“Cleanup?” Benjamin answered, “Well, something seriously weird happened regarding that subject …”

“Weird?” You say. Last night, when you had returned back to your Mentor’s home from your raid on the farmhouse and it’s cultist occupiers, you had radioed in to the Main Temple and reported the transpirings of your mission, as well as outlining everything the cleanup teams should expect.

“Yeah, Weird …” Benjamin continued. “Your report on that Eldritch entity was news to the administration, we were scrambling to find an exorcist powerful enough to tackle it on such a short notice … The overseers were even considering getting outside help.”

“I fail to see how that differs from the standard response to such matters.” The only thing out of the ordinary you could call unusual was the mention of hiring freelance specialists as the Templar preferred to keep matters self-contained within the Order, but there wasn’t much that could be done given the urgent situation.

“Hey, hey, I’m getting to that …” You could almost hear Benjamin shaking his head at your brusqueness over the radio. “The weird thing is that when the cleanup team got to the Farmhouse, nothing was like what you described. The Cultists had been cleared off the land, the Warehouse you said the Eldritch Being was in had been burned down … There was a massive, thawing patch of frost in a five meter radius around the Warehouse.”

You knew enough about magic to recognize the signs of a high-level exorcism. “I wasn’t aware there was an exorcist of that caliber in the area …”

“Well neither did the Overseers, never mind me …” Benjamin continued, “But it turns out that Exorcist Isolde had made a report from out of the blue while we were busy looking for a freelance exorcist … You’ve heard about Exorcist Isolde, right?”

You had, there wasn’t a member of the Order of the Templar who hadn’t heard about the Maverick Exorcist Isolde. She was infamous, known for frequently cutting off communications with the Main Temple and foregoing any operators, Assembling her own teams from freelance specialists or simply operating solo.

“Are you going to tell me what was in her report?” You ask.

“Well, part of it is classified, but the gist of it is reporting that her team had already cleaned up anything supernatural or magical and dealt anything that might come up with the authorities.”

That was news. You had expected to have been hiding out in your Mentor’s home for a few days at the least, but if there was no official investigation into the farmhouse, that also meant that you were free to move around now.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing …” Benjamin said. “As well as making her report, Isolde requested to know your current whereabouts.”

>Ask about cleanup (What?)

>Ask about Isolde (What?)

>Ask about Nathan

>Ask how Benjamin’s been

>Other

Welcome to Modern Fantasy Quest! This is the barely-begun story of Tristan, a Knight of the Templar, as well as a quest by a slow-but-daily updating QM.

Updates are sporadic and throughout the day. Actual sessions are Saturdays, Mondays, and Tuesdays 10PM-2AM Eastern Time.

Feel free give feedback/ask questions. Pls no bully

> Ask about Isolde (What?)

Glad to see this continuing!
Keep up the good work QM!

>>3447519
Thanks
Also, what are you going to ask?

>>3447519
Ditto
Ask if we should watch out for her, what’s the threat rating, etc

>>3447607
And why they think she wants to know where we are

Vote called, Writing

> Ask about Isolde

“And you gave them to her?” You ask Benjamin, curious about the Exorcist’s request.

“Well, not me specifically, but I can’t think of a reason why anyone would deny her request.” Benjamin had a point.

“Why would she want to know where I was?” You ask. It was easy enough for one member of the Templar to find another, the location of most members in the field was carefully kept track of by the Main Temple in Paris. The question was why a high-ranking exorcist would want to know where you specifically were.

You had already deducting the answer to your own question when Benjamin answered, “Well, she didn’t specify in her report, but the only reason I can think of is that she wants to meet with you.”

Benjamin’s answer was one you had thought of, alongside other possibilities such as remotely cursing or hexing you, or using your location as a bargaining chip with a faction outside the Templar. Alongside a great piousness and a good work ethic, your Mentor had hammered into you an awareness of what anyone could do to you if they ever had a reason to.

But you had to agree that Benjamin’s answer was the one that made the most sense.

“Should I be worried about meeting her?” You ask. Isolde was almost certainly an accomplished magic user and fighter as well as a mere exorcist, she was a field member of the Templar after all.

“Well, I wouldn’t be overly concerned.” Benjamin responded. “Despite her nickname and antisocial tendencies, Exorcist Isolde is a trusted member of the Templar … we wouldn’t train an exorcist who might become a threat, you know.”

“Thank you then …” You respond.

>Ask about cleanup (What?)

>Ask about Nathan

>Ask how Benjamin’s been

>That’s all you had to ask (Leave)

>Other

>>3448117
>that’s everything thanks

>that’s everything thanks

“Yes. That’s everything, thanks.” As long as Isolde wasn’t a threat, there was no harm in meeting her. She was, after all, simply serving God in her own way, just like you.

