Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2015 0:24:02 GMT -5
Thread PL: 3629
Fenris found that the wasted deserts of the Western Lands suited him, to an extent. Merciless and unforgiving, they seemed the perfect place to toughen himself up, and not just in a physical sense. He was as much at risk of death from lack of food or water as he was from pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, and resources were scarce enough as it was. Stepping out from the shaded cover of a rock formation, Fenris left the lean-to he'd pitched behind and began making his way to the far side of a dune a few miles south of his camp. Despite it being rather early in the morning, the air was already still and hot, and he found himself tempted to take a drink from the heavy canteen he lugged with him. The desire was brutally shoved away; water had to be saved for when he truly needed it, not to satisfy some whim.
By the time he reached his training location, a thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin and made movement slightly uncomfortable. The demon doffed his jacket and placed it aside before running through a stretching routine to unlimber his muscles. That finished, he then truly got into conditioning himself, lowering into a deep, wide-legged stance and holding it. And holding it. And then holding it some more, just for good measure. The sun was beating down on him by the time Fenris relented and stood straight, his body shining. This was cause for a drink, though he was careful how much he partook before twisting the cap back on and then launching into actual combat training; dodging, punching, kicking, testing his reflexes and improving speed. He ducked, weaved, and darted around imaginary foes, destroying them with well-placed strikes or the occasional ki blast.
By the time the sun was at high noon, Fenris was soaked, breathing hard, and struggling to ignore the scorching heat beneath his feet as he trudged back to the canteen. Its weight was severely reduced by the time he finished, gathering his jacket and beginning the long trudge back to his encampment for lunch. When he crested the dune, however, a cloud in the direction of his particular patch of rock made his eyes narrow. Deciding to replace caution with brevity, he set down the canteen, jacket tossed over it for good measure so it could be sighted from above, and then levitated up a few feet before blasting forth with a burst of speed. The distance closed very quickly, Fenris coming to an abrupt stop a hundred feet above the ground with a noticeable ki expulsion and sudden gust of wind. Voices below were raised in alarm, and several forms scrambled out of his personal hidey-hole, looking all around until one pointed up. They all wore loose robes that covered the entirety of their bodies, faces hidden behind scarfs to block out the sun's rays and keep them from crisping under the brutal days. More worrisome to Fenris, however, was the lack of technological weaponry and modes of transportation. There were so many footsteps around his bivouac that it looked as though there had been a stampede... but none leading to it from any direction.
Something wasn't right here. At a guess, they were all trained fighters. His ki sense confirmed that, each stranger resonating far more profoundly than the average human could ever hope. One last human stepped out, standing a full head shorter than most of his compatriots. The manner in which they all went on edge and shied away from his presence bespoke fear and acquiescence. His superior power confirmed that he was definitely their leader. Warily, Fenris descended, alighting on the edge of a rocky outcrop several meters from his home. The short man shoved his way to the front of the group, smacking a few underlings for good measure. Definitely bandits, then. The bottom half of his scarf was pulled out of the way, displaying dark, weather-beaten skin and beetle black eyes. The lopsided, craggy smile completed the image horrifically. Fenris resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Nice camp. Got any water? Food? Dyno Caps?" Every word was punctuated by a greedy gleam, but the thought of the last item practically had the bandit leader's teeth swimming in saliva. He certainly sprayed enough to give that impression. Fenris flicked away a stray droplet that had landed on his bicep with a look of disgust and eyed the man in an open lack of trust.
“No. No. And no. None for the likes of you and yours, at least.” The jagged grin stretched wider into a malice-filled rictus.
“Won't mind us having a bit of fun, then, will you?” The bandit leader snapped his fingers and made a motion, and the others moved forward as one.
