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Post by Rock on Mar 16, 2016 13:47:32 GMT
[Thread LP: 11,373 | Heavy Weights: 2,843] Gnash
Rock was on the outskirts of a small village, finishing up fixing his jacket sleeve. There were some kids playing in the center of the village, and a couple of them were watching, occasionally conversing with him. Asking him questions about space, what he did as a mercenary, and other questions of a similar caliber. The Shanite kept his answers short, concentrating on sewing the jacket. Kids, yeah he kind of had a soft spot for them. They had an innocence in them that was precious, tender. He could not help but speak gently to them, enamored by their purity. Still, even if the children were curious, he did not feel very welcome to the planet of his father. The residents of the smaller villages had been amicable enough, but he did get strange looks. And the warriors on this planet were strong, stronger than him. Only one of which so far he felt any kinship with, but he had not seen Whelk in some time. He doesn't give a damn about you, don't fool yourself.
"....."
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Post by Gnash on Mar 16, 2016 19:37:42 GMT
[Heavy Weights Equipped - Thread PL: 41,878 -- With Weights: 10,469]
Gnash finished up strapping his blue pauldron over his shoulder, bringing the leather straps across his bulky chest and around his left shoulder. He reached back behind his head, bringing the wide hood over atop of his bald cranium. He had the majority of his gravity-weighted clothing equipped already. He’d heard from Riku and even Kaito himself that they were helpful to wear in everyday situations, save for the few occasions in which he wanted to sleep. They were certainly helping him out a lot with his training, seeing as over the past couple of days, his power had grown exponentially. He’d become stronger than he could have ever hoped for.
He placed his hands over one of the curtains that draped down a door frame, acting as sort of a make-shift door for one of the huts. After arriving on Namek, both Kaito and Riku had things that they wanted to do themselves. They had their own agendas, and Gnash wasn’t one to object. It wasn’t like they’d never meet again. They had just went off explore the new Planet and possibly meet some of the locals. Riku even said something about meeting up with some of his “Friends”. Meanwhile, Gnash went down his own path. He explored around a bit and eventually came across this small village located within what the locals called the Maima Region.
Avishta Village. The inhabitants were nice enough to let Gnash take up residence there and even shared some of their supplies with him. One of the residents in particular, Cordian, even volunteered to craft a special set of weapons for the newcomer. A pair of Tonfas is what Gnash had originally asked for, seeing as it was one of the few weapons known to man that he could actually fight with. The old Razorback Hermit used a pair of metal tonfas to fight with, passing on some of his techniques and skills to Gnash before graduation. Cordian welcomed Gnash into the small workshop he had established for himself within the village, and informed him about a sacred tree located not too far from the village. The wood was said to be as hard as metal, and they used this wood to craft weapons and such.
As he waltzed his way through the village, he passed by some of the young children running around and playing what Gnash could only assume was ‘tag’. No one had shot him any nasty looks or discerning glares. No one in this village looked at him ‘differently’, unlike Earth. On Earth, he’d get death stares. He’d have parents yanking their children away from him in fear. Not here. Everyone smiled at him. They welcomed him with open arms and didn’t think twice about it. Even the children had asked him to join in a game with him. Unfortunately, he was on a mission. Coridan had told him to arrive shortly after waking up, as his weapons would be finished by then. He gave the group of kids a small wave before continuing on.
Gnash approached the small dome-shaped building, ascending the couple of steps placed out front to bring himself to the porch. As if on cue, Cordian emerged from behind the door leading into his smithy. Clasped between both of his hands were the tonfa he promised to craft for Gnash. The wood he used to create them with were of an odd blue-colouring, which coincidentally enough, matched his clothing. He handed them to Gnash with a bright smile upon his green lips. “Here you are, just as I had promised. I created them using the wood from the Kistan Tree. The wood is sturdy enough to match even weapons created from metal, so these will not break as easily as most.” Gnash grabbed the tonfas, swiftly wrapping his bulky hands around the Tsuka.
