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 Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 12:19 pm
arrow The Gym Welcome to the training area of the stadium.
Down the stairs and to your right.
We've got everything here to test your might...from physical body strength to endurance.
Free weights...and machines for you pussies who like pulleys.
Treadmills, an actual running track that goes all the way around the colosseum (try not to run into innocent bystanders or tourists purchasing merchandise, although most of the people here oughtta be able to hold their own), and a dojo (with assorted weapons lining the walls) for you guys who like to spar.
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 5:42 pm
There was a grunt...and then a stomping. A small tremor quaked the gym. what was this abomination?
"...cookies..." snarled a hoarse, and yet squeaky voice...
"...COOKIES..."Again came that monsterous battle cry. What was this monster, and why was it yelling out...for cookies...
And there was another tremor, followed by a bang.
Then silence...
"...COOKIES!!!" And with a wild roar, a giant blue and hairy monster ran into the gym, smashing through a wall with its giangantic muscular arms outsretched. It was...the cookie monster!
""ROAAAAAAAAR!!!"The cookie monster, in all his fury, began to eat cookies from a blue pouch...
((This good, Clash? o.o))
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 5:48 pm
Head thumping...wrapped in bandages...barely able to see from his swollen right eye.
In the burning heart...just about toooo burst....
Creeeak, slip, scuffle. On went his track jacket, quickly followed by a pair of gym shorts and cleats.
There's a quest for answers, an unquenchable thiii-iiirst!
Clatter, skifff! The locker door slammed shut, even as he popped a cigarette into his mouth and burst outside at full sprint. Both feet flew in rhythmic motion....
In the darkest night...RISING LIKE A SPIII-YAAARE!
He cupped his hands about the ember flaring up at the tip of his cig, flicked the tarnished brass lighter shut, and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Hah....
"Hah....
"Hah...."
He pumped his tape-wrapped fists...his breath visible in the night as the temperature dropped...and the laps about the colosseum began.
IN THE BURNING HEART, THE UNMISTAKABLE FIRE...IN THE BURNING HEART!
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 6:01 pm
The cookie monster ran through the gym, running through the other wall in his tyrant dash, crushing a fairly large dumbbell in the process underneath his giant foot. Now at the track, the cookie monster ran with incredable speed, around 100 MPH (meaning double the speed of a normal human), quaking the ground with a rythum of BUM...BUM...'s.
"WRAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!! ME WANT COOKIES!!!!!" the monster yelled out, eyeing the man sprinting across the track. The cookie monster would catch up to the man within a few minutes, set on eating him. Whole. Bits of white debree from the main building fell off of him as well..
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:11 pm
"Oh, s**t."
He continued to accelerate, kicking it into high gear as he finished his lap about the stadium, leaving a residue of missing hats, unkempt hairdos, upturned skirts, and chocolate chips before he burst into the gym and skidded to a smoky halt.
"Hey, anybody! I'm coolin' down. How about a quick spar!?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:16 pm
Suddenly, for seemingly no reason, the gym door was busted off it's damn hinges.
"KIDDICK. HEADS!"
Should he look up, he'd see a near-indestructible baseball bat flying towards him, followed by a charaching Kid, in plain clothes, with a hulkin grin on his face, fists raised to serve some knuckle sandwiches.
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:25 pm
"!"
He quickly ducked the object careening toward him, feeling it graze the top of his head and swipe a few hairs in the process. As the punches came in, assuming they did, he responded by blocking and throwing his own jabbing blasts in tune with those of Kid's. So fast they moved that to the trained eye, maybe the Saiyan eye, all that would be witnessed was a flurry of exchanged fists with a few odd kicks thrown in here and there. And to the untrained eye...merely the two standing there, looking at each other...until Clash's posture relaxed, his form glistening with sweat before he wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve.
"A warm muscle's a strong muscle! Thanks, Kid! ^^"
Incidentally, he didn't even know this guy's name was Kid yet...but what he said worked either way.
With that, he stripped off his jacket and whipped off his cleats, throwing on some sneakers, donning a sweat-stained white tee in the abdominal and pit areas, and dashed over to the barbell with some big weights on the ends.
Pump....
"Hff."
Pump-!
"Hsssh!"
PUMP!
