Post by Barlei on Sept 16, 2021 18:26:36 GMT -8
Continued from here: dragonballbd.proboards.com/thread/2658/trial-combat-tooth-fang-time?page=1&scrollTo=13890
Two Years Later...
Night stretched long in the dry, desert valley. The moon hung bright and full, a massive celestial body setting the tone for what was a sacred ritual to the Starving Wolves. Engines were gunned amidst the shout of the rowdy group of rebels and fighters, diesel exhaust fumes creating a smog-filled atmosphere as it mingled with the testosterone in the air. A large stone circle was in the midst of the group, the Wolf School symbol carved into its gigantic center.
Barlei stood upon it, arms folded, bearing the fur-trimmed mantle of the Fang. He frowned despite the revelry around him. It was time to accept a role of leadership. Problem was, he didn't want it.
It had been two years since he joined the Starving Wolves. Two long, difficult years to break away from his old fighting styles and habits. Learning a new discipline was never easy; learning both Wolf and Kame style had pushed him to his limits - nay, beyond his limits. Barlei wanted to keep pushing past barriers to achieve new heights. But he feared leading this rowdy group of vagabonds wasn't the way to get stronger.
Without a word, he raised both hands in the air. The noise quieted down to a murmur.
"We all know why we're here. You wanna see a new Fang get crowned, right? Problem is, I wanna see things work differently. Something more than solving our problems like a buncha animals."
Though they were affiliated with the Wolf School, the Starving Wolves were a poor reflection of the school's tenets and values. Honor, virtue, and strength of spirit were cast aside in favor of greed, brawling, and worst of all, preying on the weak. This group had become a refuge for the common thug and criminal under the auspices of unity. In the beginning, Barlei ignored it but if he were going to lead them, he refused to let their reputation be a blight upon the citizenry of the South, Central, and Pilaf Lands.
They did not mirror his message; many of them booed and jeered at him, tossing crushed beer cans and the like onto the fighting stage in an expression of their ire. The Fang was merely a figurehead; the thugs would continue to assault, pillage, and rob as they pleased.
"Yeah… I figured you guys would react that way. Predictable." He shook his head as more debris landed on the stage. "Worse than that, none of you seem the least bit ashamed about your behavior."
It was amazing what time could do. He had not only honed his body in those two years, but his mind and spirit as well. In times past, Barlei would have fought every single one of them and beaten them into submission. But time had tempered his wild soul, and as a result, filled him with a peace and strength he had never known.
It wasn't his ire these men and women needed to see. It was the strength of his new resolve.
Kicking aside a crushed beer can, Barlei stalked to the center of the raised stone dais. For all of their pomp and frills, if there was one thing this group of vagabonds respected, it was the definitive results of a fight. If he'd learned anything in the past two years, any action or doctrine contrary to the sacred art of beating the snot out of a foe was sure to confuse them. He sat down in the center of the circle in the meditative style Coriander had taught him. Arms folded, legs crossed, head bowed and eyes closed, Barlei permitted himself to slip into the newfound meditative trance.
He pressed his fingers together into a circle—a symbol of the flow of 'chi', as Ria called it. It flowed through him, down into the earth, only to return to his body, purged from impurities to replenish his mind and spirit. Barlei visualized this process over and over again until his heart rate slowed and his breathing grew even and tempered. All sense of time slipped from his mind's grasp; he became one with the exercise of expelling and replenishing, picturing his body being cleansed in the process. It wasn't perfect—plenty of turmoil resided in his wounded soul. But this was a start.
It was the warmth of the sun's rays that brought him back to reality. Barlei squinted into the bright light, momentarily blinded by the stark change in their surroundings. He still sat upon the raised stone dais bearing the dojo kamon of the Wolf School. It was still littered with trash and debris. But none of the other Starving Wolves were in sight. None save for one.
Coriander hopped onto the dais, arms folded as she studied Barlei with a curious expression.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mind tellin' me what happened?"
"Everyone left. I suspect most of them denounced the ways of our group and will form their own roving bands of miscreants. Not a single one was willing to oppose you."
"Huh." Barlei stretched, rising to his feet. "Guess my little plan worked."
"That... or you sealed the destruction of this organization. I suppose only time will tell."
"What, so a couple hundred members quit? Fine by me. We'll start over from scratch."
Coriander waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "There's no need. Our numbers may dwindle, but there are many loyal to the Wolf School through the land. I'm certain they would be willing to join us once you demonstrate to them your great strength."
Barlei folded his arms, his expression growing pensive.
"A wise woman once told me that our greatest strength is revealed in weakness."
The two shared a moment of silence. After a moment, Coriander slipped into a fighting stance.
"Then it is time to put that resolve of yours to the test. I, Coriander of the Son Family, great-granddaughter of the great Son Papri, challenge you for the mantle of Fang of the Starving Wolves."
Without missing a beat, Barlei slid into his own fighting stance. Not the Saiyan martial art of old, but he squared his feet and hunkered down, fingers curled into a form reminiscent of fangs. The Wolf Style.
