Why my Pod?(Sansho)

Power level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

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It was hard to see anything through the raging sandstorms of the dessert. The light of the sun barely lit the landscape below, but its heat could be felt for miles. To any normal man it would have been unbearable. The heat wave, coupled with the humid air and choking storms, would bring any unprepared mortal to the brink of death in short order. With visibility impaired and hardly any landmarks to help navigate or understand one's position within the barren wasteland, no one could expect to survive out here on their own terms.

But Sansho was no mortal man. The wasteland was nostalgically familiar to him. It had reminded him of one plane of the Dark Demon Realm. He recalled having to survive out in its barren, sandy planes for weeks on end as he escaped his captors. He recalled killing and feeding off of the corpses of hellhounds to sate his hunger, to drink its red-black blood to quench his thirst. Just thinking about it brought its bitter, iron taste to his mouth. He remembered the sleepless nights under the blood moon, the air so cold and frigid that it could freeze his joints at a moment's notice. He remembered how the cries of dire wolves, manticores and other demonic beasts kept him constantly cautious, constantly alert. He remembered the day when, after weeks of trekking through hellish planes and fighting off ravaging beasts, he had finally found the doorway from the demon realm into the material plane—the day he had came to earth.

Large, rugged feet plodded through the sand, impacting it shifting it under each footfall. The coarse sands on the harsh winds buffeted and beat and scratched against his skin, but he cared not; it was nothing compared to what he had faced before. The cloth of his gi rustled and flapped wildly under the currents. The beads around his neck danced and jangled alongside the cloth. His eyes kept straight out in front, open, but never letting any of the sand assault them as a small barrier of ki kept them safe. The demon tread in no direction, only walking wherever he felt he wanted to. He was without purpose. He would let purpose find him.

The storms began to die down a little. It was enough for the demon to be able to see more than five feet in front of him. The sun began to shine clearer now, but the intense light blurred his vision. It took only a short moment for his vision to focus fully. he could make out shapes and colors from behind the shifting sand on the winds. He could make out tall, thin objects and larger green ones in the distance—trees, bushes, other foliage. Not too far from him was an oasis, something that Sansho had never come across before. It would be a nice place for him to stop and relax for a little while.

Sansho placed a foot upon the grass. It felt soft and comforting, much better than the dessert's coarse sands. He took another step forwards, then another. He paused as he looked about the place The trees were a few meters high, their canopies providing a decent amount of shade and shelter from the merciless heat of the sun overhead. A large rocky formation sat within the center, inside it a well of pure, crystal-clear water. He made his way over to his and knelt down. He cupped his hands and submerged them into the pool. When he lifted his hands out, he could see them through the water. It was as pure a water as he's ever seen. He raised the heels of his palm to his lips and tipped his hands back, drinking in the cup of perfection. It was like paradise has touched his tongue and throat. Once more he dipped his hands in, taking another cup of the water and drinking it. 

As he lowered his hands back down once more, he caught sight of something nearby. His crimson eyes shifted to it. Not too far from him, under the canopies of the trees, he spotted something. Or rather, someone. A small figure, skin entirely pale blue with white armor. Horns jutted out from the sides of his cranium. A long tail snaked behind him. Sansho tightened his gaze; he had met someone like this—and Arcosian—before not too long ago. 

He stood back up, never taking his eyes off of the person. "Who are you, Arcosian?" he asked in a gravelled, deep tone. "I did not think beings like you could stand the hot climates." 


Brace

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WC: 771

Power level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

---

Well, at least he had a name to go with that pale blue face of his. "Brace." Seemed plain for an otherwise extravagant-looking person. Still the notion that he was the "last of his clan" gave some confusion to Sansho. He was certain that he had met another Arcosian before—thin space warriors that looked like their wore skin-tight body suits with armor, with gem-like segments in parts of their armor, and long tails that whipped around behind them. It didn't take him too long before striking up the thought that maybe their species is segmented into different cultures, much like how humans were of various nationalities. That could have been a close approximation to what an Arcosian "clan" was.