Just like the pits Fenris mused, launching straight into the offensive and killing the first poor bastard with a punch straight to the larynx. He went down clutching at his throat and gurgling. His fellows paused momentarily, then surged forward as one to rush him. Fenris felt his senses sing as he became engulfed in the struggle. As painful as it was, there was nothing better than training with actual living beings. Punching at the air could only do so much. It was the lessons learned in pain that were remembered most profoundly. As quick as he was, the demon couldn't dodge every attack, catching a blow on his shoulder to create an opening; the resulting haymaker sent his victim hurtling through the air and into a rock formation, his body holding together long enough to split it in half and send pieces flying throughout the region. Fenris felt more blows find their mark on his back, leg, and shoulder again, not quite staggering him but throwing him off-balance enough for a heavy kick to land on his ribs. He felt himself get lifted up, tossed through the air and landing against a nearby sand dune with enough force to expel the breath from his lungs. His vision went red for a moment, lip curling in anger before the dune exploded and he blurred forward. The punch he landed shattered his victim's head, the eyes, bone, blood, muscle, and grey matter erupting from every orifice as the man's skull collapsed. Fenris had quite literally punched through his face by the time it was over, gore-covered fist following through and connection into another unfortunate bandit, who ended up splattered with his former friend's viscera before painting a rock face himself. The stone shattered under the impact, more bits of bandit scattering into the sky as the man literally came apart at the seams. Seeing their assault coming undone, the remaining thugs hesitated, hunched in anticipation for a renewal of hostilities on their not-so-weak “prey's” part. Lead Bandit began punching them and screaming obscenities, but only one was brave enough to attempt anything. A ki blast sent him caroming off into the dunes some distance away. The remaining highwaymen turned and fled to the far side of Fenris's camp, hiding behind the rock pillars that wouldn't be able to save them no matter what they thought. Lead whipped around to look at them, apoplectic at the insubordination, but finding no vent for his fury, he turned back to Fenris. With a roar, his ki lashed out, slamming into the demon like a brick wall, making him flinch from the sudden shock to his ki sense, and then he was set upon. Fenris felt his breath leave him, bursting out of his lungs with no small amount of saliva as a heavy punch folded him neatly around the small man's fist before knocking him ass over tea-kettle along the sands, coming to rest between two dunes. A groan left his chest as he took a moment to attempt to catch his breath. Any further bid at recovery was stopped flat by another shot to the face that sent him clean through one of the dunes in an orange-brown shower of particulates, arcing through the air until he landed once again, causing a deep crater to be imprinted.
Fenris's entire chest felt aflame, breath coming in short, ragged gasps that wheezed out of him. Everything hurt, even the tips of his fingers. The woven cord bands around his wrists chafed, bruises already beginning to mar the scarred perfection of his light copper skin. Blood leaked, oozed, dribbled, and otherwise flowed from a score of open tears over his body, impairing the demon's vision. His belly ached in the deep musculature, probably indicative of a light hemorrhage from the punch. Fucking humans. The light shifted as his foe floated through the air and interposed himself against the sun, staring down at the demon with a malicious, uneven grin.
When will they ever learn?
Fenris saw death smiling down upon him. And he smiled back. Lead Bandit faltered a bit as the air around his “prey” shimmered in a haze, and then crashed outward in a blaze of red ki, crimson wreathing Fenris's eyes as his demonic power spilled forth. Not caring to pick himself back up to his feet, the devil floated upright and slumped forward slightly as his body protested the movement, head hanging in the air. Then he looked up with a wolven grin. Lead Bandit had a moment to gasp before Fenris vanished in a blur, re-appearing behind him and smashing an elbow squarely between his shoulder blades. The line upon which Lead travelled was truly a sight to be hold, straighter than an arrow despite bisecting three dunes, a rock column, and two unlucky camels that watered the sands red spectacularly. Fenris took his time getting to the impact site: Lead's ki signature hadn't moved a wit since coming to his sudden stop. Honestly, it was disappointing. What good was the point of fighting and training if he already lacked any real issues in dealing with trash like this? When he found him again, though, Fenris stopped uncertainly: Lead Bandit was smiling toothily, staring up at the sky before looking over his way.
“Finally... A challenge!”
There were no more words, only a wild blast as their auras clashed, the villain rushing up straight at Fenris and leading with a heavy punch that he rolled past, coming around with a scything kick that connected squarely against Lead's ribs. Despite the pained grunt, the two continued fighting in earnest, blurring as they punched, kicked, blocked, parried, and otherwise beat the everliving hell out of each other. Sand and grit kicked up around them as they danced across the air and around dunes, quite often bare inches from the ground, but nothing stopped the sheer fury of their onslaught against one another. Eventually, Fenris found the rhythm of their fight, reveling in it as he slipped in seamlessly, strikes coming harder and faster as he rose to the very limits of his power... and then pushed those limits further. It happened little by little, but they were throwing so many kicks and punches into the mix that it added up quickly, and Fenris began walloping the unfortunate soul in no time at all. But he grew bored, and quite frankly trouncing an opponent that offered neither challenge nor reward was no satisfaction at all. Growling, the demon knocked Lead Bandit around a bit, then launched him straight up with a beautiful kick and thrust both arms forward. Ki shimmered between his fingers, gathering together into an incandescent sphere that writhed and grew, pressing against his fingers until it escaped their confines, growing larger by the second as it sought direction.
