Post by Rensou Hiruen on Feb 3, 2012 23:37:38 GMT -5
The middle tier of the confines of The Gladiator were pitch dark, and Rensou was utterly blind as he entered the second level. The Saiyan General was stressed, to say the least of things, for his soldiers were not progressing quickly enough and the Icer was on his way to take everything away that he held dear. To pay him away was a dishonorable thing, and Rensou smashed his hand against the wall behind him as a furious snarl rippled within him. There was but one option for the former Gladiator, and he knew what his chances would be if he were not to prepare for what was to come. To kill Touketsuki Yakedo at his current standard would be an impossible task even for a fighter as skilled and complete as Rensou. Adjustments would need to be made and more strength was the sole thing required of him.
“Gravitational Intensification times twenty,” he whispered, and the computer answered his requests with the whir of electricity and mechanical action as the lights flashed to life, searing the iris of Rensou. He closed his eyes tightly as molecules about him and of him grew through the stages of the ordered adjustment. A tremble shivered down his body with the impact of so much metaphorical and actual weight upon his shoulders. That reaction escalated, and his whole body began to shudder violently as every muscle was attacked with such a ferocity Rensou had never thought possible. The only thing steadying his tense stand was the wall at his back.
A push of his powerful arms and tremendous surge of his thighs remedied that. For a sole moment he withstood the colossal pressure before his calves surrendered and he crashed to his knees. Hips and loins powering them wavered, and the proud Saiyan was folded as if he were nothing beneath what he had decided to put him through. Gloved digits and palms slapped against the floor, his final blockade against the torment from above. Rensou grit his teeth as his face became a mixture of agony and rage, an anger at his weakness, and with that weakness, the inability to defeat that monster on a path to rape his planet however he deemed fitting.
The powerful appendages angled at the joint, and Rensou gasped for air as every muscle became aflame with his attempt to exert the force required to realign his bones. Growling, the arms began to straighten as he pushed with every bit of power he had within him. With but another ounce of the stuff, Rensou Hiruen would have succeeded and planted his arms beneath him and perhaps regained a standing position with the assistance of bicep and forearm, but he had not that extra within his current level of strength. At the final moment, his arms faltered under the impossible pull and he flattened against the floor with a terrible, crushing impact.
The impact was that of being struck across his entire body by an entity much greater than himself. The ribs nearly collapsed with the crash against the tiled floor, and his breath was hurled from him. Rensou opened his lids, his eyes alight with fear as they stared down into a puddle of red that was undoubtedly from his face. A horrendous pain assailed his nose, and he assumed it was broken through the agonized wails of his lungs, commanding him to draw in air. Lips had been split with the fall, and he choked on his own blood as he obeyed the request of his organs. The visage of Rensou was caked with blood and fear, fear that he would die here as a result of his lust for strength. . .a desire amplified by the approaching doom to all he cared for.
It was the first instance since his brother had taught him to protect his tail as a boy that the man had felt such an emotion. It was something entirely different from the calm demeanor he usually portrayed, with rage and aggravation intermixed. No, this thing was something to be harnessed and used when it rose up within him. There was no greater enemy to Rensou Hiruen than himself, his fear, his self-doubt, no, Touketsuki Yakedo held nothing comparable to that! The time had arrived that Rensou would stand or die, and if he stood now, he could certainly stand against that tyrant! Within the confines of his docked ship, a roar thundered up from within him and sprayed his own blood, accumulated upon the floor, back into his face. That was nothing. None of that mattered to Rensou now, the only thing that mattered was to stand and defeat his own fear, and with that, himself!
The roar echoed throughout the walls, unafraid of the crushing things already upon Rensou,without fear of obstacles set in their path to destroy him and his way of life! These things would not be accepted, and the arm of the warrior performed the movement it should have been incapable of. It lifted, bent, and set itself in such a position to life the warrior. The roar amplified, and the very ship shook underneath the strength and rage as plumes of aquamarine lifted from the form. The Kousho had been activated. At first, the single left arm shuddered to lift the Saiyan bulk, but once it had cleared the other, trapped beneath Rensou, it too set itself upon the task.
With the roar intensifying and the blood spraying from his lacerated lips and torn mouth, the Saiyan set himself back to his knees. The crimson was rolling from his lower lip, spilling down his chin to drip down his chest. He was covered in the stuff, and the broken and pouring nose only amplified the situation. That handsome face of Rensou Hiruen was a horrendous mess, but beneath the red a level of white shined. Amongst his scars, wrinkles splayed upwards from his lips. Despite the pain and hardship, and the imminent threat of death to himself or his comrades, Rensou Hiruen was a Saiyan capable of peering to a future when the Empire would rise from those things unencumbered, and become the most powerful threat to the galaxy.
