4th Dead Foe [Action] Later tonight
[Long, long ago when he first arrived on Earth, Ch’rell had no means of transportation nor any way to blend in with the humans. So for almost a year he spent most of his time scuttling out of the way of the humans, and watching them carefully. Most of what he witnessed had not impressed him, but that all changed when he first saw humans do battle with each other hand on hand. The moment he obtained his exosuit, and he mastered it to an acceptable degree, he began to learning the secrets to Martial Arts, and then of Ninjutsu. He quickly leaned that the strongest, the smartest, and the most violent have the best chance of surviving.
It is no surprise to him that he has survived on the planet Earth for almost a thousand years. Through the rise of the Samurai class, through the rise of Tokugawa Shogunate, and through the wars that had almost destroyed Japan. Ch’rell took advantage of every opportunity this pathetic mudball gave him, and used that advantage to gain even greater power and influence.
Now, Oroku Saki stands in the middle of a darkened forest clearing with his eyes closed, his shirt is off and is neatly folded at the base of a tree nearby. He is heavily bandaged from hips to chest, though he does not give any clear sign of injury. The only light given to him is the light the feeble stars provides. For the longest moments he merely stands there, his feet set firmly apart and his arms hanging loosely by his side. The wind blows through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle, and finally the man moves, slowly at first, into a Kata he created himself centuries ago. He flows smoothly from one form to another, making full use of the body given to him. His punches and kicks stop at exactly the point he wants them to, and his left arm in particular seems more prone to sweeping and stabbing gestures. Though elegant, his kata is more focused on power, strength, and efficiency.
He appears to be focusing on his movements, but his mind is somewhere else. One thousand years is no small amount of time, even for Utroms. He has spent most of his life on Earth, and in the company of humans of varying levels of competence. Not being among his own kind has stopped bothering him so many earth years before being stranded on Earth. He has give up that right through his actions, and he does not mourn it. Ch’rell has never found the company of fellow Utroms particularly stimulating. Their instance of upholding the peace and justice in their part of the galaxy disgusts him. What point is there in having power, if you do not use it to obtain more? What good is upholding peace when peace is nothing more than a feeble illusion?
“Abomination”
The Utroms had not cared for his views on the matter. Their first mistake is letting him go unchecked despite their knowing what his views were. Soft hearted fools, his race is full of them. They have paid for their foolishness however, and they paid for it dearly. ]
It is no surprise to him that he has survived on the planet Earth for almost a thousand years. Through the rise of the Samurai class, through the rise of Tokugawa Shogunate, and through the wars that had almost destroyed Japan. Ch’rell took advantage of every opportunity this pathetic mudball gave him, and used that advantage to gain even greater power and influence.
Now, Oroku Saki stands in the middle of a darkened forest clearing with his eyes closed, his shirt is off and is neatly folded at the base of a tree nearby. He is heavily bandaged from hips to chest, though he does not give any clear sign of injury. The only light given to him is the light the feeble stars provides. For the longest moments he merely stands there, his feet set firmly apart and his arms hanging loosely by his side. The wind blows through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle, and finally the man moves, slowly at first, into a Kata he created himself centuries ago. He flows smoothly from one form to another, making full use of the body given to him. His punches and kicks stop at exactly the point he wants them to, and his left arm in particular seems more prone to sweeping and stabbing gestures. Though elegant, his kata is more focused on power, strength, and efficiency.
He appears to be focusing on his movements, but his mind is somewhere else. One thousand years is no small amount of time, even for Utroms. He has spent most of his life on Earth, and in the company of humans of varying levels of competence. Not being among his own kind has stopped bothering him so many earth years before being stranded on Earth. He has give up that right through his actions, and he does not mourn it. Ch’rell has never found the company of fellow Utroms particularly stimulating. Their instance of upholding the peace and justice in their part of the galaxy disgusts him. What point is there in having power, if you do not use it to obtain more? What good is upholding peace when peace is nothing more than a feeble illusion?
“Abomination”
The Utroms had not cared for his views on the matter. Their first mistake is letting him go unchecked despite their knowing what his views were. Soft hearted fools, his race is full of them. They have paid for their foolishness however, and they paid for it dearly. ]