Take the hit Green Skin [Closed: Namorel]

Feeling his momentum pulled to a halt as the Changeling grabbed his leg, Namorel would grin for a moment and let himself be thrown aside, using his ki to push himself back to the arena below him with a soft, slow slide. His eyes would lock unto the lizard like being as he moved some distance away, his movements almost unsettling to the Namekian as he seemed to squirm like a snake in some manner or another.

The fight was already rearing to be an interesting one. Sickle seeming to dip back into the attitude of madness that he was in when the Namekian arrived on the scene. His actions and words far harsher than they were prior to this moment. This constant shifting of his almost too funny to not laugh at as the Namekian stifled a chuckle. Taking his stance once more, he bent his knee and launched himself at the Changeling, kicking off to the right only feet from Sickle. From this change of direction he would bring his knee up, riding the momentum of his movements into the limb to strike the lizard man in the gut.

Regardless of the success of his impact, Namorel was just happy to be getting some proper combat training in with his weights on after all, they only offered so much exercise when he trained independently.

Little more than a soft laugh and a smirk would rise from the Namekian as he watched the Changeling take the hit, launched into the air above the stadium with what appeared to be a bit of ease. What he was not expecting however was the damage to the lizard man's armour, Namorel had assumed that was part of his dony and he knew for a fact he had not put his absolute full force into that strike so something much be up with Sickle's armour.

"Are... are you going to need that?", Namorel would ask with confusion at the shattered armour that found its way into what seemed like a hundred or more non-descript pieces on the arena floor. Shrugging it off moments later, the Namekian would watch as the Changeling shot himself at Namorel. Seeing an opportunity here, Namorel would grab Sickle's horns, using his own momentum against him, spinning in circles, his arms extending little by little until he sling shot the lizard man into the arena seating nearby, pulling his arms back into his body and grinning at the attack. He would take a moment to steady himself ans wait for Sickle to react, he hands once more moving to his back and his feet planted gently on the ground.

Namorel couldn't help but laugh at the Changeling as he impacted with the nearby seating of the arena, shrapnel launching itself in every direction as chairs and what not were destroyed under the velocity of the lizard man the Namekian has sent flying into the location not moments before. The Namekian would not move much from where he stood as he waited for the Changeling to recover, his hands tucked behind his hand and his feet inches off the ground in waiting.

Sickle seemed enraged as he rose back to his feet, this made the Namekian grin some at the fact. A soft, sardonic laugh erupted from the Namekian as he steadied himself for an incoming strike from the Changeling opponent. Accepting the first few punches, Namorel steadied himself after every physical impact and waited patiently for his opening, as he saw a waver in the mad Changeling's motions he lifted a knee to block a strike and follow up with a swift roundhouse kick to the Changeling's torso. Whether this impact did much or not, Namorel would jump back from the opponent and land flat on his feet, steadying himself and closing his eyes, focusing on Sickle's ki and tracking its every motion. and hoping for a chance.

As he waited he thought over how the fight was turning out, the Changeling seemed to lack form in some capacity, almost berserking, even when there was an inkling of reason in his actions, was this how those Saiyans like Scallio acted when they triggered their hidden ability Ayumu had made him aware of? If so Namorel was not so sure he could easily handle one without some sort of means to counter their rage and onslaught, especially if a lizard man without the boost was giving him trouble with his actions.

Of all the things Namorel was expecting from the Changeling... what he got to witness was not among them. The being would proceed to expand rapidly after the Namekian's kick landed on his body. Every part of the lizard man's expanding in one way or another, in an almost monstrous like manner really. It was truly a sight to behold nonetheless and distracted Namorel for a moment, a moment just long enough for Sickle to get a hold of the Namekian's leg.

With a hefty swing, Namorel would be flung aside and struck in the torso by the larger Changeling's fist, launching him across the arena with sublime ease. Moving in the air in hopes to capture his own momentum. It would take a moment, but with an ease of his heels he struck the stone surface of the arena and pulled himself into a stable stance, claws dragging painfully across the arena stage, leaving him mere inches from the arena edge gasping for a moment.

"So you can force yourself to get bigger too? I guess I should make this fight more fair then?", Namorel spoke as he pulled himself back into position, bringing his hands up as his feet were not cutting it in this fight alone. His right hand sat hooked at his torso, clawed fingers aimed at the Changeling as his left hand sat balled up and bent to his wist line. With a subtle rumble and a grin he would shout, his body expanding in mass as an additional foot and a half was added to his height and his muscle mass more than doubled across his entire body.

"This is a Great Namekian, I hope you can still keep up.", the Namekian grinned as he steadied his newfound weight for a moment. After a quick check of himself he would launch all his weight at the Changeling at once, bringing his fist down to slam Sickle into the arena, in which case he would follow up with a sweeping kick whether his strike landed or not. All the while his focus was on the lizard man, tracing his ki without halting so he wouldn't lose track of him.

Namorel
Namekian
PL: 26,107
Trans:
N/A
PL: N/A
WC: N/A
WC: 364
TWC: 1,570
Active:
Heavy Weights [75%] PL: 6,527

A solid impact, this was what Namorel was hoping for. Crushing the Changeling under his expanded fist, he would feel the ripple of the impact in his very core, almost as gratifying as it was sickening. Knowing full well his follow up was going to be as successful as he hoped he grinned as the lizard man was forced into the solid slate floor of the arena.

The sweep of his leg struck, and it struck hard against the Changeling, rupturing something inside the being as he would quickly begin to cough up what appeared to be some degree of blood, however it came in two colors? Peculiar to say the very least... and that was indeed the very least. It would take Namorel a bit to realize what the crushing sound was as his leg impacted with the Changeling's side, the sickening crunch not unlike that which he inflicted on the rabbit some days ago, he broke something.

The kiai would catch the Namekian off guard, launching him back some, his back racing against the shattering arena floor as he struggled to regain his balance. His increased volume did not make this east in the slightest. His eyes were on Sickle though, watching the Changeling take a moment to recover himself, some sort of biological mask covering his mouth... perhaps he was preparing himself for combat proper?

Once more, Namorel would catch himself at the edge of the stage, grasping the slated edge with his claws and using his own momentum to throw himself to his feet, aligning his hands and arms once more, spreading his feet to a yard length berth and watching Sickle carefully.

The Changeling would speak, curious as to why the Namekian wouldn't abuse his own powers for a greater conquest and suppresses himself as he does to the deeds of one who is less inclined to mayhem. "What good would come from that? There is more to gain from going about it as I do than waiting impatiently as others bide their time to retaliate against you.", Namorel replied with a grin, twisting his right foot as he finished his reply and shot himself forwards towards the Changeling once more.

As he closed in, he would duck into his movement, his target to strike at the being's lower left torso and impair his gut. Regardless of the success of this, he would follow through with a rolling strike, right arm closing in for a jab on the mid upper torso and body twisting to accommodate this strike.

It was a move he had witnessed while watching some humans fight, he could never remember the name, but it was some sort of 'Roll' technique. From what he gathered, those who were capable of mastering the technique could carry on a combo with it that seemed almost never ending, Namorel was unsure if he could pull that miracle off, but there was always room to give it a shot, no?

Namorel
Namekian
PL: 26,107
Trans:
N/A
PL: N/A
WC: N/A
WC: 494
TWC: 2,064
Active:
Heavy Weights [75%] PL: 6,527