With the invigorating aura of his inner floodgate torn, the Kousho overwhelmed his prone body as the smile escalated into jubilant laughter. A flaming ocean cast that eery hue about his hide, and Rensou Hiruen set a foot under himself with strained effort. With the Kousho, this level of gravity modification could be withstood. The leathers of his gloves sounded off as their fibers rubbed, the fists clenching as Rensou Hiruen rose to his full height, his chest welling with the intake of exhaustion and the realization that nay, he would not die here. To die during a training exercise did not befit the gladiator turned general, to die on the field of combat was the only thing suited of he!
With spilling lip and coal eyes twinkling beneath the aquamarine aura like sapphires, Rensou had stood and bested the hardest task in his training at the level of twenty times gravity. Those gemstone eyes glanced over his bangles, furthering his every effort and amplifying his power gained, as they had for some time. Now, standing and outfitted, the time had come to practice his movements in preparation for the great challenges that lie ahead. The muscular body of the Saiyan became a warring stance as his tail churned the air behind him violently, his emotions high with the victory over the force that his Kousho had soundly defeated.
“Ha!” he cried, tightening muscle and tendon along his legs and successfully planting his feet through sheer muscle memory. With that done, he released the tension of his hips and turned his body, accentuating a deadly strike with a throw of his shoulders and the rapid extension of his left arm in a circular movement. The punch was finalized as every facet of his body multiplied the destructive force of the low hook that would have attacked the body of a fighter of similar stature. Boliko had described the alien overlord as tiny, and Rensou was practicing the low punch to place his precise hands directly into the face of the creature, when the time arrived.
All the while, his right had been posed diligently in an effort to provide ample time for a defensive maneuver in the case of a counterstrike. Rule number one of Rensou's style of boxing was to throw with veracity, not volume – when the warrior fired a punch and it landed, it was one to send the opponent spiraling into defeat. The right hand offered a precautionary blockade to keep the returning attacks at bay. The punch accomplished, Rensou resquared his stance as he drew that fist back and in effect, reloaded his most powerful weapon. That left hook was the most dangerous punch in his arsenal of melee expertise.
Behind that, of course, was his straight right, but a power punch should never be followed with another. Instead, Rensou normally opted to jab after such a brute force attack. With his legs relaxed, he became a mobile defender and attacker in conjunction. The jab was powered by less of the body, and therefore hardly damaging, lest it be utterly and completely well placed. More often, the strike was one to keep the distance between he and foe and set them off-balance, and out of their element. Swift and sure the right hand lashed out and snapped back, a quick strike that were not but a blur to the unpracticed eye. If and when it connected, it would push the foe back and focus their defenses upon their head and upper body.
A grunt escaped him in the trying gravity, but Rensou continued practicing his physical perfection beyond that. With defenses set high and balance at times lost, the next maneuver was one hardly foreseen and even if it were, there was hardly ever preparation for such things. Leaning backwards upon the right foot, the left hip was elevated and the leg below it fired off with the full force of his body. The slashing shin and foot had suddenly sheared horizontally at rib height, and when that attack landed the one whom received it would tumble backwards, gasping for air and weak upon their feet. With such a powerful blow landed, the only thing that remained was to unleash absolute hell at any undefended point.
With snarls and rolling growls Rensou stepped forward, his body a torrent of blows, some with frightening power and momentum as others continuously sought to assail the foe with a voluminous assault. Jabs shot outward, and his feet would carry him forward to stay ever in range of the opponent. A short uppercut that evolved into a cutting elbow, lest the uppercut missed, rippled out. This sequence was a furious one, all his reserves would have been worn down if this were an actual encounter, but it was not and the attacks were thus thrown with less vicious forces behind them. Finally, to complete the swarm of hands and feet and short bursts of ki which dissipated harmlessly against The Gladiator's inner walls, the warrior powered himself into the air with both muscle and Bukujutsu, shooting a single knee intended to snap jaws, or, lash a head back with such force that the neck was snapped.
“Beautiful work, General,” a familiar voice complimented with a clapping of hands as Rensou turned to face the woman whom had been intently watching his wondrously violent dance. The Saiyan Lieutenant was standing as if unencumbered by the forces at work here, and it was within reason – she was nearly as powerful as her general, and being of Elite heritage had of course trained in a Gravity chamber many times. Within her dainty hands she held a towel emblazoned with the logo of the new Saiyan Solar Empire, and with a flick of her wrist she tossed it through the air to Rensou Hiruen. “Though I'd love to stay and watch, we have business to attend to, sir,” she lamented, with a false tone of disappointment. Obviously something enthralling was on the minds of Military officials.
