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Post by Grisha on Mar 31, 2021 7:11:16 GMT -8
The walls to their left and right were towering orange rock. They trapped and prevented all sound from entering and exiting their embrace. The canyon held the sun like arms above their heads and left them in a pool of dim shadow. Grisha could hear the scrapes of his sandals against the rock, louder than he had ever heard them. Being one with a scarce education, it was a phenomenon to him, and an annoying one. Several things had been annoying him lately. The sounds that resonated and bounced off the walls and the strange man who insisted on following him just because they found the same rock. Once upon a time, Grisha had longed for company, but now he yearned for silent solitude. The giant was frowning—mainly at his thoughts. Did he really desire to be trapped with them again? They were self-defeating and demotivating. At least with the annoying, flying man, he didn’t have to dwell on them. Instead, he dwelled on how loud and irritating everything was. Another irritating thought was that he didn’t know where they were going, and he hadn’t eaten anything as satisfying as the great worm. That had been days ago. What he noticed over time was that the man who followed him didn’t eat once. He didn’t even drink. It was abnormal, and it made Grisha uncomfortable to have him around. In Grisha’s eyes, Bryce was a freak of nature—perhaps even a monster. He expected to be attacked or eaten by him one day. His orange, tribal robes were still holding up. They wrapped his body. The hood was drawn over his head and the rippling sleeves protected his arms. The material was light and breathable, and as simple as the garment was, it guarded him from the harsh sun and stinging sand. During the days they spent walking, they hadn’t come across anyone or anything. The Great Desert had become a complete wasteland. Before them had been canyons and mesa, and one of those mesa was where a great blacksmith lived. Grisha couldn’t imagine how. There was so little to eat. The Saiyan had resorted to eating practically anything. He ate birds, lizards, scorpions, bugs, cactus fruit, roots, and snakes. He was lucky to find a desert hare or jackal. If any conservationists were concerned about the decline in animal and plant populations in The Great Desert, it was probably due to a hungry Saiyan passing through. What was he doing? Grisha could hear his thoughts again. There was no power to be gained in the desert. He had left his home to get stronger, and he honestly hadn’t felt any different. Why was he out here? And most especially, why was he traveling with the strange man? Grisha gave Bryce an unfriendly glare. WC: 465 Tag: Tolvur-Q12
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Post by Grisha on Jul 16, 2021 16:25:10 GMT -8
His traveling partner grew tired of following him, and Grisha figured it was because he couldn’t fly. He wondered how long it would take before the strange man became bored and chose to seek out the smith on his own. When he was suddenly gone, Grisha hadn’t expected it. As much as he found the man to be annoying, when Grisha had turned around to check behind him, he saw no one and the walls surrounding him felt tighter. Grisha turned completely, his eyes widening slowly in surprise and his nostrils wiggling to sniff the air. The man hadn’t had a normal odor…Grisha didn’t know a word to describe the smell—he didn’t know that many words period. The Saiyan had gotten what he wished. He was alone. The giant Saiyan stopped walking to rest in the shade. His legs were tucked against his chest and his arms were folded on top of them. His brown, fuzzy tail curled about his ankles as he bowed his head, resting his cheek against his forearm. The canyon was eerily quiet. The wind passed through it like a breath, and the crackle of orange rocks was always some fleeing creature. What are you doing? he heard his conscience ask him again. While he closed his eyes to rest them, he dreamed about being back in Kousetsu with Lena and even Tobias. He was passing through the village, and all the villagers were happily greeting him. The kids were racing toward him and climbing up his body to hang from his limbs, shoulders, and clothes. Lena was smiling at him, which always made him smile even on a bad day; but then her eyes started to water, and she clapped her hands to her face and wept. Grisha had wanted to console her, but when he opened his eyes, it was night. Like a torturous game, he was unable to do so. Grisha’s grey eyes stared across the canyon space as he remembered where he was. He had stupidly gone on a journey for more power. It was cooler at night, which made traveling easier. He stretched out his legs. His joints and muscles ached, reminding him how long he had been walking. With a groan, he stood and tilted his neck left and right, rolled his shoulders, and loosened up his crackling and popping bones and tendons. He had to continue and find someone—anyone. Otherwise, he wouldn’t last long. The canyon opened into a vast, flatland with mesas rising out of the earth like dull horns. In the sparkling sky that caught the Saiyan’s eyes was a white, glowing orb that lit the entire desert in silver. Grisha stood at the mouth of the ravine, jaw dropped in awe. Stars covered the sky like spray paint and comets raced like mice across it. He had never seen such a beautiful sky. Not even in South City (due to the light pollution). His tail swayed happily behind him as he thought how Lena would have loved this sky. If only he could show her. His graphite orbs lowered back to the mesas, and he remembered the miners explaining that the smith who he was looking for would be at the top of one of them. It must have been convenient to be able to fly like that strange man. He could fly right to the top without a problem. All of a sudden, Grisha’s excitement and fascination with the desert night was gone and replaced with reluctance. Scaling each one was going to suck. WC: 591
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Post by Grisha on Jul 16, 2021 17:39:22 GMT -8
