Zhang Sanfeng
With Friends Like These

"I take nothing lightly, for to do so indicates a lack of honour. To do so indicates a distinct disregard for the hearts one may step on."






"What kinda' creature's that?" Philip Dobson whispered as he watched the scene before him unfold. Beside him, Jason Lee Traskam shrugged, not entirely sure whether he ought to reply.
Before those two and a small crowd of other individuals, the tableau unfolded with an uncanny ferocity -- A child wept in relief at the grasp of his mother's arms and as fast as one could take a breath, a bluish-gray shadow was upon a would-be robber. They looked on even as the authorities themselves bore down on the little square.

He was livid, but showed nothing. The sound of a child's cry had set him on edge and upon tracing the sound, he heard another along with it; that of a depraved adult male speaking only a few words he did not understand. He shut those words out of his head and came upon the tall, swarthy man with a ferocity few would have condoned. Mercy was not a well-used word in his book.

By the time the authorities emerged, they found nothing but that swarthy giant of a man bloodied and babbling incoherently to himself about steel monsters.


He journeyed across the land from little town to little town. He spoke very little until he came upon times when speech was necessary.

"Hey, hey. You, in the blue thing...You okay?" A youngish voice spoke from somewhere to his left. He turned to acknowledge it but again, spoke next to nothing.
"Who?"
The voice approached and spoke his name. It sensed his wariness and kept on a soft tack. Friendly and conversational, the voice stayed with him as he journeyed. Their journeys expanded as he, clad in his steel-blue and the other, clad in his brighter blue, slowly got to know one another. Time passed, as it always does, and this steel-clad being learned names and a new tenet he found he could embrace quite well.
So he embraced both it and the voice at his side.

Time seemed immaterial as the two traveled together and their stories took hold. They were not yet called anything but they left one thing in their wake: Would-be slavers, thieves or killers bloodied, bruised and most of them, babbling in half-coherence about monsters in blue steel. It was in this time, that he began to recollect his name and everything he had known. Eventually, he spoke of it to his companion.

Until that companion's voice was no longer there.

Confused, alarmed, he began a search, never once missing the sense of d?j? vu. He searched with nothing else upon his mind and he was indeed rewarded with something.
He was rewarded with his former companion in the arms of a lover. No matter. It should not affect... But, he was sorely wrong and in a matter of words, Renne Arc'err felt history itself fold over upon him. He spoke once upon a chance to reply and with that, made his way back to Rhy'Din City proper.
His protection to Humans had officially ended.

"With 'friends' like you...who needs enemies?"

Zhang Sanfeng
In the Mountains, There I Wept

"'Why do you not stick your neck out?' asked the wolf.
'I do not wish to have my throat slit,' said the man who was betrayed."






The monastery stood almost hidden in the tree-covered foothills of Sōng Shān. It seemed both glaringly present and hidden at the same time as Renne moved, following the directions he'd been given as best as he could. He stayed close to the trees and had procured a shroud that he might hide himself.
Already he had frightened a novice on the way here with his appearance. It was at this encounter that he noted the familiar disorientation associated with Rift-travel. It was a thing he'd gotten used to in Rhy'Din, so he paid little mind to it, only concentrating on what his guide had told him.
Find the monk.

He sometimes walked, sometimes crawled up the hills that led to what had been called Sōng Shān by these Water-Tongue people. They were Humans, which made him wary. But their language was pleasant to the ear, sounding less abrasive than English. Once, he almost fancied these people as a rare Elven type but dismissed the idea. Most Elven folk he'd known had borne magic and these people were devoid of it.
They had something of their own. Something other.
So he ascended Sōng Shān, away from the bustling towns and villages into the quiet. The temple, he found somewhat by accident; curiosity compelling him to follow the strange sound of bricks breaking either into two or, in some cases, shattering into several pieces.

A child spotted him and spoke in his Water-Tongue, though Renne did not understand a bit of it. The thing he understood was the child's hand tugging his shroud. It was as he understood it, a Multiversal gesture to follow.

He followed and, with the child, found the monk.



I. Tea.

The monk dismissed his acolyte and emerged into the temple courtyard to meet this "Sheet man". Upon spotting him, the monk chuckled -- his acolyte had described this stranger well as "Sheet man". Why did this visitor cover himself so? Why was he here? It wasn't another attack from the outside; that much the monk knew. If it was, the whole temple would be up in arms by now and fighting for its life.