“Okay!” Benjamin responded, “That’s it then. God bless ...”

“Amen …” With that, you turn off your radio and lean back in your chair. You wouldn’t want to waste Benjamin’s time with idle small talk, he had work to do after all. It was only during major missions that every Knight got his own operator.

The room seemed strangely quiet right after you cut off the radio’s chatter.

>Take a nap. It’s good to rest, especially on an off day after a mission.

>Meditate and pray, nourish your spirit and be right with God.

>You still have some energy left. Continue studying (what?)

>You never finished training. You’d like to see if you can perform ‘that technique’ correctly once

>Now that you know the authorities aren’t looking for you, you’re free to go outside (where?)

>Other

>>3448547
>Meditate and pray, nourish your spirit and be right with God.

>>3448547
>>Meditate and pray, nourish your spirit and be right with God.

>Meditate and pray, nourish your spirit and be right with God.

[+1 Pious]

In the quiet room, you find yourself entering a thoughtful, pensive mood. Ever since your infiltration last night, your thoughts had been consumed by action and excitement. Even this morning, despite being relatively quiet and peaceful, you had been concentrating on training and studying. This is the first true bit of tranquility you’ve experienced in the past couple of hours.

Solemnly, you go to your portable atelier and withdraw an unadorned silver standing crucifix, before setting it down on your nightstand so that it looked over the room. You kneel before it, clasping your hands and closing your eyes in devotion. In the silence of your room, the thoughts that have filled your subconsciousness ever since last night bubble to the surface of your awareness. With your eyes closed, it almost feels like they are swirling around you in the dark.

You let your wayward thoughts run their course until they fade away, leaving only your prayer.

>Ask God for the wisdom to more diligently do his work

>Give thanks to God for his wisdom that he has already shared with you

>Petition God, ask for the answer to a question you do not understand yet (Write-in Question)

>Still your thoughts and bear witness to the presence of God

>Still your thoughts and bear witness to the presence of God

>Still your thoughts and bear witness to the presence of God

Your prayer is a silent one, purely a wish for closeness to God. You calm your mind and soul meditatively, purging them of worldly concern to focus on spiritual matters.

You don’t know how much time passes as you kneel silently in the quiet tranquility of your room, you slowly become aware of the presence of God until it seems almost tangible. You remember your Mentor’s teaching well - Sometimes it is better to stand in awe of The Lord rather than to praise clumsily or offer up short-sighted prayers.

You do just that, elevating your mind above the mundane and immersing yourself in wordless contemplation of the holiness that suffuses the room. One by one, your concerns are stripped away until you stop noticing even the passing of time.

…
……
………

A dark alleyway, one identical to a thousand other alleyways. Day and night blended together here, neither the light of the sun or the dim glow of the moon and stars ever made it into the shadows cast by the cheap apartment buildings crowded too closely together.

The floor of the alleyway was flooded with pools of water formed from the acidic rain of the city, sewage running down the old apartment walls from long-busted pipes, and coolant dripping down from malfunctioning window AC-Units. In those pools, heaps of compost, garbage, and waste tossed down by the denizens of the apartment buildings lay together on the alleyway floor, sitting and rotting. Expired cans of beans joined china dolls with cracked faces joined clumps of vomit from a drunkard vomiting out their window high above.

Sitting in the filthy pools of water, indistinguishable from the refuse that surrounded him, a young boy dressed in ragged clothes hugged his knees. Tucked under his arm was a long pipe he defended himself with. He tried not to move, movement wasted energy. But the emptiness in his stomach was growing too painful to ignore. He’d need to get up soon, search for food. How much time had passed since he had hid here? In the dark of the alleyway, sleep blended with wakefulness and the throb of his hunger was the only reason he remembered time was passing.

The boy stirred, his limbs felt stiff from not moving for so long …

“You there …” A voice in front of him said. “What is your name?”

“Name?” The boy stared at the barely visible pair of massive army boots surrounded by ripples of water from where their wearer had stepped into the puddle he sat in. He looked up. In front of him was a massive dark figure dressed in a knee-length waistcoat. Despite the stranger’s size, the boy hadn’t heard him coming.

Wordlessly, the figure extended his gloved hand towards the boy, palm facing upwards and fingers outstretched as if he was offering to help him up …

You open your eyes slowly before realizing you are sprawled out on the floor of your room. You must have fallen asleep during your prayer. Picking yourself off the floor, you curse your lack of discipline.

Still, the dream you had while you were asleep … You hadn’t had it since you had been your Mentor’s apprentice. To dream again of the night you met him so long ago … it was strange to dream of it now of all times.

You look at your clock. 5:01. Your Mentor would probably be home by now.