"Be my guest, my lady. Just know I won't go easy on ya!"
The two rushed each other, a flurry of fists and feet.
WC: 1,059
Two Years Later...
Night stretched long in the dry, desert valley. The moon hung bright and full, a massive celestial body setting the tone for what was a sacred ritual to the Starving Wolves. Engines were gunned amidst the shout of the rowdy group of rebels and fighters, diesel exhaust fumes creating a smog-filled atmosphere as it mingled with the testosterone in the air. A large stone circle was in the midst of the group, the Wolf School symbol carved into its gigantic center.
Barlei stood upon it, arms folded, bearing the fur-trimmed mantle of the Fang. He frowned despite the revelry around him. It was time to accept a role of leadership. Problem was, he didn't want it.
It had been two years since he joined the Starving Wolves. Two long, difficult years to break away from his old fighting styles and habits. Learning a new discipline was never easy; learning both Wolf and Kame style had pushed him to his limits - nay, beyond his limits. Barlei wanted to keep pushing past barriers to achieve new heights. But he feared leading this rowdy group of vagabonds wasn't the way to get stronger.
Without a word, he raised both hands in the air. The noise quieted down to a murmur.
"We all know why we're here. You wanna see a new Fang get crowned, right? Problem is, I wanna see things work differently. Something more than solving our problems like a buncha animals."
Though they were affiliated with the Wolf School, the Starving Wolves were a poor reflection of the school's tenets and values. Honor, virtue, and strength of spirit were cast aside in favor of greed, brawling, and worst of all, preying on the weak. This group had become a refuge for the common thug and criminal under the auspices of unity. In the beginning, Barlei ignored it but if he were going to lead them, he refused to let their reputation be a blight upon the citizenry of the South, Central, and Pilaf Lands.
They did not mirror his message; many of them booed and jeered at him, tossing crushed beer cans and the like onto the fighting stage in an expression of their ire. The Fang was merely a figurehead; the thugs would continue to assault, pillage, and rob as they pleased.
"Yeah… I figured you guys would react that way. Predictable." He shook his head as more debris landed on the stage. "Worse than that, none of you seem the least bit ashamed about your behavior."
It was amazing what time could do. He had not only honed his body in those two years, but his mind and spirit as well. In times past, Barlei would have fought every single one of them and beaten them into submission. But time had tempered his wild soul, and as a result, filled him with a peace and strength he had never known.
It wasn't his ire these men and women needed to see. It was the strength of his new resolve.
Kicking aside a crushed beer can, Barlei stalked to the center of the raised stone dais. For all of their pomp and frills, if there was one thing this group of vagabonds respected, it was the definitive results of a fight. If he'd learned anything in the past two years, any action or doctrine contrary to the sacred art of beating the snot out of a foe was sure to confuse them. He sat down in the center of the circle in the meditative style Coriander had taught him. Arms folded, legs crossed, head bowed and eyes closed, Barlei permitted himself to slip into the newfound meditative trance.
He pressed his fingers together into a circle—a symbol of the flow of 'chi', as Ria called it. It flowed through him, down into the earth, only to return to his body, purged from impurities to replenish his mind and spirit. Barlei visualized this process over and over again until his heart rate slowed and his breathing grew even and tempered. All sense of time slipped from his mind's grasp; he became one with the exercise of expelling and replenishing, picturing his body being cleansed in the process. It wasn't perfect—plenty of turmoil resided in his wounded soul. But this was a start.
It was the warmth of the sun's rays that brought him back to reality. Barlei squinted into the bright light, momentarily blinded by the stark change in their surroundings. He still sat upon the raised stone dais bearing the dojo kamon of the Wolf School. It was still littered with trash and debris. But none of the other Starving Wolves were in sight. None save for one.
Coriander hopped onto the dais, arms folded as she studied Barlei with a curious expression.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mind tellin' me what happened?"
"Everyone left. I suspect most of them denounced the ways of our group and will form their own roving bands of miscreants. Not a single one was willing to oppose you."
"Huh." Barlei stretched, rising to his feet. "Guess my little plan worked."
"That... or you sealed the destruction of this organization. I suppose only time will tell."
"What, so a couple hundred members quit? Fine by me. We'll start over from scratch."
Coriander waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "There's no need. Our numbers may dwindle, but there are many loyal to the Wolf School through the land. I'm certain they would be willing to join us once you demonstrate to them your great strength."
Barlei folded his arms, his expression growing pensive.
"A wise woman once told me that our greatest strength is revealed in weakness."
The two shared a moment of silence. After a moment, Coriander slipped into a fighting stance.
"Then it is time to put that resolve of yours to the test. I, Coriander of the Son Family, great-granddaughter of the great Son Papri, challenge you for the mantle of Fang of the Starving Wolves."
Without missing a beat, Barlei slid into his own fighting stance. Not the Saiyan martial art of old, but he squared his feet and hunkered down, fingers curled into a form reminiscent of fangs. The Wolf Style.
"Be my guest, my lady. Just know I won't go easy on ya!"
The two rushed each other, a flurry of fists and feet.
WC: 1,059