Demented3

Late summer, 2257 ab urbe Regelli condita There was an opponent to either side of me as I stood ready and waiting for Master Wei-fu’s direction. His black robes hung off his bony frame and he leaned on his staff. His sparse beard pointed stiffly at me and his eyes flashed with annoyance in the shadow of his brows. I was stripped down for exercise. The late afternoon sun is never very warm that time of the year in the mountains when summer is dying and there’s a scent of autumn in the air. With the sweat from our earlier passes drying on my skin I was feeling the chill. “Begin!” he cried. My older brothers Calcedor and