Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2016 19:48:47 GMT
Namorel
Powerlevel: 2,700
Water, the life blood of most living beings... this is a lesson taught to all young namekians. They are taught that they are one with the liquid that sustains their life force. It is all they need to live and yet it is also that which can take the life it has given. Hydration is the most important function Namorel was always told to maintain, to keep himself alive and to see another day, even his father made him pack around an extra container of the green fluid with him when he went to train with the other namekian pupils, to ensure he never forgot to maintain well hydrated, even in the wettest of seasons. Namekians maintain an almost earthly reliance on the fluid, an ironic paradox on that matter due to them needing it at all times; and yet few namekians take the time to train their bodies to extend the amount of time they can go without water, to allow them a weaker reliance on the fluid that sustains their very lifestyles.
Namorel sat in his cavern, high atop the rocky hill they called mountain Frappe, the snow surrounding his dwelling in an almost ethereal manner, giving it an unearthly glow. The decent sized hole that was the entrance to this cavern maintained a clean appearance due to the outcrop of stone Namorel had positioned around it to keep the snow from flooding into the cave when he rested or was away, he may be resistant to the sheer cold of the mountain air and snow, but the white power still proved to be a significant bother, acting as a wet sand of sorts, flowing into wherever it felt necessary, even into the brown cavern Namorel called home. The snow however did persist a small duo of rivulets, write deep inlets of water, in the cave heading towards the back end. When the snow melted it supplied these streams of water, giving Namorel instant access to the fluid he desperately needed to survive; and like any other namekian he had a strong reliance on the fluid, the color here varying from that back home. As with any other day he sat between these two streams of water, listening to the small rivers flowed from the same source not too far ahead of him, almost as if these streams were his Tigris and Euphrates rivers he used that spot as a place to get instant access to the fluid whenever he was resting, hydrating him to the extent he would need.
He sat there, his eyes closed as he meditated between these two streams; the weak scent of the water helping him clear his mind as he did so. He had little to meditate on, rather he was merely imagining, letting memories flow in and out as they pleased. They may not all be nice, but what more could he do than let these flow as they do naturally in the ever inconsistent space that is one's conscious. Many of these memories were of him and his father, learning from him and spending time with him; those last moments he got with him before he was taken from Namorel. Namorel allowed these thoughts to keep coming and he meditated on them, that is until he had to rise from his meditation, needing to hydrate himself once more. He had come to the realization that he would need to re hydrate himself every few hours or so. Realizing the impracticality in this Namorel thought, thinking of an efficient method to either sustain a hydration or better use the water he gave himself and allow it to last a longer period of time. It wouldn't take long for the idea of treating it like any other pain and making himself used to it. He had come to see that many humans monks did this with food and water themselves, allowing them to meditate for days and weeks at a time on a small meal and drink, Namorel knew he had to give it a shot and make himself better by making himself more efficient with the one fuel that kept his body going.
He rose to his feet, the air around him had an odd feeling to it, an almost unsettling feeling to it. Namorel dismissed this as merely weather patterns on Earth settling near the mountain, possibly rain or snow settling in nearby. He wouldn't be surprised to the snow level rising on the mountain once more as it occurred often enough to leave a constantly shin high snow cover despite some of the snow constantly melting around it all. His clothes were dry despite the conditions he had decided to live in, almost the entire environment being soaked in a soft glisten from the almost dewy surface gloss that the evaporated and melted water gave off from the cavern, It was a sight to behold, but one Namorel had recently grown to accustomed to in the last week of being on Earth, especially on the days he remained in the cavern. He sighed as he began to walk towards the entrance to the cave, grabbing a small water skin from the inlet in the wall as he passed by it, he would stop to fill it at one of the small streams that existed in the cave. Even if he was going to test his body with dehydration, he couldn't have himself dying out there. The way to the entrance of the cavern was barren, and more dry than any of the locations further back where all the water rested. His feet could feel the rugged stone beneath the soles of his namekian shoes, the peculiar texture made him think back on the desert. The entrance to the cave itself still rested under the small tent shaped outcrop Namorel had made for it previously, back when Noxa had found her way to his cavern by chance, that had proven to be an interesting day nonetheless. He looked towards the west, the desert was where he needed to be, he despised the place and yet knew that he would have to use it... because there was nowhere else he knew of on the planet that could dehydrate him like that dessert could.