The wind whipped against his back, causing his orange robes to ripple. The climb was harder than climbing Tengoku, and it was only due to having an empty stomach. Every time Grisha reached for a ledge, he heard his stomach grumble at him and felt the nauseating pull of starvation at his insides. He glanced down at the orange plains. He couldn’t tell cactus from rocks, and this was his first mesa! Peering up the rock face at the unseeable summit made Grisha moan pathetically and slam his forehead against the wall. A musical clatter resounded, drawing his attention up to a ledge where something orange and sparkly was resting on the edge. Curiously, he continued to climb, his toes pressing into any nook they could find and helping him hold himself. His tail was curled behind him, granting him balance for his climb as he reached higher and higher until his left hand found the orange crystal. The giant peered down at his palm, inspecting the mysterious object before it seemed to glow and sink into his hand. Grisha’s tail and brows shot up in alarm as he started to frantically shake his hand. The ledge broke where his other hand was posted, causing the Saiyan to tip backwards. Baring his teeth in alarm and effort, Grisha whirled his arms in a panic as his toes attempted a death grip on their purchase. Gravity, unfortunately, kept pulling harder and harder on his shoulders until he tumbled. It hadn’t been Grisha’s first time falling from a great height, but unlike falling from a mesa, a snowy mountain was much softer. His back shattered ledges like a wrecking ball, raining massive shards of rock down on the base of the mesa. When he struck the base, he rolled down its sloping foundation until he gained control of his falling. He pushed off his thigh, sending himself airborne for a brief moment. Using his momentum, he performed a single, mid-air barrel roll before the ball of his foot planted into the loose dirt. Sliding downward with his foot dragging like an anchor, the giant backflipped into a series of recovering backhand springs. Once he saw the flat, parched ground beneath him, Grisha landed flat on his feet with an impact that caused the dirt to shatter beneath him. He halted in a low crouch, arms extended before him, and tail curled upward behind him. The dust rose in a light screen about his knees, floating up to a stranger who was standing on a floating log. “Ahem,” the man cleared his throat. A reed was sticking out of his mouth and a brown sack was over his shoulder. Grisha peered over his shoulder at the little man standing on…a floating log!? The Saiyan stood and faced him in awe. His eyes were focused on the hunk of wood beneath the old man’s tabi-covered feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone fall from such a high up place and survive. Bravo.” Grisha’s eyes flicked up from the log to the old man. He pointed at it and asked, “How log fly?” The old man’s almond-eyes narrowed as he processed Grisha’s strange use of words. He suspected that something must not have been entirely right with him. Maybe too many falls from that mesa… he suspected. “This log flies because it’s not a log,” the man answered. Grisha gave him a blank and confused look that earned a hard snicker and laughter. The old man couldn’t recall the last time he spoke to someone. “What is your name, giant? And why are you climbing this mesa?” “Grisha. Old man at top. Make something special,” he explained. Grisha fumbled around in his robes for the shiny rock he found. Grasping it, he held the moon-like, sparkly rock before the elder’s eyes. The old man’s narrow eyes widened in shock. He glanced from the rock to Grisha. “Where did you find that? I haven’t seen one of those in…I think since my father was alive. Could I have it?” Grisha drew his hand back in a clenched fist and gave the old man a cautious glare. He had traveled long and hard with the rock, and he was supposed to find some man on a mesa. He peered down at it, feeling his determination crumbling. Maybe, he was fooled. Maybe, his journey was pointless. He saw how much the rock meant to the man before him, and reluctantly, Grisha’s tail lulling behind him, he muttered as he held the rock out to him, “Here.” The old man was surprised. “Are you sure? Do you know what that is? It’s worth a fortune.” Grisha couldn’t eat it or wish to go home with it. To him, it was just a rock. The Saiyan frowned and demanded, “Take.” The old man drifted close on the log and plucked the rock from Grisha’s wide palm. He held it up before his eyes and smiled. “Yes…this is a genuine star shard. I can’t believe you found one and you’re giving it to me for free.” He saw how exhausted Grisha looked and smiled warmly. “I must repay your kindness. Please, come with me to my home. You must be tired. Oh yes, and I, am Danjiro. Take hold of this log. Don’t worry; it can even carry a guy of your size to the top.” Grisha wasn’t going to refuse Danjiro’s kindness. He was hungry and tired, and being able to sleep in a comfy house instead of on the hard ground was a nice thought. He approached the log and grasped it, and immediately, the object rocketed into the sky. The Saiyan gripped the log in fright, his fingers near splintering its body. The log bucked angrily, causing Grisha to panic and Danjiro to wobble. “Be gentle Grisha or we’ll fall! This little guy is alive and you’re hurting it!” Grisha softened his grip a little, staring at the wood as though its metaphorical eyes were glaring back at him. “Sorry,” he apologized. The log carried them across the flat tops of several mesas before it settled before a small shack. WC: 1031
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Post by Grisha on Jul 16, 2021 20:22:05 GMT -8
Grisha released the log, sprawling on his back as a sigh of relief left his mouth. The log settled completely on the ground for its master, allowing him to step down. The old man glanced over at Grisha and smiled in amusement. “You better get used to it. You’ll have to get back down again somehow.”
Grisha closed his eyes as he tried not to think about it. Riding the log was terrifying because it had no branches to cling to, and then he couldn’t grip its bark because it would hurt it.
“This way, son,” Danjiro beckoned.
Grisha sat up and rose to his feet, following after the old man as he led him to his small abode. Candlelight and an oven full of coals heated and illuminated the interior. The door was small and Grisha was forced to crouch and maneuver his way through the doorframe.
“Sorry about that,” Danjiro apologized. “I don’t normally get guests of your size…or guests at all.”
Once Grisha squeezed through the frame, he crawled across the floor and sat cross-legged. His eyes swept the interior, which was rather simple like his home in Kousetsu. There was a table, chairs, a glowing hearth, an anvil, hammers, and a few weapons on the wall…Grisha scowled as his mental cogs started to creak and turn. The giant’s hands slammed the wooden floor as he leaned forward with a stunned gasp, “AH!” He then pointed at Danjiro. “OLD MAN!”
Danjiro set down a sack of what appeared to be coal that he dumped into a pail. “You don’t know manners, do you?” he grumbled.
Grisha realized that he had given him the star shard and further explained, “Grisha look for Old Man. Old man take shiny rock and make special!”
Danjiro frowned as he mused over Grisha’s story. “You may be talking about my father, Jiro. Jiro knew how to forge the star shard into a powerful weapon. I, however, am old and I never had the physical strength my father did to make it. My father was always strong. He had the extraordinary strength required to mold the star shard. Warriors from around the world would come to my father with star shards, asking him to make them into weapons. I am afraid that my father’s body could take only so much punishment. He died making those swords and that’s why I am thankful that you gave me this star shard. I find it to be something to remember him by.”
Grisha sighed softly and bowed his head. The old man on the mesa was a legend that died with the legend. Danjiro eyed Grisha and hummed. “You look pretty strong,” he complimented.
Grisha sat back into a lotus and rested his hands upon his knees as he proudly declared, “Grisha strongest.”
