The Elder has signed you up for a local competition in which competitors demonstrate their speed and agility. It is one of the most honored competitions in the Yaidrat culture, and if you win, you are sure to gain the respect of the people of Yaidrat.
Reward: +300 zeni, +2 DP, +20 all stats, +2 RP Credits
The painful sound was immediately followed by the dull thud of bare skin hitting and crashing across the floor with a wave of teal hair being tossed around immediately followed. The young female form that lay out across the stone floor held a glowering gaze at her opponent who had knocked her flat.
"Ouch! Do you have to be so rough?" the teal haired girl huffed out as she rose with a swift flip that landed her on her feet. She dusted off her shoulders and arms before crossing them in front of her chest and sighing heavily.
The man standing opposite to the young girl simply nodded and folded his hands within the cloth sleeves of his robes. Deep grey eyes glanced over the woman for a few moments, as if he was scanning her form and searching for some words or advice to impart upon the youth. The male was of Yaidratian descent - the grey, leathery skin belonging to a tall, lanky body, and slightly bulbous head that were the most distinguishing marks of the race were easy to see despite the flowing robe.
"You need to move faster. It's one of the key elements of battle, young Saiyan." the robed Yaidratian spoke softly in an instructor-like tone of voice. The way in which he drew his words were almost indicative of some hidden meaning laying between each sentence - or at least, that is what the teal haired girl felt like. Maybe it was just the way in which the eldest of this race spoke? Even older humans unintentionally spoke with different syntax, she noted. "Let's try again, Bulla,"
"Yes - okay. Let's go!" Bulla grinned and assumed a defensive stance and readied her wits to intercept her teacher.
A swath of cloth flashed before her blue eyes at speeds that the Half-Saiyan could barely register. A second later the young woman found herself on her bottom again and sprawled out on the stone floor with an aching pain emanating from her shoulder. The Yaidratian Elder still stood in his place before Bulla, only a wiry grin across his wrinkled features indicated that he had been the one to strike her.
"Let us rest for the day. You need rest for tomorrow," the Elder said calmly. "I have signed you up for the Yai-Cup. It is an ancient tradition held here on Yaidrat where only the fastest and most agile succeed," the wise older male spoke preemptively, as if he had known the girl would protest and ask questions. Though he had only taken the young Saiyan under his tutelage in the recent weeks, sensing her patterns was not an impossible task. Young, brash, proud, stubborn - the trademarks of the Saiyan race. Yet, he also sensed the human side within that urged patience and wisdom. With the proper guidance she would make a fine warrior, he knew.
"Rest now," he spoke softly as his index and middle finger gently caressed her forehead and sent the half Saiyan to her quarters.
“I hate when he does that..” the half-Saiyan grumbled to herself. Her surroundings had changed from the familiar sparring ground where her and those designed by the Elder to train her for the day, to the more unfamiliar yet homely setup of her quarters. She coveted the Instant Transmission technique the Elder used sparingly. It’s the ability to immediately transport one from a location to another location faster than the blink of an eye had unprecedented implications for her daily life!
A trip to the mall? Easy! Exploring a new place at her own whim? Done. A solid defense mechanism for the next time she fought? Also done. Unfortunately for her, it was not a secret the race appeared to let go so easily.
“Pfft. A competition tomorrow, hm?” the girl repeated the Elder’s words to herself as her lithe form dropped onto the dark sheet covered mattress, a light squeak of the springs within bounced around. “I wonder how tough it’ll be… if I win then surely the Elder will find me worthy to teach!” she excitedly exclaimed to herself.
The loud thud of Bulla’s boots being slipped off and crashing on the cool stone tiles resounded as she began the process of slipping from her training gear. The clothing was tossed carelessly into a corner of the room - to be dealt with at a later time, surely. Before long the young girl was nestled in a fold of warm, comforting blankets as her fingertips ran along the edge of her smooth skin and stopped at the bruise left behind on her skin.
“Ah,” she winced as her fingers applied some pressure to the discolored area of skin. Her index and middle digits continue to apply pressure as her face wore the pain openly until it would subside. The pain was a dull throbbing that continues to pound against her clavicle. It's beat thorough and rhythmic as it lured the exhausted woman to sleep.