Your throat feels dry, so you head to the kitchen. Inside, you find Martha sitting at the table, reading a book …

>Ask what she’s reading. It almost looks like something from your Mentor’s study

>Ask why she isn’t cooking dinner. Usually, she’d be busy preparing it by now.

>Ask if your Mentor is home yet

>Other

>>3455675
>Ask why she isn't cooking dinner

>Ask why she isn't cooking dinner

“Not cooking dinner yet?” You casually ask. Usually, Martha would be busy preparing it by now.

“Oh, there’s some leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry already.“ Martha responds as you pour yourself a glass of water. “Luther’s eating out tonight. I’d assumed you’d be tagging along.”

You didn’t know that Your Mentor would be out tonight, so of course you aren’t decided yet on whether to accompany him or not.

Thinking this over, you look out the french doors that led out to the backyard. They had been left slightly open, letting the spring air into the kitchen.

Standing outside in the backyard was a bulky, aging man. Still dressed in his work clothes and with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, the man at first glance looked like a senior office worker who had simply taken off the jacket for his suit. His hair was greying and his gut protruded slightly, but those seemed more marks of the passage of time on his body than the sign of any softness or frailty. Another testament to the bulky man’s good health was that he was currently slowly passing through a martial arts drill.

Your Mentor’s movements are very slow and deliberate. Crouching close to the ground in an unorthodox stance, he smoothly passes from one motion to the other, always moving his arms in tight arcs around his body, wasting no movement or space.

Suddenly, your Mentor jumps into action, aiming explosive palm strikes, elbow strikes, and knee-kicks in an abrupt chain of blows completely in contrast with his previous tranquility. Every attack seemed to come from nowhere with a total absence of preparatory movement: By the time his fist or palm shot out in front of him, the energy of the punch had already been generated within his body.

With every blow accompanied by a stomp to the ground, his bow-legged stance shifts forwards with every strike until, at the end of his chain of attacks, he is halfway across the yard from where he began.

It was a sight you had seen too many times to count, the sight of your Mentor’s daily training. However, it was subtly different from when you had been studying under him. There was a lack of killing intent behind every blow, an absence of the generated weight that could easily have crushed a man’s rib cage he had once struck with. It was if each punch and kick was executed for the sake of punching and kicking rather than to strike.

But there was more than simple non aggression in his motions. He moved with a newfound heaviness in his limbs, carrying them through the familiar patterns of strike, block, and counter strike rather than letting them carry him through instead.

Compared to his ferocious power you had seen in the past, your Mentor’s present-day movements almost seem tranquil.

>Step outside and greet him

>He’s probably sweaty from so much exertion at such an old age. Bring him a towel from the kitchen.

>Ask him how his day went. It must have been stressful for him to start training without changing.

>Challenge him to a sparring match for old times sake

>Just watch him continue his training

>Other

I forgot to add that you're allowed to pick more than one option this time

>>3457277
>>Step outside and greet him
>>He’s probably sweaty from so much exertion at such an old age. Bring him a towel from the kitchen.
>>Challenge him to a sparring match for old times sake

>>3457277
>Bring him a towel

>>Step outside and greet him
>>He’s probably sweaty from so much exertion at such an old age. Bring him a towel from the kitchen.
>>Challenge him to a sparring match for old times sake

Vote called, writing

>>3458257
This is turning out to be a long write-up, don't expect it anytime soon.

You grab a kitchen towel before opening the french doors all the way and stepping out onto the patio. “Pastor!” you say. In the past, you would have called him ‘Sir’ or ‘Father Bentham’ as was the custom of the Templar to refer to their superiors. Now, you called him ‘Pastor’, the most respectful term you could think of which fit the cover he had been given once he had retired from the Templar. But he called you the same name he always did.

“Tristan.” Your Mentor nods and greets you in the same gruff but friendly way he always did, using the name you had picked for yourself upon entry into the Templar as an initiate. “Thank you.” He says as he takes the proffered towel in your hand to wipe his brow.

“How did your training go, Pastor Bentham?”

“My training?” He chuckled and smiled wistfully, “Well, it’s less training now and more a form of exercise … but I guess you could still call it that.”

Every day you saw him, you can’t help but be reminded of how different he was from when you had been his protege. Once lean muscle had swollen into fat while taut sinew had loosened into ropey strands. You could see that, when not in his stance, he favoured his left leg much more than his right. It had been the loss and artificial replacement of his right hip that had been the reason for his retirement from service into civilian life.

“You’re keeping up with your own training, I trust?” He asks.

“Naturally,” You smile, “I have since exceeded my previous capabilities ever since I have become a fully-fledged Knight of the Templar.”

“All right, Show me then!” Bentham demanded in the authoritative voice you remembered so well.

