Masato looked about the peaceful beach. Peaceful, the opposite of chaos, great. He dropped down and crossed his legs. He picked up a handful of sand, staring at each grain till he grew bored of the act. The samurai tossed it to the churning waves, their final destination unknown to him. He rose, shaking off some sand, and walked down the beach.

After walking for a while he came across a wide area. He looked about, "This will do." He turned around, marching into the center. From there he flicked his gaze about the beach before slowly drawing his blade with power waiting to be released. He flicked it about, familiarizing again himself with its weight. Once assured he had the feel once more for it he proceeded to swipe and parry against an imagined foe. He kept his timing precise, keeping his guard up as well. He kicked out, and elaborately 'beheaded' his fake foe. He flicked his blade, as though to remove it of the blood, and sheathed it once more.

Kumorin skipped along the beach, his wings and pompom flopping behind him. Today was truly a glorious day, the sun was shining, the temperature was warm, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was out on a journey, he didn't where to, he just lead with his heart and his mind and body followed. He stopped momentarily, turning to the ocean. The waves were gently rolling up the beach, creating a gentle sea foam from which crabs could be seen scurrying. There was something else down there on the beach too, what was it?

Kumorin squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look through the glare from the sun, It was what looked like a powerful man in a...Kimono. Kumorin trotted a few steps forward to get a better look. Was he a geisha? No...no what was it called, not ninja..."Samurai!" Said Kumo, (he had a habit of speaking his thoughs sometimes). That was odd, Kumo had heard of Samurai existing, but he had never met anyone who even resembled on before. He would have to watch, in order to learn more about this "Samurai."

He took a seat on his rear, and watched as the man drew a large katana, and began swinging it around as if he were fighting an invisible foe. He had pretty good moves, they were nice and flashy just like Kumo's attacks. He thought of fighting as more of an art, perhaps this Samurai did too.

Deciding that this man was probably safe, due to some sort of code of honor, Kumo trotted up to him, and poked the side of his leg. "Down here Mr. Samurai! Kupo! My name is Kumorin, I like the style of your fighting. " He looked up at Masato with a quirky smile on his face, perhaps he had made a new friend!

Masato glanced down at the calling of 'Mr.Samurai' he turned fully, looking the odd puffball up and down. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the pompom that was attached to his head. That was unusual indeed. Masato knelt down so that he was on level with the little moogle. "Thank you for your compliment, Kumorin. Uh...I like your pompom?" He figured it would be best to answer a compliment with a compliment but the little fuzz ball was a little on the odd side.

Kumorin noticed the Samurai looking over him, wondering what he thought of him. Then the Samurai complimented him. Kumo reached up and cupped his Pompom in his hand, and said "Thank you Sir." He gave a courtly little bow, his pompom flopping over his head and his wings hitting him in the back of the head lightly.

He observed the Samurai more up close. He had long black hair tied in a pony tail, as was custom of the Samurai. They never seemed to cut there hair, which amused Kumorin. Kumorin's fur was always kept short, and his PomPom never grew. The Kimono the samurai was wearing was a little odd looking, then again, Kumorin thought most clothing was odd, because he had never warn it. The only clothes he could conceive himself wearing were Wizard robes, but those would hamper his ability to dance, so he would not do that unless he were in a dire situation. Anyways, back to the Samurai, the katana he was carrying looked far more deadly then the dagger hanging at Kumorin's side, he wondered if Mr. Samurai had ever killed a man, he looked like he had, but then again, you couldn't judge killing will by looks, just look at Kumorin! He had killed a bad robber who had tried to take his gold wallet.

Overall though, Mr Samurai looked like a relatively good guy. "Its a beautiful day isn't it kupo?" he asked. "The sun is high in the sky and the kupo sea smells pleasant. Forgive me for not asking sir, what is your name kupo?"

Kumorin had an idea! Perhaps he would like a little entertainment.
He plopped on to the ground, and pulled the flute he often kept tucked away in his fur-pocket out. It was a beautiful hand-crafted flute that his granmother had given him when he was little. He experimented with a lot of insturments growing up, but after his grandmother had died, he devoted himself to learning the flute to honor her memory. He looked up to the Samurai, who's name he didn't yet know. " Would you like to hear some music kupo? Feel free to make a selection!"

The samurai smirked at the little puffball's outwardness, "My name is Masato," then he sat down. Music? Curious he thought. "Anything is good really," Masato wondered why he always said kupo during his speech, what did it mean? He might as well ask, "Why do you constantly say 'kupo'? If I may ask." He took out his blade, examining his reflection on its surface. He angled it so that it played the light of the sun off its side, flashing it at the ground.

Kumorin smiled warmly. "It is very nice to kupo meet you Mr. Masato." He said. He waited with his head turned a bit to the side for the samurais answer as he sat down. He nodded eagerly when Masato said to play anything, and he was about to start playing a nice elven melody he had learned from another traveling bard, when Masato asked him why he said 'kupo' all the time.

Kumo tilted his head, thinking for a moment, then he reached up his little hand and scratche his head, all the while thinking. Why did he say Kupo? It was an odd question, and one he had never really pondered himself.

