Damaged and beaten the namekian laid on the ground, his arm hanging on by a few torn muscles. his purple blood pouring from the wound. As the clouds flow by the namekian would attempt to push himself up with his good arm. Barely managing to get himself upright he would clench quickly on his left arm as the blood squirted from the wound. Grunting in pain he slowly forced his body to stand as he reached up on his shoulder, shouting in pain as he clenched down. The namekian would begin to pull as hard as possible popping and cracking the bones and muscles within the arm. As it gave one final pop ripping the arm from the socket he would fall to his knees again, blood splattered across his chest and the ground. He would look down at his mangled arm lying on the ground. As he tried to catch his breath he would begin to pant, breathing even heavier than before shouting out in pain as blood shot from his open gash, shooting out of it a brand new arm covered in his purple goo blood. He would place it on the ground grasping the dirt with his newly made arm. The green namekian would push himself up with the arm as he stood to his feet, still sweating, still panting he would begin to wipe the blood away and get himself ready to continue the fight for his life.