Byond Key: RedGrass
Character Name: Cerole (Casserole)
Race: Saiyan
Starting Planet: Vegeta
Alignment: Neutral Evil

Character Description: Cerole is a lean muscled Saiyan with thick, ridged eyebrows that seem almost ludicrous in density. Her eyes are a piercing black, filled with constant martial vigor and clear youth. A green jumpsuit covers the majority of her body. Her legs and arms weighted with the training gear of any worthy martial artist.

RP: Savagery, Slavery and/or Honor

Low gut, jaw, right pectoral, spin kick to the neck, and another ugly humanoid alien fell before Cerole’s bloody feet. She’d had to kill a lot of them today on her way to the grocery store, which was an unusual, and yet refreshing change of pace from the usual boredom in the slums of Vegeta. She didn’t know why everyone was fighting everyone, and she definitely didn’t care. War meant free groceries to fuel her boundless youth. Checking the dead alien’s pockets, Cerole found the currency she required for yet another month of constant training, pacing her way into the grocery store for her necessary protein.

A small skirmish between factions appeared to be going on, wasting Cerole’s time as she entered through the front doors. A stray blast flew narrowly past the bowl cutted martial artist, singing the lightest edges of her brow while tossing a coat of ash onto the back of her precious jumpsuit. Now it was personal. Leaping into action, Cerole lunged forth towards the nearest living combatant, thrust her foot forth into their abdomen in a violent blow that shattered ribs and punctured organs. Leaping up, she would swing her legs down at their gasping face, shattering the skull in a splash of gore as nearby fruit found themselves coated in warm blood.

“Who’s next?” A bandaged hand would extend forth from the jumpsuited warrior, issuing forth a challenge to warriors on both sides of the conflict. A large chested alien with a shining blade dashed forth in a burst of energy, coming inches from Cerole before the green suited woman’s heel crushed against the back of the giant’s neck, snapping it with a burst of kinetic force. Blasts began to fly at the martial artist in a flurry of energy, but Cerole was determined to get her groceries. Jumping upon three of the converging aliens, a sudden, ferocious kick twisted all three of their heads around like dolls as they collapsed in a bundle. The last combatant leapt forth from behind with a knife, seeking to end this large eyebrowed menace once and for all. Cerole’s palm strike thrusted forth through the alien’s abdomen, carving through tissue and bone alike and exiting out through the back, damping her white bandaged arms with red.
Soaked with blood, Cerole would grab a basket from the entrance, whistling a youthful tune. She wondered what she’d get for dinner tonight. Maybe juice.