He spun them around his arms, flipping them through the air with ease. Cordian seemed a tad impressed at how well Gnash handled the weapons. Before he could inquire any information on Gnash’s immediate skills, he spoke up. “Thank you for these. They feel great, though I am a bit rusty. I haven’t trained with a pair of these for.. A few years. It’s going to take me a while to get used to them, but I appreciate this greatly Cordian-san. I will put them to good use.” Cordian reached out to place the palm of his hand against Gnash’s shoulder, his other pointing towards the outskirts of the village. Gnash’s yellow hues followed his fingertip up to a rocky cliffside to a rather familiar face.
“You’d be wise to stay away from that one. Despite his claims, many think of him to be with the Mazoku Clansmen. Please be wary on your travels, Gnash.”
“Why? He seems nice. I think he may just be very.. Reserved is all.” The scarred Namekian put emphasis on the word ‘Reserved’. He knew full well how reserved people could get, as it was the same way he felt on Earth. He didn’t feel like he belonged, and everyone shunned him for being the way he was. There was a high possibility that this Namek was feeling the same way. Though, he wasn’t necessarily as bad as Gnash. He did greet him during his initial landing on Namek, albeit very cautiously. He wasn’t very hostile, either. If Gnash had to make an assumption, he’d put his money on these people just basing their judgements off of appearance along, and not actually getting to know the Namek himself.
With that being said, Gnash lifted himself from the small porch, floating into mid-air. He slid his tonfas into a small strap that was situated on his left thigh, allowing for a much easier and convenient way of carrying them. After a few minutes, he touched down right in front of the darker-skinned Namekian known as Rock. He stood, white cloak flapping in the ominous wind that rolled over the Maima Region every now and then. His yellow globes met with the Shanite’s, staring straight past the red visor he had plastered to his eyes. “Hello.” He spoke in a deep tone, taking a few steps forward as he eyed the fabric he was tampering around with. “What’re you doing?”
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Post by Rock on Mar 18, 2016 1:47:27 GMT
"Is space dark?" Asked the little one who'd been asking these sorts of questions.
"Yes, very. However, it is also full of light from the stars and suns."
"Is it cold?"
"I don't know. I suppose."
"Don't you know?"
Rock shrugged. "I haven't been outside of a space pod to check."
At the distant giggling, Rock looked at a small group of kids that were watching him, pausing in his work, the string stretched as far as it would go as he tightened the stitch. The children seemed to think they were hiding because as soon as he looked at them the three turned tail, one of the stumbling over their robes. The one asking him about space turned to look as well, then ran off without warning.
The Shanite raised his brow, looking past the children to see one of the adults talking to someone. Rock was surprised to see this particular namekian in the village, though his gaze narrowed as the elder seemed to be pointing at him. When he saw Gnash turn to look towards him, the Shanite turned away. The heat of a rage beginning to burn in his chest and ears. Hippocrates. All of them.
"..."
With his back mostly turned towards the village now, and his scouter turned off, he didn't notice when the warrior lifted off the porch towards him until he saw the other's feet in front of him.
"Hello."
The tattooed Namekian was shocked for a moment, his wide lavender gaze meeting the scarred namekian's yellow ones. Though the lavender looked a bit more like maroon with the red tint of the scouter.
"What're you doing?"
The shock on his face wasn't masked at first, as he paused in his stitching, before it returned to its usual stoicism. "What does it look like?" He asked in a curt tone, returning to what he was doing, though his stitching became a bit 'heated' as he tugged on the string more fiercely after each stitch. "Do they want me to leave?" He asked without turning to look at the village, his tattooed brows furrowed together, his mouth set in a taught frown like he was biting the inside of his cheek.