“You don’t say…growing up, I closely watched my father make the star sword. I know how to make one, but I don’t have the strength to beat a star into the right shape. You just might be strong enough.”
Grisha nodded with a determined frown.
“Do you want to help me make a star sword? I have always dreamed of making one myself. It won’t be easy, son. It takes a near inhuman amount of strength to hammer a star. Even my father had to takes breaks. It would take him one month just to make one sword.”
Grisha’s brows knitted further. He didn’t want to spend one month trying to build some sword. He was strong. He was sure he could make it sooner. “Grisha make faster. Make best sword!”
Danjiro’s eyes glinted with excitement and determination. “Thata’ boy. I know that you must be tired. Let’s eat first and get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”
Grisha nodded with a broad smile. “Mhm!”
WC: 634
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Post by Grisha on Jul 17, 2021 10:16:28 GMT -8
Feeding a guest of Grisha’s size had felt like a big mistake. It was an hour before sunrise when Danjiro awoke. He emerged from his bedroom in the back to once again take in the chaos of the main room. There was a turned over clay jar of what had been his supply of rice; the greasy and fatty remains of what used to be an entire desert hog (not even the bones remained!); and all of his bread and beer were gone. Danjiro rested his hands upon his hips and sighed. Lying on the floor on his side, was the giant sleeping away. A few grains of rice speckled the corner of his mouth and his tail hooked about his legs. Grisha had had an immense appetite. He wondered if it was because he had gone several days without eating, or if it was due to his size. He needed him at his best if he was to make him the star sword, but he wasn’t about to go without breakfast. The old smith walked over to Grisha and rested a foot against his rockface of a back. “Wake up, son. It’s breakfast time.” Grisha’s eyelids cracked open, revealing only white sclera. His resting breaths stopped for a second until a deep exhale signaled his awakening. The Saiyan’s eyes rolled into view before his face scrunched up as a large yawn forced wide his mouth. Rolling over to face Danjiro, Grisha gazed across the room through sleepy eyes not seeing any food that the old man spoke of. “Where food?” he asked. “You tell me. You ate all of my food, and now I’m going to starve to death,” Danjiro scolded. Grisha’s eyes grew briefly before he sat up, posting his hands behind him. He gazed about at the mess and blushed before smiling sheepishly at Danjiro. “Grisha hunt. Bring breakfast and more food for Danjiro.” Danjiro crossed his arms before his chest and asked, “I suppose you plan to jump off the mesa.” Grisha blinked as he remembered he was on top of a towering rock formation. Bringing food up and down the mesa was going to be a pain. Danjiro’s expression softened as he contemplated over the situation. “I will let you use it,” he decided. “Hm?” Grisha uttered with raised brows. “My Mokuzai.” He continued to receive a bewildered stare. Danjiro sighed. “My flying log.” Grisha made a face. “No like. Grisha fall.” “You fell from a mesa yesterday…besides, Mokuzai won’t let you hit the ground…” He then muttered offhandedly, If it likes you.“What if no like Grisha?” the Saiyan whimpered. “We’ll find out. Come.” Grisha followed Danjiro outside to find the log still resting where they had left it yesterday. The old man approached the log and crouched next to it, resting his hand upon it as though it were some living creature. “Morning old friend,” he greeted it as he gave it a loving rub. Grisha crouched next to Danjiro, watching a man pet…a log. It was strange, but he did say it was alive. “This is Grisha. Could you help him for me?” The log didn’t move or give a response as Danjiro stroked it. Grisha tried not to feel awkward in the situation…but this old crazy geezer was petting and talking to a log. People called Grisha dumb, but now he was feeling saner than this man. The log lifted off the ground and the two stood. Danjiro held his hand out to it and told Grisha, “It will help you. Climb on.” “HUH!?” Grisha exclaimed. The man was insane. His eyes darted between Danjiro and the log. How was he supposed to get on it? Did he just stand on it? “Grisha scared…” Danjiro blinked. “Really? A big brute like you afraid of a little cloud?” Grisha pointed and corrected, “Log…” “It’s actually a cloud.” Grisha felt his brain splitting. Did all of the common tongue Lena had beat into his skull no longer make sense? Had it all been wrong? The Saiyan grasped his skull and fussed, “So confusing! Make head ache!” Danjiro chuckled and further explained, “The Mokuzai is a magic cloud that can shape-shift. It can take on any form you desire, or in this case, it desires. It likes being a log. If you respect the Mokuzai, then it will respect you. I think you two can become good friends while you’re here.” Grisha lowered his hands and stepped over to the log. He eyed its dimensions and rested a hand on its back, giving its barky exterior a pet. “That’s a good start,” Danjiro praised. Grisha rested his hands upon the log and swung his leg over. Once the Saiyan was mounted, he appeared to be embracing the log for dear life with his arms and legs. He glanced at Danjiro pathetically as the old smith scratched his head. “I, uh…well…I guess you’ll get used to it soon. Safe travels and don’t come back until you have something to eat.” Danjiro glanced to the log and gave a firm nod. Suddenly, the log blasted into the sky, spurring a startled scream from the Saiyan. Grisha tightly embraced the log as the G-force vibrated his face muscles and combed through his hair. The Saiyan bared his teeth and clenched his eyes tightly closed as he tried not to imagine how far below them the ground was. He didn’t know how long the log was going to fly. He couldn’t wait to be set on the ground. The log’s jet-like speeds ceased as it began to coast. Grisha cracked open an eye and saw endless plains of sky all around him. It made him grip the log harder until he heard a sound beneath him. It sounded as though the air was being displaced as he heard a flap of wings every few seconds. The Saiyan peered down to see an immense sand eagle gliding below them. It hadn’t even noticed their presence for the log drifted without a sound. The sand eagle would make a great breakfast. “Follow,” Grisha whispered to the log. The log followed the bird until they were led to its nest. There were three, unhatched eggs and Grisha smirked as he imagined the perfect breakfast. WC: 1,043
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Post by Grisha on Jul 17, 2021 18:42:02 GMT -8
Grisha continued to embrace the log while it hovered over the mother eagle. All he had to do was pounce down and end her quickly. Sand Eagles were aggressive, and he remembered the last time he fought one on Training Island. A sweat bead slid down the side of his skull as he apprehensively studied the eagle’s position on the ledge. If Grisha was to miss, then he would go plummeting, but Danjiro told him the Mokuzai wouldn’t let him fall. The Saiyan huffed and pressed his hands into the log, lifting his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a swiftly growing figure. When he turned his head, giant talons were headed for his face.