"I guess you could say its just a natural thing kupo, instincts are what you might call it. Of course it could kupo fall under an accent, but that wouldn't explain why all of us say it kupo. I can't really help saying it, its sort of like when a dog barks kupo, except we can talk also."

Feeling he had succesfull answered the question, Kumorin sat down with his flute again, and began to play an enchanting melody of the elves. There were words that went with it which he didn't know specifically, but he knew that it was a song about a princess. As he was playing it, a few birds circle above, one of them chirping, as if to sing along to the tune. After playing it by itself for a few moments, Kumorin hopped up to his feet, and began dancing to the melody as he played. His little feet might've seem unfit for dancing, but years of practice had made it a second reflex. As he danced and played, his wings and Poppom flailed around like plush toys, and his face turned a bit red because of the exertion of the dancing and the air required to play the flute. He was better at doing one or the other, not both. He finished the song about 5 minutes later, and promptly fell on to his back, trying to catch his breath. "What...do you...think...kupo?" he asked the Samurai.

Masato nodded, the song was pleasant to his ears. It was an enjoyable performance, something he didn't spend much time to bother with usually. However, this made the few performances he viewed all the more appealing. He glanced to the sky, watching the birds flutter around. He paused, tilting his gaze towards the distance.

Kumorin laid there resting for a while, letting the air gladly in to his tiny lungs, it didn't take him more then a few minutes to fully recover, but he just felt like laying there. He had seen the Samurai nod out of the corner of his eye, and he assumed that he had indeed enjoyed but was busy thinking. He closed his eyes, thinking about the happenings of that day, and then running the notes of some of his favorite songs through his head. If the Samurai had anything to say, then he would say it. He was contently laying there, his eyes closed, and his chest rising and falling gently. Suddenly, he felt hot breath on his face, and then sniffing.

"What are you doing Mr. Masato kupo?" he asked, laughing a bit. "Why are you sniffing me like a dog.?" The response he got was a half growling half snarling sound. That was odd, humans didn't growl...

Kumorin jumped to his feet just in time to avoid having his PomPom bitten off. There were Two big, angry looking dire wolves standing there. The grey hair on their backs was sticking straight up in the air, and their fanged canines were bared, ready to bite. Kumorin ran towards the Saumurai, pocketing his flute. He pulled his minaiture dagger from his pocket, and with his other hand poked Masato's leg.

"Mr. Masato Mr. Masato!" he squeaked. "Big wolves Kupo! Big Bad Wolves Kupo! You've got to help me! You've got to help me! Use your katana kupo!"

Kumo jumped up in the air as one of the wolves came at him from the side, and fluttered for a few seconds, he jumped back to the ground behind the wolf, and stabbed the Wolf in the leg, causing it to yelp and turn around on him, bearing it's teeth, it lunged forward, its paws pressed down on Kumo's chest.

Masato's blade was drawn in a flash. In an instant he had knocked the beast off of the unfortunate moogle, and was prepped for the next one. He didn't have to wait long as it lunged at him with its teeth barred. The wolf yelped as the blade slid across its side. It drew a deep bloody line and the beast ran away. He turned his attention to the last one, but it chickened out at the state of its comrade. "You alright, furry one?"

When the wolf had pinned Kumorin to the ground, he was worried he wouldn't be able to get out of it's grip, and his dagger was pinned to the ground with his arm. Thankfully, the samurai was quick to slash the wolf, and it let out a loud yelping sound, and Kumorin felt relief on his body as the dire wolf gave up it's pinning. Kumorin jumped to his feet, ready to go after the second wolf, but it had already run away. Perhaps it was for the better, Kumorin wasn't of much battle prowess since his reportiore of musical spells was very limited at the time.

He turned and looked up to Masato. "Kupo! Yes, Im ok Kupo. Thank you very much Mr. Masato, I would probaby have gotten hurt really bad if you didn't react so fast." Kumorin felt his torso, and noticed he had a bit of a cut there. "Wanna see something cool?" he asked. He began to dance a slow, graceful dance. Though Kumorin may be a kluts when running or walking, dancing was nearly flawless for him. Well, this one at least, as he had practiced it many times. The dance almost looked like a sort of ballet. As Kumorin was dancing, his cut began to glow with a white light, and as it was glowing, the cut slowly clotted, and then it faded until it was gone. After it had healed, he stopped dancing, and poked his chest. "Good as new kupo! It works on other people too! So if you ever get cut kupo, just come find me!"

He seated himself back on the ground, and looked back up in to Masato's face. "Mr. Masato, your very quick, almost like lightning, and you cut on such a perfect angle, is that part of the samurai training?" He waited with an eager expression on his face, such as a child might during story time. Maybe part of it was innocence, but most of it was just his fascination with people.

Masato stared in awe at the magic, he was utterly unfamiliar with the subject, like the gods, and was left gawking at the act. He freed himself of his trance and came upon the moogle's question. "Yes, all from the training. We are concidered adults at thirteen years of age, and are expected to fight like one." He looked down at his sword for a moment, "I've had a decent number of years since then to improove my skills, though I'm still a...greenhorn you call it? When compaired to some of the other samurai I've met."