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Post by Gnash on Mar 18, 2016 2:47:32 GMT
Gnash’s yellow daggers follow the darker Namekian’s every move. He watched his fingers delicately clench themselves around the miniscule needle, poking the sharp end and threading a small piece of line through. He worked the jacket’s sleeve with such finesse that Gnash could swear he was a flowing river. In and out like a hissing viper, the Namekian paid little to no attention to Gnash upon the first few seconds of arriving. Several kids hastily ran out into the open from behind a rock, finally giving up their hiding place to the world. They snickered and poked at each other, one of them pointing back at Rock. One of them cupped their tiny hands around their mouth to form a temporary blowhorn, projecting their voice towards the duo; “Suck it, Demon!”
Gnash quickly turned on his heels, head on a swivel as he followed the kids’ movements. His hairless eyebrows furrowed, shooting each and every one of them a death-inducing glare. He didn’t believe in bullying, especially when it came down to someone he considered a friend. While he didn’t particularly know this Namekian, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Just as he had told Cordian, he spoke the truth. He didn’t believe that this Mazoku-caste looking fellow meant any harm towards the planet or its people. He was probably just a guy trying to get by in life.
Shortly after making eye-contact with one another, the tattooed Namekian quickly answered his question, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He picked up his speed on sewing, constantly glancing back and forth between his jack and Avishta Village down below. Gnash too allowed himself to take a peek back. Most of the villagers had their eyes glued to the situation; Even Cordian, who had his wrinkly arms crossed along his chest as his head shook back and forth in protest to what Gnash was doing. But the scarred-namekian did not care what they thought. He was going to give this guy a chance, whether anyone liked it or not.
He then asked if they had wanted him to leave, not even bothering to give them the time of day anymore. It looked as if he was biting the insides of his cheeks, and Gnash could only assume that anger was quickly settling down on him. He took a few steps forward and went to take a seat next to Rock. “I have no idea. If they do, they certainly didn’t tell me.” He spoke freely, the normal restraints that held him down in conversations with other newcomers having been lifted. Like it or not, this was one of his brethren. He felt safe around them, comfortable even. He didn’t feel as if he had to put a hardy ‘mask’ over his personality and speech patterns in order to come across likeable.
“It looks like you’re really skilled with that thing,” Gnash gestured towards the needle and thread he had been using to tidy up his jacket. “I guess I know who to contact if I ever rip my clothing.. Y’know, I gotta ask this; Why do you think they’d want you gone? Why do they dislike you in the first place? You’re one of us, right? I don’t think we should be fighting among ourselves.. Especially with the happenings in Moori Capitol.”
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Post by Rock on Mar 18, 2016 4:12:55 GMT
It was true, the deft that Rock displayed with something as menial as sewing was almost an art form in its articulate precision. Years of such menial chores as a child had honed his skills, in no ones tutelage per se. He'd had to learn to 'do it right', or... well Stone had a temper, a very short one.
Rock was barely paying attention when there was a shout from behind him, from several child like voices, probably the kids from earlier. His annoyance only grew, so did the fiery feeling of rage in his chest, his ears turning more purple. He could feel the tension from the village, he felt as though all eyes were on the two of them now.
Gnash... seemed like he was genuine, like he was trying to be friendly. As much as the Shanite wanted to accept his show of kindness, Rock couldn't help but feel apprehension.
"You're one of us, right?" No.
The words made Rock's arm jerk, snapping the line. He quickly hid the hurt look on his face, though Gnash might still have caught it. The Shanite stared down at the jacket with the snapped line. At mention of what was happening at the capitol, the Shanite's gaze shifted towards it. "People are oft afraid of what they do not understand." He quoted, as though he'd heard or repeated it many times before. With the scouter off, he couldn't detect what was going on at the capitol. It was just as well, the bugger was going off so often he had no choice but to turn it off. The power levels he had read from different parts of the fight had terrified him. Though... part of him wanted to be able to do something about what was going on, but he wasn't a fool. The power level that spiked astronomically midway through the battle terrified him especially, and he had a feeling that Xylo would die in that battle. Though he didn't want to admit it, the Shanite hoped that the Mazoku would survive, if only so he could possibly fight him again in the future. A prospect that both gave him a thrill and terrified him. Admit it, you're a coward.
