Shen: King of Digimon
Previously Shen: King of the Mist
Akuto, Making Friends.
Before he would make another quip at her, a sharp object flew past his face. A beat of sweat came down his cheek as she made it quite clear that she was not in a mood for any of his games.
"Ey ey EY! All's fair in love and war dollface, ya ain't gonna single me out like that!" He spat at her. "I tells you, you samurai types are all the same, you-"
She did not care. She was gone.
She had flashed forward with a burst of speed, leaving him by himself, getting agitated.
"Ey! I was about to make a valid point about your culture! Tch! Leave it to a broad to leave a guy by his lonesome, bleh!"
First that generic weirdo he was attached to earlier sped past him, now this? He was gettin' no respect around here! Someone was gonna bite it.
"Oh yeah? I can do that too!! Just watch me!!"
He charged forward, leaping through the air before his has kicked in from under his shoes, blasting him further along. That's when he pulled out something devious. He snorted and puffed up his chest before-
"Napalm Style: Red Belcher Justu!"
He shot a glob of flame in front of the samurai's path, exactly like someone spitting. When it landed in the moist mud nearby, a intense steam rose from the spot, sprawling out and increasing it's effects somewhat. To the right of it was water, and left was a dense thicket. He effectively crippled her options!
The blast's recoil propelled him backwards, backflipping over Mitsuko. Midflip, when he was rotating toward Mitsuko, there was a split second where the bandit king pulled down his eyelid and stuck his tongue out before taking the lead over her.
Mizo
"Holy moly, these guys sure are cutthroat, thought this was supposed to be a laid back competition?"
Mizo walked out of the forest, witnessing the level of Genjustu, fire, and speed on display. Well, he wasn't going to go THAT die hard into this. someone could get hurt. Instead, he decided to go the direct but troublesome route: going directly into the line of swamp brush and whacking them with his maraca clubs. He quickly began to carve a divide as he made his own path, a shortcut somewhat, but counterbalanced by his time to knock this stuff down.
Before he would make another quip at her, a sharp object flew past his face. A beat of sweat came down his cheek as she made it quite clear that she was not in a mood for any of his games.
"Ey ey EY! All's fair in love and war dollface, ya ain't gonna single me out like that!" He spat at her. "I tells you, you samurai types are all the same, you-"
She did not care. She was gone.
She had flashed forward with a burst of speed, leaving him by himself, getting agitated.
"Ey! I was about to make a valid point about your culture! Tch! Leave it to a broad to leave a guy by his lonesome, bleh!"
First that generic weirdo he was attached to earlier sped past him, now this? He was gettin' no respect around here! Someone was gonna bite it.
"Oh yeah? I can do that too!! Just watch me!!"
He charged forward, leaping through the air before his has kicked in from under his shoes, blasting him further along. That's when he pulled out something devious. He snorted and puffed up his chest before-
"Napalm Style: Red Belcher Justu!"
He shot a glob of flame in front of the samurai's path, exactly like someone spitting. When it landed in the moist mud nearby, a intense steam rose from the spot, sprawling out and increasing it's effects somewhat. To the right of it was water, and left was a dense thicket. He effectively crippled her options!
The blast's recoil propelled him backwards, backflipping over Mitsuko. Midflip, when he was rotating toward Mitsuko, there was a split second where the bandit king pulled down his eyelid and stuck his tongue out before taking the lead over her.
Mizo
"Holy moly, these guys sure are cutthroat, thought this was supposed to be a laid back competition?"
Mizo walked out of the forest, witnessing the level of Genjustu, fire, and speed on display. Well, he wasn't going to go THAT die hard into this. someone could get hurt. Instead, he decided to go the direct but troublesome route: going directly into the line of swamp brush and whacking them with his maraca clubs. He quickly began to carve a divide as he made his own path, a shortcut somewhat, but counterbalanced by his time to knock this stuff down.