The giant rocked to the side. He kept his legs locked about the log as he and the Mokuzai flipped downward, barely missing the talons that near snatched them. A claw had raked across Grisha’s cheek and had cleaved a scratch in the log. They recovered from their tumble as Grisha noticed the second eagle who had to have been the father. He had completely forgotten about that possibility.
The father screamed as it started to circle around. Its great wings harnessed the desert winds, creating a whooshing noise as it tore through the sky. The male had alerted the female to their presence and with a threatening scream of her own, she leapt from the nest into the sky to join her mate in a circle of death. Grisha was gazing up at the eagles who flew side-by-side like two F-16s. His heart was hammering in his chest. He would have to fight them in the sky? He had never had an airborne battle before, but if what Danjiro told him was true about the Mokuzai, then he could do it. He glanced down at the log beneath him, noticing the white slash in its hardened husk. He rested a hand over it as though to soothe the silent creature. Frowning in determination, Grisha cast his eyes skyward once more. The eagles were descending.
Growling as emotions of fear, frustration, and determination filled his body, Grisha roared his challenge to the birds, “RAAAHH!”
The Mokuzai charged, carrying Grisha. They went straight for the male first. They swiftly darted between the eagle’s talons and Grisha with a cranked back fist, launched it into the side of the bird’s beak. His fist struck with a thunderous pow that sent the eagle barrel rolling. A second pair of talons rushed them when the male was sent spiraling out of the way. Grisha jumped off the Mokuzai, above the charging female as she passed under him. His heart skipped for a second to only see open air, but soon the log had darted beneath him and Grisha landed in a crouch on top of it.
Grisha grinned down at the log as they soared through the air. The male sand eagle had beat its wings, recovering in mid-air, while the female was looping around. Bending slightly at the knees, Grisha rode the Mokuzai like a snowboarder. He ascended in a slant, his tail unfurling from around his waist to grant him balance. Once Grisha felt confident that he had his footing, he shifted on the log in the opposite direction, and the Mokuzai slowed to a stop. The log then reversed its direction, descending toward the two eagles. He chose to go for the male since he had already managed to weaken him. Bending his knees further, the log emitted a sonic boom as it closed the distance between them and their prey. Grisha jumped off the log a few seconds before it struck the eagle’s face like a battering ram. He then followed up the strike with a kick that struck the bird so hard its beak went spinning off its face.
The male plummeted out of the sky. Grisha’s arms were spread as he waited for the Mokuzai to return only to hear a rush of air behind him. The female made a grab for him, and the Mokuzai flipped right into one of her toes, striking it as the bone snapped. The log rebounded, flipping into Grisha next who caught it in a hug. They went backflipping away from the screeching bird as it halted its pursuit to regard its broken toe. The Mokuzai straightened out of its somersault. Grisha, still clutching the log between his arms and legs, gawked at the predator that started to turn and flee. Grinning triumphantly, Grisha frowned and threatened, “No escape!”
Danjiro was stunned to find that Grisha had hunted and gathered two sand eagles, three sand eagle eggs, and a pile of cactus fruit. The Saiyan was giving the old man a thumb up, revealing his hand covered in cactus thorns. His eyes panned between Grisha and the Mokuzai. “Well, you two have come a long way,” he praised. “Was overcoming your fears difficult?”
Grisha grinned happily. “Easy. Log good. Catch Grisha.”
Danjiro smiled and nodded. “As I said, it’ll never let you fall.” He then sighed, gazing at all of the food. “Making breakfast might take a while.”
“Grisha help. Grisha good helper.”
“All right then. Let’s start cooking and then we’ll get to work on that sword.”
WC: 875
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Post by Grisha on Jul 17, 2021 20:37:44 GMT -8
After breakfast, Danjiro and Grisha both enjoyed a hot cup of green tea. The old man peacefully sipped his tea, savoring the weight of a hot meal in his belly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat so much. Then again, past clients never stayed for a meal. Where does it all go?” the smith asked.
Grisha set down his cup and curled his arms upward as his chest, arms, and shoulders swelled with strength. “Food make Grisha stronger!” he proudly proclaimed.
“Then I wish you would have eaten more if it would help you complete the sword. Although, I do appreciate you leaving me the rest.”
Grisha lowered his arms and grinned. “Danjiro need eat too. So grow big and strong.”
Danjiro chuckled behind a smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as big and strong as you, but I appreciate your generosity. Are you ready?”
Grisha’s hands clapped down on his thighs as he gave Danjiro a stern stare. “Mhm!”
They finished their tea and Danjiro escorted Grisha over to the forge. While he had been hunting, he had prepared the work area. “The star shard reacts to fire a little differently than normal metal. It seems to radiate an energy and the fire helps it quickly heat up. Once it grows hot in the fire, draw it out of the forge with the tongs and bring it over to the anvil. Take the hammer and strike the star shard with enough strength to flatten it. Be careful though. Every time my father struck the shard, it always seemed like he was suffering. It was as though the shard was releasing its energy. This is why I said it would take extraordinary strength to mold it.”
Grisha stared at the white rock gleaming among the reddish-orange coals in the forge. That little stone was going to be difficult to strike. It sounded almost as unbelievable as a cloud being a log. Danjiro handed Grisha the metal tongs. Grisha stared at the tool at first before he took them and reached into the forge to remove the shard. He brought it over to the anvil and picked up the hammer. He glanced at Danjiro and confirmed, “Hard?”
“As hard as you can Grisha that shard can handle it.”
Grisha nodded and raised the hammer. As hard as he could muster…it made him afraid that he might break the anvil. His lips pressed into a straight line as his grip tightened on the hammer. With a full arm swing, Grisha brought the hammer crashing down on the shard. There was a bright flash and a jolt of power passed throughout his body, shocking his nerves. The hammer flew from his loosened and startled grip, flipping through the air to slam into the ceiling. For a second, Grisha felt his muscles weaken. He grasped the anvil to keep himself from falling as his eyes stared in astonishment at the floor. Danjiro quickly strode to his side.