"That is the expression, isn't it?" He asked, though in a distant manner as he tied off the string, taking more string from his small kit and making a knot. Slipping the strong into the eye of the needle, and pulling it till it came to its end, he slid the needle into the seam. Through the loop made from the knot and tightening it, he continued fixing the seam of the jacket. Upon closer inspection, if Gnash was paying attention, he'd see how the cloth didn't quite sit well. It was stiff, as if there was some form of firm padding in the leather. At least for the torso piece of the jacket, the arms were loose, like they should be.
"... Thank you for the compliment..." He said, belatedly referring to Gnash's note of his sewing skills, though in such a sheepishly low tone that Gnash might miss it. If the Shanite was lucky, Gnash would also miss the flush on the young adult's cheeks and ears. Rock wasn't used to receiving such praise for something so trivial. What does he really want?
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Post by Gnash on Mar 18, 2016 19:09:51 GMT
“Mmmm.. That they are. It’s pretty bad.” Gnash followed the Shanite’s gaze towards the capitol, his mind shifting back to the negative thoughts that plagued him earlier. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do to help save anyone from the capitol. Sure, he’d managed to save a few survivors and allowed them places within Avishta village. Compared to the lives lost within the battle itself, his efforts paled under a dark shadow. He clenched his fists together, green nostrils flaring in anger. “It hurts… Y’know? Not being able to do anything.. Not being able to help my people. We’ve only had a handful of survivors arrive here.. And I fear that if I go there myself in search of more, I will end up six feet under as well. Maybe I’m being a bit selfish.. It even hurts to measure the power levels radiating from there. Knowing how outclassed I would be.. How outclassed I actually AM.”
His head jerked to the side, yellow globes narrowing in upon his darker brethren as he feverishly snapped the thread with his needle, yanking his arm off to the side. He was hoping that whatever comment he’d made didn’t startle or anger him. He was trying to be friendly with his brother. He didn’t want this guy to feel left out or hated anymore. If there could be just one person on the entire planet that gave him the time of day, surely that would make some difference. “I guess so..” He spoke softly, watching Rock retrieve a few more threads from a small wooden kit. It looked to be crafted by hand, possibly by Cordian or even the Namek himself? If so, this man had some damned good craftsmanship.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about what they think,” He turned to gander towards the village for a moment. By now, most of the Namekians had returned to whatever activity they were previously indulging in, a few still lingering their beady eyes on the duo. “I’ve noticed that they can be a tad judgemental.. But can you blame them? With everything that is going on, it makes sense for people to be on edge. I think they’re really just looking out for their families. Wouldn’t you?” He asked, hoping to reason with the tattooed Namek. He was trying to play the middle game here, catering to both sides so that neither ended up pissed off at him.
Gnash didn’t pay much attention to the Namek’s clothing, although his golden hues did manage to catch sight of the red flushing in around his cheekbones in regards to the compliment Gnash had graced him with earlier. He offered a closed lip smile, reach out to lightly pat the Namek on his back. “Not a problem. You’ve got some refined skills. It’s much more than I could ever hope to do, very impressive. Can you fight as well- Oop!” The scarred Namekian quickly retracted his hand from behind Rock, instead reaching it around to his front for a formal handshake. “My name is Gnash, by the way. If you didn’t catch it earlier during my landing.. I come from Earth, a planet not too far from here. It’s actually very different than here. It has been throwing me off of my game ever since I arrived. The water is blue and the grass is green! Completely reversed!”
Rock
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Post by Rock on Mar 22, 2016 1:08:20 GMT
When Gnash talked about what was going on, Rock looked back up at him briefly before returning his gaze back to the jacket. Blinking when Gnash patted his back, he glanced up at him from the corner of his eyes. He shook his head, though he did not comment more about the subject of subjugation. Rock didn't quite understand why Gnash was even taking the time. The tattooed Shanite finished the stitching, and put the needlework away. He fixed the jacket and put it on, tucking the kit into his bag.