The sky was a clear blue, not a single cloud in sight, then again many of them hung below the mountain line from where his cavern's entrance sat. Namorel cocked his head to the side in curiosity, as his assumption on the weather may turn out to be entirely wrong after all. He looked upwards once more, seeing a pale outline of the moon in the distance, the sun had long since passed its zenith, now preparing its path to sink into the western horizon, the way Namorel would soon be flying. He took a deep breath as he prepared to follow the path that the giant ball of plasma would be drawing out for him. As he flew up the thin air around him gave him a weak resistance as he flew, but it was nothing he had not dealt with before, instead it inspired him to keep going, to push beyond the limits he had placed before himself. The thoughts of improving himself kept him occupied as he flew onward to the west, the landscape rapidly altering beneath him as he made his way, from mountains to hills and hills to valleys, the occasional house or small village lay calm and peaceful beneath him as he passed by them. The ground beneath him slowly grew a more brownish hue to it, cuing him to his soon arrival at the one natural landscape he hated with a fiery passion.
He soon arrived in the desert, the hot sun beating down on him as he flew to a small plateau to rest upon, this would be the location that he would begin his training. Pulling the water skin from his waist he took one drink, a setting drink to start his training under this unforgiving sun. He sat down,the hot stone searing against his loose pants as he rested upon it. He thought to himself, this was going to be a fairly difficult training, but he knew he would have to get through with it if he wished to achieve the goal he had in store for himself. He had a wonderful view of the sand below, the shifting grains moved as the dry winds blew them in every which direction it deemed necessary to itself. This made Namorel think of his own life, how the turmoils of what he had faced so far pushed him in any which direction, taking him who knows where and introducing him to anyone and everyone he met. He had little control over the way it worked, being subjected to the interests of the universe rather than his own. Perhaps he lacked the willpower to maintain control over it... or perhaps he truly was incapable of dictating his own life and would have to adjust where he could to the ever shifting sea of reality and the universe.
The first few hours seemed to pass rather quickly, s he kept himself occupied with philosophy and other mind boggling, impractical thoughts, ones designed to keep one thinking for a long period of time without considering their surroundings. However these thoughts would not last him forever, he would quickly run out of philosophy to ponder as he sat upon the large rock, or rather small plateau in the desert. The sun had reached another zenith at this point on the planet, the sun beating down directly on Namorel as he meditated where he sat. He once more let his mind wander, this time the thoughts on his mind were over the people he had met so far while on the planet Earth. Since his arrival on Terra he has had the opportunity to meet a variety of individuals that give him a variety of opinions on the populace of this planet. His first encounter had been an interesting young demon hybrid girl, her mere existence alone was a curious matter to the namekian, never having met a demon, let alone one that had a non-demon parent. The girl herself did not seem the type to participate in combat. instead she seemed the inquisitive type, the kind to ask questions or challenge convention on matters of the intellectual variety, Namorel had never seen himself as any level of scholar, perhaps it was his role as a warrior caste namekian. His second encounter happened to be with an interestingly irritating arcosian with a lord complex, Retsu was his name. He had asked Namorel to join his army, a request the namekian turned down on the spot, but a rude comment towards Namorel's race turned the encounter into a fight the namekian stood no chance at winning, but he still tried desperately, to be knocked down one last time after recovering so may other times. Noxa had come next, and ever since his first encounter with her, he would encounter her even more often; she claimed to have namekian DNA in her, Namorel questioned the possibility in this and yet did not ask her on the matter, leaving it to question.
His thoughts were cut short when the first stage of dehydration kicked in, his skin started to dry up and began to lose the vividness in its tone. He took this as a sign that he had begun the real portion of his training now, with the first stages kicking in and deteriorating his body slowly over time. He ignored the pain, he then began to restructure his meditation, allowing his mind to wander once more as he shut his eyes and let the sun beat down on him even more, sapping the water from his body in the form of sweat that was streaming down his body and soaking into his clothes, darkening them and making the heat even more intense on himself. Next he worked out the fights he had been in in his head, considering what he could have done better and thinking about the actions he had taken, many of which could have been improved upon. Also however he could never tell the power gap between him and an opponent, setting him at a huge disadvantage in any fight, even if he turned out to be stronger than the opponent he faced, he would need to find a way to rectify this problem placed before him. The thought of always being at that disadvantage made him feel complacent, but at the same time he knew he was not the only one who was disabled in this area, he realized Noxa was when he tried to help that Celmaru individual in that fight against the arcosian. Just like him, she blindly jumped into the fight without any consideration on the matter. This brought him into the conclusion that she was in a similar boat to himself, with an inability to sense power between lifeforms. This was a weakness Celmaru would help him amend however, the scouter he tossed him let Namorel realize how blind to the combat he really was, the numbers that flared across the screen for Celmaru and his wife made Namorel realize how weak he was and hurt his pride quite a bit.
