That's certainly something he's very good at, though he didn't much enjoy the fact, it was going to get him murdered one day. "This place?"
The flashes of lightning didn't really show much worth ruining, it looked pretty bleak already. "There's not much here." The bridge?? Even this skinny guy can break a rope bridge surely!
Broly is probably not one of the brighter bulbs chosen for this hay ride.
... Maybe it's not the weather. Maybe it's the language itself. Whatever this being is, perhaps galactic standard is difficult for it. But some unacknowledged level of tension bleeds out when destroying everything doesn't seem to be what this thing wants.
"If speech is hard, would writing be easier?"
In this darkness?! But ruin without the destruction part was just chaos. He crosses his arms over his chest, the driving rain a mostly-ignored irritant, frowning. Chaos. Ruin. He could, but.. "I've been trying to avoid doing things that'll get me horribly killed by heros lately." And he's TERRIBLE AT IT, but hey trying. "Is doing what you want going to get me horribly killed by heros?"
".. If I can't trust you on it, why would I trust some other stranger?" Broly sounds awfully bewildered in the dark.
Besides, he has no companions, and the closest thing he has to a friend (and that was dubious) was his father. Broly's just .. not going to be terribly cooperative if it's going to mean happily strolling down the same path he's decided to try to avoid.
It might be different once he had proof of this reviving thing. "Unless one of them is willing to die to prove it."
"It's your claim, I don't have to test it. It's on you to prove it." And until then.. "If you can't or won't, I'd like to be on my way." There was a planet to finish setting up for the arrival of Vegeta!
That would be the moment lightning strikes him, a bolt centered directly on the scar over his breastbone. The world goes white, then black.
For the next forty-eight nightmarish hours, he will wake occasionally, nerves throbbing, hanging in the darkness from an engulfing web of slime that crawls over him, restoring him enough for his own regenerative abilities to kick in. When they do, he'll be coughed up promptly into the wooden horse Liminal Space, still trailing the odd tendril of milky ooze.
That hurts. Had the electricity not simply charred away most of what it struck, that particular point is still terribly weak in comparison to the rest of him and would have split and ruptured anyway. Broly doesn't really have time to react beyond a strangled gasp. A moment of searing pain, the clap of thunder never heard at all before blinding brilliance is replaced by utter blackness.
The darkness doesn't go away for a long time. Nor does the pain, which he's only aware of in brief unpleasant surges of consciousness, the first time unable to draw air in to even breathe never mind scream. He's not a good patient, he struggles when he's able but it's not going to get him anywhere beyond a brief swipe of web-slimed hand that tells him there is a hole through his person where there shouldn't be. He'll remember it, later, but right now is just pain. Being able to feel flesh and bone knitting back together, lungs and heart and more mending and regrowing bit by bit is not at all a welcome sensation.
It still hurts when utter blackness and nauseating webbing is traded for hardwood floor and lighting that is by comparison terribly bright--
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The flashes of lightning didn't really show much worth ruining, it looked pretty bleak already. "There's not much here." The bridge?? Even this skinny guy can break a rope bridge surely!
Broly is probably not one of the brighter bulbs chosen for this hay ride.
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"NOT Destroy. up-end."
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"If speech is hard, would writing be easier?"
In this darkness?! But ruin without the destruction part was just chaos. He crosses his arms over his chest, the driving rain a mostly-ignored irritant, frowning. Chaos. Ruin. He could, but.. "I've been trying to avoid doing things that'll get me horribly killed by heros lately." And he's TERRIBLE AT IT, but hey trying. "Is doing what you want going to get me horribly killed by heros?"
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"NOT permanently."
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Death is pretty permanent as far as Broly's aware. People don't just come back from the dead.
Unless there's dragonballs involved but he doesn't know about those.
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"I'd like proof of that. It's not something you can just trust someone's word on."
Wait why was he even considering it? That was definitely not what he'd been setting out to try to do lately.
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Besides, he has no companions, and the closest thing he has to a friend (and that was dubious) was his father. Broly's just .. not going to be terribly cooperative if it's going to mean happily strolling down the same path he's decided to try to avoid.
It might be different once he had proof of this reviving thing. "Unless one of them is willing to die to prove it."
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"It's your claim, I don't have to test it. It's on you to prove it." And until then.. "If you can't or won't, I'd like to be on my way." There was a planet to finish setting up for the arrival of Vegeta!
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For the next forty-eight nightmarish hours, he will wake occasionally, nerves throbbing, hanging in the darkness from an engulfing web of slime that crawls over him, restoring him enough for his own regenerative abilities to kick in. When they do, he'll be coughed up promptly into the wooden horse Liminal Space, still trailing the odd tendril of milky ooze.
Y'know I don't have an icon for this.
The darkness doesn't go away for a long time. Nor does the pain, which he's only aware of in brief unpleasant surges of consciousness, the first time unable to draw air in to even breathe never mind scream. He's not a good patient, he struggles when he's able but it's not going to get him anywhere beyond a brief swipe of web-slimed hand that tells him there is a hole through his person where there shouldn't be. He'll remember it, later, but right now is just pain. Being able to feel flesh and bone knitting back together, lungs and heart and more mending and regrowing bit by bit is not at all a welcome sensation.
It still hurts when utter blackness and nauseating webbing is traded for hardwood floor and lighting that is by comparison terribly bright--