He shifted the weighted jacket until it fit right, then stood, he saw Gnash holding out his hand and hesitatingly, he reached out to grasp it. "Rock, son of Shan." Could he really blame the natives for being so scared of him? Perhaps he couldn't, that didn't... quite make everything 'ok' though. "Earth sounds... nicer than my home planet. It was full of crags and barren wastes. Caves of sulferic hotsprings and invasive fungi. The sunlight there is so hot it scorches everything still on the surface. Its not that much different from the Northern Scar, actually... though more... dangerous." There was a pause before he continued to speak, turning away from him as he looked out towards the Namek landscape.
"I can fight..." His head turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze glancing behind him to look at Gnash. "When I was with my brothers, I was training to be a mercenary." The Shanites tone was a bit stiff; he didn't elaborate further without prompt.
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Post by Gnash on Mar 22, 2016 2:00:56 GMT
The scarred Namekian listened intently to the things that his tattooed brethren had to say after actually telling him his name. It was Rock Shan. An extremely odd name, at least in Gnash’s mind. It was just generic, though his own name wasn’t much better. Most of the other Namekian’s he’d met while on this luscious planet had at least two syllables in their names. Both Gnash and Rock seemed to have one. So at least they could be somewhat similar in that category, if nowhere else. He watched his darker-skinned friend slip the jacket over his shoulders, the faint sound of metal clinking against each other prominent among the silence. So this guy wore weights as well? He’d be able to chalk that up on the similar chart.
Another action that brought Gnash’s eyelids back was Rock’s three-fingered hand wrapping around his, moving his arm up and down in a soft motion. The man was reclusive to the point of where Gnash wouldn’t have expected him to even allow him within a foot of his personal space, let alone come into physical contact with anyone else. He listened further to witness Rock speak of something positive. It seemed as if he was going to compliment Gnash’s home planet of Earth, but stopped himself a little too early. He spoke of his own home planet, saying how it was sort of like a barren wasteland, with the occasional ravine here and there. It sounded like a planet that would rank higher on the boring list than New Namek. It sounded.. Dangerous.
“Worse than the Northern Scar, huh? I’ve never actually been there.. So I wouldn’t know. I know the locals say it is forbidden to visit.. But why? What is it about traveling there that makes it a “Taboo”? I don’t think I quite understand.. Even Cordian has warned me of the dangers that would accompany a visit there.”
Gnash stood himself up from the rock that they were both seated upon, stretching his arms into the air. His motions harbored a long and much needed groan that had built itself up within the bowels of his abdomen, finally being released alongside a sigh of relief. His lengthy ears were on standby to hear out Rock’s answer to his other question; If he was able to fight at all. Indeed he could. Apparently, he was being trained into the life of a mercenary when he was with his brothers. Curious about the two of them, Gnash twisted his head around and stared down Rock with piercing golden saucers.
“That’s interesting. I’ve never met a mercenary before. Am I right to assume that you aren’t one anymore? If you still are.. Is that why all of the locals don’t like you?” He had been genuinely curious as to whether or not Rock was still one of them dirtbags. In Gnash’s book, the word mercenary reminded him of the SSE. To keep it short and sweet; Gnash did not like the SSE. They attacked his home without mercy, and slaughtered thousands of innocent people. Rock didn’t seem the type to roll with that crowd. He was sheltered, and Gnash couldn’t read him as easy as he could others, but he didn’t get a wicked vibe from Rock.
He seemed like a genuinely misunderstood being.
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Post by Rock on Mar 22, 2016 2:23:08 GMT
Rock half turned towards the village, then looked north. "If you ask the locals, they will say the Mazoku favorite that area. An elder in another village told me of a strange tale, of a ship half the size of the planet touched down there, trying to 'eat' Namek. Until some.. ancient hero saved the planet." He shrugs, "It sounded pretty fairy tale to me, but perhaps there was some truth to the story before others played 'telephone' with it." He gave a rather casual shrug, fixing the jacket wherever it felt like it was kinking. Shifting the cloth at the elbow.