You slip into a stance before throwing a vicious punch forwards, before executing a seamless sequence of punches and kicks. Flawless footwork accompanies every blow as your hands and feet blur as you strike thin air faster and faster, more and more precisely and lethally. Compared to your Mentor, your movements are wider and looser, carrying much, much more power behind each blow.

With a shout, you finish your last punch, holding your final position for a few seconds before slipping back into a neutral stance.

“Excellent work,” Your master nods in approval of your demonstration.

“You haven’t lost any of your skill yourself.” You reply.

“You’re flattering me!” he protests.

But you press on. “Even if I fought you today at this very moment, I would not be sure of victory.”

At this, Bentham wryly cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not always sure what you’re trying to say Tristan … but that sounds like a challenge?”

“It is, Sir.”

“Well, I’m getting a little old for this.” Your Mentor says as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks up at the sky as if thinking it over, before quickly slipping into his signature stance.

In a smooth motion, he crouches low to the ground, his upright body parallel to yours.

“Why not, for old times sake?” He says, one arm bent with it’s elbow held in front of him, the other couched at his side, ready to launch into a powerful strike ...

Engagement Status
Range - Short
Initiative - Tristan
Combatants

Knight Tristan
Style - Hybrid [level: Adept]

Stamina - 50

Power - 5
Finesse - 3
Versatility - 4
Agility - 4
Defence - 5

Known Skills:
>Stance: Bow and Arrow - A stable stance which lends a base from which to execute strikes more skillfully (+1 fin)
> ̶C̶h̶a̶r̶g̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶S̶t̶e̶p̶ - Lethal techniques shouldn’t be used in a sparring match

Pastor Luther Bentham
Style - Bajiquan [level: Proficient]

Stamina - 30

Power - 3
Finesse - 4
Versatility - 2
Agility - 3
Defence - 3

Known Skills
>Stance: Horse - A wide, stable stance that lowers your center of gravity (+2 def)
>Stance: Bow and Arrow - A stable stance which lends a base from which to execute strikes more skillfully (+1 fin)
>Dai Kai - Forcibly open opponent’s guard by catching their attack before closing in and landing your own
>No Escape - Upon executing an attack, simultaneously pin your opponent’s foot with your own (Negates enemy Agi)
>Hip Thrust - At very close ranges, thrust the side of your hip into your opponent’s to throw them off balance
>Shoulder Check - At very close ranges, thrust your shoulder into your enemy’s chest to throw them off balance regardless of their stance

What do you focus on? (First three suggestions will be selected in order of use)

>Power (5d10)

>Finesse and skill (3d10)

>Versatility (4d10)

>Agility (4d10)

>Defence (5d10)

>Explaining the Engagement System Crunch
The engagement system is used when facing an enemy in melee who is able to respond to your attack.

>Rounds
Select rounds (example: Power, Agility) and modify them with any skills Tristan knows. Rounds will be entered on a first-come first-serve basis, with individual rounds being entered into a queue with a maximum length of 3. Only one active skill can be implemented per round.
Whether or not your round is used for attack or defence is decided by who has the initiative.

>Example of a Round entry
Power, Charging Step

>Style levels
Using techniques from only one style will give a multiplier to your rolls. The magnitude of the multiplier is decided with your level within that style.
Proficient - x2 multiplier
Adept - x3 multiplier
Experienced - x4 multiplier
Mastered - x5 multiplier

>Stats
Stamina - Your stamina. If it lowers below 10, you lose consciousness. If it lowers below zero, you die. Each turn costs 1 stamina except for aggressive attacks which cost 3 and defensive turns which cost 0. Losing in a roll in a turn costs a variable amount of stamina.

Power - The stat used for aggressive, reckless attacks, each attack potentially fight-ending unless blocked successfully. Powerful strikes can only be used if you have the initiative and the round after a Powerful attack is selected is Versatility be default.

Finesse - There are no special traits to finesse, but many skills influence and increase it.

Versatility - Your default stat for rolls in an engagement. The most reliable stat.

Agility - Roll to see if you can dodge your opponent or escape outside their range or even re-enter a stance. Failing an agility roll leaves you without any protection from your opponent’s blow.

Defence - Costs no stamina to use and can stop a Powerful attack from being fight-ending. Negates stamina damage from any attack other than a Powerful one. If all opponents select Defence for their turn, all opponents will be able to re-enter a stance.

>Skills
Give you special traits, or even boost basic stats. Skills come in three categories.

Stances - Provides bonuses as long as you don’t move out of them. Select at the beginning of an Encounter. Requires you to dodge an attack with Agility or Defend at the same time as your opponent to re-enter,

Active Skills - Skills used once per round. Effects vary.

