by Genkumaru Tue Jul 07, 2020 2:03 amGen wasn't himself anymore and hadn't been for a good moment. The anger and violence brewing inside him was dangerous and explosive. He was the living embodiment of his KKG and was relishing in it at the moment. He had arrived at the Champion's isle several weeks prior and had begun embroiling himself in the underground fighting arena, taking fights in the blood arena as it was called. It was a place where all jutsu was forbidden and halted through the use of unique fuuinjutsu seals. It meant that anything that manipulated chakra within ones system was negated. This was the foundation on its rules, as everything after that was permitted. It was a dark and honor less place full of cage fighters and death. Gen had won several fights already as he threw himself into the fold of this world completely, running from the life he had to simply be what they had taken to calling him, Akaoni - the red horned demon.
His clothing was tattered and unkempt, his hair and facial hair unkempt and over grown, its crimson locks cascading around his face. He had forgotten himself as he went from one fight to the next with barely a moment to recover or eat. His body emblazoned with bruises and scars now, as he clearly took as much as he gave to others. A fierceness in his eyes that was bestial and would have made his adoptive brother proud. He had no care for what harm he did to others int his place as they were all criminals and scum, people who he could fully unleash on and punish, channeling his undying fury for a s long as he wanted or still breathed. Genkumaru would seem all but lost to those that knew him before in his current state.
The underground arena was lit every ten feet by torches and revealed a large amphitheater room with a ten meter diameter octagon in the center. Seedy men and women from all over the world had gathered around the arena to place bets and watch the blood sport going on. Each death or knock out, or gruesome dismemberment met with glee and cheers! Drugs, alcohol, prostitutes you name it, could all be found being indulged on in this shadow arena. The glorious honor bound tournament grounds above would seem like a distant fairy tale to anyhow who laid eyes or feet upon the grounds of the Blood Arena! It was here that Gen waited along the rows of benches flanking the backside of the amphitheater, with all of the other competitors waiting to get there turn in the octagon. He had a tattered hoodie with the sleeves torn off that had the hood drawn over his face, further obfuscating him from any who may know him from his previous life.
His clothing was tattered and unkempt, his hair and facial hair unkempt and over grown, its crimson locks cascading around his face. He had forgotten himself as he went from one fight to the next with barely a moment to recover or eat. His body emblazoned with bruises and scars now, as he clearly took as much as he gave to others. A fierceness in his eyes that was bestial and would have made his adoptive brother proud. He had no care for what harm he did to others int his place as they were all criminals and scum, people who he could fully unleash on and punish, channeling his undying fury for a s long as he wanted or still breathed. Genkumaru would seem all but lost to those that knew him before in his current state.
The underground arena was lit every ten feet by torches and revealed a large amphitheater room with a ten meter diameter octagon in the center. Seedy men and women from all over the world had gathered around the arena to place bets and watch the blood sport going on. Each death or knock out, or gruesome dismemberment met with glee and cheers! Drugs, alcohol, prostitutes you name it, could all be found being indulged on in this shadow arena. The glorious honor bound tournament grounds above would seem like a distant fairy tale to anyhow who laid eyes or feet upon the grounds of the Blood Arena! It was here that Gen waited along the rows of benches flanking the backside of the amphitheater, with all of the other competitors waiting to get there turn in the octagon. He had a tattered hoodie with the sleeves torn off that had the hood drawn over his face, further obfuscating him from any who may know him from his previous life.