The demon's eyes kept vigil over this stranger as he approached. It didn't take too long for him to have to avert him eyes from his visage though—the bright sunlight that reflected off of the alien's crystal-like segments, especially his head, was a burden on his eyes. He turned to look down to the water once more, and submerged his cupped hands again before slurping the water. But with every handful he drank, it never got close to so much as quenching his thirst even a little. In fact, the more he consumed, the more her craved. Again he went in to take another handful.

All the while, he had to sit through another tirade of speech and monologue. The demon groaned as he recalled the other Arcosian he had met back at Jingle Village having the exact same problem. He pondered if the species were naturally vane, enjoying the sound of their own voice. The demon was almost completely tuned out from Brace's chronic verbal diarrhoea, instead enjoying the water as he drank more and more of it. It seemed to have no end of supply, though he could hardly complain about it. At least there would still be plenty of it left for the Arcosian, provided he would stop talking by the end of the week.

Yet despite ignoring most of whatever he had to say, some parts of it caught his attention. The alien had spoke of a fortune teller who was rumoured to have lived somewhere here in this otherwise lifeless sandpit. His hands placed flat against the rocks before him. He had recalled meeting one such person before. She never spoke of her name, but revealed her intention; to save Sansho from himself. Though she could not have done anything to rid the pain in his heart, she had given him the prayer beads that he now wears around his neck. It was a constant reminder of the family he once had, and who will always be with him. A hand reached up to his neck, fingers wrapping gently around one of the beads. It seemed that the two of them had something in common—the loss of family.

The demon lent his ear to the Arcosian. He was invested in hearing what he had left to say. He had told of an individual—a Brenchian, whatever that may be—who had stolen something of his. Despite the sleight that this alien had suffered, Sansho couldn't help but find some sort of humour in the futility of his search. It sounded as though Brace had nothing to go on—no leads, no clues, not even so much as a shred of rumour lost in translation. 

"If you have nothing to follow, then how do you expect to find it?" he stated, his words simplistic yet almost philosophical at the same time. Her stood tall as he walked past the Arcosian. His back leaned up against a nearby tree, relaxing against the trunk under the shade of the canopies. he had had his share of water, and now he needed a good deal of shade to cool himself off. "What makes you certain that this person you are looking for is here?

Brace

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WC: 657

Total WC: 771 + 657 = 1,428

Power level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

---

The demon snorted. He didn't need twenty-twenty vision to see that whatever the Arcosian was trying to achieve ended up being a lost cause. He didn't even know if the perpetrator was even in this desert, as though he was just wandering blindly. The demon didn't think that his own deduction made a whole lot of sense either—how many 'potential buyers' could there be in a sand-filled wasteland where not even so much as an amoeba could survive out here? The alien was right; this was hopeless.

Resting seemed the best course of action now. There wasn't much else out here to see or experience besides the pain of thirst, hunger and heatstroke. For the demon, it was of no consequence to him, more of a nuisance than anything else. But for Brace… that was entirely different. The sound of his stomach had all but confirmed that he was beginning to succumb to his bodily needs already. Having said that, there wasn't much to eat around the place anyway, unless leaves and rocks were a part of an Arcosian diet.

Sansho gazed up at the skies, peering through the gaps in the canopies. The sunlight was still as harsh as ever, but at least by now the winds were beginning to calm. The sandstorm had almost completely blown over now, but still the hot, humid air stayed. He slipped his arms from the top half of his gi, letting it drop around his waist as it stayed fastened by the rope belt. The temperature was starting to pick up quite a bit, though if anything it was the muggy humidity that was making things more uncomfortable.

A sudden clanging noise stirred the demon's attention. He looked across to where it came from, seeing Brace near one of the patches of grass. For a moment he had thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he just knocked his armor on a rock or something to that effect. But he watched him, watched him kneel down to one knee and knock against the ground. There it went again, those clanging noises. After a moment he had heard him talking to himself. He tugged at something but looked to be beyond his capability.

