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Post by Om-Yogu on Sept 25, 2019 21:59:56 GMT -6
Thread PL: 179,935 [UT] Ki Setting is used! PL is set to 15,000!
Yogu needed to kick back and relax for a bit. He needed to forget about all his worries with the Dragon Ball. And he needed to forget about that whole, being a ghost thing. So he came to South City for one reason, and that reason only. " WOOOO! PUNCH FEST 3019 BABYYYYY!" Yogu screamed out while floating in the skyline just above South City's skyscrapers! " Man, I haven't been here since I was a little kid! I almost completely forgot Punch Fest existed! Awwww man I'm so exciteeeeed! And this time I'm old enough to join the big tournament!" Yogu landed in front of the South City Convention Center and gazed upon the glorious scene. There were droves of people buying tickets, all decked out in gis, sparring gear, boxing gloves, practically every fighting uniform under the sun was being shown off! This was the premier place to show off anything Martial Arts related! And Yogu was right in the center of it! Yogu landed to the right of the entrance of the convention center and phased through the wall. A pretty great perk about being dead, he never had to pay to go inside anywhere! Yogu floated towards the ceiling of the massive convention center and looked down at all of the shops that were set up. There were plenty of high-quality gear, punching bags, sketchy looking vitamin supplements, and even this super cool thing called Definitely-not-steroids for sale! " Aw, maaaaan! I can't wait to buy all this stuff!" Yogu went to grab some Zeni out of his pocket, then remembered that he didn't have any. One of the drawbacks of being a ghost, he couldn't hold on to money. He always lost it when he phased through walls. " Eh, that's fine. There's still always the Martial Arts tournament!" Yogu flew down to the ground, trying his best to not attract attention. Which he did a poor job at, considering he was a nearly transparent dude who just floated down from the ceiling. At least no one screamed. Yogu floated over to the tournament signups, put his name down, and went over to the area where all the other fighters were waiting. He was pretty surprised that no one made a comment on his ghastly appearance, " Huh. Maybe they think I'm cosplaying as some kung fu movie character... Wait what Kung Fu movie has a ghost in it?" Yogu looked around at all of the others participating in the tournament. There was a wide array of people, everyone from guys that looked like bodybuilders, to people that looked like they hadn't actually practiced Martial Arts a day in their life! " This'll be... Interesting." Yogu decided to sense the energy of those around him and was alarmed when he realized he was leagues ahead of everyone else there. " Ooooh, that might not be good... Hold on! I got it! If I just focus real hard..." Yogu felt his energy start to get smaller until it was still on the bigger side, but nothing too crazy. Just enough so he could have some fun! The waiting area was set in front of an empty stage. Which suddenly became not empty when an announcer looking guy stepped out with a microphone. " Alright! Good evening everyone! Thank you for coming to PUNCH FEST 3019! And thank you for signing up for our PUNCH FEST TOURNAMEEEEENT! So, we're making last-minute preparations, so while we wait, I'm gonna explain the AWESOME RULES to you! This tournament isn't gonna be structured like a normal tournament. It's a SUPER COOL BATTLE ROYALE STYLE! Here at PUNCH FEST, we're all about showing off AWESOME MARTIAL ARTS STYLES! So we thought this would be the best way to show ALL OF THEM AT ONCE! So uh, that's all I got on my script. Have fun waiting or whatever." Yogu shrugged, " Okay. Guess we're gonna be waiting for a bit. I should try chatting up some of the other fighters. Yeah."
OOC: bruh moment |
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Post by Amara on Sept 26, 2019 9:25:17 GMT -6
Thread PL: 30,000 | Items: Spacepod, Scouter, Blutz Generator
"'Punch Fest'" Amara read the title of the ad dryly, examining the overly colorful flyer with a distasteful eye. It seemed to be yet another overly glitzy show of power for a few of the slightly tougher than normal Earthlings that lived on the planet. Basically, everything she disliked about Earthling martial arts wrapped up into one neat package. Meaning, she had been halfway through crumbling the thing and tossing the flyer in the trash when she noticed it. A big Zeni symbol caught her eye, the Saiyan opening the paper up again to spot that there was indeed a sizeable reward given to a few people who placed high.