"Nihao." He didn't know what else to say to the sheet-man. Approaching him, the monk gave his visitor a once-over and frowned. To cover oneself like that...what taboo was he avoiding? Or breaking? What terrible weight rested upon this tiny one's shoulders? And why did he not speak -- was he mute?
The monk placed a gentle hand on the sheet-man's shoulder, ushering him into the main temple.

They sat in a softly lit chamber with a low table between them. The monk watched his visitor silently yet appreciatively partake of tea. Discerning eyes watched the visitor's careful, slow movements and refilled both of their cups when necessary. Yet through it all, the visitor to the temple did not speak a word.

The monk merely watched, observing the sheet-man's cloth become suspiciously damp. He knew it wasn't from the tea.

The monk permitted his visitor to have as much tea as he needed to quell his tears.

Zhang Sanfeng
In the Mountains, There I Wept

"Only the weak are as slippery sand through one's fingers. The truly strong are as stones-and-mortar in the fortress."






"Master did not see his face? Why? Did he not let...?"

"I do not know, Shun Lau. Peculiar, but our guest has his ways. You're falling behind, now come on! Master will have us sweep Lo Han again if you get distracted."

"I know, I know. But this foreigner...why will he not show his face? Is he disfigured? Or was he burned?"

Speculations ran abuzz through the temple's yard as the students went through their routine. Even amid the body conditionings and the numerous bricks they still had to crack, they wondered. But Zhang Sanfeng said precious little and forbade them all from going near their guest's room. He went there himself, having tea and speaking. What disturbed the monks most however, was the sound they could hear at night.
Wails echoed and kept them awake for many hours, creating more question as to what had been done.

Before those nights, the monks thought only wounded animals made such horrifying sounds.


III. Of Peaceful Minds

He sat up, waking from another nightmare. Screaming into coherence, he realised belatedly that he is not alone. A human sits beside him and at first, Renne starts. He had learnt all too well how evil Humans are, how lustful and primal... Sniff. It took him several moments but the scent did't match to any of the myriad betrayers he had known.
It was only the tea man.
His ears pinned back, then flicked forward. He had lost count of how many days he'd been in this temple, only knowing it was long enough to have relived a very recent and gut-turning hell. Perhaps it was time...

He heard the tea-man speak in his Water-Language again and try for a few slow words of English.

"Look... You... Today?"


IV. Still Alive

Zhang Sanfeng waited another three days before he was ready to bring his guest out into the main temple. That night his guest had wailed himself awake, the master had earned the right to see the covered face. It had shocked him, naturally. Here, in Qin, there existed no such creatures except in myth or lore. He recalled asking of his guest was a Qilin -- or Kirin as some of his associates had called it. When Zhang was answered with confusion, the temple master explained what a Kirin was and why he had asked.
He found out that his guest made Kirins look completely mundane.

"Brethren, come to the main chamber. Our guest will come out today."

"What will you have him do? Will you let us see him? How old is he? What is his name? Where is he from again?"

Zhang smiled and stayed his students' questions with a hand. He waited until they calmed down to silence, then spoke to answer them.

"He has not told me his name. He has however, allowed me to see his face. I do not believe he is ready to show the rest of you yet, but he has agreed to come out into the main temple. He will begin as all of you did, with the regimen of a small child. I will be his Senior. Now, no more questions."

Zhang turned down the hall and reemerged with the temple's strange, quiet guest at his side. Covered as he was in his sheet, the monks only got a clear idea of his height and thereby deduced him to be a child. Some of them frowned deeply; the thought of a child meeting a betrayal as dark as Zhang Sanfeng had described was...disturbing. Most disturbing.
hey kept quiet about it and introduced themselves politely. Now was not the time to act as children, but as monks. They had far more knowledge than their guest and it was their duty to impart that knowledge. It was their duty to be as monks -- Strong, pure of mind and intent, and benevolent.

When they went to their studies, Zhang Sanfeng took his guest aside and began lessons. Although he spoke mostly in his Water-Language, Zhang used what little English he had picked up from "Sheet-man" in hopes that they could learn mutually.

"No harm. No harm. Speak...with me. Honour. Respect. Veracity. Courage. Loyalty...."