Crack Your Knuckles! Training Under Denim?! (Closed)

Base PL: 4,526 | Thread PL: 1,130 (Weights)
GAIN BONUSES: HEAVY WEIGHTS (+75%)

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Though she'd hollered her challenge at the very top of her lungs, Cushaw's voice was barely audible over the din of clashing swords and flesh against flesh. Still, she glanced around expectantly, hoping that at least one of the Konatsians in the ring would decide to challenge her. Most of them, however, seemed to ignore her. Those that did spare a glance in her direction looked disinterested at best and fearful at worst. The corners of Cushaw's mouth tilted down into a frown. And here she'd come to think of the locals as a hardy bunch. Had she been overhyping them too much?

Suddenly, a voice cut through the hum and bustle of the training grounds. Cushaw turned in the direction it had come from, and found herself looking at a slender, silver-haired woman who was pointing at her from the other end of the grounds. The Kabochan cocked an eyebrow and jabbed a thumb against her own chest. "You talkin' to me?" she yelled back, and this time her voice rang quite clear. The ring hadn't quite fallen silent, but was suddenly a lot quieter aside from the occasional ringing clash of swords. Most of the assembled Konatsians had turned to watch the exchange between the two women.

As the strange woman continued talking, Cushaw's eyes narrowed slightly. She considered herself a realist. She knew she was just a bottom-feeder, for the time being. But having it shouted at her in the middle of a crowd was enough to prick her temper somewhat. She turned slowly around and began to walk towards the woman. "Oh ya think, huh," she grunted, as she approached. "You can sense I'm weak? That's a neat trick you got, if it's true."

Suffice to say, without a scouter, Cushaw had no way of discerning the Earth-woman's mighty power level of 21,000. Right now, with her own weights on, she was barely cresting a measly thousand. From the perspective of an omnipotent onlooker, smart money was on the skinny lass.

Cushaw came to a halt just three feet away from the woman, staring down at her from her own full height of 6'2". Though she'd been fixing for a scrap as she drew near, the woman had just said something interesting. Memory shuffled its metaphorical pack, and presented a card. Recognition sparked in Cushaw's eyes. "Now ya mention it, I recognize the voice. You were there with Plato and Alaistair when I was being carried back to the Loft. Tried to be the voice of reason and all."

She nodded. "That's me, yeah. Cushaw's the name. I don't know your name, though." Cushaw braced her hands against her hips, and looked the woman up and down once more. "You're a slim lil' beansprout, aren't you? So you're one of those Earthlings I keep hearing about?" A slow grin formed on the Kabochan's face. "From what I heard, your planet managed to send Zucceta runnin' with her tail between her legs. I'm expectin' to at least be able to get a decent workout outta you, if that's really the case."

Beckoning, Cushaw led the woman to an open space in the center of the ring. Assorted Konatsians shuffled out of the way as she passed. Turning to face the Earth-woman once again, she planted her knees firmly appart in a battle stance, and beckoned again with a grin. "You sure do talk a big game! Come ahead and show if your fists pack as much punch as your mouth."

@misfortune

Base PL: 4,526 | Thread PL: 1,130 (Weights)
GAIN BONUSES: HEAVY WEIGHTS (+75%)

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Though it seemed Cushaw's 'bean sprout' comment had hit some sort of never, the woman didn't waste any time following Cushaw into the ring. All the while, she just didn't stop talking, and it seemed as if she wasn't about to any time soon. Cushaw had to fight hard not to roll her eyes, which so far were the only part of her to have gotten any kind of a workout. Still, in among all the fluff there were some interesting tidbits. So all humans were that small and scrawny, huh? Their best fighters must pack a lot of power in such a small frame.

She had to admit, she was curious about Denim's supposed ability to grow in power and size. Was that just a roundabout way of saying humans, those who trained for it at least, possessed some sort of transformation ability? Was it like the giant ape forms the Saiyans would manifest on a full moon? Could Earthlings turn into actual giants? Cushaw actually started getting a little excited at the thought. The bigger the opponent, the more there was to punch! But her opponent for this day seemed intent on holding back most of her strength, and talking herself up for it all the way through.

Cushaw couldn't help but let out an amused snort, though. "'A tremendous dose of death'? I gotta make a note of that on my list of trash-talk lines I ain't never gonna use." However, the Earth-woman was unperturbed, and continued going on about how she'd trained as a child and through her pregnancy. Cushaw rolled her eyes for real this time. Much as she loathed giving the Saiyans credit for anything, she knew for a fact that Saiyan women were fully capable of delivering a child and then being back on the battlefield within a handful of hours. Maybe Earthlings were so frail that continuing to train during a pregnancy, even on and off, was seen as more of an accomplishment.

"Lady, whatever your name is, I don't wanna hear your life story. I want a workout. Bring it on or buzz off." Cushaw noted that the woman hadn't settled into a battle stance. She was simply standing and staring at her with her hands on her hips, as if she couldn't even be bothered to pretend there was any seriousness to the exercise. Cushaw might almost believe she was deliberately trying to piss her off. But the height of it all was when the woman refused to make the first move, boasting that Cushaw was welcome to attack first would see the full extent of her power.

The Kabochan's eyes narrowed. "Fine! Don't mind if I do." There was no subtlety to her opening move, no finesse, just pure fight-lust. With a rumbling growl like a wildcat, Cushaw made a dash at the Earth-woman, both arms cocked at her sides. As she drew near her opponent, she would lash out with her right fist, aiming a right hook squarely at Denim's face.

@misfortune