"I haven't done much work since coming here. But that kind of work..." He looked away, his tone muted. "It follows you." What would he think of you, knowing the things you've done?
"I suppose that could be a factor, for why these natives have been less than favorable... But then, that would be putting a face to it; giving them an excuse to their behavior, you think? Fear is fear. No matter the form." It struck Rock that perhaps Gnash's opinion on mercenaries could be just as dour. "I suppose I could say that I'd like to keep my morals and my bank account balanced. I suppose I could say I've never done anything I disagreed with. I suppose I could say that I hold my heart higher than my head. I suppose I could also say that I try to be honorable... But I wasn't raised to lie if I'm not being paid for it." He looked at Gnash then, pointedly, turning towards him and crossing his arms. His chin lifting slightly, as though challenging. "That being said... I am not without morals." Hahahhahahah.
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Post by Gnash on Mar 22, 2016 11:10:26 GMT
“Mazoku, huh? I’ve heard some pretty nasty things about them. No one here seems to like them.. Some of the folks down there even think you’re one.” Gnash turned his head to gaze North at almost the exact same time as Rock, listening to him explain the fairy tale behind why it was so damned forbidden. Apparently, some sort of gigantic star secured itself to the planet and tried ‘eating’ Namek itself. How on earth a star would be able to gobble up a planet was beyond Gnash, but again.. It was a folk tale. Just a story. There was no way this actually happened. More likely than not, it was just the unfortunate bearer of a titanic battle between two extremely powerful warriors. “Mmm.. That is interesting. But you’re right, it is probably a story. Though.. I like to believe in those types of things. It helps give.. Some excitement, y’know? Maybe it is just the kid in me speaking.”
Hearing Rock say he hadn’t indulged in much work since arriving on Namek confirmed the fact that he wasn't from here, despite his appearance telling Gnash differently. “I can’t say I completely understand you there. Maybe that is why they’re afraid of you. Fear IS fear.. But sometimes there can be a reason behind fear. It can be rational.. And irrational. At least I think so. I just.. I don’t know if their fear is either one. Heh… if you haven’t notice already, I am trying to play the middle ground here. I don’t really want to take either side.” He spoke the genuine truth with his tattooed brethren.
“Hmph. Y’know, we should put your mercenary training to the test. We can see if you truly have what it takes to be one. Maybe sparring with me might loosen their minds a bit. Or it could send them into even more of a frenzy,” Gnash blew a steady stream of air from between his lips, placing his hands on his hips as his golden hues gazed back towards the village. “I’m also willing to take the risk that if I spend anymore time with you, then they may start feeling the same way about me.” He casually shrugged his shoulders before turning to look back at Rock. He didn’t particularly care anymore whether the people down there liked him or not. There was one that would hold true to the end; Cordian. He’d had Gnash’s back since the very beginning.
The more and more he spoke with Rock, the deeper this man tugged on his heart strings. He just felt bad for his brother. It was like he was cooped up in a cocoon with no other choice but to burrow deeper within as the others blocked his exit. Gnash wanted to be the crowbar that would unhinge the doors on his psyche and allow him to soar free. He didn’t want Rock to feel left out anymore. He didn’t want him to set himself apart from the rest. Of course, a change like this wouldn’t occur overnight, but maybe if Gnash bonded with him, it’d make his mission a tad easier.
He pointed towards a fairly serene looking island off in the distance before lifting himself off of the ground, levitating about three or four feet above the tall blue grass. “Over there seems good. What do you think?”
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Post by Rock on Mar 25, 2016 4:34:40 GMT
"Some of the folks down there even think you're one." This made Rock give a snarl and turn his back to the village. When Gnash admitted that he was playing middle man, it earned but a derisive snort from the Shanite. "I've noticed." He muttered, ready for the namekian to start regretting coming to speak with him.
That was when Gnash offered a spar. The namekian looked at him frowning for a bit, he looked down to his weighted jacket. He knew from his earlier reading that Gnash's power level was around his own, without Rock wearing his weights. From the look of Gnash's gear, he might also be wearing weights. So if he was on par with Rock with the weights on...
