Post by Rafar on Feb 5, 2017 2:07:50 GMT
Rafar had always believed that Vegeta was a sort of warning to the race that inhabited it, showing the results of their culture and mentality. He tossed a small pebble off the side of the cliff, watching it bounce and clatter down the rough surface. He had come to this planet for one purpose, and one purpose only, but now his resolve was being tempered by a practical outlook. The Sayian warrior was currently sitting on a large stone cliff where he had come to train so many times in the past, overlooking the Cacumber Capital in all its apparent glory. His boots clicked against the rock face as he swung them back and forth like a toddler. As far as he could tell, he had two options. He could turn Zarak and Brant over to the authorities, and eventually Knutts, or… he could dispense his own form of justice. No one in the Sayiajin society would care what he decided, but he would have to live with the choice for the rest of his life! Rafar sighed, “I guess I’ll just decide with how the situation demands. Let fate decide the decision.” Hearing a small noise behind him, the Sayian warrior would spin around to find a small lizard laying stock-still, frightened by the sudden noise made by his voice. Rafar dispersed the ki blast he had generated, face palming. He…..had been talking to himself again hadn’t he? That seemed to be a bad sign for the day.
The crowd roared in savage pleasure as the combatant was sent flying into a wall at the opposite side of the room, his spine cracking like a . The brutish warrior stalked across the cold hard floor and raised a blood stained fist to the sky, pumping it up and down as the crowd screamed for blood. The disguised Rafar scoffed at the pathetic display, earning a few odd looks from the surrounding patrons. If this was all the power this pathetic excuse of a warrior could summon, he shouldn’t have even bothered to wait for this duel! Zarak had discretely poisoned his opponent early on, and then simply began to toss the poor fool around the room like a sack of potatoes. It was disgusting really, and was made a lot worse by the fact that no one else seemed to notice his duplicity. Rafar stood, “If you are done Zarak, I wouldn’t mind a quick fight.” He put an emphasis on the word quick, and immediately earned the proverbial floor. Challenges like this were not exactly uncommon, but were usually given by a fairly well to do warrior, not some random stranger.
Whispers resounded through the room as the blood-stained Sayian considered his options. Zarak knew that this whelp would be no threat to his power, but there was something…familiar about the way he carried himself, something in his voice. The Sayian leaned against the wall nonchalantly, secretly fingering his small needle that had given him a majority of his many victories. “Sure why not, let the whelp fight!” Through the cheering that followed, his eyes flicked up to his partner in the stands, giving him a small nod. Maybe they could earn some serious money off this sucker, betting was the lifeblood of fighting after all!
Rafar vaulted into the ring with a heavy thunk, driven into the stone by the additional burden of his weights. As was the custom in this poor excuse for an arena, Rafar shucked off his armor, scouter and sword to the wayside. And gave a glance at the scoreboard revolving around the arena. Once again, he mulled over the simple power of 3,000. At the time of his impromptu exile, both of the killer’s powers had seemed overwhelming, but now he could destroy them while heavily restrained. The circle of life had been completed, the men who had to destroy him had forged their own doom with the fires of revenge. Not one person in the room drew breath for a moment, and then the bell rang!
The crowd roared in savage pleasure as the combatant was sent flying into a wall at the opposite side of the room, his spine cracking like a . The brutish warrior stalked across the cold hard floor and raised a blood stained fist to the sky, pumping it up and down as the crowd screamed for blood. The disguised Rafar scoffed at the pathetic display, earning a few odd looks from the surrounding patrons. If this was all the power this pathetic excuse of a warrior could summon, he shouldn’t have even bothered to wait for this duel! Zarak had discretely poisoned his opponent early on, and then simply began to toss the poor fool around the room like a sack of potatoes. It was disgusting really, and was made a lot worse by the fact that no one else seemed to notice his duplicity. Rafar stood, “If you are done Zarak, I wouldn’t mind a quick fight.” He put an emphasis on the word quick, and immediately earned the proverbial floor. Challenges like this were not exactly uncommon, but were usually given by a fairly well to do warrior, not some random stranger.
Whispers resounded through the room as the blood-stained Sayian considered his options. Zarak knew that this whelp would be no threat to his power, but there was something…familiar about the way he carried himself, something in his voice. The Sayian leaned against the wall nonchalantly, secretly fingering his small needle that had given him a majority of his many victories. “Sure why not, let the whelp fight!” Through the cheering that followed, his eyes flicked up to his partner in the stands, giving him a small nod. Maybe they could earn some serious money off this sucker, betting was the lifeblood of fighting after all!
Rafar vaulted into the ring with a heavy thunk, driven into the stone by the additional burden of his weights. As was the custom in this poor excuse for an arena, Rafar shucked off his armor, scouter and sword to the wayside. And gave a glance at the scoreboard revolving around the arena. Once again, he mulled over the simple power of 3,000. At the time of his impromptu exile, both of the killer’s powers had seemed overwhelming, but now he could destroy them while heavily restrained. The circle of life had been completed, the men who had to destroy him had forged their own doom with the fires of revenge. Not one person in the room drew breath for a moment, and then the bell rang!