"Haaah!"
The sweat dripped...his biceps and forearms flexed...and a big grin plastered itself to his face.
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:39 pm
Kid wiped his brow, fetching a towl to hang about his neck. He wrung his shirt out, grabbed a shower, stole an identical shirt, aand fetched his weapon. He chuckled, admiring the dent it had left.
"Well, no weights for me, but good spar. See you when I see you."
On his way out, he delivered a roundhouse kick to the nearest punching bag, shouting,
"CHUCK NORRIS!"
With that, he left.
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:45 pm
After getting his workout in with some other free weights, he went over to the punching bag Kid had already softened up and went to work on it with some combos.
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Posted: Wed Jun 21, 2006 9:10 am
Bjakon walked into the gym and spotted the puching bags. He pulled out his sticks and began praticing strikes on it. He stroke his staff of the top of the bag breaking it apart. "These people need stronger bags." He was quike change of his weapons.
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 1:24 am
After entering, and walking around the complex, he gave a nod, returning to the gym so he'd be able to get a good training session in. The Arena wasn't his thing yet. He'd keep most of his powers to himself, but he could use a good amount of a workout to keep him and his body finely tuned.
Nothing too heavy, or too hard. After all, he'd be up eventually, and he was already in prime shape.
With a shrug, he looked for a locker, needing a place to stash his weapons in the meantime. Kinda hard to benchpress when you have a 7" gun barrel poking you right in the a*****e.
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 1:29 am
This was Mooo's first time in the tournament complex--he'd received the invitation and mailed back his entry form, but he figured it was finally time for him to check out the facilities. He'd jogged here, and to the gym--he wasn't in his regular clothes, but rather black jogging pants with a white trackstripe, strong-soled tennis shoes, and a plain white tank-top in place of the usual plain white t-shirt, a towel hanging on his neck, his long hair hanging behind him.
Rolling his shoulder as he entered the gym, Mooo glanced around, not finding anybody as of yet, making his way toward the sparring circle--smart move--located near the back of the main room. Nice to see that they catered to all styles and didn't just throw in a standard 36 square meter ring.
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 1:39 am
He sung to himself softly, closing his items in the locker and simply locking it by just freezing the inside of the locking mechanism.
When we wore a heart of stone, we wandered to the sea
Hoping to find some comfort there, yearning to feel free
And we were mesmerized by the lull of the night
And the smells that filled the air
And we layed us down on sandy ground. It was cold, but we didn't care
Yes, we were drawn to the rhythm
Drawn into the rhythm of the sea
Yes, we were drawn to the rhythm
Drawn into the rhythm of the sea...
It was a pretty good song in his opinion. Even though he'd been trained to kill, it was always for a greater purpose. It was why he loathed magic. It made war simple for people, and lead to more death and problems than it could solve.
He engaged in his usual whiptrance, relaxing his body to the calm, battleready state of tensed relaxion, going through his calisthenics and streches.
It seemed that someone was staring at the training ring. And he was pretty ******** big, too.
"You as new here as I am, friend?" he asked, hand outstreched for a handshake.
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 1:46 am
He KNEW that damn song! Or at least it sounded familiar... as the sound drew closer, Mooo poked around the not-so-empty gym, looking for some kind of hand protection so he could go and hit the heavy bags safely--and came across two pairs of sixteen-ounce sparring gloves.
His attention was drawn by the person who'd been singing, a trim-looking guy of average size who was offering a handshake and a smile.
"I'd say so," Mooo replied pleasantly to the man, taking the handshake and giving it a reasonable shake. "Say, I'm figuring you and me are the only people here. Care for a spar?" he offered, nodding to the sparring gloves he'd found on a bench at a corner of the sparring circle.
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 1:52 am
He chuckled at that.
"I'd be glad to. I hit pretty hard, but you look like you could take it. The name's Vernedead Wynn. Or, Wyvern, if you prefer." Wyvern replied evenly, noting the details of the man. He'd have him "marked" by now- speech tone, stance, everything he could find. Petit perception did him well.
"Although I must admit, I've never been much of a hand to hand fighter. So if you could give me any pointers, I'd be glad of that." he admitted. No harm in admitting it. He wasn't exactly a blademaster either, but he could hold his own in a fight.
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