“Very well, Arienne,” Rensou sighed as he caught the towel and wiped the slick blood from his features. The female gave him a wink of approval, much preferring the actual face as opposed to the reddened, coagulated mass. “Gravitational intensification, abort,” and suddenly the weighing forces upon his shoulders were lifted, but still the grave threat of Touketsuki Yakedo loomed overhead. At any rate, matters upon the planet were pressing now, and the Icer lord would arrive later. Rensou followed his Lieutenant out of his ship, curious as to the nature of the problem lying ahead.
[Heavy Weighted Clothing + 20x gravity.]
If you want things done right, you have to do them yourself~
“Gravitational Intensification times twenty,” he whispered, and the computer answered his requests with the whir of electricity and mechanical action as the lights flashed to life, searing the iris of Rensou. He closed his eyes tightly as molecules about him and of him grew through the stages of the ordered adjustment. A tremble shivered down his body with the impact of so much metaphorical and actual weight upon his shoulders. That reaction escalated, and his whole body began to shudder violently as every muscle was attacked with such a ferocity Rensou had never thought possible. The only thing steadying his tense stand was the wall at his back.
A push of his powerful arms and tremendous surge of his thighs remedied that. For a sole moment he withstood the colossal pressure before his calves surrendered and he crashed to his knees. Hips and loins powering them wavered, and the proud Saiyan was folded as if he were nothing beneath what he had decided to put him through. Gloved digits and palms slapped against the floor, his final blockade against the torment from above. Rensou grit his teeth as his face became a mixture of agony and rage, an anger at his weakness, and with that weakness, the inability to defeat that monster on a path to rape his planet however he deemed fitting.
The powerful appendages angled at the joint, and Rensou gasped for air as every muscle became aflame with his attempt to exert the force required to realign his bones. Growling, the arms began to straighten as he pushed with every bit of power he had within him. With but another ounce of the stuff, Rensou Hiruen would have succeeded and planted his arms beneath him and perhaps regained a standing position with the assistance of bicep and forearm, but he had not that extra within his current level of strength. At the final moment, his arms faltered under the impossible pull and he flattened against the floor with a terrible, crushing impact.
The impact was that of being struck across his entire body by an entity much greater than himself. The ribs nearly collapsed with the crash against the tiled floor, and his breath was hurled from him. Rensou opened his lids, his eyes alight with fear as they stared down into a puddle of red that was undoubtedly from his face. A horrendous pain assailed his nose, and he assumed it was broken through the agonized wails of his lungs, commanding him to draw in air. Lips had been split with the fall, and he choked on his own blood as he obeyed the request of his organs. The visage of Rensou was caked with blood and fear, fear that he would die here as a result of his lust for strength. . .a desire amplified by the approaching doom to all he cared for.
It was the first instance since his brother had taught him to protect his tail as a boy that the man had felt such an emotion. It was something entirely different from the calm demeanor he usually portrayed, with rage and aggravation intermixed. No, this thing was something to be harnessed and used when it rose up within him. There was no greater enemy to Rensou Hiruen than himself, his fear, his self-doubt, no, Touketsuki Yakedo held nothing comparable to that! The time had arrived that Rensou would stand or die, and if he stood now, he could certainly stand against that tyrant! Within the confines of his docked ship, a roar thundered up from within him and sprayed his own blood, accumulated upon the floor, back into his face. That was nothing. None of that mattered to Rensou now, the only thing that mattered was to stand and defeat his own fear, and with that, himself!
The roar echoed throughout the walls, unafraid of the crushing things already upon Rensou,without fear of obstacles set in their path to destroy him and his way of life! These things would not be accepted, and the arm of the warrior performed the movement it should have been incapable of. It lifted, bent, and set itself in such a position to life the warrior. The roar amplified, and the very ship shook underneath the strength and rage as plumes of aquamarine lifted from the form. The Kousho had been activated. At first, the single left arm shuddered to lift the Saiyan bulk, but once it had cleared the other, trapped beneath Rensou, it too set itself upon the task.
With the roar intensifying and the blood spraying from his lacerated lips and torn mouth, the Saiyan set himself back to his knees. The crimson was rolling from his lower lip, spilling down his chin to drip down his chest. He was covered in the stuff, and the broken and pouring nose only amplified the situation. That handsome face of Rensou Hiruen was a horrendous mess, but beneath the red a level of white shined. Amongst his scars, wrinkles splayed upwards from his lips. Despite the pain and hardship, and the imminent threat of death to himself or his comrades, Rensou Hiruen was a Saiyan capable of peering to a future when the Empire would rise from those things unencumbered, and become the most powerful threat to the galaxy.
Rensou Hiruen was smiling!
With the invigorating aura of his inner floodgate torn, the Kousho overwhelmed his prone body as the smile escalated into jubilant laughter. A flaming ocean cast that eery hue about his hide, and Rensou Hiruen set a foot under himself with strained effort. With the Kousho, this level of gravity modification could be withstood. The leathers of his gloves sounded off as their fibers rubbed, the fists clenching as Rensou Hiruen rose to his full height, his chest welling with the intake of exhaustion and the realization that nay, he would not die here. To die during a training exercise did not befit the gladiator turned general, to die on the field of combat was the only thing suited of he!
