared. "Awww, hell."
It seems that during the fighting, the refugees took opportunity to flee across the river, and with the two soldiers still fighting the current, no-one had collected toll from them. Worse, there was no way to follow them, for the backlash from the kharmic inversion riposte had destroyed the bridge completely.
He turned to his unconscious foe. "Nice going, friar. You just cost me a pretty penny. Shee-yit. I knew I shouldn't have taken this job. Well, it's a hundred miles west to the next bridge. I better get going." With that, he shouldered his axe and started walking away.