>>3458931
>Finesse with bow and arrow stance

Rolled 7, 8, 3 = 18 (3d10)

>a fellow failure wearing plain clothes as well

>Finesse and skill (3d10)

>Finesse with bow and arrow stance

>>3460014
You didn't roll?
>>3460104
>>3460108
Are you changing your suggestion?
Also I should have specified this but please only enter one round into the queue per person.

Rolled 4, 5, 5 = 14 (3d10)

>>3460321
I wasn't sure if we decided on an option before rolling or rolled immediately.

>>3460327
I thought the quest was slow enough as is, so I'm trying to find a way to shorten combat without removing player tactics from the equation.
Anyways, thank you for your roll.

It's been a while so I guess updates in Engagements will consist of two rounds instead of three from now on.

Rolled 8 (1d10)

I just realized I forgot to explain something important. The Finesse bonus in the Bow and Arrow stance should add a 1d10 when it says +1 finesse. That's bad communication on my part.
In the interests of time, I'll roll the extra 1d10s myself.

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3458933
Also, (silly me), I forgot to add that you can't use skills when focusing on defense.

I'm sorry for the misinformation, but I'm still working out the kinks of the Engagement system.

>>3460014
>Tristan (stamina: 50)
>Finesse
>Bow and Arrow stance
(24 x 3 = 72)

>Bentham (stamina: 30)
>Finesse
>Bow and Arrow stance
>Dai Kai
(28 x 2 = 56)

In response to your Mentor entering his stance, you enter your own. Lunging slightly forwards on one foot, you hold one fist in front of you and keep the other couched at shoulder level as if drawing and aiming an imaginary bow at him.
As always, the two of you hold your stances for three seconds before beginning. You quickly rotate your shoulders, thrusting your couched fist forwards and hoping to penetrate Bentham’s guard with sheer speed. You almost do, a fraction of a second quicker and you would have connected with with his head instead of his meaty forearm. The impact is hard as it is, he has to stumble backwards out of his stance to fully avoid your fist.

>Tristan has the initiative
>Bentham is off-balance. Another exchange in Tristan’s favour will open his guard.

>>3460104
>Tristan (stamina: 49)
>Finesse
>Tristan is already in the Bow and Arrow stance
(27 x 3 = 81)

>Bentham (stamina: 27)
>Defence
(14 x 2 = 28)

Stumbling backwards, Bentham digs his off leg into the grass of the lawn to steady himself before turning his body sideways to present a smaller target, his hands clenched into rake-like fists in front of him to shield against and perhaps even catch your next attack.

In response, you twist your body in a powerful roundhouse kick to sweep away Bentham’s guard. However, your kick is inches too high, leaving you exposed. Deftly, he meets and diverts your high kick, his hands almost latching onto and catching your lower leg. Once, when he was younger and stronger, that would have been the end of the match. He would twist your leg around and you would be left helpless on the ground. However, him catching your leg necessitated him leaning a little too much on his right leg. It seizes and your Mentor’s grip weakens as he stumbles backwards, struggling not to collapse onto the ground. You retract your leg out of his grip …

>Tristan has the initiative
>Bentham is open. He is unable to guard against any following attacks.

What do you do?

>Strike him like always. When you sparred in the past, the victor (usually him) always finish off their opponent by striking them softly enough not to cause any damage but hard enough to reinforce the victory.

>Attack, but stop right before your blow connects. This is enough to signify that you’ve won.

>Pretend nothing happened and wait for him to regain his balance.

>Declare that that didn’t count and you don’t deserve the victory.

>Ask him if he’s okay.

>Other

> Strike him like always. When you sparred in the past, the victor (usually him) always finish off their opponent by striking them softly enough not to cause any damage but hard enough to reinforce the victory.

>>3461290
>>Strike him like always. When you sparred in the past, the victor (usually him) always finish off their opponent by striking them softly enough not to cause any damage but hard enough to reinforce the victory.

>>3461290
>Strike him like always

Vote called, writing

>Strike him like always

You decide to strike Bentham like always. It would have been disrespectful to your Mentor to not do otherwise. While he staggers back, you take advantage of his complete lack of defence and throw a light jab at his abdomen. You snap your hand back as soon as it makes contact with his stomach. Without the proper follow-through, you mitigate the force of your punch while showing clearly that you could have landed a much heavier punch if you had chosen to.

Bentham staggers backwards and almost collapses on the ground, but you catch him and steady him.

“Thank you” He says, “Ahh, I should have had a more solid guard in the beginning. You win, Tristan.”
His congradulation is genuine, there isn’t a trace of bitterness or spite in his voice.

‘That was not entirely a pure victory,” You protest.

“Pssh,” Bentham snorts. “A win’s a win. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Massaging his leg, Bentham steps back from you before settling back into his stance, turning to face you. “Are we going to continue?”

>Yes, if you’re okay with it ...

>No, you’re getting a little old for this.

>Are you sure we should do full-contact sparring?

