|
Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 7, 2015 3:57:11 GMT -6
Preparing to land on Planet Vegeta, the crew on the Ginyu's ship were given warning that the planet's gravity would be immensely different than what they were used to and that they would all filter through an "acclimatizing phase" within the ship where they artificially increased the gravity settings onboard until they were at the level of weight on the planet's surface. Filtering into the main cabin just before the exit, Arba huddled in with a bunch of other recruits who were babbling amongst themselves. "Hey, did you hear them say how heavy it is on this planet," an insectoid recruit chittered nervously to his counterparts. "Yeah," a much larger fur-covered brutish grunt bellowed, "Me not worried about no stinkin' ten times gravity. Me tough, big muscles will keep me standing proud." Shaking his head with disdain, a skinny Brench with a foppish haircut clicked his tongue admonishingly towards the two others, "Insect, you'll be fine under the gravity here, your carapace isn't that heavy to begin with... As for you, you brutish imbecilic monkey, did you ever stop to think that your big muscles are going to be ten times as heavy on the planet?" The brutish grunt was obviously perplexed, managing a buffoonish, "uuuuuuuuhhh... But big muscles are big."
Sighing heavily and waiting for the gravity to increase, Arba largely ignored the banter between the three other grunts, mentally steeling himself for the increased weight. This was going to suck big-time, the most gravity he'd ever been under was the three-point-five settings in the gravity chamber that he'd frequently used, this was going to be a whole other game altogether. Feeling the initial pressure as gravity increased the first step, the hybrid grunt did a little calculation and figured it to have immediately jumped up to two-point five. Damn, they weren't messing around here huh? Making sure his armor was fitted perfectly to him, Arba slipped his blaster over his arm so that he wouldn't have to pick it up later and could get used to the weight for now. Everything was out of whack as the gravity clicked right up to five-times... This was what he'd left Grig under? No wonder the Saiyans were so damn strong.
Another adjustment and they were up to seven-point-five times gravity. By his calculations, this made Arba's current weight almost fifteen-hundred pounds. By the time they would reach ten times gravity, Arba would be weighing in at a solid ton. Glancing over with obvious concern towards the three other grunts, the hybrid Third Class found his worry mirrored on the others' faces, barring the Brench who was probably used to higher gravity considering his homeworld's natural state. By the looks of it, the bulking hirsute grunt was having some trouble breathing and crew members were already slipping a device over his face to help inflate his lungs. Hopefully the hybrid wouldn't need one of those too.
As the final adjustment set into place, Arba practically felt as if he were glued to the ground, being pulled down to the ship's floor by the intense gravity. A solid ton now, the Grunt slowly pushed himself forward to a wall and raised his free hand to grab onto a railing that was set at about waist height, running from the front to the back of the ship along the internal skin of the craft. Using the bar to brace himself, Arba struggled to breath as the oppressive weight of his own chest locked his lungs in a solid cage of flesh and bone. One of the crew members approached with a mask to offer to him but the hybrid extended his blaster-arm, waving off the gesture with a flagging of his blaster. He would adjust to this weight under his own power, using a machine to help him breath would only build a dependence on it.
Slowly but surely the ship passed through the atmosphere of Planet Vegeta and plotted a course for the city, the artificial gravity shutting off and the natural gravity of the planet settling over them with the same intensity. If this was where the tournament was going to take place then the grunts were at an extreme disadvantage to the Saiyans who had grown up here their entire lives. "We've got a lot of work to do if we want to be ready for that tournament," Arba heard his own voice speaking with some strain to the other crew, involuntarily empathizing with their struggles due to his own suffering. "No kidding," the bug man chittered. The big brute and the Brench both remained silent, one due to ill health and the other due to simple apathy. What a ragtag crew they were.
|
|
|
Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 7, 2015 11:24:37 GMT -6
The offload process was far more complicated than boarding, partly due to the Saiyan Command's shakedown, but mostly due to the immense strain that the increased gravity placed on the grunts. Strolling through the shakedown checkpoint without even so much as a wanding, the Ginyu Squad practically strutted without a care whereas the grunts had to put up with harassment at the hands of the Saiyans, their rank insufficient to get away with ignoring general protocol. "Alright Grunts! Hold your hands straight above your heads and spin slowly in a circle clockwise," advised one of the Saiyan, stifling a chuckle as he waved a hand at them. What was the purpose of the command? Why to make them look like a bunch of chuckleheads, of course.
