Post by Sinthe on Jan 26, 2017 15:32:29 GMT -5
It was times like these that Sinthe usually chose to reflect on his past mistakes, for anyone else it might be somewhat inconvenient but for the Anubian danger ever provided him with a healthy dose of clarity. With their lives being so long and their memories…. Eh well not quite so long it was useful watch the world around oneself shrink to the bare essentials. Not that he would ever willingly put himself in foolish peril, that was more a Saiyan or Heran thing, no, all he needed was the rush. He’d rediscovered that sense of otherness, of oneness only briefly while he had been on this backwater world. The Earthlings apparently referred to it as ‘Martial Zen,’ but Sinthe had always thought of it by another more pragmatic name.
The Edge.
Which, considering his current situation, was rather appropriate.
So, why does an old as all hell demi-god decide to climb a Kami’s tower when he’s perfectly capable of flying? Eh, lots of reasons. If his intention were to attack the place, as ever he wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t his intention, he might say that he was maintaining the element of surprise by damping his ki. If he were here to train and he had been taught that there was worthwhile training in almost any given thing, he might say that it was a good warmup. In actual fact he was most inclined to say ‘because it was there.’ Which did absolutely squat to explain why the hell he insisted on doing it one handed, With his off-hand!
One thing was for sure, he was getting his money’s worth out of these weights he’d bought. Though he’d been annoyed for a while that Negi’s seemed to be of a substantially higher quality than his and had likewise hoped for some time now that the assorted space knick knacks he’d used to barter for them in lieu of having any proper Earthen currency were a great deal more irradiated than he had originally suspected they might be, he was in the process of healing and growing. Not his go-to move but with any luck he wouldn’t be around long enough to make anything of the petty grudge against a mere mortal shopkeep. Woe to eclectic ephemera peddlers all around the globe if he were.
Now, where were we? His interior monologue was quite a bit calmer than one might expect as he pushed himself further up the edifice, making the short but perilous leap to his next handhold before pausing to set his balance again as he searched for the next yet. Ah yes, it was about here.
People always ask stupid things of the Gods, things like ‘what am I? What is life? What is the universe?’ They go to their graves never knowing the truth of these things, such is their fate. Well, it wasn’t as though Sinthe had done very much better. He was an Anubian, it was unfair, it was pretty big but only when you were standing inside of it. Like a supermarket. With stars. He’d been given an ever so interesting window in to how the other half lived not so long ago and more than what had followed it was that which had brought him up here. Hopping up and across to the next grip he’d spied, the Anubian nearly lost his balance and plummeted off down to the ground. Not like it would be a problem, but he was adamant that if he was doing this he was gonna do it right. No checkpoints.
There were other questions of course, ‘why do we fight? Why do we kill? Why are we overthrown?’ Sinthe the Destroyer, Sinthe the Scourge, the Annihilator, the Absolute End (pick one) had had plenty of time to ponder those questions. He had seen them framed without words almost every day since… since… Well it had been a long time by any standards. But for all that he had seen the same repeated over and over almost verbatim he had no concrete answers. Those people, they went to their graves not knowing… thus was their happiness. He could speculate of course. Whatever it was it was there from the very beginning but for his part his early fights had been little more than play. He remembered how he laughed and clapped with joy when spiralled columns and vaulted ceilings had come crashing down. Fighting was fun. For at least a while.
Until it wasn’t. That was a bad day. A bad day in amongst far gone days that he could now barely recall. Why do we kill? He had found no answers, no resolution. He remembered now only the shadow which hung over his enemy now lost to the world of the dead. No use to him anymore. It was not just the shadow though, there was a name that went with it.
’Lagerus,’ now alone in the most complete sense he growled the name after the manner of a curse. Leaping again he missed his next handhold, so blinded by long boiling rage was he. Flexing his hand he dug his claws deep into the rock of the tower, slowing and finally stopping his descent. No checkpoints. Still seething he recalled the time after, the numbness. He remembered a lonely grave upon a dead world, a bleak monument standing beneath the faint light of an expanding star. He hadn’t been back in a long time, he thought that it must be gone by now. Good. He didn’t want to ever have to see it again anyway.
But that left one question still. He wasn’t sure. It was possible that one, whoever one was, was only ultimately overthrown by time or fate or force or whatever to make way for the next in a long line of beings heading down into the common dark of all their deaths. He hoped that wasn’t the case. The Edge was not always kind and very often it cut deep.