Weighing the benefits of money to the cons of actually having to go to South City and prance like a monkey on a stage... Amara concluded that the money won. Sighing an already half-regretting her choice, the Saiyan clambered into her Spacepod and set her sights on South city; and Punch-Fest 3019.
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As per usual, Amara was semi-late, her Pod skidding to a stop outside the convention center into a parking spot (what, now it was perfectly legal), the Saiyan hopping out with her scouter in tow. If her guess was correct, she wouldn't really need to go Oozaru to combat any of the people here... at most, one of them might be able to sting her with their ultimate attack. Thirty-thousand was out of the league of most Earthlings, and since there wasn't a rule banning Alien participation Amara planned on taking full advantage of it.
Waltzing up to the desk, the Saiyan fished out a few Zeni to pay for her entrance ticket - the clerk mentioning there were only around three more slots for participants left at this point. Looks like she arrived fashionably late once more, just in time to scope out the competition without them scoping her out in return. Tapping her scouter, a quick scan revealed that a majority of these people would be non-issues. The only signature of actual note was one that read fifteen thousand; that number about half the Saiyan's own Power Level.
Scoffing, Amara simply hung around near the entrance gate, leaning against the back wall as the announcer had begun to explain the rules. The look which came over the Saiyan's face could only be described as incredulous. Ignoring the filler words, the tournament boiled down to a simple free-for-all. So... at least that meant things would be going faster? All she had to do is play defensively and let the other idiots wear themselves out, and then claim the victory for easy money.
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Sensoa
Archived
ARCHIVED - NG+ XP/PL TRANSFERRED TO DOREI
PL: 180,000
Lotus Seal (x2P) Ouroboros Seal (x4P) Final Seal (x11P) Anger Incarnate (x18T) Demon Spirit (x22P)
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Post by Sensoa on Sept 26, 2019 10:16:46 GMT -6
An event was being held in the middle of town, some strange gathering of Martial artists. A place were fighters gathered was something Sensoa could not ignore, yet the last time he went there he had... hurt people. He didn't mean lasting harm, but he had indeed done sufficient damage to the Dojo and the students. Yet now the demon had learned quite a lot from his experience. Now with the introduction of a sudden tournament, the demon found himself interested in who would be attending. He doubted Saizomaru would show up, or any of the star goons... Which was a shame as he wanted to test his might against them.
The demon stood on the side walk just outside the convention center, his disguise was a different one from the usual get up. He wore a suit and red tie. His hair was long and wispy, but had a healthy lush to it despite that overall look. His visage was that of an older man, a mustache adorned his face and his green glowing eyes gave away he was not normal. He could never truly hide his shape shifting completely, but that mattered little when there was literal dog people walking around.
The demon was about to enter when the woman he had seen in the desert suddenly appeared at the entrance, his mood souring already... but at least she was present for the fight, or at least he hoped. If she started whining again he would just instantly remove her if she persisted. The demon walked into the convention center, his eyes looking at Amara as he passed by, but otherwise didn't say anything. He was searching for high power levels and he had to admit he was excited. How could he not be?! It was a tournament for Martial artists, so as he neared the desk and as if the other fighters could feel his desire for battle, it oozed from him.
Sensoa slowly wrote his name down, a fun little test for the demon as he wrote down Sensoa Ghoun. The man at the desk's face paled at first when he saw the name, and he looked like he would die of fear at first, but soon that died away. It was clear he wasn't a big white haired demon with three heads, so the man at the desk made a simple joke about how Sensoa was just acting big calling himself the demon who tried to conquer the world. A few warriors giving a laugh, while some nervous laughed at the idea. It wasn't until Sensoa gave a toothy grin that the receptionist stopped laughing and before the others could catch on Sensoa went back to his blank faced stare.
