Post by Sanngrior on Jul 27, 2015 21:24:09 GMT
In her travels, Sanngrior had been to many worlds and seen many places. She’d hunted prey in sweaty jungles, across trackless deserts, and – most commonly – across the concrete jungle. There were few locations which had seemed as cold and barren as the wasteland this far north, however. Tall spires of rock, so blasted by the howling winds that not even the most tenacious shrub could find purchase in them, stretched for miles in all directions. For once, though, Sanngrior was not chasing any particular target; she wasn’t here to see if she could shed any blood.
After all the attention her activities had garnered in South City, Sanngrior was tired of it. The place’s constant hedonism had seemed… charming, in some way, when she had first arrived – but now the city felt as empty of purpose as any she had stayed in, and colder even than this place. At least the wasteland didn’t try to hide its disdain behind pretty smiles and false words. She could see the fear in people’s eyes, now – there was a paranoia, there. Warranted, perhaps, but annoying nonetheless. If they didn’t want to live their lives in terror, perhaps they ought to take responsibility for their own protection… but such a thought never seemed to occur to the hedonistic, huddled masses.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she kept running into individuals, most of them very young, who could handle most Saiyan Solar Empire elite squads, she might have been tempted to write off the whole planet as worthless. That was certainly the opinion of the majority of the galactic community… but there were enough strong people here to make the place a useful backwater to hide out on in case that damned saiyan managed to find her here.
The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and yet the light that bathed the rocky terrain did absolutely nothing to warm it as Sanngrior made her way from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping. A flitting shadow, the woman’s jacket was tugged tight about her body – blood from her last job was still thick on the hood, the cuffs of her jacket, smeared inelegantly across the chest. With the hood helping to shroud her features, she didn’t exactly look particularly cheerful to begin with.
The howling wind was doing little to improve that mood. The temperature was freezing; cold enough that some of the more moist patches of blood were starting to freeze over on her outfit, and her hands tucked deep into her pockets. Stranger still was the noise as she jumped from one rocky spire to the next. Each leap was coupled with a faint rustling…
… And then a matching jingle as she landed, metal chains thickly bound beneath the jacket moved with each motion regardless. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for out here; only that she’d know it when she found it, whatever it might happen to actually be. Perhaps a new home? Shelter from the elements? Signs of hardier indigenous life?
Sanngrior finally came to a rest atop one of the taller spires. She could have chosen to fly, yes, but somehow the leaping and jumping felt more appropriate to the terrain. She could feel … something, here, but she couldn’t quite discern what it was she was feeling. It was as though the land itself had something to say; an atmosphere about it that she couldn’t deny. It was a powerful sense of… history, perhaps?
But what sort of history could an irrelevant place like this have? Earth was barely known in the Saiyan Solar Empire; those who did know of it knew it purely because of the fact that a major tournament had taken place here fairly recently, and interest pretty much fell off the moment they realized that it was ‘recently’ not ‘right at this very moment’ and therefore was utterly irrelevant to their lives.
Beneath her hood, Sanngrior’s lips curled, and she hunched her shoulders against the wind as it whipped and bit at her clothing. It hurt her skin where it was exposed, and caused her outfit to flap wildly against it. That alone was interesting; the Earth, for all its name was horrendously dull, did seem to offer a far wider range of environments than most planets she had been to in her travels. What sort of person would choose a place like this to make their new home?
Well. The thought did occur that it would be one of the least likely places one would be disturbed on this dirtball. Musing that thought, Sanngrior began to open her senses, searching about for any life signs which might be hiding amongst the rocks. Wildlife seemed slim… but it was difficult to concentrate with this cacophony of wind raging all about her.
To an external observer, it would look for all the world as though the strange figure with the bloody halo smeared above her head had dashed all the way to the middle of the wasteland, and was now just standing there, waiting, with her head lightly bowed as though expecting instruction. More sensitive observers – or those with scouters – might be more alarmed at the fact that the woman’s power level is sharply rising as she brings it up against the confines of her chains, focusing it outwards as she tries to brute force her way through the multitude of distractions and sense whether there is anything out there she needs to be worried by.