These things too he had seen tested again and it was not so long after, they too had brought him here up through the clouds to the realm of these Earthly Gods that had thus far evaded him. Between faith, force, screaming children, Heran smugglers A LOT of broken limbs and more blood than was probably strictly necessary he’d resolved that it was time he made his presence known. He’d finally remembered what he was here for.
WC: 1,075
Heavy Weights {75%}: On
Thread PL: 35,632
The Edge.
Which, considering his current situation, was rather appropriate.
So, why does an old as all hell demi-god decide to climb a Kami’s tower when he’s perfectly capable of flying? Eh, lots of reasons. If his intention were to attack the place, as ever he wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t his intention, he might say that he was maintaining the element of surprise by damping his ki. If he were here to train and he had been taught that there was worthwhile training in almost any given thing, he might say that it was a good warmup. In actual fact he was most inclined to say ‘because it was there.’ Which did absolutely squat to explain why the hell he insisted on doing it one handed, With his off-hand!
One thing was for sure, he was getting his money’s worth out of these weights he’d bought. Though he’d been annoyed for a while that Negi’s seemed to be of a substantially higher quality than his and had likewise hoped for some time now that the assorted space knick knacks he’d used to barter for them in lieu of having any proper Earthen currency were a great deal more irradiated than he had originally suspected they might be, he was in the process of healing and growing. Not his go-to move but with any luck he wouldn’t be around long enough to make anything of the petty grudge against a mere mortal shopkeep. Woe to eclectic ephemera peddlers all around the globe if he were.
Now, where were we? His interior monologue was quite a bit calmer than one might expect as he pushed himself further up the edifice, making the short but perilous leap to his next handhold before pausing to set his balance again as he searched for the next yet. Ah yes, it was about here.
People always ask stupid things of the Gods, things like ‘what am I? What is life? What is the universe?’ They go to their graves never knowing the truth of these things, such is their fate. Well, it wasn’t as though Sinthe had done very much better. He was an Anubian, it was unfair, it was pretty big but only when you were standing inside of it. Like a supermarket. With stars. He’d been given an ever so interesting window in to how the other half lived not so long ago and more than what had followed it was that which had brought him up here. Hopping up and across to the next grip he’d spied, the Anubian nearly lost his balance and plummeted off down to the ground. Not like it would be a problem, but he was adamant that if he was doing this he was gonna do it right. No checkpoints.
There were other questions of course, ‘why do we fight? Why do we kill? Why are we overthrown?’ Sinthe the Destroyer, Sinthe the Scourge, the Annihilator, the Absolute End (pick one) had had plenty of time to ponder those questions. He had seen them framed without words almost every day since… since… Well it had been a long time by any standards. But for all that he had seen the same repeated over and over almost verbatim he had no concrete answers. Those people, they went to their graves not knowing… thus was their happiness. He could speculate of course. Whatever it was it was there from the very beginning but for his part his early fights had been little more than play. He remembered how he laughed and clapped with joy when spiralled columns and vaulted ceilings had come crashing down. Fighting was fun. For at least a while.
Until it wasn’t. That was a bad day. A bad day in amongst far gone days that he could now barely recall. Why do we kill? He had found no answers, no resolution. He remembered now only the shadow which hung over his enemy now lost to the world of the dead. No use to him anymore. It was not just the shadow though, there was a name that went with it.
’Lagerus,’ now alone in the most complete sense he growled the name after the manner of a curse. Leaping again he missed his next handhold, so blinded by long boiling rage was he. Flexing his hand he dug his claws deep into the rock of the tower, slowing and finally stopping his descent. No checkpoints. Still seething he recalled the time after, the numbness. He remembered a lonely grave upon a dead world, a bleak monument standing beneath the faint light of an expanding star. He hadn’t been back in a long time, he thought that it must be gone by now. Good. He didn’t want to ever have to see it again anyway.
But that left one question still. He wasn’t sure. It was possible that one, whoever one was, was only ultimately overthrown by time or fate or force or whatever to make way for the next in a long line of beings heading down into the common dark of all their deaths. He hoped that wasn’t the case. The Edge was not always kind and very often it cut deep.
These things too he had seen tested again and it was not so long after, they too had brought him here up through the clouds to the realm of these Earthly Gods that had thus far evaded him. Between faith, force, screaming children, Heran smugglers A LOT of broken limbs and more blood than was probably strictly necessary he’d resolved that it was time he made his presence known. He’d finally remembered what he was here for.
WC: 1,075
Heavy Weights {75%}: On
Thread PL: 35,632