>Other

>Yes, if you’re okay with it ...

>>3463284
>Yes, if you’re okay with it ...

>Yes, if you’re okay with it

“Yes, if you’re okay with it.” You reply.

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” Bentham scoffs, “Now, whenever you’re ready …”

Well, if your Mentor says he’s ready, he’s ready.

>Power (5d10)

>Finesse (3d10)

>Versatility (4d10)

>Agility (4d10)

>Defence (5d10)

Remember to add a 1d10 for any modifiers listed in the skills you select.

Rolled 2, 8, 4, 8 = 22 (4d10)

>>3464277
>Again finesse with bow and arrow

Rolled 6, 9, 3, 7 = 25 (4d10)

>>3464277
Only one round was submitted so I'll make one myself to speed things along

>>3467648
Forgot to say
>Versatility

>>3464693
>Tristan (Stamina: 48)
>Finesse
>Bow and Arrow stance
(22 x 3 = 66)

>Bentham (Stamina: 24)
>Defence
>Horse Stance
(18 x 2 = 36)

You enter your stance again, warily eyeing your Mentor. Even if he had lost much of his former strength and vigour, he still had decades of fighting experience.

But it was fighting experience he had passed onto you. You can read the subtleties of his stance like an open book. He was crouching even closer to the ground than usual, his legs spread apart in an arch to provide maximum stability. That meant that he intended to defend against your next attack rather than counter it or catch it.

But old habits died hard. Bentham’s stance relied too much on his right leg to be stable in reality. He had trained every day before he injured his hip, ingraining fighting instincts that relied on it to be functional to work. After he had catastrophically injured his hip, he had retired, never getting the chance to relearn the new flaws in his stance in a real fight against a truly skilled opponent. He hadn’t needed to.

And youth was on your side. You were faster and stronger than him, quicker thinking with less ingrained habits and a still-flexible fighting style. Deceptively, you lunge forwards as if to punch him again before launching a hook kick at the side of his head. It was an attack that relied completely on your surplus of strength and speed. If you were fast enough, the blow would connect. If you weren’t, the force behind your blow would blast through Bentham’s defences and connect anyways.

But neither of these things happened. Bentham was just fast enough to interpose his forearm between his face and your foot. You’re surprised he still had the strength in one arm to stop one of your kicks so easily. But still, your kick forces Bentham to stumble to the side, out of his defensive stance.

>Tristan has the initiative
>Bentham is off-balance

>>3467648
>Tristan (Stamina: 47)
>Versatility
(25 x 3 = 75)

>Bentham (Stamina: 20)
>Finesse
>Dai Kai
(31 x 2 = 62)

Bentham seems to have decided that no matter how good his defence is, he’ll still lose more than he gains due to the gap between his strength and yours so instead, he tries to catch your next jab instead. You recognize the technique. He was trying to pull you off-balance before suddenly approaching, entering your guard and landing a super close-ranged attack. That close in, it would be an unblockable blow, an unavoidable instant end to your match.

You snap your fist back just in time before launching another jab. Bentham barely blocks it with his forearm in time, but in doing so, he left his stomach wide open to your next attack.

What do you do?

>Strike him like always

>Attack, but stop right before your blow connects

>Wait for him to re-enter his guard

>Other

> Strike him like always

We must show our Sensei Respectful Combat!

>>3467829
>Strike

Perhaps this should be the last round. We seem to have a massive advantage.

>Strike him like always

You take advantage of Bentham’s opening, ducking down until you are level with his stomach. It was the perfect opening for a piercing punch to the gut. With your training, it would have been easy to throw one that would penetrate past the layers of fat and muscle to damage the internal organs. Of course, the punch you throw just knocks the wind out of him instead.

Bentham grunts, but this time he doesn’t lose his balance. Still, he could tell you were holding back from a crippling blow.

“That was a good punch. I felt that one.” He says as you get up from your crouch.

“Thank you, sir.” You reply. You never used to win so many of the sparring matches. Once, there would have been weeks between your victories.

Bentham sighs. “It seems I’m no match for your youthful vigour. I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

While it was true that Bentham had gotten slower with age, you know that it wasn’t the only, or even main, cause of the degradation of his fighting skills. When he had retired from service in the Templar, most of his fighting skill had been sealed away with extensive mental blocks, along with his ability to use magic.

“Still, you’ve improved quite a bit since two years ago.” Bentham comments as he walks over to the patio chair where he draped his towel before your spar. “Especially your power generation. You don’t rely as much on excessive movement to put force into your blows anymore, do you?”

“Not many mentors teach their students anything past the rudiments of fa jin.” You reply.

“Well, I suppose it’s a rather neglected part of the curriculum,” Bentham muses as he wipes the sweat off his brow before draping the towel back on the chair. “Well, we might as well have at it again while we can, eh Tristan? Let’s see what I’m still capable of ...”