"Really kupo? I didn't know samurai started at age 13..." said Kumorin. "That's a young age to become a full fledged adult kupo, let alone a warrior. " Masato seemed like a very imposing force on the world. It was a good thing that he used them for good, as Kumoring thought he did. Kumorin imagined himself as a Samurai, wielding a samurai sword, it seemed fun.

Then Kumorin thought about learning to fight fiercely when he was only 13, and the thought quite frankly scared him. He hadn't killed anyone until he was 21, and even then it was hard for him to do, and he dwelt on the guilt for quite a while. When he was 13, if he had done such a thing, it probably would have drastically altered the course of his emotional development, he might be much darker then he was currently. Heck, he might not even be a traveling musician like he was now. He wondered if Masato had ever killed a person. " Mr. Masato, Have you ever....killed someone? I don't mean an animal, I mean another sentient being."

Kumorin asked the question purely out of curiosity, gazing awkwardly at Masato, but he quickly realised how inapropriate it was. He looked down at his feet and said, "Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to disrespect you Mr. Masato, i'm just curious. You look so finely trained in combat, and I deduced that you must have a lot of experience in actual combat in order to be so good at it."

What was he, Stupid? You didn't ask someone you just met if they had ever killed a man. It was just plain uncorteuous, but Kumorin had a bad habit of blurting out exactly what he was thinking, without thinking about the consequences. Even though he was 22, he seemed much more like a child then one might expect him to.

"Have I ever killed somebody? That I have," He was utterly neutral on the matter, "Killing is a messy business but its often a necessity to survive. I have no regrets, its either me or him. I opt to live." He unsheathed his sword again, inspecting its fine surface as he remembered the lives it had taken. Thugs, mercenaries, none of them were innocent so they all deserved it in Masato's opinion.

Kumo nodded. "Yes I agree Kupo." he said. " When people want to kill you, sometimes you have no choice to kill them first. I still find it hard to deliver a killing blow kupo, but I force myself to do it. It's just the idea of taking a life is kind of scary for me kupo, but I guess im going to have to get used to it kupo, living in such a dangerous world."

Kumo thought of his first impression of Masato, and how he had saved him. Masato wasn't a bad guy, he had saved him afterall. Just because you killed someone didn't make you a bad person. Perhaps Kumo could finally lay to rest the guilt he had been feeling for the thief he had killed, afterall, Kumo might of been dead now.

"So Kupo, you say your only a 'greenhorn'?" he asked. What did that he mean, Masato didn't have a green horn on his head, but he remembered everything else he had said, and comparing himself to other samurai. "So you mean there are other, stronger samurai? Wow kupo... The thought of someone being that skilled is amazing kupo."

Kumo slid the knife that was laying on the ground in to his scabbard, knowing that he would need it if he were in trouble. He was nott very good at fighting with a knife though. What he really wanted to do was learn to channel offensive spells in to his dancing and flute playing, but that would take a little more time.

"So Mr. Masato, why are you here on this beach kupo? Are you a wanderer too? I know myself I can never stay put in a place for too long kupo. I love traveling and spreading cheer through my talents kupo."

The samurai 'scooped' up some sand with his sword, balancing it gingerly on the blade. "Many are more skillful then I am," He flicked the sand behind him, and stabbed the katana down into the sand. "I've come to this beach for no real reason, I simply happened to pass by. I'm simply traveling the land, and taking in what there is to see. Funny how I have not seen any others like me." Masato crossed his arms, head hanging a bit in contemplation.

(OOC: this thread is winding down, im gonna post once more then you can do the last post.)

Kumorin watched as if in a trance at the graceful skill that Masato showed balancing sand on such a thin blade. It seemed that the way of the samurai was just as artistic as that of the bard. "Mr. Masato, I'm sure you'll meet others like you kupo. It's just that it's a big world kupo, and such a fine order must be spread a little thin kupo.


In the time they had been talking, the sun had moved a decent distance across the sky. Kumorin would have to leave if he were going to make it to the nearest village before sundown "Well Mr Masato, I must say that it's been an honor meeting you kupo! I would love to meet with you again sometime kupo, unfortunately I must be going now, I have to make it to the nearest village by sundown kupo, and I can only travel so fast on foot." Kumorin bowed to Masato. "If you ever need any help, or your just looking for someone to talk to kupo, chances are you can find me in Lomedor or Estolad during most weekends. If your around, we can hang out kupo."

Kumorin took one last look at the Samurai who he had befriended, the man who was an expert at making combat in to a graceful art. Kumorin once more bowed to him, and began walking towards the north along the shore. This had been some encounter, but Kumorin had learned something about himself, and perhaps the whole world. Sometimes, in order to stay alive, you had to do things you'd rather not do, like kill. He also realised that it was a major decision to take, and that he better be sure about if before he made it. He trudeged on, perhaps a little slower then he should, for he was in a very pensive mood.

Masato half bowed back to the moogle from hiss sitting position. "I will look forward to seeing you again." He stood, glancing about the beach for a good camping location, "Farewell." He smiled, and sheathed his blade once more. The samurai, lone once again, planned for a long, windy night.