Perfect
With a roar, Fenris released the energy that so desperately sought release, firing forth a massive, radiant red column. The God Breaker cleared the sky of everything for miles in the same manner as a nuclear weapon, the remaining clouds forming a circle as though the ki beam were a center of gravity. Somewhere, he heard the bandit's cry of pain and terror, fading quickly under the sound of his own power until even that dissipated, and he found himself breathing hard once again. His altitude dropped quickly as exhaustion set in, and he only barely managed to prevent himself from crashing into the remains of his campground. The lean-to had been knocked awry, the natural rock shelf considerably smaller and listing at an angle that had been missing prior to the bandit group's attack. The bandits themselves were gone, a slew of footprints putting them somewhere north of him and long gone by now. Cowards, to a man. Then again, "live and fight another day" had a ring to it that he could respect: Death tended to put a halt to one's quest for strength, after all. He might have done the same thing in their shoes. The sun had dropped considerably, he noticed, well into the afternoon by the time he returned to his meager little home.
It had been the most satisfying fight of Fenris's life.
Outnumbered, outmatched, his life on the line, and nothing to influence him but his own will to live. The sensation of coming down from such a high was exhilarating. He could only see himself going back to the roars of the mob for money: As much as the thought of continuing his training out in the desert appealed to him, the need to seek out worthy opponents put a bit of a damper on that enthusiasm. On the other hand, foes just might find him... Sighing, Fenris wobbled to his feet and took the better part of an hour to retrieve his canteen and jacket, thankfully still where he had left them. The sun was much lower when he returned to his camp, going through the motions of cleaning things up only as necessary.
He ate a cold meal, slipped into his jacket, and then curled up under his one ragged blanket, falling into an easy sleep filled with dreams of blood and glory, anticipating the next life-or-death struggle headed his way.
WC: 2352
Requested Reward: PL, please
Fenris found that the wasted deserts of the Western Lands suited him, to an extent. Merciless and unforgiving, they seemed the perfect place to toughen himself up, and not just in a physical sense. He was as much at risk of death from lack of food or water as he was from pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, and resources were scarce enough as it was. Stepping out from the shaded cover of a rock formation, Fenris left the lean-to he'd pitched behind and began making his way to the far side of a dune a few miles south of his camp. Despite it being rather early in the morning, the air was already still and hot, and he found himself tempted to take a drink from the heavy canteen he lugged with him. The desire was brutally shoved away; water had to be saved for when he truly needed it, not to satisfy some whim.
By the time he reached his training location, a thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin and made movement slightly uncomfortable. The demon doffed his jacket and placed it aside before running through a stretching routine to unlimber his muscles. That finished, he then truly got into conditioning himself, lowering into a deep, wide-legged stance and holding it. And holding it. And then holding it some more, just for good measure. The sun was beating down on him by the time Fenris relented and stood straight, his body shining. This was cause for a drink, though he was careful how much he partook before twisting the cap back on and then launching into actual combat training; dodging, punching, kicking, testing his reflexes and improving speed. He ducked, weaved, and darted around imaginary foes, destroying them with well-placed strikes or the occasional ki blast.
By the time the sun was at high noon, Fenris was soaked, breathing hard, and struggling to ignore the scorching heat beneath his feet as he trudged back to the canteen. Its weight was severely reduced by the time he finished, gathering his jacket and beginning the long trudge back to his encampment for lunch. When he crested the dune, however, a cloud in the direction of his particular patch of rock made his eyes narrow. Deciding to replace caution with brevity, he set down the canteen, jacket tossed over it for good measure so it could be sighted from above, and then levitated up a few feet before blasting forth with a burst of speed. The distance closed very quickly, Fenris coming to an abrupt stop a hundred feet above the ground with a noticeable ki expulsion and sudden gust of wind. Voices below were raised in alarm, and several forms scrambled out of his personal hidey-hole, looking all around until one pointed up. They all wore loose robes that covered the entirety of their bodies, faces hidden behind scarfs to block out the sun's rays and keep them from crisping under the brutal days. More worrisome to Fenris, however, was the lack of technological weaponry and modes of transportation. There were so many footsteps around his bivouac that it looked as though there had been a stampede... but none leading to it from any direction.