>”Alright Sir … If that’s what you want.”

>”Sir ... are you sure?”

>Other

>>3471223
>"Alright sir...if that's what ypu want..."

> "Alright sir...if that's what you want..."

>”Alright sir ... if that’s what you want ...”

“Alright sir ... if that’s what you want ...” You reply. You’re not worried about Bentham, he can take care of himself. Still, that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of how he was potentially overexerting himself.

Again, the both of you enter your respective stances, ready to exchange blows again. You stare at Bentham, at the protruding elbow that was guarding his face. The few feet between the two of you seemed like a vast distance and the few seconds you had to think before you attacked seemed like an eternity. There were an infinite number of ways to open the bout and you weren’t so overconfident to believe that every one of them would lead to victory …

You hear the patio doors being opened.

“Luther dear, Harry’s here!” Martha yells out from the kitchen.

Bentham moves out of his stance. “Okay dear, I’ll get the door.”

He turns to face you. “Well, we’ll have to wait to see who wins then, Tristan.”

You step out of your stance as well and follow your Mentor to the front door.

Harry Mill. You knew him well, or at least as well as you knew any freelancer working in the Magic World. One of Bentham’s contacts, he was a mercenary, a hired gun who differed from other hired guns due to being acquainted to the world of Magic. He was rather untalented as a mage but a master of his own simple and practical style of magecraft. However, despite being as old as Bentham, Mill was still active, still being hired by anything from harmless sorcerer coves to small governments to deal with threats they couldn’t handle by themselves.

It had been Mill who had taught you how to pick locks, a skill that was not usually taught to Templar.

The man who stepped through your Mentor’s front door seemed to look the same as Mill always had. The same unhurried, efficient, gait, the same cool, no-nonsense look on his face. Like always, he was dressed in a tweed suit with a bulge where his revolver was holstered. Just like the last time you saw him, his face was slightly red and sunburnt. His new wrinkles, greying hair, and receding hairline barely even registered.

Mill clasped your Mentor’s proffered hand, shaking it like always. “The man himself.” He says, smirking in that familiar way of his.

“Well, it’s good to see you again, Harry.” Bentham replies, his mouth stretching into the same tight-lipped smile he had whenever he met his old friend.

Mill turns to you. “Causing more trouble for your old teacher, Tristan?”

>”I’m doing rather well, thank you.” You’re too surprised to see Mill to engage in your usual banter.

>”Not as much as you always do.” Not that Mill ever caused any trouble, he was just there when it happened. Usually by request.

>”I didn’t know you were in town, Mill.” Actually, what is he doing in Los Angeles?

>Other

>>3473300
>”Not as much as you always do.” Not that Mill ever caused any trouble, he was just there when it happened. Usually by request.

>>3473300
>"Not as much as you always do."

I'm sorry my updates take so long guys.

>”Not as much as you always do.”

“Not as much as you always do,” You shoot back.

Mill snorts, “As spunky as ever, I see.”

Back on the first assignment you had worked on with Mill, you had been a model apprentice by Templar standards: respectful to your superiors, silent until spoken to in which case you were brief and polite in speech. Working with the old bastard had awakened a biting, sarcastic side of you which rarely surfaced. Of course, you never let your attitude with him bleed into your conduct with your other teachers and associates.

You see Martha exit the kitchen. “Hi there, Harry. Haven’t seen you around for a while! Want a cup of coffee before you leave?”

“Well, you did arrive a little earlier than expected.” Bentham chimes in.

“Well, one cup of coffee won’t hurt. The day’s still early yet.” Mill decides. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Martha ...”

...

The four of you end up seated around the kitchen table, cups of coffee in front of each of you, except for Bentham.

“I already had my daily cup of coffee.” He explains for the millionth time.

After two years of working away from your former teachers, it was strange to be in the same room as both of them again. Even stranger was how casual and relaxed the conversation was between the three of you plus Martha.

“So, what brings you all the way from San Francisco again, Harry?” Martha asks.

“Well, I was in Thailand until recently, but that’s unimportant …” Harry corrects Martha. “It ain’t a social call though. I’m visiting a supplier of rare goods down in Central LA. I’m looking for a rare book, a good source on ancient Middle-Eastern mysticism.”

“This is for your journalism, I bet!” Martha says. “It’s good to know that real journalism’s still being done.”

“Aw, come on!” Mill protests. “Luth, your wife’s flattering me.”

“Harry, I’d subscribe to any journal you’d write for if I could!” Bentham responds. “Tell you what though, feel free to look through my personal library too see what you can find.”

“Thanks,” Mill replies, “But no thanks. I can’t understand a word of any of the books in your library, Luth. I’d be better off looking for an alternate translation.”