Complying with a series of humiliating and exhausting commands, the grunts were finally filed into the Saiyan Barracks that had been adapted for the Ginyu's purposes and assigned bunks. The Ginyu Force themselves were given a much more opulent place to stay that utilized the officer's barracks, but the Grunts were at least allowed to rest here in the ramshackle den where the Saiyan's lowest class warriors slept after missions. The beds here were coated in dried blood and various other substances and wholly unclean and the ceilings sagged and rotted in places, the room probably should have been condemned with the combined numerous hazards to their health it presented. "This sucks," chittered the bug with disappointment, his compound eyes picking up pretty much the entirety of the room at once, "I thought we'd be staying with the Ginyu Force, not bunking in some dump reserved for the lowest ranking Saiyans. We're Frieza's men, we should at least be staying in the upper class barracks." Chuckling for once at the bug's dismay, the haughty Brench shook his head and sat down on a sagging bunk, "What, you really believed the Saiyans would pay us Grunts any respect? Get it through your thick carapace, Insect, we're nothing but pawns to the GFA, and the Saiyans see that. If you want respect, you've got to rank up and earn it. Saiyans respect nothing but rank and power." Lumbering over to another bunk, the brutish grunt from earlier practically fell into it, laboriously breathing and trying to fit words in between each breath. "We... More... Than... Pawns..." *Gasp* "We... Strong... We... Frieza's... Elite..." Shaking his head with dismay, the Brench rubbed his temple and smirked obnoxiously, "Where-ever would you get that idea? Just because we were allowed to accompany the Ginyu Force doesn't make us elite in any way."
Ignoring the general rabble between the three others, Arba found his way over to a window that overlooked the city. The structures greatly resembled the ones on the Icerian base back on Frieza 79 and it made the Grunt wonder just how much technology the Saiyans were gifted by Frieza, and how much they were forced to adopt to make up for a potential hostile takeover. He had no clue how or why the Saiyans had fallen under Frieza's reign, all things considered they should have perhaps put up one hell of a fight and their pride would have had to take an incredible hit for them to willingly serve anyone besides their king. Allowing his ponderings to linger a moment longer, Arba took in the sights of the world below and generally blocked out the conversation until he realized that one of the voices was now coming from his immediate left.
"Hey Blue-Man," the Brench's voice came from directly next to Arba, forcing the hybrid to turn, "You've been quiet this whole time pretty much. What's the matter? Gravity making it hard to talk? I haven't heard you complain once, you seem almost reasonable compared to these other two fools." Sizing up the Brench who approached, Arba almost admired for a moment how well he carried himself under the increased gravity before he remembered that his planet was known for its high gravity, chalking the other man's apparent ease to a predisposition towards increased weight. "I just don't feel like bothering with it," the hybrid 3rd Class replied apathetically, "I have nothing meaningful to add to the conversation and it sounds like you three have nothing important to share with me. Pointless conversation doesn't serve to increase my rank, so it's a waste of my time... Now unless you've got anything that could actually be of some use to me in the long run here, then maybe you should go back to schooling those two on the facts of life." Surprised at the fact that Arba was even more abrasive than himself, the Brench found his composure blown for a moment... but only for a moment. "Tch... Suit yourself," the Brench shrugged as he regained his cool and feigned apathy even harder than Arba if that was possible, "But if you want useful information, I do have one suggestion. The low class Saiyans are constantly doing everything they can to rank up, so it wouldn't be unheard of for them to have a training facility around here... If you want to get better adjusted to the gravity on this planet, them maybe you should look for it. The quicker you can tolerate the pressure here, the more likely you are to be recognized by the Ginyu Force... That's why I'm probably going to be put in charge of you flunkies while they aren't around."
Glancing sidelong towards the Brench as he haughtily made his way back to the rest of the grunts with his arms folded across his chest, Arba considered his words momentarily and took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. Yes, some training would be good, especially if they were here to participate in the tournament. Posing was going to be tough under this gravity, it made doing anything with grace seem like an impossibility, but hey, that was what Captain Ginyu wanted to see. All in all the Brench was right... If Arba wanted to be recognized by the Ginyu Force, he was going to have to devote a little more energy to getting ready than just acclimatizing here in the bunkhouse. Making his way for the door, Arba went in search for the training facility that the other grunt had suggested might exist. If nothing else, the hybrid would get a good view of the surrounding facility.
|
|
|
Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 8, 2015 6:52:06 GMT -6
It took nearly twenty minutes to navigate the halls of the Saiyan lower class compound, not particularly from the gravity but due to the sheer complexity of the layout and the fact that the 3rd Class Grunt had no idea how to read their language to make sense of their waymarkers. Hesitating when he found a ramshackle training room, Arba pushed open the door cautiously and found it empty. With Frieza's presence and the majority of the Saiyans not wanting to push their luck unless their king commanded it, the majority of the lower class had filtered out of the barracks to give the offworlders their space... Most of them just didn't feel like dealing with non-Saiyans anyway, and some were clever enough to figure that with the upper class off world, their barracks were vacant for the time and could be used with sufficient sneakiness.