Something wasn't right here. At a guess, they were all trained fighters. His ki sense confirmed that, each stranger resonating far more profoundly than the average human could ever hope. One last human stepped out, standing a full head shorter than most of his compatriots. The manner in which they all went on edge and shied away from his presence bespoke fear and acquiescence. His superior power confirmed that he was definitely their leader. Warily, Fenris descended, alighting on the edge of a rocky outcrop several meters from his home. The short man shoved his way to the front of the group, smacking a few underlings for good measure. Definitely bandits, then. The bottom half of his scarf was pulled out of the way, displaying dark, weather-beaten skin and beetle black eyes. The lopsided, craggy smile completed the image horrifically. Fenris resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Nice camp. Got any water? Food? Dyno Caps?" Every word was punctuated by a greedy gleam, but the thought of the last item practically had the bandit leader's teeth swimming in saliva. He certainly sprayed enough to give that impression. Fenris flicked away a stray droplet that had landed on his bicep with a look of disgust and eyed the man in an open lack of trust.
“No. No. And no. None for the likes of you and yours, at least.” The jagged grin stretched wider into a malice-filled rictus.
“Won't mind us having a bit of fun, then, will you?” The bandit leader snapped his fingers and made a motion, and the others moved forward as one.
Just like the pits Fenris mused, launching straight into the offensive and killing the first poor bastard with a punch straight to the larynx. He went down clutching at his throat and gurgling. His fellows paused momentarily, then surged forward as one to rush him. Fenris felt his senses sing as he became engulfed in the struggle. As painful as it was, there was nothing better than training with actual living beings. Punching at the air could only do so much. It was the lessons learned in pain that were remembered most profoundly. As quick as he was, the demon couldn't dodge every attack, catching a blow on his shoulder to create an opening; the resulting haymaker sent his victim hurtling through the air and into a rock formation, his body holding together long enough to split it in half and send pieces flying throughout the region. Fenris felt more blows find their mark on his back, leg, and shoulder again, not quite staggering him but throwing him off-balance enough for a heavy kick to land on his ribs. He felt himself get lifted up, tossed through the air and landing against a nearby sand dune with enough force to expel the breath from his lungs. His vision went red for a moment, lip curling in anger before the dune exploded and he blurred forward. The punch he landed shattered his victim's head, the eyes, bone, blood, muscle, and grey matter erupting from every orifice as the man's skull collapsed. Fenris had quite literally punched through his face by the time it was over, gore-covered fist following through and connection into another unfortunate bandit, who ended up splattered with his former friend's viscera before painting a rock face himself. The stone shattered under the impact, more bits of bandit scattering into the sky as the man literally came apart at the seams. Seeing their assault coming undone, the remaining thugs hesitated, hunched in anticipation for a renewal of hostilities on their not-so-weak “prey's” part. Lead Bandit began punching them and screaming obscenities, but only one was brave enough to attempt anything. A ki blast sent him caroming off into the dunes some distance away. The remaining highwaymen turned and fled to the far side of Fenris's camp, hiding behind the rock pillars that wouldn't be able to save them no matter what they thought. Lead whipped around to look at them, apoplectic at the insubordination, but finding no vent for his fury, he turned back to Fenris. With a roar, his ki lashed out, slamming into the demon like a brick wall, making him flinch from the sudden shock to his ki sense, and then he was set upon. Fenris felt his breath leave him, bursting out of his lungs with no small amount of saliva as a heavy punch folded him neatly around the small man's fist before knocking him ass over tea-kettle along the sands, coming to rest between two dunes. A groan left his chest as he took a moment to attempt to catch his breath. Any further bid at recovery was stopped flat by another shot to the face that sent him clean through one of the dunes in an orange-brown shower of particulates, arcing through the air until he landed once again, causing a deep crater to be imprinted.
Fenris's entire chest felt aflame, breath coming in short, ragged gasps that wheezed out of him. Everything hurt, even the tips of his fingers. The woven cord bands around his wrists chafed, bruises already beginning to mar the scarred perfection of his light copper skin. Blood leaked, oozed, dribbled, and otherwise flowed from a score of open tears over his body, impairing the demon's vision. His belly ached in the deep musculature, probably indicative of a light hemorrhage from the punch. Fucking humans. The light shifted as his foe floated through the air and interposed himself against the sun, staring down at the demon with a malicious, uneven grin.