“Grisha, are you all right?”
“That hurt,” Grisha informed. Why had it hurt?
“It’s the shard Grisha. It will resist change. If it hurts too much, we don’t have to do this. You’re not a blacksmith or my father. I appreciate you giving me the star shard.”
Grisha bared his teeth in aggravation. “Hammer,” he growled.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“HAMMER!” Grisha angrily bellowed. He wasn’t about to be defeated by some stupid, glowing rock. He traveled far to reach the smith, and he had been lucky to find him. If he wanted a star sword, then he was going to make him one.
Danjiro had opened the front door and Mokuzai floated in, flying to the ceiling to retrieve the hammer embedded in it. It knocked the hammer free and Danjiro picked it up and carried it over to Grisha.
“Thanks,” the Saiyan thanked before he returned the star shard to the forge to get it hot again.
“Pace yourself. You don’t have to complete the sword in one day. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed and die of exhaustion. Eat when you need to eat; drink when you need to drink; and rest when you need to.”
Grisha nodded.
WC: 700
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Post by Grisha on Jul 18, 2021 8:45:24 GMT -8
The giant thought that his past efforts at Training Island were the most difficult trials and tribulations he had ever encountered, but it had been this journey, and now making this sword. His body was assaulted by an immense power that was congruent to the amount of force he struck it with. It stole his breath. It made it challenging to clutch the hammer that vibrated so hard it could have flown from his sweaty grip if he were careless. Grisha had removed his robes for they had grown soggy from the sweat pouring from his body. Wearing only a fundoshi, he hammered away at the rock, baring his teeth through the torturous energy it released.
Danjiro stood by, watching the stubborn Saiyan pound away and bare the star shard’s sting. He helped him when it came to reheating the shard, only wanting him to focus on hammering. He made meals on the side that he would force Grisha to take a break and enjoy.
Grisha sat on a stool next to the anvil, gingerly sipping some chicken soup Danjiro had made. The smith could see Grisha’s hands shaking. He shook down to his arms. He knew the Saiyan would have gulped down that soup on a normal day, but he could see the star shard was taking its toll on him, and this was only the first day. The star shard had barely flattened, which explained why his father took a month or longer to create one.
“You should rest Grisha,” Danjiro advised. “The shard will be here tomorrow. You should eat and rest so you’ll be strong enough to continue.”
Grisha had been thinking about the shard. Even with his strength, he had been hammering all day and managed to change it only a little. How many days would it take? Certainly not one month. As long as Danjiro gave him food, water, and a place to sleep, he would complete the sword sooner. Smithing felt like a workout, and therefore, it was training. Training. Yes. That’s what it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he had trained since the start of his journey. Slurping down the rest of his soup, Grisha rose from his stool and handed the empty bowl to Danjiro.
“Grisha sleep. Continue tomorrow,” he decided.
Danjiro nodded. He had made the giant a sleeping area on the floor. He was already bigger than his house and couldn’t spare him a bedroom. He would have to ask him to fetch some fresh water for him, so they could bathe. If he was going to keep getting sweaty like that, then after a while, he wasn’t going to be able to stand his odor.
WC: 449
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Post by Grisha on Jul 18, 2021 13:04:53 GMT -8
The days dragged on. The first week had tired Grisha out to where he started sleeping in and making a minimal effort to get up and pick up the hammer. Afterwards, hammering the star shard became like running long distance. He was growing used to its aggression to the point he could hold a conversation with Danjiro, while working. Every week, the sword grew longer and longer, thinning and stretching without them needing to contaminate it with other metals. Danjiro found it fascinating. He was the actual blacksmith who knew how shaping metal really worked. Grisha, on the other hand, imagined that all blacksmithing was simply hammering.
Pang! Pang! Pang!
“Stop!” Danjiro ordered.
Grisha halted the hammer inches above the blade and glanced over at Danjiro with raised brows.
“It’s finished,” he informed. Danjiro approached it as Grisha lowered his hammer and stepped back. He passed the back of his hand across his dripping brow as he watched the smith inspect the blade. “I can’t believe it. We’ve actually made it.”
Danjiro grabbed the tongs and cooled the blade in some water. It resembled a long sword. The blade was near solid-white with a moon-like glow. Its edge was completely straight. The old man’s eyes were gleaming as he gazed upon it. Grisha set the hammer on the anvil and walked backwards to plop upon his makeshift bed. He rested his back against the wall, lifted his head to the ceiling, and closed his eyes. Finally, he could rest.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Danjiro said in awe. He glanced over at the giant, seeing how he was resting. He looked so exhausted and relieved at the same time. He was young and had a whole life ahead of him. Danjiro glanced at his reflection in the blade. He was old and alone. He lived on his father’s legacy, and he would die here. What use would he have for the weapon? It would stay in his home until he passed on and become someone’s treasure later. “I’ll continue from here. Rest.”
Grisha opened his eyes to sleepily glance at Danjiro before he laid down to rest. He pulled the blankets over his body and fell asleep.
Grisha. Wake up. It’s finished.
Grisha slowly opened his eyes and gazed across the room at Danjiro who was holding the sword. He had fitted a hilt on it. In his other hand, was a brown, leather scabbard. “Come see it.”
Slowly, Grisha rose to his feet, yawning and stretching his aching arms. He approached Danjiro who sheathed the sword before handing it to him. The long sword seemed like a short sword in Grisha’s hands. The Saiyan drew the blade and held it up before his eyes, smirking as he was able to see his reflection as clear as a mirror in its pearl-like finish. “Pretty,” he complimented.
“It’s yours,” Danjiro revealed.
A shocked expression flashed on Grisha’s face as he lowered the sword and gawked at Danjiro. “Grisha make for Jiro.”
“I know, and I appreciated the experience. I felt like a boy again watching my father at the forge.” Danjiro smiled as a tear squeezed from the corner of his eye. “You should have it. It is a powerful sword that should assist you in your journey. And also…”
Danjiro pointed over to the log on the floor. “Take Mokuzai with you.”
