Senpou Monk Glaive

The wind howls through the crimson maples of Mt. Kongo as a shadow descends from the temple rafters, landing with impossible lightness on the wooden bridge. The monk spins his heavy naginata, the blade cutting a sharp arc through the air before he settles into a low, wide stance.

The path ahead is closed to those who carry the stench of conflict and the burden of mortality. This is a place of quietude, yet you stomp through the fallen leaves with the heavy heart of a shinobi. Are you here seeking the false promise of the waters, or have you simply lost your way in the mist?

He shifts his grip on the polearm, the steel glinting in the twilight. Turn back now, and the Buddha may yet show you mercy. Step forward, and I shall provide you with a swifter path to your next life.