With spilling lip and coal eyes twinkling beneath the aquamarine aura like sapphires, Rensou had stood and bested the hardest task in his training at the level of twenty times gravity. Those gemstone eyes glanced over his bangles, furthering his every effort and amplifying his power gained, as they had for some time. Now, standing and outfitted, the time had come to practice his movements in preparation for the great challenges that lie ahead. The muscular body of the Saiyan became a warring stance as his tail churned the air behind him violently, his emotions high with the victory over the force that his Kousho had soundly defeated.
“Ha!” he cried, tightening muscle and tendon along his legs and successfully planting his feet through sheer muscle memory. With that done, he released the tension of his hips and turned his body, accentuating a deadly strike with a throw of his shoulders and the rapid extension of his left arm in a circular movement. The punch was finalized as every facet of his body multiplied the destructive force of the low hook that would have attacked the body of a fighter of similar stature. Boliko had described the alien overlord as tiny, and Rensou was practicing the low punch to place his precise hands directly into the face of the creature, when the time arrived.
All the while, his right had been posed diligently in an effort to provide ample time for a defensive maneuver in the case of a counterstrike. Rule number one of Rensou's style of boxing was to throw with veracity, not volume – when the warrior fired a punch and it landed, it was one to send the opponent spiraling into defeat. The right hand offered a precautionary blockade to keep the returning attacks at bay. The punch accomplished, Rensou resquared his stance as he drew that fist back and in effect, reloaded his most powerful weapon. That left hook was the most dangerous punch in his arsenal of melee expertise.
Behind that, of course, was his straight right, but a power punch should never be followed with another. Instead, Rensou normally opted to jab after such a brute force attack. With his legs relaxed, he became a mobile defender and attacker in conjunction. The jab was powered by less of the body, and therefore hardly damaging, lest it be utterly and completely well placed. More often, the strike was one to keep the distance between he and foe and set them off-balance, and out of their element. Swift and sure the right hand lashed out and snapped back, a quick strike that were not but a blur to the unpracticed eye. If and when it connected, it would push the foe back and focus their defenses upon their head and upper body.
A grunt escaped him in the trying gravity, but Rensou continued practicing his physical perfection beyond that. With defenses set high and balance at times lost, the next maneuver was one hardly foreseen and even if it were, there was hardly ever preparation for such things. Leaning backwards upon the right foot, the left hip was elevated and the leg below it fired off with the full force of his body. The slashing shin and foot had suddenly sheared horizontally at rib height, and when that attack landed the one whom received it would tumble backwards, gasping for air and weak upon their feet. With such a powerful blow landed, the only thing that remained was to unleash absolute hell at any undefended point.
With snarls and rolling growls Rensou stepped forward, his body a torrent of blows, some with frightening power and momentum as others continuously sought to assail the foe with a voluminous assault. Jabs shot outward, and his feet would carry him forward to stay ever in range of the opponent. A short uppercut that evolved into a cutting elbow, lest the uppercut missed, rippled out. This sequence was a furious one, all his reserves would have been worn down if this were an actual encounter, but it was not and the attacks were thus thrown with less vicious forces behind them. Finally, to complete the swarm of hands and feet and short bursts of ki which dissipated harmlessly against The Gladiator's inner walls, the warrior powered himself into the air with both muscle and Bukujutsu, shooting a single knee intended to snap jaws, or, lash a head back with such force that the neck was snapped.
“Beautiful work, General,” a familiar voice complimented with a clapping of hands as Rensou turned to face the woman whom had been intently watching his wondrously violent dance. The Saiyan Lieutenant was standing as if unencumbered by the forces at work here, and it was within reason – she was nearly as powerful as her general, and being of Elite heritage had of course trained in a Gravity chamber many times. Within her dainty hands she held a towel emblazoned with the logo of the new Saiyan Solar Empire, and with a flick of her wrist she tossed it through the air to Rensou Hiruen. “Though I'd love to stay and watch, we have business to attend to, sir,” she lamented, with a false tone of disappointment. Obviously something enthralling was on the minds of Military officials.
“Very well, Arienne,” Rensou sighed as he caught the towel and wiped the slick blood from his features. The female gave him a wink of approval, much preferring the actual face as opposed to the reddened, coagulated mass. “Gravitational intensification, abort,” and suddenly the weighing forces upon his shoulders were lifted, but still the grave threat of Touketsuki Yakedo loomed overhead. At any rate, matters upon the planet were pressing now, and the Icer lord would arrive later. Rensou followed his Lieutenant out of his ship, curious as to the nature of the problem lying ahead.
[Heavy Weighted Clothing + 20x gravity.]