“HUH!?” Grisha exclaimed, feeling completely overwhelmed by all the gifts.
“You two have grown close. I know that you’ll help each other.”
“How Danjiro get down?” Grisha asked in concern. “Grisha leave rope!”
“My old bones couldn’t possibly climb down a rope or back up. Don’t worry; you have brought me plenty of food. I am certain that I’ll survive just fine for a while.”
Grisha’s hands balled into fists as he worriedly held them up. “Grisha come back. Check on Jiro. Jiro friend. Find way to help.”
Danjiro offered a warm and appreciative smile. “I would look forward to your return. I don’t get many visitors up here. In this desert, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but being visited regularly by a friend, that just made our meeting an even greater gift.”
Grisha, in a fit of joy, threw his arms around the old smith and pulled him into a firm hug. The smith’s eyes near popped out of their sockets as he groaned, “Grisha…as much as I’ve enjoyed your time here…you’re sweaty and you need to put some clothes on.”
The Saiyan’s face flashed red and he quickly released the smith whose eyes were closed in disgust. He had never been drenched in another man’s sweat before, and he could have been spared ever finding out what it felt like. Grisha sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and apologized, “Sorry. Grisha go wash.”
Danjiro couldn’t stop frowning in disturbance. “I think I will too.”
WC: 812
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Post by Grisha on Jul 18, 2021 18:43:16 GMT -8
Grisha sat cross-legged outside of Danjiro’s home on the edge of the mesa. He was staring down the steep slope at the world below. How could he get the man down and back up? He wasn’t an engineer, but he knew he had never seen a rope that long. The old man had said he wasn’t strong enough to climb, and after seeing how far down the climb was, he understood why. Danjiro was not only old but a bit…Grisha smirked to himself in amusement—fat. Even for an average person, carrying that weight up a rope would be difficult. He needed to fly like Mokuzai.
Fly…Grisha’s hand rose to his chin, and he grasped it. He had seen some flying machines. The bandits had them. He hadn’t seen them fly as high as the mesa, but they floated above the ground. Who would know more? His dark brows lifted. The miners.
Grisha excitedly rose to his feet and turned to march over to the house. He popped open the door to find the old man sipping some tea. “Grisha know how!” he told him.
“Grisha knows what?” Danjiro asked. He then remembered. “You’re still on that? I told you I would be fine.”
Grisha smiled. “Be back!”
The old man sighed. He knew that no matter what he said, the giant wasn’t going to listen. He was curious what he would come up with to help him down. If it was too dangerous, then he wasn’t going along with it.
The Saiyan slammed the door closed behind him and jogged across the summit. He curled his lips and blew, releasing a shrill whistle before he vaulted off the top. Before he would have been terrified, but now he didn’t even have to think. He knew Mokuzai would come, and the log did. It passed beneath his feet, catching him and carrying him across the sky. Grisha scowled as he tried to remember how he had arrived to the mesa and his travels back to the mine. He backtracked. He followed what he believed was the path he had taken weeks ago.
“Help find big hole,” he told the log.
The Mokuzai seemed to fly faster as though it knew what Grisha was talking about. The Saiyan bent his knees for better balance as the log tore through the sky like a rocket. They flew for an hour before they came across the large quarry. Grisha could see the miners and their machines speckling the place and the site where the great worm had been blown to pieces. He descended, landing behind the old project chief. The log slid across the dirt until it halted. Grisha stepped off and patted the man on the shoulder.
The chief whirled around and gasped when he saw the familiar giant. “Grisha! Where did you come from? Long time no see. How have you been?”
“Good. Need help. Friend stuck on mountain!”
“What do you mean your friend is stuck on a mountain? How did he get up there in the first place?”
“Fly.”
“Fly? Like with a hover car or something?”
Grisha pointed behind him at the resting log. “Log.”
The chief peered pass Grisha at the log and blinked. “What?”
The Mokuzai lifted off the ground and the chief’s jaw dropped so far down his neck it near touched his chest. “What is that a ghost log?”
“Cloud,” Grisha corrected.
“What!?”
Grisha brought a hand up to his face and huffed. “Help!”
The project chief scratched his head beneath his helmet and grumbled, “You sure picked a good time. My mind is already set on this project. Hm…well, you can buy a hover car in the city.”
Grisha patted his empty robes, knowing he didn’t have the money, but for some reason he checked any way. “No money.”
A vein pulsed on the chief’s head. He was making this complicated. Although, by the way Grisha was dressed, he did seem like a bum. Where did he get a flying log though? He said his friend had had it, so why didn’t he sell it for zeni? Someone would want it. A flying log wasn’t an everyday find. After squeezing his bottom lip, the chief dropped his hand and informed, “Well, I think I have a solution that will help both of us. There’s a gang rising up around here. They call themselves the Sand Dragons. Their members all have hover cycles-”
“Grisha beat Dragons.”
The chief shook his head in disbelief. “YOU defeated the Dragons? Well…I guess that does make sense. We watched you defeat a giant worm a month ago. Hey, when did you beat the Dragons? Recently?”
Grisha scratched his head and glanced up at the sky. “Uh…”
“Sounds like a long time ago. This group is brand new. They made a bar that me and the other miners used to hang out at their base of operations. The bar’s called The Barrel Cactus. You should be able to find it along the highway. You beat those guys, then you can take your pick of their bikes. They’re probably stolen any way. Those bikes will help your friend. He’ll be able to go anywhere on one.”
Grisha inhaled deeply through his nostrils and sighed long and hard. He wasn’t excited about seeing those guys again. “Thanks,” he told the chief with an appreciative smile.
“No problem. You saved us. Anything for a hero.”
Grisha blushed and turned toward the Mokuzai. “Bye bye!”
WC: 912
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Post by Grisha on Jul 18, 2021 21:34:00 GMT -8
Finding The Barrel Cactus wasn’t too difficult. There weren’t too many bars or too many of anything in the desert. If it wasn’t in the main city, then it was like spotting a zit on a flat, pristine surface. In this case, the surface was sand, sand, and more sand. The bar was along a road that passed through The Great Desert all the way to Satan City and beyond. Several hover cycles were lined up outside. Most people who cared about their property sealed it within a capsule. The Sand Dragons, however, wanted to make it known that they were outside the bar. In Grisha’s case, it just made finding them easier.