He was called over. Sansho pushed off of the tree trunk and made his way over to where the alien was. He looked down and noticed the large hatch. It was a light bronze-gold color, likely made of industrial-strength titanium, and a few feet in diameter. He had heard a low hum coming from it, something that would barely be picked up in the winds. It was the sound of an electrical current. The hatch was sealed tightly shut with electromagnets. It was no wonder why the Arcosian, despite being a hundred-fold stronger than a normal human, found it difficult to open.

A wide, roped hand gripped around the thick handle of the hatch. With a sharp tug of his arm he tore the covering clean off. Sparks shot up from the friction of metal on metal and from the magnets being torn away from one another. Arcing electricity began to crackle for a moment before it stopped. The long tunnel down held nothing but darkness save for a few feet of light from the sun and several red lights descending. A pipe ladder provided for safe passage down. 

Not that he needed it. "The only thing worth my while are strong opponents. if he is as good as he thinks he is, then he will provide me some entertainment." With that, Sansho jumped down into the hole, falling past the ladder before coming to a halt, his feet thudding against the steel floor beneath. 

Brace

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WC: 615

Total WC: 1428 + 615 = 2,043

Power level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

---

It was certainly an interesting though, the man in charge here being a challenge him. Not that the demon gave it an awful lot of thought—he had yet to face anyone on this space rock that was considered anything beyond being a good opponent. Sansho bunched a fist into a palm and cracked his knuckles, then the next hand. His neck swivelled side to side, popping his neck. If this person was a worthy opponent, then he was prepared.

The Arcosian landed by his side. As he explained the theory, Sansho stood and listened. The alien seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so he allowed him to take point for the moment. He was the proverbial brain to the warrior's brawn. Though despite Brace's cautious words, Sansho wasn't disturbed by it in the slightest, although he did wait for his partner to test out his proposed theory.

The lone fruit triggered the traps, as the Arcosian had suspected. Automated turrets rose from the ground with shot at the date with great accuracy, likely guided with some form of motion detector. Jets of blue and orange flames erupted from the metal ceiling roasting the fruit within seconds. The charred remains of it impaled upon the spikes on the ground. The demon didn't need to listen to the Arcosian—he saw what happened. He was there.

That, and he didn't have the time nor the patience to play childish games.

Sansho took a few steps forwards. The turrets were now focused on him, rotating upwards with their barrels aimed right at his chest. He had their attention now. An aura of ki created immense pressure around him, though only a short distance from his being. He hovered off of his feet only a few inches off the ground, and began to float forwards. A resounding click came from the turrets before they started unloading their ammunition into him. Lightning fast hands danced in front of the demon, catching or deflecting the bullets with ease. The flames poured from the exhaust pipes above, but not even a small amount of their embers reached him, his aura pushing the flames around his body.

Rapid clicking noises came from the turrets, now completely devoid of any ammunition. If they had any sort of automated reloading from a supply case, it didn't matter—both of them had been smashed in by huge roped hammer fists. Dented and crumpled, the turrets twitched and sparked from malfunction. Sansho opened his hands, dropping all of the bullets onto the floor, sending a quickened rhythm of jingling through the corridors as metal hit metal.

He turned to Brace and huffed. "I do not see any traps," he grunted with dry humour. He stood by the turrets, waiting for the alien. He only had to deal with the gouts of flames, nothing too strenuous, especially now that he had seen how the demon got through them. 

Brace

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WC: 489

Total WC: 2,043 + 489 = 2,532

Power level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

---

The Arcosian wasn't as useless as the demon once thought, being able to at least pull his own weight. He watched as, just as he had done before him, the alien levitated off of the ground and began to slowly drift through the corridor, the pressure of his aura redirecting the flame jets around his small form. If he was anyone else he probably would have praised him, maybe even a small serenade of claps. But he just rolled his shoulders lightly while his arms were still folded. It wasn't exactly the most strenuous of skills to create a pressured aura. 

