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Combat is a game. If you can play and win the game, you can defeat your opponent without a weapon. Monks use a weapon, but they do not need the weapon to defeat their opponent. Some say their best asset is their hands and feet, but this is not true, as hands and feet are also weapons--pieces of earth crafted by fire. No, a monk's best asset cannot be seen. It lies within him. If this thing-that-lies-within were a sense, it would be like sight, because it sees. But this sight is better than sensible sight--it sees what the eyes see, but it also sees what the eyes cannot see. It is in both the seen and the unseen that the monk plays the game of combat.
What is fate in foolish hands except for a piece of chance come about by an unlikely boor? Fate is built for a hero with a tragic disposition and a romantic opinion. I am no hero. My disposition is only as tragic as the rest of my kind, and my opinion is certainly not romantic. I am the unlikely boor--a lout--and what I have come upon is not fate, but simply chance.
The heroes came to Pandaria seeking their fate in the glory that the land promised. I came seeking chance. What I found was more than I anticipated--this is certain--but I cannot forget from whence I came or why I left or the circumstances which brought me here. I could lie and tell you that before coming here I was a young-but-surprisingly-wise-for-my-age priest who was too good at what I did, became bored, so decided to become a monk. Closer to the truth, but still not quite, I could tell you that I was a traveling bard, with a quick learning curve and a hand for acrobatics--came to Pandaria seeking riches and was recruited by the Tian Monastery. The truth is foolish, and herein lies why my telos is not fate, but chance. Truthfully, I begged. I begged to get here, and I begged to be taught something about how to fight. Then I begged some more. If it was fate--even as a beggar--I would have been met by opportunities. Instead I missed opportunities, and begged to be given more.
Today I live to see an incredibly unlikely series of chance occurrences. While I have no pedigree from the Monasteries, I come to you seeking acceptance as a fighter who by chance achieved a feat that a hero would have achieved months ago. A hero monk would tell you--through the use of his sense of things that lie within--the hidden circumstances that lie within the path that brought me here. But I am no hero. I've faked it until I've made it. At best I could be called "good enough"... at worst "fool".
Humbly I bring you 56 "tokens" of the proof of having defeated every individual in this land bearing the name "Champion." Mostly they are the severed ears, a gill scale in the case of Jinyu, a tooth in the case of Saurok and.... something... in the case of Mantid.
Paxristos