A few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed there was anything on this dirtball she really needed to worry about… now, though? Now she’d seen and heard enough to realize that discretion was one of the more important tools in an assassin’s arsenal. She was making far too much noise in this place, where the authorities could offer little resistance… if she kept it up, sooner or later, one of these stronger powers would find her and put an end to her. Best not to let that happen.
(Thread PL - 48,778 - Heavy Weights on, 12,195 pl showing)
After all the attention her activities had garnered in South City, Sanngrior was tired of it. The place’s constant hedonism had seemed… charming, in some way, when she had first arrived – but now the city felt as empty of purpose as any she had stayed in, and colder even than this place. At least the wasteland didn’t try to hide its disdain behind pretty smiles and false words. She could see the fear in people’s eyes, now – there was a paranoia, there. Warranted, perhaps, but annoying nonetheless. If they didn’t want to live their lives in terror, perhaps they ought to take responsibility for their own protection… but such a thought never seemed to occur to the hedonistic, huddled masses.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she kept running into individuals, most of them very young, who could handle most Saiyan Solar Empire elite squads, she might have been tempted to write off the whole planet as worthless. That was certainly the opinion of the majority of the galactic community… but there were enough strong people here to make the place a useful backwater to hide out on in case that damned saiyan managed to find her here.
The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and yet the light that bathed the rocky terrain did absolutely nothing to warm it as Sanngrior made her way from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping. A flitting shadow, the woman’s jacket was tugged tight about her body – blood from her last job was still thick on the hood, the cuffs of her jacket, smeared inelegantly across the chest. With the hood helping to shroud her features, she didn’t exactly look particularly cheerful to begin with.
The howling wind was doing little to improve that mood. The temperature was freezing; cold enough that some of the more moist patches of blood were starting to freeze over on her outfit, and her hands tucked deep into her pockets. Stranger still was the noise as she jumped from one rocky spire to the next. Each leap was coupled with a faint rustling…
… And then a matching jingle as she landed, metal chains thickly bound beneath the jacket moved with each motion regardless. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for out here; only that she’d know it when she found it, whatever it might happen to actually be. Perhaps a new home? Shelter from the elements? Signs of hardier indigenous life?
Sanngrior finally came to a rest atop one of the taller spires. She could have chosen to fly, yes, but somehow the leaping and jumping felt more appropriate to the terrain. She could feel … something, here, but she couldn’t quite discern what it was she was feeling. It was as though the land itself had something to say; an atmosphere about it that she couldn’t deny. It was a powerful sense of… history, perhaps?
But what sort of history could an irrelevant place like this have? Earth was barely known in the Saiyan Solar Empire; those who did know of it knew it purely because of the fact that a major tournament had taken place here fairly recently, and interest pretty much fell off the moment they realized that it was ‘recently’ not ‘right at this very moment’ and therefore was utterly irrelevant to their lives.
Beneath her hood, Sanngrior’s lips curled, and she hunched her shoulders against the wind as it whipped and bit at her clothing. It hurt her skin where it was exposed, and caused her outfit to flap wildly against it. That alone was interesting; the Earth, for all its name was horrendously dull, did seem to offer a far wider range of environments than most planets she had been to in her travels. What sort of person would choose a place like this to make their new home?
Well. The thought did occur that it would be one of the least likely places one would be disturbed on this dirtball. Musing that thought, Sanngrior began to open her senses, searching about for any life signs which might be hiding amongst the rocks. Wildlife seemed slim… but it was difficult to concentrate with this cacophony of wind raging all about her.
To an external observer, it would look for all the world as though the strange figure with the bloody halo smeared above her head had dashed all the way to the middle of the wasteland, and was now just standing there, waiting, with her head lightly bowed as though expecting instruction. More sensitive observers – or those with scouters – might be more alarmed at the fact that the woman’s power level is sharply rising as she brings it up against the confines of her chains, focusing it outwards as she tries to brute force her way through the multitude of distractions and sense whether there is anything out there she needs to be worried by.
A few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed there was anything on this dirtball she really needed to worry about… now, though? Now she’d seen and heard enough to realize that discretion was one of the more important tools in an assassin’s arsenal. She was making far too much noise in this place, where the authorities could offer little resistance… if she kept it up, sooner or later, one of these stronger powers would find her and put an end to her. Best not to let that happen.
(Thread PL - 48,778 - Heavy Weights on, 12,195 pl showing)