His mind began to drift as he felt his head droop further down, he must have entered the next stage of dehydration... he felt very, very tired. He was on the verge of falling asleep before he decided it best for him to stand up, it was a desperate attempt to keep himself awake. but it was his only option. To make matters worse, his muscles felt like they would begin to give way any moment. Flexing, this always seemed to help sore muscles he had in the past and perhaps he could get some other training done while he was out here. In a matter of moments he was already stretched out and began to practice, punching at air to get a better articulation of his muscles and movements. He always felt his form was good, if not perfected, but these last few weeks on Earth had possibly proven him wrong. With his arms positioned to look like a snake, with one arm arched upwards with the hand bent down like the snake's head and part of its body, while the other arm stayed coiled near the waist, bent with the fist clenched like a rattle. He kept his legs at a wide berth, the right leg in front of the left with the foot facing towards the left as his left foot kept the knee bent and the foot facing forwards, the setup allowing him the flexibility of maneuvering as he pleased in this stance. For the years that he had been perfecting this form it had always dominated over his namekian brethren, he had always taken this as proof that he was stronger than the other warriors, a sign that he was surpassing them in every way, but never did the thought cross his mind that perhaps it was because his fighting style deviated away from that of the warrior caste namekians, who used a fighting stance that had been handed down for centuries by the greatest warriors of the clan, being improved upon slightly as time went on.
Namorel trained like this for what felt like hours, with each movement time seemed to move even slower, with each passing second almost feeling like a day. His skin felt like sandpaper now, the rough texture of it was nothing like what it was before he had begun his training, he smirked as he realized this… perhaps it was just another step into his training. He couldn’t stop now if he had already come so far, refusing to let down he continued to train, his movements were rather stiff now as compared to before, he cringed as his skin scraped across itself, no longer sharing the smooth slide it had previously used. It was obvious that the lack of water had a huge effect on his body, effects he should be concerned about and rather he was curious as to what other changes this prolonged exposure to the sun may bring him. His skin was a dark, empty brownish green color now, devoid of the hues given to it by the water that once fueled it. His muscle pads had shrivelled to near nothingness, leaving him with a mere shell of what he was before he entered this sandy wasteland. Still not once did the thought that this was a bad idea cross his mind, instead he wanted to continue, to push himself further… to prove he was not inferior to the other races and people he had met while on Earth, those that vastly overpowered him and those that left him in a shadow of doubt of his own capabilities as a warrior. He wanted to show the world what he had promised to do and prove that he had the power to follow through with the creed he had adopted… to make his father proud of him.
As soon as that thought crossed his mind he felt as if someone was watching him, as if he were being inspected. He was hesitant to turn around, in fear that he would be met with a challenge he was not prepared to face at this time. He was in no condition to fight anyone, even someone infinitely weaker than himself on any power scale. His arms and legs ached, searing with a pain that he could trace to no origin, and he had stopped sweating, his body almost as dry as the sand on the ground below him. Despite all of this he would have this feeling until he turned around. As he did his eyes widened at the sight, someone he had not expected was standing behind him, someone very dear to him looked down on him with an expression of dismay and disgust.
”I-It can’t be… You’re dead.”
Namorel stammered as he looked on, the figure standing before him was one he had seen in the past, someone who had been important to him and yet had left him so soon. Words couldn’t manage to escape the namekian’s mouth as he looked on, this person must have been a figment of his imagination.
”Father…”
These were the only words that could escape Namorel’s mouth.
”Keep up the hard work.”
These were the only words Namorel heard before he felt his whole body go limp and the world around him darkened into blackness, the visage of his father fading into nothingness as he fell unto the cold stone of the plateau he stood on. He woke up hours later, his body covered in water and a small pool of it beside him, the entire area had been drenched from a storm that had passed through the area not long after he had fainted, the rain saving his life from the searing sun. Now he sat in the dark, greedily drinking water from the palms of his hands and rethinking what he had done recently. The color began to return to his skin and he felt his energy slowly begin to regenerate, giving him the energy to propel himself into the air. It did not take long for him to begin his flight back to Mount Frappe, the moon gleaming off of the periodical pond of lake below him as he flew. Arriving at the cave he would take off his shoes and walk to his seat between the small rivulets, getting into a meditative position he closed his eyes and fond memories of him and his father flooded his mind, for once not giving him regret, but hope.