After that small awkward silence, the receptionist would point to the direction of the arena and Sensoa would wave dismissively with one hand. He knew of the general rules and would need to becareful to not hurt others but he didn't want to hold back to much. That wouldn't be any fun, and so the demon's green eyes began to scan the audience and the warriors alike. He couldn't sense anyone even remotely his strength, and it urked him considerably. Just what he needed, another tournament with nothing but weaklings involved.
"Tch... I really need to stop showing up to this sort of shit. A waste of my gods damn time... ugh... Might as well stay then and see what it has to offer."
Sensoa said stuffing his hands into his suit pants pockets and cranking his neck so it popped. Just the sort of bullshit day he expected from this world, and for some gods damn reason he couldn't just leave. This damn world was to relaxing for its own good and he hated that... but loved it too. It was then that the demon noticed someone rather odd, and it wasn't because he looked like some punk... He was a thrice damned ghost! How the hell did a dead man make it to a mortal tournament?! The demon soon made his way over to the ghost before tilting his head curiously.
"Oi... How are you here?"
Sensoa asked, knowing full well saying a ghost was here would just weird people out. After all, who would believe a ghost was here unless they truly knew he was dead. It was strange no one was looking at this punk any different.
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Post by Tebooleh on Sept 26, 2019 10:36:27 GMT -6
Tebooleh was later than Amara was to the signups, and less into the whole "PunchFest" vibe than Yogu was. He wasn't originally in South City for the tournament, after all. Instead, as he'd been doing quietly for a few weeks, he was investigating into where some of his people had wound up. There had been some rumors that a few had stayed in South City and found work there... but they had left before he arrived in search of them. It was a dead end.
But, while he was walking about, inwardly moping, he was hit in the face with something to take his mind off of this failure that spun out of another failure. Literally. He was literally hit in the face by a littered flyer advertising, in bright, garish colors and imagery, "PunchFest 2019". A convention for any and all martial artists that dared to pay the small entry fee. There was even an open tournament inside! With a cash prize awarded to the winner of the whole thing.
Well, Tebooleh had spent less than he thought he would on this little trip. There was enough in his budget to pay the entry fee, mill about, and then join the tournament. If he won, that was a little more money in his pocket for continuing his search and training. Or maybe buying a house. That would be nice... a home to himself. Clean and orderly. Maybe one of those capsule homes? They were portable AND self-sufficient, so he didn't need to worry about abandoning it when he moved to a new area.
Either way, he journeyed to the South City Convention Center... which was surrounded by throngs of martial artists. Even outside the center, there were people hawking discount wares, tickets to sold-out panels and events in the convention proper, and amateur-amateurs with no ki-training and only a few rec-center kickboxing classes under their belts... And no money. It was quite the sight. Luckily, with all of the aliens and Earthlings, his outfit and eyes didn't make him stand out.
Rather, his thawb (an ankle-length tunic with long, loose sleeves), keffiyeh (a headscarf that had been carefully wrapped around his neck and head, and under his chin), and sandals made him blend in among the men and women wearing power armor, regular armor, spandex jumpsuits, gis of every color, cushioned helmets and gloves, and suits and t-shirts and jeans and everything else. His olive skin wasn't nearly the strangest skin-tone, in fact he found many with the same coloration... plus people that were red or purple or bright glowing green. Some of the aliens had traits varying from tails to scorpion claws to six arms, as well, so a man with three eyes was nothing new.
It was a nice, not being an out-of-touch freak and bumpkin for once.
Once he was inside, it was more of the same. The only real difference was that there were panels and official merchandise stands, rather than the discount stuff outside. And everything was clearly labelled with signs and maps that were easy enough to navigate. It was no time at all before Tebooleh found the sign-up table and the waiting area for the tourney goers. By the time he got there, there was only one slot left after him. Or so the clerk said. The tri-clops simply shrugged and filled in the second-to-last slot while thanking his good luck.
Then he went inside, while extending his senses to size up the various opponents. One was ABSURDLY higher than everyone around, and his aura felt... wrong. Almost like that one boy's had when the strange transformation had overcome him. What was his name? Yogu? Yes, Yogu! He idly wondered how the boy was doing, he'd seemed to be slightly out-of-control, and he'd heard something about a fight atop a place called "The Lookout" from Nashi.
