20Just a heads up. This is my first time writing Dragon Ball style combat, or in fact any kind of combat, so try not to expect anything terribly intricate. Right now I'm only capable of the basics. But practice and perfection and all that stuff.
Anyway, Thanks.
"Failed, n-no. Then that means?!..." His eyes scanned the ground for a rice cooker jar, then not finding one, jolted back up at Master Roshi's mocking chuckles. The old man was grinning with unabashed smugness.
"Ah-he-he-ho, no-no Piccolo; no Evil Containment Wave this time;" Roshi reassured, shaking his head mirthfully "No, this time I'm going to put you down the old fashion way."
The Demon King blinked then burst into maniacal laughter as the little worm before him dropped into a fighting stance "You?! Bwahahaha, you defeat me?! How brave, how deeply touching that you'd so willingly throw away your life in futile defiance, again! hahahaha…..but as you wish little fool. I'm going to draw this out just to hear you beg for sweet, merciful death." King Piccolo jeered, arrogantly not bothering to adopt any stance of his own.
They stood there for ten long seconds, staring one another down, neither so much as blinking nor twitching. The scene was so reminiscent of their previous encounter that Roshi almost believed he'd travelled back in time, except then he didn't have a pretty lady to impress.
Wait a minute….Impress, like a magic-man impresses a crowd.
"Old magician proverb; get the audience to focus on one hand while doing something with the other. But can something as devious and cunning as misdirection be summed up so simply? No; and this is no simple minded foemen. Yet I feel it will be enough. Yes, so long as common sense doesn't cloud his arrogant egotism." Roshi inwardly mused, readying himself to do what he should've done long ago.
Master Roshi summoned a small quantity of Ki, nothing exorbitant or overzealous, and channelled it into his fists now clenched angrily at his sides as he glowered balefully at Humanity's ancient bane. He remaining otherwise inactive however, feigning cowardice until he thought Daimao couldn't hack the tension anymore, and then, just as the Namek opened his mouth with some scathing rebuke loaded on his disgusting purple tongue, Roshi bellowed "I was deprived of ending you myself when last we faced each other, but destiny has gifted me a second chance, and I intent to use it; NOW!"
Master Roshi threw his white aura encased hands before him, taking a purposeful step forward. But just as the energy was about to leave his palms, he tripped on a rocky protrusion in the ground and his attack shot far too low to hit its seemingly intended target. Instead, it hammered into and shredded the ground's surface a dozen meters ahead of said target, kicking up a thick swirling cloud of blinding brown dust.
"BWAHAHAHAHA! Senile old fool. You can't even direct your attacks properly. But don't worry, allow me to demonstrate how it's done!" King Piccolo cackled, flying into the dust cloud, supremely confident as he emerged from its other side to see the old man standing exactly as he had been, an embarrassed look of humiliation and self-recrimination curving his moustache "Emotions soon to be replaced with blinding agony!" The Demon King mentally revelled as he blurred down on his hapless, confused victim, fist pulled back and thrown fourth to connect with….nothing.
The afterimage wavered, then flickered out before the wide eyed Demon King just in time for the descending figure of the real Master Roshi to land a devastating punch to his long time nemesis's forehead. As Old Piccolo staggered, Roshi landed with catlike grace, sprung up and delivered a shameless snap kick to the Namekian's chin, launching him backwards through the dust clotted air to land in a rolling heap over the unforgiving rocky ground. Piccolo raised his arms defensively, readying his eye beam attack for when the pest fell on him in the hopes of exploiting his momentary weakness for an easy victory. But nothing happened; no attack, no energy blasts….just, nothing.
Irritated, embarrassed, Daimao rose, looking around, seeing only the enduring dust cloud still swirling before him; then he understood. The wrinkled twit was back hiding on the other side of his smokescreen again "Well this time it won't work! You hear me?!" He crossed his arms then slashed them outwards like blades, creating a gust of wind that cleared the dust to reveal a similar afterimage of the old man, this one was poking out its tongue while pulling down the skin beneath one eye.
King Piccolo roared in fury, then instinctually he fired two white hot beams from his eyes into the air above him, except the old man wasn't there "What? But I sensed him, I know I did!" The Demon King took a breath "Hmm, maybe he isn't fool enough to attempt the same trick twice…"
His musings were cut short when the earth beneath his feet rumbled and shook. He staggered, too off balance to avoid the figure blurring out from the rocky ground that cracked open and exploded right beneath his feet. An absolutely savage uppercut took Daimao in the chin, sending him skywards toward the old bastard who was already descending from the peak of his upward trajectory, leg extended. Alas, Old Piccolo was simply too disoriented from the ground exploding under him to fend off the first heavy kick to the chest, and the second to his head which slammed him straight back onto the jagged churned up earth from which his involuntary flight started; and worse, he also bit his tongue.
