![Newbie Guide](https://i.imgur.com/Uy7hIlu.png")
Post by Celerous on Aug 12, 2022 23:02:50 GMT -5
Ma had once told him that meditation was the key to discovering the truth within one's self. Celerous had found that odd, considering that he'd never seen Ma sit down and do it. In fact, she was a practical woman above all else, so to see her put stock in something so... spiritual was odd to say the least. But she'd insisted that it was the truth, and that spirituality was an important part of any would-be martial artist's training.
Well, Celerous was no martial artist. No really. He knew how to fight, but he'd initially been trained by a Saiyan father, who was far more focused on the physical aspects of fighting than the metaphysical. By the time he'd passed, Celerous was eleven, and his fighting style had been set in stone. He wasn't much more than a bare knuckles brawler, with the odd oriental style kick thrown in here and there. For a long time, that had been enough to hold his own. With his power having far surpassed both his mother's and his grandfather's, Celerous had never had any reason to think that his training was incomplete. Or that his fighting style was sloppy, or unsuited for him.
Then came Konats. Then came... whatever the hell was wrong with Dion. And Celerous was once again faced with a simple fact: that he didn't know nearly as much as he thought he did.
Celerous Fark was a farmer above all else. He knew how to throw a punch, and how to take one, but not how to fight. It was Kamae who taught him that, and Empress Ise herself. Power was nothing when your opponent was stronger than you, and if you couldn't fight worth a damn, you were doomed from the get go.
So Celerous had returned to Earth with a goal: to learn.
His first thought was to find Jackie. She'd offered him training, a short while back, and perhaps she could set him on the right path. But he'd failed to find her, despite going back to the Karinga Tribe. So then Celerous had looked into many of the martial arts dojos in the city, but those... those seemed like nothing more than cash grabs that taught very little.
So, finally, Celerous had turned to his mother. Ma had been a martial artist, back in her early days. She'd fought with him before, many times, and Celerous did understand the basics of her fighting style. Yet she'd refused to teach him, citing that she "didn't have the right to instruct anyone in the Dragon School style." Whatever that meant. She had, however, given him this idea to meditate. It was supposed to help him focus, and focus was a hallmark of any and all styles of martial arts.
But it was pretty boring.
Celerous was sat crosslegged, suspended in mid-air by his own ki. He hovered above the fence that lined his property, wearing nothing more than boots, denim jeans, and a white t-shirt. He probably looked like an idiot, or like a carnival display, considering his ability to fly. Regardless, he felt foolish, and like he wasn't getting anywhere. He wasn't even entirely sure of what he was supposed to do here, other than clear his mind.
A part of him wished for an interruption, if only to break the monotony of this exercise.
Well, Celerous was no martial artist. No really. He knew how to fight, but he'd initially been trained by a Saiyan father, who was far more focused on the physical aspects of fighting than the metaphysical. By the time he'd passed, Celerous was eleven, and his fighting style had been set in stone. He wasn't much more than a bare knuckles brawler, with the odd oriental style kick thrown in here and there. For a long time, that had been enough to hold his own. With his power having far surpassed both his mother's and his grandfather's, Celerous had never had any reason to think that his training was incomplete. Or that his fighting style was sloppy, or unsuited for him.
Then came Konats. Then came... whatever the hell was wrong with Dion. And Celerous was once again faced with a simple fact: that he didn't know nearly as much as he thought he did.
Celerous Fark was a farmer above all else. He knew how to throw a punch, and how to take one, but not how to fight. It was Kamae who taught him that, and Empress Ise herself. Power was nothing when your opponent was stronger than you, and if you couldn't fight worth a damn, you were doomed from the get go.
So Celerous had returned to Earth with a goal: to learn.
His first thought was to find Jackie. She'd offered him training, a short while back, and perhaps she could set him on the right path. But he'd failed to find her, despite going back to the Karinga Tribe. So then Celerous had looked into many of the martial arts dojos in the city, but those... those seemed like nothing more than cash grabs that taught very little.
So, finally, Celerous had turned to his mother. Ma had been a martial artist, back in her early days. She'd fought with him before, many times, and Celerous did understand the basics of her fighting style. Yet she'd refused to teach him, citing that she "didn't have the right to instruct anyone in the Dragon School style." Whatever that meant. She had, however, given him this idea to meditate. It was supposed to help him focus, and focus was a hallmark of any and all styles of martial arts.
But it was pretty boring.
Celerous was sat crosslegged, suspended in mid-air by his own ki. He hovered above the fence that lined his property, wearing nothing more than boots, denim jeans, and a white t-shirt. He probably looked like an idiot, or like a carnival display, considering his ability to fly. Regardless, he felt foolish, and like he wasn't getting anywhere. He wasn't even entirely sure of what he was supposed to do here, other than clear his mind.
A part of him wished for an interruption, if only to break the monotony of this exercise.
PL: 30,000
WC: 560
TWC: 560
WC: 560
TWC: 560
