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KC (w)vs Zakuro; Planet//Forum
Topic Started: Oct 20 2015, 01:25 AM (359 Views)
seanb
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The members of the garrison that King Cold and Tyran had infiltrated for the purposes of finding a traitor in their Midsts has been gathered at the sparring facility located nearby the barracks. Commander Perma was determined to craft warriors out of these recruits, even if he was going to give himself a heart attack in the process of doing so.

"Every single one of you needs more experience in hand to hand combat!" The changeling commander barked as they all gathered around a circle. "Now then, we're going to have us a little sparring tournament. Let's see here..." He flipped through some papers attached to a clipboard. "Let's have... Zakuro and... Jelid up first."

King Cold grinned as he made his way through the crowd and to the sparring circle. "Frost Almighty!" Perma choked. "Yer a big feller, ain't ya!"

Cold only nodded and settled into a stance while he waited for whoever this Zakuro person was to join him. He cracked his neck by twisting his head back and forth, remaining silent. Holding back his true skill and strength was a difficult task, but a necessary one. Learning how to fight with restrictions wasn't going to be easy by any means.

203
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Zakuro
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The pale, spidery alien known as Zakuro scanned his survivor comrades. He had been disgusted upon their first gathering, and their first mission had only solidified that impression into hatred. It sickened him to share space with these inexperienced weaklings. It sickened him that he was considered one of them despite being one of the few true soldiers in the lot. This was an organization so desperate it had once welcomed his coward father. Zakuro’s membership though, however begrudging, was a necessary evil. Easy promotion through the PTO’s ranks would be his ticket off this giant ice cube.

They were in a training facility oddly similar to the ones in his memories of Vegeta. Their commanding officer, Perma, was equally nauseated by the state of his troops. The changeling commanding officer was the only lizard Zakuro had ever held respect for- not that that bar was even knee high. The saiyan-changeling hybrid scoffed and continued practicing for his role as ‘that guy who mostly pouts but terrorizes when spoken to.’ When his name was called for a spar against another competent soldier on the team, he assumed it was time for the childrens’ first day of kindergarten.

Zakuro got up lazily, as though dragged to his feet by an invisible crane. His opponent, Jello or something, took a stance but the malcontent didn’t bother to return the gesture.

“Go on then, snowman. Hit me.”

WC 234
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Vash
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“Go on then, snowman. Hit me,” Cold’s opponent lazily spat from across the sparring circle. The Changeling king only shook his head. If only he knew my true identity… he pondered. Holding back against this one will be the challenge here.

“Well, if that’s the way you want it,” Cold growled through bared teeth, before rushing across the center of the circle, closing the gap between himself and this Zakuro character. The Changeling brute leapt at the last second, leading with his thick knee cap aimed for Zakuro’s chin, before twisting in mid air and then coming down hard with both hands clasped together in a double fisted hammer blow to the top of his opponent’s scalp.

King Cold wondered for a brief moment if the person he were fighting right now actually were the traitor he was trying to expose… Nah, he quickly surmised. He can’t be the one.

150/353
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WIKI // THEME SONG
2015 ROLE PLAY OF THE YEAR WINNER!!
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Zakuro
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Zakuro smirked at Jelid’s consent to his offer. He didn’t flinch when the oversized changeling leapt into action. A knee bigger than his own head busted his chin and then moved his head into the perfect position to watch the sledgehammer fists give him a free nose job. The attack planted Zakuro’s face into the cold floor with the scent and taste of iron fresh on each breath. The spectator company began muttering amongst themselves, but he didn’t pay any attention to their words.

The bloody-faced hybrid pushed himself up on all fours slowly, then raised his head to smile at Cold. A little creek of blood flowed from his nose to the nape of his neck where it was beginning to stain his armor. He was breathing heavily and despite his sunny disposition it was obvious that the giant had left him sore.

“I dink you bwoke by dose!” The nasal nonsense became wet giggles as he reached for his snout, readjusting it with a quick crack. Zakuro found his feet again and wiped his face with his forearm, which didn’t really help the mess so much as rearrange it. He was looking cocky when he suddenly clutched his throat and began retching, spitting blood on his opponent as he did so. He waited for his commanding officer to start to call the spar, and then suddenly straightened with a vampiric, “bluh!” spraying blood and fire over his opponent. The eruption complete, he leapt through the flames where he’d hidden his opponent, hoping to put his head in the alien’s gut.