Master Roshi stomped his nemesis face first into the shredded jagged gut-rock next to the tunnel he'd created and burst from "Hehe, I've been waiting ages to try my new tunnel-rat technique. Not bad for a first test eh? Hehehe." Turtle Hermit thought as he jumped away, back-flipped once, found his feet, shook his sleeves clear of his hands and made two complex Ki purifying hand gestures quickening the chakras, fingers intertwined into an arch shaped cave. Then suddenly, his eyes glowed a pale blue colour to match the frost like energy gathering in the crevice of his fingers.
Master Roshi drew in a deep breath, the energy briefly intensified then reabsorbed into his hands right before he exhaled a tremendous –BUUURRRRP- beam of blue Ki that tore right out of his wide open mouth and bore down on the still recovering Namekian like a one of a kind Kamehameha wave.
Perhaps it was instinct, or long battle experience from his tyrant days that snapped Daimao to his senses, but he leapt skyward just in the nick of time, narrowly escaping the great explosion that detonated beneath him. The resulting shockwave sent Piccolo into a spin with the shredded grass and debris before he righted himself, hovering in midair and hissing from the burns on his legs which had been too close to the explosion. That's when he looked down and gasped, eyes widening slightly at the size of the crater beneath him. He could've parked a whole damn house snugly in its vastness.
"How?...I-I don't get it," He muttered "He wasn't this potent when I last faced him….hmm, no matter; he's still coming up short in this little grudge match. Aren't you? You little….!" Piccolo jeered, eyes scanning over the area he last saw his quarry before falling silent….the Martial Arts Master had disappeared, again "GRRRR-Come out, coward! Show yourself! Come face your doom like the hero you think you are!" He challenged and belittled, whirling every which way as the old man's mocking laughter echoed all around him, resonating from every direction. Piccolo scoured the baron lifeless terrain below him like mad, agitated, enraged and even a little nervous, nervous enough that he flinched when the crack of shattering stone gutted the terse silence.
He whirled around, gasped. A large, twisted rock lobbed by telekinetic Ki powered force flew straight at him from out of nowhere. Piccolo barely spotted it on his peripheries, traveling so fast the Demon King actually felt the air current of its approach before it reached where he'd just been milliseconds before dodging aside.
"Woah! That was clo…"
He felt another air current, this time from the opposite direction. He moved aside, the second dementedly carven rock flew past and he barely had enough time to sense the third even larger rocky mind propelled projectile rocketing from the opposite direction, it's timing synchronized with the previous like a pair of scissors snipping shut. Daimao tried to swerve clear but it clipped him in the shoulder, spinning him dizzily in mid-air while hot pain lanced through his right shoulder into his collarbone.
Unlike this new generation of fighters who excelled in screaming power-ups, throwing around raw energy and unimaginative wasteful Ki attacks, Roshi had taken a page from his old master's book and learned to use his Ki more creatively. Like when he learned to part a waterfall with subtle manipulations of the mind through a coaxing, non-destructive touch of his Ki, or the ability to read the mind of or communicate with another through their thoughts. Telekinesis was but one of his more inventive, low cost techniques. Apparently, that intergalactic tyrant Frieza possessed similar, far more powerful telekinesis, though what Roshi gathered from Goku's retelling of that epic battle,, Frieza lacked any appreciation for subtlety. Right now however, Roshi was exercising that very appreciation at little cost to his own energy reserves "Hehehe, wait till he sees what I do next."
"That's it? Rock throwing? You're done for!" King Piccolo gathered his orientation and stilled his twirling in time to face another oncoming slab of earth, this one far larger and spinning fast his way "GRR-ENOUGH!" He howled, launching himself onto a collision course with the great chunk of broken cliff, performing a backhanded chop that split the great slab in two. But King Piccolo only had time to don his triumphant smirk before the old man's flying kick took him full in the face, bloodying his nose and throwing him to the wind like a piece of trash. The Clever old bastard had timed his last projectile so he could stealthily follow in the wake of its flight trajectory, knowing Daimao would overextend himself destroying the slab of earth without seeing it's thrower until it was too late.
The ancient Namekian hit the ground and slid, groaning in pain. He'd not landed a single blow since the battle started, not one. He was fighting a trickster, an illusionist, a coward. Growling, King Piccolo pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly and rubbing his forehead as the world stopped spinning about him.
"Why you treacherous, insolent!…." Daimao howled, eyes narrowed to slits, gaze following his foe back-flipping away five times to land, hands cupped to his side, muttering something as a large orb of bright blue energy formed between those hands which the wrinkled insect suddenly, violently shoved fourth, releasing a great azure wave that came roaring straight for him with lethal intent.
The attack was familiar, the same attack that little kid with the stupid hair and the tail had tried and failed to defeat him with. Clearly this idiot didn't understand the futility of his resistance. He had no chance, not against the all-powerful Demon King.