Stepping into the chamber and shutting the door, Arba took immediate note of all the cracks and impact-marks in the walls and floors here, immediately impressed with the ferocity that the Saiyans trained with... There was no way in hell he was ever going to make up the difference in power in time for the tryouts, the Saiyans just naturally had an advantage over him from simply growing up on Planet Vegeta. Unhooking his blaster from his arm, Arba set it down carefully and shoved it to the side with a foot and allowed himself a moment to flex the freed limb and relax the muscles in his forearm and hand. While the Saiyans trained brutally, the hybrid's regimen was the same fixed katas that he normally cycled through, the ones he first learned from his mentor almost a year ago.
Low strike at midsection height with the left hand, cross to chin and throat region with the right, followup jab with the left once again for the throat region, knife-handed chop to the jawline, and then an upward snap and thrust of the leg to finish. Under 10x gravity each motion was excruciating on his joints and hell on his muscles, nearly reducing him to muscle failure almost instantly. Forcing himself through the drills until his body could no longer take it, Arba set himself down tiredly and began to meditate, willing his body to recover as best as he could. Ki control would have been fantastic in this situation, but once again Arba was determined to pull through without it... Afterall, simply attempting to channel his ki was a risk that had explosive results before.
"So, you followed my advice," a familiar voice cut through the air with a surprising lack of pompous overtones to it, the Brench from earlier having found his way to the training facility, "I figured you would. You're that grunt who can't channel his ki, aren't you? You're awfully bold trying to match muscles alone with Saiyans." Opening a single eye to glance over irritated at the intruder, Arba snorted with much disdain, "What's it to you, Brench? You going to look down on my just because I can't use ki?" Chuckling amusedly at Arba's defensive jab, the other grunt had a seat across from the hybrid, sitting crosslegged and resting his hands on his knees. "Why would I do something like that? I had my own troubles with ki control when I was younger myself... I remember what it was like being judged, and I remember when I tried to walk down the same road you are. It'll end in failure, you know? Nobody becomes great without ki control." Lowering his head slightly and wrinkling his face in irritation as the Brench lays on with the unsolicited advice and empathy, Arba scoffs, "I doubt you have the same problems I do, or the same motivations. Learning to control my ki isn't an option, it's like trying to open the cap on a hurricane and let out a tiny breath of air." Smirking, the Brench shrugged to Arba's assertion, "Maybe so, but I know that you'll never amount to anything if you fear what you can do. Consider it food for thought. Now, if you're going to keep training, you're going to want to do some healing first."
Extending both of his hands, the Brench focused as his eyebrows tensed slightly, a warm white glow radiating from his palms as the muscle fibers in Arba's body slowly knit themselves back together and the acids that had flooded them levelled off. Rising to his feet, the intrusive Brench nodded to himself, "That will do for now. If you need help, feel free to ask. The others are fools, but I feel like I can identify with you, if only a little. Hopefully you won't turn out to be a fool too, I would hate to identify with an imbecile." Exiting the training facility with a cocky swagger, the Brench left Arba alone to his perplexing mix of irritation and resentful appreciation.
|
|
|
Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 9, 2015 6:18:59 GMT -6
Morning dawned for Arba in the broken training facility, light pouring in from the hallway where a large window let the red sunrise of Planet Vegeta filter in to the unlit room. The hybrid had fallen asleep some time the night before in the midst of stretching, his body strangely comfortable resting in the gravity of Planet Vegeta as if he'd already been working at becoming accustomed to it. Rising slowly to his feet, the hybrid came to the stunning realization that he was almost completely capable of holding himself up and moving around at a comfortable pace under the intense pressure of the planet's gravity. Testing his freedom of movement with a little hop, Arba actually chuckled as both of his feet left the ground, this was a rousing success! Perhaps the Brench's healing had helped him a bit, who knows.
Finding his way back to the barracks, Arba found the other grunts already gearing up for the day, the tournament sign-ups were but a couple hours away and they all had to get their names on the list if they wanted to participate. Nodding somewhat sociably to the Brench who'd helped him the night before, the hybrid found himself beaming unintentionally, still quite pleased with his progress. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who'd adapted somewhat last night too, the hirsute brute who was having trouble breathing the night before seemed to be managing without his mask now.
Gathering up what little stuff he came with, Arba prepared to leave with the other grunts to meet with the Ginyu Squad... The four of them had a date with destiny, and their date was to be held on the battlegrounds of the Saiyan Arena.
|
|