“Well then, all I can do is wish you luck.” Bentham leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee.

A lull comes over the conversation.

>Ask Martha something

>Ask Bentham something

>Ask Mill something

>Just listen to the conversation

>Other

>>3475131
>Ask Mill something

"What's so special about this book you're looking for?"

“What’s so special about this book you’re looking for?” you ask Mill.

“The book I’m looking for?” Mill strokes his chin, thinking of a way to explain it to you. “Well, y’see, the book I’m looking for is a translation of a rare and obscure tenth-century text written in Baghdad. It was a compendium of sorts, a compilation of Arabian and Persian beliefs and traditions on demons stretching from the Abbasid Caliphate to the founding of Babylon. Trouble is, I don’t read Arabic or Persian. To read the text, I’d need a translation and the various translations of the text vary greatly in quality.”

Responding to Mill’s explanation, you play along with his cover as a journalist. “I don’t understand how that has to do with journalism …”

“Well let me tell you then.” Mill answers. “Do you know what’s the hottest topic for journalists right now?”

“Oh, I think I know! The Middle-East!” Martha chimes in.

“You’re on-topic.” Mill congradulates her, “It’s Islam. Right now, it’s all half the media can talk about. But they’re making a mistake in their approach: They’re concentrating too much on the Koran as a source into the Muslim mindset. They’re practically treating it like it’s the only source that influenced Muslim spiritual beliefs.”

“And you want an alternate source to the Koran then?” You summarize.

“You’re right on the money Tristan,” Mill admits. “I’m looking for an alternate source for islamic spiritual beliefs to give my own articles a bit of an edge.”

“That’s rather ingenious, Mill.” Bentham comments.

Of course, both you and Bentham know that Mill is lying to the two of you. You, at least, feel sure that what Mill was looking for is a grimoire. This wasn’t too strange, it only expectedl for a mage to seek out arcane knowledge.

The only person who was meant to be tricked by the lie was Martha. Mill almost definitely knew that you two knew as well. The cover about journalism was merely a plan to keep world of magic a secret from the uninitiated Martha. It had been purposely designed to be simple enough that both you and Bentham could easily play along without any communication.

“Tristan here is pretty sharp himself.” Mill says, “What happened since the last time I saw you? Did you grow up?”

“Tristan’s definitely grown up.” Bentham comments. “He’s good enough to consistently beat me at sparring now.”

“Is that so?” Mill chuckles. “I’ll have to test him out myself then.”

...

Soon, the banter dies down and the coffee cups lie empty on the table.

“Well, It’s about time to get going.” Mill gets up from his chair. “Thanks for the coffee Martha.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. Come back anytime.” Martha says as she gathers up the coffee cups. “It’s not like me and Bentham are going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Oh, right.” Bentham stops in his tracks before turning to face you. “Tristan, I was going to ask, but I didn’t know when you’d be finished your last task. Me and Mill are going for a few drinks. Do you want to come along?”

>You’re free tonight. Go with them.

>You’ve got plans for tonight. You can’t go.

>Other

>>3477339
>You're free tonight, but liquor is the tool of the devil

>>3477511
supporting

> You're free tonight, but liquor is the tool of the devil.... We shall have Milk!

Well shit ...
It looks like I might not be able to update tonight.

Sorry guys.

>You're free tonight, but liquor is the tool of the devil

“No, I’ll be fine staying home.” You answer. “Liquor is the tool of the devil.”

“I’ve fought demons before, and only a coupla times were they bartenders.” Mill snorts. Still, you are adamant in your decision, drinking isn’t for you. It shouldn’t be for anyone.

“Well, suit yourself Tristan.” Bentham sighs, “But the apostle Paul does say to drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine often infirmities, doesn’t he?”

“Wine isn’t liquor, sir. Besides, Paul also says And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;”

“I guess that’s a fair point, but beer isn’t liquor either, and a pint or two won’t exactly lead to debauchery.” Bentham laughs as he gets up to leave with Mill.

“I hope you’ll be sensible.” You say as they leave.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Bentham reassures you.

You watch the two of them board Mill’s rented car and drive off before you close the front door. Then you go to the kitchen and open the fridge to pick out some dinner.

Heating your food in the microwave, you feel a bit thirsty, so you pour yourself a cool glass of milk.

End Of Thread

And that's another thread.

Questions/concerns/complaints before the thread archives itself? pls no bully

It's fine, take your time.

Did our main character have any colleagues/counterparts he trained with as a child he is still in touch with?

>>3481151
Tristan has childhood friends he continues to work with occasionally, and you'll probably end up meeting them too if you survive long enough.[/i]. You've actually already met one, Benjamin was a childhood friend of Tristan before Tristan was old enough to go out into the field with Bentham.