"How dare you!" Piccolo bellowed, unleashing a crackling golden Ki beam of his own to oppose the oncoming wave. With an explosive shockwave the two beams met, struggling for dominance through the exertions of their benefactors. The old man increased his Ki output, adding extra density to his attack, pushing Old Piccolo's own torrent back a meter or two before Piccolo matched and raised his foe's bid with even greater intensity, regaining the ground his beam had lost and then some.
Master Roshi grit his teeth, he knew himself to be stronger now than he had been when he'd last confronted the Demon King despite hardly having trained in retirement, but back then Piccolo had been older and without his wish of renewed youth, whereas he had the power derived of that wish. Regardless, Master Roshi knew he was outmatched, especially in his skinny old man form. Even so, he put a bit more oomph into his attack, gaining another three meters in their Ki shoving match only for Piccolo to match and raise his effort yet again. No matter, while he had hoped to score a direct hit with his Kamehameha, he wasn't out of this yet.
Over the distance however, King Piccolo caught the glint of cunning in Roshi's eyes. The problem was he didn't know what to expect, so he took it for a feeble bluff "What does he have to be so smug about? He's losing. He's about to die at my hand again, and he knows it. So what has he to smile about?" That's when it happened, the old man let go of his energy wave and front flipped right over the great streak of golden Ki as Piccolo's attack stole full forward momentum to explode in the distance right when Rosh fell upon him, angling for another kick to the head.
Piccolo threw his arm up to block, but feeling no impact and spotting the after image he managed to keep his wits about him this time and caught Roshi's fist scant inches from his right cheek. Piccolo threw his other fist at the old man's face which Roshi only just block, wincing at the impact as Piccolo let go, spun, and drove an elbow into the old Master's stomach, following with an uppercut then additional rapid-fire punches to the abdomen so fast and hard it kept Roshi in the air until Daimao got bored and delivered a solid kick to his head, catapulting Roshi away to skid face first through the dirt.
To Piccolo's surprise, the old man rose quickly, obviously hurting but determined as he charged back. The Demon King grinned wickedly, but it turned to a frown as Roshi's advancing figure split in two, like twin identical halves, then two became four and the four eight. Suddenly they were all around him, circling, closing in, tightening their formation like a noose, lashing out at him with weak but lightning fast blows. Seven were illusions he knew, only one was real, but even so, he actually had a tricky time blocking all of the attacks while striking back at the phantom duplicates. He'd heard of the technique, Mirror Image if he recalled correctly. He had to stop underestimating the pest and take this more seriously.
Piccolo shoved down his frustration, took in a deep, calming breath and focused, now easily warding off the old man's strikes. Piccolo then began tracking the driving movements behind his attackers strikes as he deflected them, anticipating where the next ones would fall, until. The Demon Kick swung out a leg, Roshi's eyes widened, but he got an arm up to defend, the kick packed such force however that it drove him down sideways to elbow and hip. Thankfully, years of training had taught him to make use of most unfavourable positions and turn them to a workable counterattack.
And so it was from that position Roshi spun like a breakdancer, sweeping a leg to trip his opponent who jumped and retaliating with a stomping foot. Roshi rolled aside into a handstand and pushed off with his palms as Piccolo lashed out, launching himself over the Namekian's head, landing behind him, but Piccolo was already spinning round, a long green arm chopping backhanded. Roshi ducked and shot fourth an open palmstrike. Piccolo crouched, fending off the strike with his other elbow before committed to a low sweeping kick. Roshi jumped, not over the leg but onto it, hammering one fist into The Namek's abdomen, then another in an uppercut aimed chin-side. Grimacing from the first punch, Piccolo twisted his head clear of Roshi's uppercut even as he brought his initial chopping hand blurring back to slapping Roshi sprawling across the sodden ground.
Astonishingly, the old man sprang right back up almost immediately and the two rushed oneanother, engaging in a hate fuelled melee Roshi didn't get the better end of, though he got in a few decent licks before a stray elbow sent him tumbling only to recover just in time to rabbit hop clear of a nasty beam of golden energy.
"Hahahaha, that's all?! A few seconds of feeble scuffling and he's all tuckered out! Sooo saaad." The Evil Namekian simpered, but when Roshi stood up not too much worse for wear save for some scrapes and bruises, Daimao's glee soured to rage then back to amusement again like an emotional yoyo "Well, he's up already. You're tougher than I expected, a most admirable effort. Shame it's all for naught though, because this is where it ends for you." He smirked, baring sharp canines.
"Funny, that's just what I was about to say." Roshi replied, smiling grimly.
"Nonsense, I killed you once old fool, and now I get to kill you twice hmhmhahaha."
