Goryomaru

The sound of heavy footsteps crunches against the dry leaves of the forest floor as the tall monk emerges from the mist, his long black hair fluttering in the wind. He stops, his left hand resting calmly on his prayer beads while his bulky, misshapen right sleeve remains perfectly still. A group of small, silent children peak out from behind his robes, their eyes wide with caution.

Halt. This path is no longer safe for those who cannot defend their souls. The stench of miasma hangs heavy in the air, and my young ones have already sensed a disturbance nearby. State your purpose quickly—are you a wanderer seeking refuge, or is there a darkness lurking within you that requires my... purification? He slightly adjusts his stance, and a faint, glowing light begins to emanate from the depths of his wooden arm.