WC 262 / 496
TWC 849
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seanb
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King Cold could not only feel, but could hear the bones of his opponent buckling under the brunt force of his attacks. The Changeling King was an homage of physical perfection, his height alone allowed him to tower over most combatants. But, where his methodically sculpted figure really excelled was in the muscle department. He was the textbook definition of a beefcake. Hell, his muscles even had muscles. This feat alone allowed his melee strikes to pack a little added punch.

Zakuro was taking his abuse like a champ, still managing to scramble to his feet before pressing his broken nose back into place. His bloodied face was a welcome sight for the King, one that he reveled in and soaked up with great delight.

A wad of blood was flung from Zakuro's throat and splattered onto Cold's face. The king refused to budge, instead allowing the spatter to settle in, wearing it proudly like face paint. Cold was just about to spout some kind of insulting rhetoric at his opponent, but was instead surprised when Zakuro coughed once more, this time sending a fire ball in his direction. The move caught the King off guard, and was blasted in the chest by the flame orb. Smoke slowly drizzled from the charred markings on his armor, filling the changelings nostrils with he scent of his own burning armor.

Just as the last ember dissipated before him, Zakuro was flying forward, leading with his head! Acting quickly, King Cold reached out and grabbed a hold of Zakuro's neck, his head tucked into the hole he created with his arm. He smiled as he used Zakuro's own momentum to hopefully fall backwards and suplex the bloodied warrior into the ground.

288//641
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Zakuro
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Zakuro found himself wrapped in the python of Jelid’s arm with his trajectory suddenly changed to a face dive. A sudden eruption of blood red ki kept the pair airborne, but only at the expense of what would be a very sore neck tomorrow morning. His left arm pried at the one binding him enough to keep him a choked breath from a strange. The other he placed on King Cold’s stomach, rapid firing energy blasts into his strangler’s gut. Hopefully that would loosen the great brute’s grip enough for a quick Houdini. The close quarters of the maneuver burned his hand, but it was better than a snapped neck.

“Oh this is just so fun!” Zakuro was absolutely giddy as he watched the scrap unfold.

WC 126 / 595

TWC 1,263
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seanb
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The large purple mass started to fall backward with Zak's head tucked securely between his massive biscep and his torso. His eyes glanced downward as he felt a palm place onto his midsection. What was this? An attempt of desperation?

Suddenly, shockwaves of pain accompanied by small clouds of smoke began to resonate from his abdomen. King Cold stumbled backwards, releasing his hold on Zak's head, both hands clutching the spot on his front side where his armor used to be. Several ki blasts at point blank range melted his abdomen guard. The small group that was huddled around the two warriors applauded and ooed at Zak's resilient counter. Hell, even King Cold was impressed by the maneuver.

He smiled at the silver haired recruit. "Not bad," he chuckled, nodding his head in approval. "But let's see how you handle this!" The Changeling lord opened his mouth and fired off three ki blasts at Zak from his agape mandible.

159//800
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Zakuro
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Zakuro smirked at his own successful counter. The applause he received only tickled his ego; he couldn’t have cared less about what impressed these drafted country folk. An unexpected sneeze would have been enough to scare them. This Jelid character though, he liked. The changeling was capable and humble, and though the latter of which was difficult to understand Zakuro could mark silent self-assuredness with respectability. As much as the white-headed hybrid enjoyed being the proud class clown there was certainly a badassery in the disinterested deftness with which Jelid disposed of loudmouthed competition. His placement in Zakuro’s mental top 5, and the fact that he was the only one in it who deserved the notoriety, had made him a friendly rival. Jelid had no idea about any of that; Zakuro was simply prone to flights of fancy to relieve his own boredom.

Lost on such a flight in the aftermath of Jelid’s compliment, Zakuro only had time to throw his arm’s up in defense as the barrage started. The second burn-bath reengaged his focus and he emerged from his guard with a roar that dissipated the final assault. The attacks subsided for a moment and Zakuro glanced down to check his wounds. His armor was torn and, confirming the pain he was in, his body blistered.

“You’re tough, Jelid. I might need to rewrite that top 5. You win for today.”

Zakuro was trying out Jelid’s weird “humility” thing. His pride stung, but he kept his cool by pushing one of the squadmates a little too forcefully to the side as he went to hit the showers and change his armor.

WC 272 / 867
1697

OOC: In case it was unclear, you win. =]
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