Backing out, coward?
Rock shook his head and then looked toward Gnash with a smirk, "Alright then, we'll spar. It's as good a place as any." He said as he levitated to follow him. The Shanite glanced behind him, looking at the village. Either way, it didn't matter who attacked first. The villagers might think worse of the situation no matter if Rock went first or not. When they landed, Rock snapped his neck and stretched his arms. When he was ready he shifted into a fighting stance, waiting for Gnash to be ready.
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Post by Gnash on Mar 25, 2016 16:08:45 GMT
Gnash was elated when Rock agreed to the spar. This guy was powerful, no doubt about it. He was extremely skilled as well. Gnash was hoping that his finesse with a needle a thread would bleed over into his combat skills. So far, he’d only fought against enemies or sparred with friends that have been based primarily on brute force alone, he being one of those types himself. It would be interesting to see if Rock had a similar fighting style, or a different one entirely. While the tattooed-Namek had some muscles on his frame, he wasn’t all that bulky. He took on more of a slender figure, which gave Gnash reason to believe that he indeed was a swift fighter. He’d been proven wrong in the past though, and Gnash was a firm believer of not judging a book by its cover. Or in this case, a rock by its hue.
Lowering himself down onto the plateau, Gnash awaited his opponents arrival. A soft gust of wind slapped against his cape, allowing the fabric to follow its course and waver off to the left of Gnash’s hulking green frame. Green water splashed against the small island, spraying its remnants across the lands like confetti. This was it. This was his time to see what Rock was made it. Maybe if Rock proved himself combat wise, the Namekians would be a bit more open with him. That sounded extremely farfetched, but it had worked with Cordian. He wasn’t exactly fond of Gnash until he felt the Namek’s true power. It wasn’t a method that would work one-hundred percent of the time, but it was a method worth trying.
“Alright. I am going to keep myself weighted during this spar. Feel free to keep yours on, or take them off. It really doesn’t matter to me.” Gnash didn’t speak in an arrogant tone, nor did he mean the words he spoke in that connotation. After his lips sealed shut, he realized the things that he’d said could come off as boastful, even from a man as humble as him. In reality, he didn’t really care if Rock kept his weights on or not. He was more so focused on observing Rock’s battling style, and hopefully pick up a thing or two that would evidently help him down the road in future battles.
“Alright Rock…. Let’s see. His form new. I’ve never seen anything like this before. It reminds me of.. Crane style. An old Kung Fu style of Martial Arts, tying in with other animals. This should be interesting..” Gnash hesitantly reached down for his tonfa, but decided against it. He wanted to test Rock’s skill in hand-to-hand first, before introducing his favored batons. He dropped himself low, bending at the knees, fingers clenching down into fists. He shook his neck around, wiggling the hood off to expose his emerald crown that pinged off of the rays of sun. After sliding his right foot behind his left, his body disappeared into thin air. Within mere seconds, he reappeared right in front of Rock, albeit hovering in the air. His right leg reared back, hips twisting with the force motion. Both of his arms rested as his side bending at the elbow. He swung his right leg on a diagonal, aiming right for Rock’s left shoulder.
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Post by Rock on Apr 6, 2016 0:03:01 GMT
The gust of wind flapping at Gnash's cape/coat thing made Rock's sash flutter about in a similar fashion. The emblem of the mountain clan emblazoned proudly on the sash. Rock could not help but feel an excitement, a giddiness he hadn't felt for a while. He thought he'd feel intimidated, or apprehensive. This wasn't the case. He somehow felt that this spar would be a fun one, no matter how it really panned out for him. When Gnash offered to keep his weights on, Rock thought to keep his on as well. "Sparring with weights gives one more exercise than not. So I will keep mine as well. And honestly, this isn't a contest." Meaning to say that he did not care who won. He'd focus on his tactics more than his power, as he was accustomed.
