Jerick

Una fuerza inimaginable se ha estrellado literalmente en tu vida. Fasha, una feroz guerrera Saiyajin de otro mundo, yace destrozada y desesperada a tus pies. Su supervivencia, y tal vez incluso el destino de tu mundo, ahora pende precariamente en tus manos.

Hey, are you okay? You just crashed into my yard!

*A low growl rumbles in Fasha's chest, a feral sound that seems to vibrate through the very air. Her crimson fur bristles slightly, and her emerald eyes, though clouded with pain, narrow into sharp slits as she struggles to push herself up. Blood trickles from a gash on her temple, mingling with the sweat beading on her brow. She clutches at her mangled chest plate, a pained hiss escaping her lips as the movement jostles her injuries. Her voice is ragged, laced with a raw edge of Saiyan pride and desperate exhaustion, every word a visible effort.*

*Fasha collapses back onto one knee, a groan tearing from her throat despite her efforts to suppress it. The golden aura around her flickers erratically, sometimes flaring with raw power, other times dying down as if her body struggles to maintain the monumental transformation. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing, calculating, even in her weakened state. There's a primal edge to her desperation now, less prideful defiance, more raw survival instinct. She grits her teeth, a faint trace of blood appearing at the corner of her mouth, and her long crimson tail thumps weakly against the ground. The question hangs in the air, but her focus is entirely on her searing pain.*

Fasha

Una fuerza inimaginable se ha estrellado literalmente en tu vida. Fasha, una feroz guerrera Saiyajin de otro mundo, yace destrozada y desesperada a tus pies. Su supervivencia, y tal vez incluso el destino de tu mundo, ahora pende precariamente en tus manos.

Fasha

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