Oh, there he was. Yogu was actually being bugged by the man with the strange aura. And he seemed much better! Though, his aura was somehow removed and distant. And he felt FAR weaker than he had before... no, no. His ki was just... constrained. Made smaller. There was more hiding deep down, behind lock and key.
Tebooleh flashed the kid a wave and a nod, leaving him to his conversation. He didn't want to interrupt. Just to be safe, though, he stayed nearby. Which also let him get a side-glance at the other high power level around. A woman with scars, muscles, an armored jumpsuit, and a tail. A Saiyan. While her power was not as great as his own, she was close. Close enough to actually give a challenge without easily crushing him underfoot. He kept his senses on her while he prepared himself for the coming free-for-all.
This involved stripping off his headscarf and thawb, folding them up and leaving them with a backpack that he'd been wearing on his way in, and then sitting down to meditate. He got a few whispers and glances from some of the nearby fighters, due to the nasty scar on his left side... Which looked like a pair of giant fangs had sunk in and through his shoulder and chest, before a chainsaw went grinding through the flesh. But it wasn't the most gruesome of injuries around, so he was mostly left alone.
Nothing to do but wait...
Thread PL: 50,000
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Post by Tarch on Sept 26, 2019 18:23:17 GMT -6
Tarch PL: 160,000. Energy Setting: 20,000
After being stuck on Namek for so long, and then almost immediately grounded for running away, it was nice to finally walk around South City with no life or death struggles. Tarch truly was home again. He passed by all the familiar faces he came to know from living in the Southern Tropics. Of course, most people were just concerned with the nasty scar cutting through his discolored but otherwise perfectly healthy left eye. That and the piece of armor strapped firmly to his right arm. It was almost comically amazing that he was still feeling the effects of the West City attack to this day. Luckily one of the sandwich shop owners he knew had something besides his injuries to talk about. Apparently it was PunchFest already!
In the past Tarch had been too young to enter or even attend the festival on his own. Now at fourteen years of age, he still was. But he wasn’t about to let his day of freedom be ruined by something so trivial as age. So he happily skipped across town and into the South City Convention Center.
Already he was stunned. Among the minuscule to nearly absent power levels, Tarch could pick out four energies way higher than the rest. One was a complete mystery. The other he swore he sensed only a week ago. Another one was vaguely familiar. But it was the largest one that caused his heart to sink.
“M-Mr. Sensoa?” he breathed. Tarch stood on his tiptoes, trying to pick out what should have been an easily identifiable demon. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. Was he imagining things? The hybrid could swear he could sense him. There was that unforgettable trace of pure rage in the air. Maybe he was mistaken though. A demon like him would stick out like a sore thumb. Tarch went to sign up, letting the held breath finally escape. As he signed up for the main event, he saw the name itself. So he is here.
But he’s here to cut loose right? No reason to worry right? Right? Tarch shook his head. He trusted Mr. Sensoa. He was able to talk him down once and that was when he was actually on a rampage. Everyone here was clearly enjoying themselves. So he probably was too. For now, he would relax, opting instead to search out the other higher power levels in the area.
The first he found was an older saiyan woman. From the back, she actually looked a little like Kohlra with shorter hair. Did mom cut her hair? Even if she did, that wasn’t her armor. Tarch figured he could say hello. From the front it was clear this woman definitely was not Kohlra. Looked nothing like her from the front really.
“Hi, there! Are you signed up for the…” Oh crap! She did look familiar though. That was the woman from the Hetap factory. He knew he sensed that energy before! What was he supposed to do now? He was disguised though right? Even turned his hair blonde. There was no way she would recognize him. Even if she did, it wasn’t like she was all that opposed to what he did when he masqueraded as the villainous Zone. Tarch just didn’t want to keep that “evil” branding. “Aha, Sorry. You just looked like someone I met before. So anyway are you uh sighed up for the PunchFest?”
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