The Mokuzai dropped the Saiyan off in front of the bar before it floated over to rows of cycles. It seemed to hover before them, turning left and right as though to observe them before settling down in an empty and unclaimed spot. Grisha pushed open the bar door. A small bronze bell jingled overhead signaling his entry as several heads turned to regard the giant who had entered.
The same Sand Dragon leader from before gawked at the sight of Grisha. He couldn’t believe he was seeing him again. The blond man rose out of his seat, slapped a hand on the table top, and pointed across at the Saiyan. “There he is! That retard who caused my old gang to fall apart,” he shouted.
Grisha’s lips rolled back, presenting his teeth like a beast. He growled in aggravation as he brought his hands together and started cracking his knuckles. He didn’t think he could just take a bike and get away with it without the entire gang chasing after him. Danjiro resided several miles away, so even if he possessed a bike, he wouldn’t have to worry about encountering the Sand Dragons.
“I got a new gang now. You had it easy fighting my last gang. They were a punch of wussies. This new gang is going to make you regret coming here. I even found a guy bigger than you! Bone Knuckle Bruno!”
The creature that rose above the other goons seated at a table was a Giras. The scales that covered his back were crimson and his belly was cream. Unlike other Giras, the wings on his broad back were miniature. Scars covered his body, telling of multiple fights and bone-like spikes protruded from his knuckles. His weighted, three-toed footsteps carried him over to Grisha. His tail swished leisurely behind him, poking from the back of some leather pants as his fangs were lined in a long and dangerous smile. Green, slitted eyes peered down at Grisha as he regarded the Saiyan passed the swells of his pectorals and down his round belly.
“Is this the pipsqueak you paid me to get rid of?” He eyed Grisha’s tail and laughed, “He looks like a monkey. I eat monkeys.”
The boss smirked and warned, “You better rough him up good. He defeated seven of my guys and destroyed our old base.”
“He sounds like quite the problem,” Bruno hissed and grinned.
Grisha’s eyelids became half-lidded. All of the talking made him feel even more exasperated. He just wanted to get Danjiro a bike and head back. Slowly, Grisha raised his right fist before his eyes. The back of his hand was facing the Giras as he scowled in concentration. Without allowing the conversation to continue, Grisha’s arm lashed out so quick that a deep indentation was left in the monster’s belly before it bulged back into its normal position.
Bruno clapped a claw of his mouth as he folded over, his cheeks inflating with chum. Grisha turned counter-clockwise bringing the back of his left heel swinging around. Before it could connect, his tail slammed into the side of the Giras’s head, causing him to spew the contents in his mouth before Grisha’s heel connected next, sending the monster flipping through the bar counter, the shelving, through the wall, the kitchen, and outside into the back. The Sand Dragon’s mouths struck their tables as they stared in terror at the hole Grisha had made using Bruno like a wrecking ball. The bartender’s back was against the wall next to the wall. His face was as white as a sheet, his legs were shaking, and a darkened spot had appeared at the front of his pants.
A sweat bead rolled down the Sand Dragon leader’s head. Not again! I even paid that guy 50,000 zeni to get rid of this big idiot!
Grisha glared left at the left side of the room, watching as the gang members flinched from his gaze, and then sneered to the right, receiving the same reaction. The Sand Dragon boss waved his cyborg arm frantically in the air and screamed, “What are you fools waiting for? You’re stronger than my last gang aintcha! Kill him! Use your guns! Use everything! Kill, kill, kill!”
Grisha growled and dove through the hole in the counter to take cover behind the bar as Sand Dragons drew their weapons and started emptying rounds into the counter. The bartender had dropped to the floor in the fetal position and folded his arms about his head. Grisha emitted a whistle and the Mokuzai lifted off the ground. The log darted through the bar window and the interior became noisy with groans, shouts, and grunts of pain. Bandits went flying out other windows and slammed into the bar door, causing it to rip from its hinges and dump them outside. There was a continual series of smashing and crashing until the gunfire ceased.
The Sand Dragon leader was on his hands and knees beneath a table, staring in a panic at his scattered and defeated gang. “N-Not again!” he whimpered. He then beat his fists angrily on the wooden floor. “Damn it! I spent so much zeni on these suckers and they were lousy!”
Grisha had stepped out from behind the bar and marched over to the table the leader was hiding under. He grabbed the edge of it before tossing it aside as though it had been made of cardboard. The Sand Dragon leader crab-crawled backwards away from the giant until his back met the wall. He then pointed his fist at Grisha and threatened, “You lay one hand on me, and you’ll die!”
Suddenly, dropping from the ceiling was the Mokuzai. The log comically dropped on the leader’s head like an anvil. His blue eyes rolled back into his head as a silly smile curled his lips. He slumped over onto his side unconscious, while Grisha glanced around at the mess. He breathed another exasperated sigh. Had this all really been worth it? At least he hoped the miners would have their favorite bar back.
Grisha noticed the bartender peeking at him from over the counter. The Saiyan smiled sheepishly and apologized, “Sorry.”
The bartender realized that Grisha was harmless—somewhat, and slowly stood to his feet. His face was flushed in embarrassment from having pissed his pants. “I didn’t like those guys any way. Why are you here? You don’t look like a bounty hunter or cop.”
“Grisha need bike,” he explained.
Now the bartender knew why the Sand Dragon leader had called Grisha retarded, what a jerk! “You came all the way here to steal a bike from a Sand Dragon? Holy cow!”
He watched Grisha check the pockets of a random, unconscious member until he found the key fob. He eyed the fob curiously before he smiled shamelessly over at the bartender. “Yes!”
Wow; he didn’t even try to lie about it. This guy gots’ balls, the bartender thought. “I’ll call the police and make sure these guys get arrested so they can’t bother no one again. You should get out of here. I don’t want the cops suspecting you too.”
Grisha held up the OK sign and grinned. “Grisha go. Goodbye.”
