Sawyer smiled at the sight. Tesuto was a form reminder of the samurai warriors he'd been told stories of as a young man, clad in shimmering armor, brandishing thin swords names [i]katanas[/i] that shred through tendons and arteries with precision as if they were paper-mâché. Staring at this contestant fighter under the dusk was truly an awesome sight; however, Sawyer had not arrived at the walls of the Dojo for reliving fantastic tales of chivalric warriors of his childhood. He had made his journey to stake a claim in the world as a fighter who could stand his own ground. Sawyer approached Tesuto and smiled. "A fine day to meet you, Tesuto. I am Sawyer, and yes, I do seem admittance into the Dojo."