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Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 13, 2015 5:47:35 GMT -6
With his recent victory secured by default, Arba had taken the time in between matches to trail through the city, it would be a while before he was called on to fight again and he could get around and back in time if nothing terrible befell him. Clad in his murky-greyish cloak and his stage-combat gear from the previous match, the hybrid hummed to himself as he fell in with the crowd seamlessly, yet another offworlder visiting for the Saiyan Tournament. The street he'd chosen to fall down was flanked by many large Icerian-style buildings and various carts with vendors hawking meat-based products to hungry folks who were willing to try the spicy Saiyan fastfood. Stopping at one of the carts himself that was selling a shank of meat that was very familiar to him, Arba shelled out a measly five zeni in exchange for a large cut of roasted something. Chomp chomp, refreshing.
Startlingly cultured despite their brutish focus on hypermasculinity and strength, the Saiyan city on Planet Vegeta was a sprawling hotbed of entertainment and dangers. Radios blasted some kind of violent-sounding rock & roll, while bars appeared to dot every ten paces or so, a few foreign races soliciting from outside even seedier establishments to make a dime in the city that favored the homebreed. Uninterested in picking a fight or fucking, Arba found himself wondering just what it was he'd hoped to accomplish by coming out here in the first place... Relaxation was his goal, but it seemed like he certainly wasn't going to accomplish that out here. |
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Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 14, 2015 4:33:01 GMT -6
Halting by a storefront that displayed a number of television-style devices for watching recorded videos, Arba turns his attention to the cluster of screens in the window, the match from earlier on the screen. Oh look, there he was in his audacious pose of victory, a frown steadily working its way across the Hera-jin's lips as he realizes just how ridiculous it looked. That would have to go back to the drawing board before the next bout, there was no way in hell that Captain Ginyu had any sort of positive impression from such an obnoxious pose. Sighing and turning away from the screens, Arba vanished back into the crowd, even more mindful of his identity as he was now aware that his match was being broadcasted on public networks.
Turning the corner into an alley that lead from one populated street to another, Arba found out where the destitute went to escape the sun, a handful of bums of varying races clustered around trash-heaps that might serve as hovels for them to rest in and on. Outstretched hands reached for the cloaked man, pleading for a few Zeni to ease their sufferings, the ire in the hybrid's chest building as he thought of his own need for money and their perceived involuntariness to find work of their own. "Go find jobs, you bums," the hybrid fired off caustically, tromping his way through the alley all the way to the other street. Here it appeared there was a parade running through the town celebrating the tournament, as well as the visit of Lord Frieza. Scoffing in disgust at the bobbleheaded effigy of his boss, Arba couldn't help but snicker to himself as a thought ran through his head: /"Yup, that's accurate for Lord Frieza, one big damn head."/ |
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Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 20, 2015 4:06:18 GMT -6
The parade was a short-lived distraction for Arba as he grew restless standing amidst the crowd, the excess of his cloak swaying like the tail of an aggravated cat as he shifted his weight from left to right. It was a monument to waste, an unashamed display of excess that was undoubtedly taken from conquested planets that at best were now mines... At worst, they were little more than mass graves. Yes, that was the machine that the hybrid himself was a part of, a churning destroying mass of greed and gluttony that devoured all in its path, he himself was as much a victim of that machine to begin with. Turning away from the parade and making his way to the rear of the crowd that had amassed on his side of the street, Arba began making his way back towards the center of the city by skirting around the crowd, bound for the coliseum once more where he'd have his next match soon.
"Filthy animals," the Hybrid muttered under his breath as he made his way through the writhing mass of parade-goers. |
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Post by Arba Starshine on Jun 20, 2015 11:01:13 GMT -6
Stepping into the locker rooms provided for kitting up, Arba did one last check of his person to ensure that he had all that he needed... Pondering bringing his blaster, the hybrid quickly determined that it wasn't going to be necessary, stowing the weapon until a later match in one of the provided lockers. Given some actual quiet and separation from the other fighters preparing for their matches, the hybrid went about his business by doing some warm-ups, slowly stretching out before getting his blood flowing with some calisthenics. It probably looked really ridiculous in the cloak, but whatever, he needed to get used to fighting in odd clothing... The Ginyu Force weren't known for their subtlety.
Burning up the rest of his time with a few Katas, Arba prepared himself physically and mentally for the match to come.
((Done here since nobody is getting involved)) |
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