There was pause, Rock noted he had reached toward the tonfa, but had not taken them out. This was just as well. He wanted to see how Gnash fought without weapons first. When Gnash nearly disappeared, Rock was nearly shocked when Gnash reappeared in front of him, swinging the leg to his left shoulder. Rock raised his arm to take the blow to his side, using the opportunity to catch the leg in place with his hands, wrapping the arm around it as his other hand chopped at his the inner part of the leg to cause it to buckle from the force and send a sharp pang of pain up Gnash's thigh. It wasn't enough force to push the knee cap out of alignment, but it was clear that if this was a real battle, Rock would have done so without a second thought.
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Post by Gnash on Apr 6, 2016 0:54:08 GMT
Swinging his right foot down towards the base of Rock’s shoulder, the hooded Namekian was sure it would hit. He had the speed advantage, and most certainly the power. What he assumed he did lack was the skill, the finesse. The way Rock had maneuvered himself before all of this began, his stance. It was graceful. It had a sense of tranquility lining its features. Obviously, being at the level of power Gnash was and the level of power Rock was, there was absolutely no way he’d be able to tank the hit. He’d have to come up with something else, parry, block. Something of the sort, and even then he would be gravely injured.
The tattooed Namekian had done something Gnash wouldn’t have expected him to do; He actually took the kick to his side. He watched as his darkened features morphed with the pain that coursed through his body. Despite the pain, he was able to pull off an impressive counter-attack. He allowed himself to get hit in order to wrap his arms around Gnash’s legs and capture him. Using his free hand, he viciously chopped at the inner part of the Namek’s knee. The strike sent a stinging jolt all the way up his thigh, piercing into his pelvis region as well. “Gngh..!” Gnash slammed his jaws together to stifle the howl that would have evidently filled the air.
Rock was good, a little too good. He figured it had been due to his training as a mercenary. Pressing his left leg against the ground, Gnash quickly pushed himself into the air once again. Obviously, he was tied down by the iron-like grip of Rock, so his left leg spiked up into the air, heel aimed for either Rock’s chin or his chest. Had he leaned his head back in order to evade the kick, Gnash would simply pound his foot against his brethren’s sternum in an attempt to set his leg free. All the while Gnash brought his hands up in front of Rock’s face, charging two spheres of yellow ki. If the kick didn’t force his grip, then these blasts aimed right for his face would.
If Gnash had gotten himself loose by either of those methods, he would backflip through the air and land on the ground about seven feet in front of Rock. He completely ignored the pain billowing throughout his knee joint, and instead used his other leg to launch himself forward once more. He cocked his left elbow back, using it as a piston to bury his left fist into the abdomen of Rock.
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Post by Rock on Apr 6, 2016 1:30:17 GMT
When Gnash had lifted himself, Rock did something unexpected perhaps. He let Gnash's weight overtake his own, allowing him to fall backwards. Keeping Gnash's leg where it was, and though Gnash's blow to his chest normally would have shoved him off, and broke his grip, it just forced the both of them to the ground. Gnash's captured foot would jam against the ground, possibly in a very unsafe or uncomfortable angle. If Gnash wasn't careful he'd sprain the ankle, really. Rock's air was pushed out, but deterred he was not. Rock let his momentum force his legs up, though he was probably not quite as tall as Gnash, hopefully his previous move would have caused the bigger Namekian to crouch just enough for him to wrap his ankles around his neck. Pulling Gnash's head back if he was successful, and at the same time causing Gnash's hand to be pulled now that his back was bending, causing one of the spheres to veer off course, and impact the ground somewhere above Rock's head. The first one of course, did hit, nearly breaking the scouter. Damn did that burn. At the same time he'd reposition his legs more firmly around Gnash's neck, and grab the other leg with his free arm. Once all this was done, if he was successful in getting Gnash into the hog hold, all he would have to do his crunch up his own body to keep the grip he had on Gnash, and he did so. Threatening to break Gnash's back, while cutting off Gnash's breathing. "Concede." He would wheeze out as he got his breath.
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