The Arcosian pressed his hand against a large blue button, the sound of sliding metal and discharging currents filled the corridor as power was cut and mechanisms slid back into standby. He demon continued to watch Brace, watching him staring at a control panel before he decided to just punch in the door that blocked the way. He snorted, feeling that he was starting to learn the nuances of just smashing things out of the way. This supposed thief needed to know that he did not make the rules around here.

The next room was dark, with the only thing illuminating from its shadows were two glowing crimson irises from Sansho. Shortly after, bright sparks of electrical currents surging through the twitching body of the Arcosian before he had fallen in a heap on the steel flooring. Bright lights switched on, giving the two of them complete clarity once their eyes had adjusted from the sudden illumination. An arrogant, almost joyous laugh filled the chamber, echoing throughout. A smug-looking man sat upon a chair near the back of the room.

Oh, for Kai's sake, another arrogant, obnoxious fool who enjoys the sound of his own voice. 

Once more the demon had to sit through another monologue lecture, this time filled with overconfidence and self-worth. His brow tightened. Roped fists clenched tight, making the ropes creak as they became tort. He was about to answer the Brenchian until he had begun questioning their intentions. He decided not to speak, instead just letting his fallen partner do the talking. 

Sansho had run out of patience. This was starting to bore him greatly. Wanting to drink more of that oasis water didn't help either. He was eager just to get things over with and leave.

His hand grabbed the Arcosian's limp arm and, with a sharp tug, flung him backwards along the ground. His other hand held out, aiming at the floor. A bright mix of purples and reds began to fill his palm into a small glowing orb of energy. It fired straight down, blasting the electric trap beneath him. Smoke and sparks plumed from the resulting explosion. His demonic visage pierced through the veil of smoke as he stepped over the gap.

"The only thing you can offer me is a demonstration of your power," he grunted out towards the Brenchian, completely dismissing his lacklustre, empty offer. Then I will offer your body to the death gods."

For a moment, the Brenchian paused. Then a laugh once more filled the chamber. "You? You wanna go against me? Please, don't make me laugh!" he retorted as he looked down on the demon. "You want something to fight? Why don't you try and take out a few of my men?"

From two side doors at the back of the room, a group of mercenary infantry made their way out. Each one had an arm-mounted laser gun. Heavy armor donned their bodies, with matching helmets that hid their faces. They all stepped forwards, not a few paces from the warrior, and lined up alongside one another with guns held out towards their target.

Sansho didn't have time for this. Like lightning he stepped forwards and closed the gap, driving his fist through the chest of one of the soldiers. Their reaction was slow, unfathomable to them. Before they could react and turn to where the demon was, the impaled body flew and bowled one of them over. 

Quick, swift steps from the demon around the side of another, his hand gripping the gun-mounted forearm. He squeezed hard, crushing through metal and flesh and bone as though it were like butter. The soldier screamed out in pain and, in reflex, pulled the trigger. The heated plasma fired through the barrel and pierced straight through the head of the soldier in front of the shot. 

A bestial pull from the demon severed the man's arm from his shoulder, blood gushing and spurting from the socket against the floor and wall. His pain would not be long-lived as Sansho gripped his free hand around the soldier's protected neck. A tight clench of his fingers crushed through the metal, compacting around the soldier's throat and crushing his windpipe. A twist of his wrist tore steel and snapped bone as he broke his neck.

By this time the last soldier had gotten up, recovering and shakily pushing the corpse of his comrade off of his own prone body. A trembling arm aimed upwards to fire as the demon who stood some distance away. Fear had overwhelmed him, hesitant on firing. The soldier swallowed hard and pulled the trigger, firing a blast. But the demon stood, his visage completely whole and intact. The form shuddered a little and began to dim, before slowly disappeared.