The bartender smiled before he glanced around at the damage and defeated gang members. For a mentally handicap guy, he certainly whooped their asses. That oughta’ teach’em. His eyes then widened as he realized something. “Wait! Grisha!”
The Saiyan stopped in the gaping doorway and glanced over his shoulder.
“Take a drink with you,” the bartender offered.
Grisha turned and re-entered the place. He stopped before the counter and stared at the bottles that remained unbroken. “Which?” he asked.
The bartender turned around and grabbed a bottle. “I recommend you take this one. This is some good stuff. It’s pretty strong though.” He handed Grisha a tall, ceramic bottle of sake. Grisha held the bottle up by its neck and inspected it. Danjiro would probably enjoy it. Flashing a grin at the bartender, Grisha thanked him before he stepped outside to locate the bike that matched the key fob. He clicked the buttons until one of the bikes chirped. It was pretty nice…he guessed. Grisha didn’t know much about hover cycles, but he was certain Danjiro would like it. He grasped the bike by the handle bar and swung it over his shoulder. Mokuzai drifted over to allow Grisha to step onto it. With his hands full, the Saiyan used his tail to help him balance as he took off back to the smith’s place.
WC: 1,544
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Post by Grisha on Jul 19, 2021 7:33:03 GMT -8
Danjiro was staring at the hoverbike as though Grisha had brought him a puzzle instead of a gift. He was about as savvy about technology as Grisha was, and the Saiyan had thought he would have had more knowledge about it than him.
“I, uh, appreciate the gift Grisha, but I don’t think I even know how to turn this thing on. I’m not very good with computers, and I haven’t been keeping up with the modern times these days,” Danjiro explained.
Grisha stared at the bike in frustration. He had defeated an entire gang to get it to him. He wondered if they could figure it out together. His brows jumped briefly as he remembered the key fob. He removed it from his pocket and signaled, “Here,” before tossing them to the old smith.
Danjiro clapped his hands together, catching the fob. He blankly stared at the buttons. There were three: two small ones and a big one. Curiously, his thumb pressed the big one and both he and Grisha were startled when the bike’s engine started up. Grisha glanced over at Danjiro as though expecting him to mount it. The smith shook his head.
“I only have one life. You’re sturdier than I am.”
Grisha glanced back over to the bike, closed his eyes, and sighed. He was going to regret this. The giant approached the hovercraft, swung his leg over the seat, and got settled. It was a bit small for someone of his size, appearing to be more like a moped than a cycle. His knees were excessively bent. It wasn’t because the bike was very low to the ground, the Saiyan was just tall. Grisha stared at the little window that he didn’t know was called a screen. He started pushing buttons, watching strange numbers appear on the screen, and then the radio cut on playing some yodeling, polka music.
“Maybe you should try grabbing the handles,” Danjiro suggested. He noticed that Grisha was pressing everything, but he wasn’t operating the vehicle.
Grisha grabbed the handles and the ends of them lit up in a neon-blue light. The vehicle released a burst of air before it slowly lifted off the ground. “Woah!”
“At least you got it off the ground. Try turning the handles.”
Grisha turned one of the handles and the bike lunged forth. Danjiro watched with wide eyes the Saiyan and the bike go shrinking into the distance. A white trail of vapor was all that was left and he could hear Grisha’s terrified scream in the distance. Danjiro glanced down at the key fob and thought, Heck no…
The Mokuzai darted after Grisha, chasing him and the bike through the sky. Grisha managed to stop turning the handle in his panic and the bike started to slow. He was panting, leaning over the handlebars as he caught his breath. The log curiously drifted over to him. Grisha looked up at it and grinned weakly, giving the cloud an OK sign.
“Grisha good,” he told it. His eyes then grew when he noticed the log gradually rising higher than him. Was it flying away? He felt a sinking in his gut, and then suddenly realized he was falling! “EEEeee~!”
He frantically pushed buttons, which wound up changing channels on the radio and turning up the volume. The hoverbike tumbled out of the sky. Grisha stubbornly clung to the handlebars as he felt his body rising into the air. The Mokuzai flew between his arms, catching the Saiyan in the prone, while he clung to the bike. Grisha gasped in relief as the log carried him back over to Danjiro. Once they were back on the mesa, Grisha set the bike down and sat up on the log. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he gazed over at the old man who had a large sweat bead descending down the side of his face. Grisha didn’t want him to be afraid of it. He had gone through a lot of trouble to ensure the smith had a way to get down and back up.
Grinning extra big in what Grisha believed to be a believable expression, Grisha gave Danjiro a thumbs up. “Very good! Fun!”
“I highly doubt that!” Danjiro growled. The smith stubbornly crossed his arms. “I don’t consider myself old enough to have a heart attack, and I’m not planning on having one anytime soon.”
Grisha continued to grin in amusement at him. The log drifted over to the bike as Grisha explained, “Easy!” He pointed to right handle. “Go,” and then to the left. “Stop!”
“And how do I not die?” Danjiro asked.
Grisha’s own sweat bead descended down his brow then. He scratched his head. “Uh…practice? Grisha and log friend keep Danjiro safe. Practice here!”
Danjiro glanced around the mesa summit and mused. As long as he remained on top of the mesa, he could safely get the hang of it. He wasn’t about to crank the accelerator like Grisha. Dropping his arms, Danjiro sighed in defeat and made a reluctant face. “All right,” he stated. He approached the bike and mounted it.
Grisha saw how he wasn’t doing anything and attempted to point at one of the buttons to get the bike hovering. Danjiro slapped his hand away. “I got it! I’m just calming my nerves. Give an old man some time.”
The Saiyan cracked an amused grin at him and nodded. He waited patiently, watching as Danjiro experimented with the controls. Soon the bike lifted and Danjiro was slowly driving around the mesa top. Grisha floated after him on the log, admiring his control. “Wow! Jiro great!”
Danjiro proudly smirked. “It’s easier to control when you aren’t over-cranking the accelerator.”
Grisha remained on the mesa top with Danjiro, watching him practice driving the hover bike until he was confident that he could use it without him and the Mokuzai. He eventually bid his new friend goodbye, promising to visit him later once he was finished with his journey.
WC: 1,001
Total: 10,057
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