When will they ever learn?
Fenris saw death smiling down upon him. And he smiled back. Lead Bandit faltered a bit as the air around his “prey” shimmered in a haze, and then crashed outward in a blaze of red ki, crimson wreathing Fenris's eyes as his demonic power spilled forth. Not caring to pick himself back up to his feet, the devil floated upright and slumped forward slightly as his body protested the movement, head hanging in the air. Then he looked up with a wolven grin. Lead Bandit had a moment to gasp before Fenris vanished in a blur, re-appearing behind him and smashing an elbow squarely between his shoulder blades. The line upon which Lead travelled was truly a sight to be hold, straighter than an arrow despite bisecting three dunes, a rock column, and two unlucky camels that watered the sands red spectacularly. Fenris took his time getting to the impact site: Lead's ki signature hadn't moved a wit since coming to his sudden stop. Honestly, it was disappointing. What good was the point of fighting and training if he already lacked any real issues in dealing with trash like this? When he found him again, though, Fenris stopped uncertainly: Lead Bandit was smiling toothily, staring up at the sky before looking over his way.
“Finally... A challenge!”
There were no more words, only a wild blast as their auras clashed, the villain rushing up straight at Fenris and leading with a heavy punch that he rolled past, coming around with a scything kick that connected squarely against Lead's ribs. Despite the pained grunt, the two continued fighting in earnest, blurring as they punched, kicked, blocked, parried, and otherwise beat the everliving hell out of each other. Sand and grit kicked up around them as they danced across the air and around dunes, quite often bare inches from the ground, but nothing stopped the sheer fury of their onslaught against one another. Eventually, Fenris found the rhythm of their fight, reveling in it as he slipped in seamlessly, strikes coming harder and faster as he rose to the very limits of his power... and then pushed those limits further. It happened little by little, but they were throwing so many kicks and punches into the mix that it added up quickly, and Fenris began walloping the unfortunate soul in no time at all. But he grew bored, and quite frankly trouncing an opponent that offered neither challenge nor reward was no satisfaction at all. Growling, the demon knocked Lead Bandit around a bit, then launched him straight up with a beautiful kick and thrust both arms forward. Ki shimmered between his fingers, gathering together into an incandescent sphere that writhed and grew, pressing against his fingers until it escaped their confines, growing larger by the second as it sought direction.
Perfect
With a roar, Fenris released the energy that so desperately sought release, firing forth a massive, radiant red column. The God Breaker cleared the sky of everything for miles in the same manner as a nuclear weapon, the remaining clouds forming a circle as though the ki beam were a center of gravity. Somewhere, he heard the bandit's cry of pain and terror, fading quickly under the sound of his own power until even that dissipated, and he found himself breathing hard once again. His altitude dropped quickly as exhaustion set in, and he only barely managed to prevent himself from crashing into the remains of his campground. The lean-to had been knocked awry, the natural rock shelf considerably smaller and listing at an angle that had been missing prior to the bandit group's attack. The bandits themselves were gone, a slew of footprints putting them somewhere north of him and long gone by now. Cowards, to a man. Then again, "live and fight another day" had a ring to it that he could respect: Death tended to put a halt to one's quest for strength, after all. He might have done the same thing in their shoes. The sun had dropped considerably, he noticed, well into the afternoon by the time he returned to his meager little home.
It had been the most satisfying fight of Fenris's life.
Outnumbered, outmatched, his life on the line, and nothing to influence him but his own will to live. The sensation of coming down from such a high was exhilarating. He could only see himself going back to the roars of the mob for money: As much as the thought of continuing his training out in the desert appealed to him, the need to seek out worthy opponents put a bit of a damper on that enthusiasm. On the other hand, foes just might find him... Sighing, Fenris wobbled to his feet and took the better part of an hour to retrieve his canteen and jacket, thankfully still where he had left them. The sun was much lower when he returned to his camp, going through the motions of cleaning things up only as necessary.
He ate a cold meal, slipped into his jacket, and then curled up under his one ragged blanket, falling into an easy sleep filled with dreams of blood and glory, anticipating the next life-or-death struggle headed his way.
WC: 2352
Requested Reward: PL, please