The man felt a presence looming over him, cold and dark as death itself. He looked up and saw the darkened silhouette of a monster past his visor. Those demonic eyes peered through him, through his heart and soul. Before he could even scream, a heavy fist drove through his chest, piercing through even the back plate of his battle suit and striking the steel floor below. Red liquid gushed and poured and soaked against the demon's tanned skin. He rose to his feet, the body still stuck to his fist. His arm swept outwards towards the Brenchian, flinging the corpse by his feet.

"Charon's ferry awaits you, fool," he warned with killing intent. He bunched a fist against palm and cracked his knuckles. "You had best not keep him waiting."

Brace

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WC: 1,028

Total WC: 2,532 + 1,028 = 3,560

((OOC: No worries, I can do that.}}

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Power Level: 50,800

Current PL: 12,700 (Heavy Weights Equipped)

---

The demon snorted. He didn't give the Arcosian the courtesy of his visible attention, but his words were directed to him nonetheless. "The fools knew of the consequences," he simply grunted, no emotion reflected upon his tone in any sense. Sansho cared not for their lives if they themselves were willing to kill as well. Apparently neither did the Brenchian, shrugging off the deaths of his own men under the guise of saving him coin in the long run. 

The man stood tall, entering a fighting stance. The demon has seen it briefly in the past, having seen another Arcosian utilize a similar style. He had not had the chance to watch this style in action, either as a spectator or as the opponent, and so had no knowledge of what it revolved around or how it was applied. It was a somewhat comforting feeling for him that he got to experience an alien style first hand.

But before they could fight, the Brenchian called another fighter out. The person was a female of a race that Sansho had not recognized, never seeing anyone like her before. The Heran was of average height for a human, with green skin and contrasting orange hair. But just like all of the others he seemed to run across, she was another fool who spent more time running her mouth instead of putting up a fight. The pair of them seemed to have a sort of love-hate relationship that was almost borderline cringe worthy. 

But at least the Brenchian spoke the words the demon desperately wanted to say. It was only a shame that he couldn't follow his own advice.

As the Arcosian and the Heran began their tussle, Sansho and Soi resumed from where they had left off. The demon turned to his side, entering his own stance. The two of them stared each other down. The demon kept a neutral-yet-aggressive expression, while the Brenchian smirked. His fingers flexed before tightening into fists. 

"A'ight then. Now it's my turn to punch you." The thief dashed from his position, light on his feet. A hook swung for the demon's chiselled face, but a roped forearm raised to block it. The power was enough to make Sansho's arm buckle to one side. Another quick swing swung out from the other arm.

The demon's large hand grasped the fist tightly, stopping it and holding it in place firmly. A twist of his wrist turned Soi's arm, making his body twist with it. Sansho wrapped his opponent's arm around the front of his neck, his own arm sliding between them and holding him in a choke hold. The point of his elbow went to drive into the Brenchian's skull, but the thief's free arm reached up and blocked it with the palm of his hand. His hand quickly wrapped out the roped wrist and, with his hips put into it, tugged and twisted it, freeing himself from the choke hold. The two faced one another, each one had a hand grasped around the wrist of the other's, locking them together, their faces nearly pressed against one-another's.

"Gotta say, mate, you're pretty damn tough," Soi had praised with a smirk on his face.

Sansho huffed, knitting his brows and glaring into his opponent's cocky eyes. "Your praise falls of deaf ears, mortal." A powerful knee from the demon rose up. The Brenchian tried to use his own leg to block it, but it was simply pushed aside from the strike. Bone collided with muscle, smashing into the thief's ribs and winding him, making his gasp and lurch forwards. Sansho poised his leg back before flinging his leg upwards. The heel of his foot collided with the man's chin, making him loosen his grip and sending him upwards. Sansho jumped up and twirled in the air, smashing into his opponent with a spinning roundhouse and sending him slamming into the steel wall.

Soi coughed and hacked, sputtering blood onto the floor. His wiped his mouth with his wrist before spitting red to the side of him. "Oh… So that's how you want to play it then, big man? A'ight then… let's start round two."

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WC: 698

Total WC: 3,560 + 698 = 4,258