"Old?! Who are you calling old?! When I last saw you your wrinkles had wrinkles! So don't you start making fun of my age you desiccated green fossil!" Roshi shouted back, dancing angrily on the spot and shaking his fist "There. That should get him angry enough to attack in a blind rage….hehe, bad guys and their egos. Insult their prowess just right and they forget they have a brain."
Master Roshi got his wish. With only an enraged growl for warning, Piccolo put on an incredible burst of speed and struck out with a hard right, and Roshi, though expecting the move, scarcely blocked the strike. Piccolo countered with a right kick to Roshi side, but instead of blocking it, the Turtle Hermit front-flipped into the air and brought his heels down on top of the Namek's bald, green pate while he was still committed to a failed kick. Taken aback, Piccolo had no time for a counter though as another summersault brought Roshi behind his foe whereupon he slammed both feet into the Namekian's broad back as hard as he could while also using the impact to push himself off to roll back to a standing position as King Piccolo face-planted in the dirt, sliding.
Master Roshi whirled, letting loose one blast of white Ki, two, then three. Sensing it, Piccolo turned his slide into a roll then a nimble sideways hop. Four, five, six, Roshi kept up the barrage. Piccolo kept retreating until he found his opening and turned the tables, performing a half one handed cartwheel, letting rip with his twin eye lasers, aiming to cripple the tricky old bastard's legs so he could take his time torturing him to death. Roshi however was just quick enough and dodged with a far more graceful cartwheel, all the while wishing there were hordes of adoring women here to behold his eloquent acrobatics.
Actually, he did have a beautiful lady watching from cover right now "She loves me, how can she not?" He thought, summoning a ball of Ki and lobbing it at daimao's head before sidestepping Piccolo's answering golden Ki projectile and pressing his attack forward just as the Demon King himself was doing, each working they way closer to the other in a complex dance sequence as unappetizing as that silly fusion saltation.
Master Roshi evaded a blast by playing limbo, returned fire, swerved around another gold Ki-ball, retaliated, leapt over another attack, let rip two more of his own before rolling beneath another golden bombardment to find his feet and charge to meet Piccolo's own hysterical advance, a ball of white Ki in each hand which he thrust forward only a meter away from his opponent who did exactly the same.
A mighty explosion ensued and Roshi felt himself being hurled back in the sudden world of bright light, then, somehow knowing he'd come out second best, he instinctually rolled sideways and rose, hearing the earth crack beneath the Namek's foot stomping the place he'd just vacated. Winding up, Roshi sprang foward, feigned a punch, thrust a leg out instead. Piccolo deflected it with his forearm, but that was the true feint. Roshi dropped, took the tall aliens legs out with a sweeping kick then summersaulted, intending to stomp down on Piccolo's gut, but Daimao, quite artfully, span on his elbows and kicked Roshi away with painful efficiency.
"Dang it he's fast!" Roshi thought, cursing his foe.
The Demon King thought his elderly foe was about to attack again, but he was wrong. Master Roshi began tottering and stumbling on the spot, as if he'd downed a whole cask of heavy liquor in one big gulp. So naturally Piccolo lunged to exploit this perceived vulnerability only for his hammer-fist to fall embarrassingly short of its mark as he tripped over a tipsy Roshi's outstretched leg. Furious, Daimao rose, struck out with three rapid fists, then a kick, all missing the Turtle Hermit who spun on the spot, singing some unintelligible drinking song as he clapped his hands and staggered drunkenly back into his bewildered opponent's arms before flopping forward to his hands and driving a backwards kick that took the Demon King between the legs.
Namekians aren't humans, but they must have something sensitive there because Piccolo, eyes bulging, fell to his knees and might've vomited if Roshi hadn't twirled on the spot and bonked him on the top of his head with a hammer fist before toppling sideways like a giggling idiot and rolled to his good side while sailing another flailing leg which clipped Piccolo's chin, knocking him flat on his ass. Rising with the motion, Roshi swayed about, avoiding two dizzily aimed eye-beams while clapping drunkenly in self-congratulations.
Livid, Piccolo charged in a blind, punch-drunk daze, but Roshi was already pirouetting like a ballerina, one heel snapping around which Piccolo narrowly avoided only to see the Turtle Hermit fold like a passing out drunk then flip-flop back into the air with a kick that took the now thoroughly pissed and confused Namekian in the chest. Roshi repeating the motion over and over with varying degrees of success while rambling something about "The Fish Out Of Beer Technique". Clearly the martial artist was senile.
Several more times did Piccolo attempt to pound on the loopy old goof only to get an elbow to the gut for his troubles. The Demon King simply couldn't grasp this bizarre fighting style "GRRR-What is this madness!?" He raged.
"He-heh-he, yep, it's like I told my old pupil. It's hard to drunken box, when you've never been drunk before-hehehe."
Irrepressible rage tore a maddened howl from the Demon King and he thrust out a hand and unleashed more of an energy blast than he had since battling that spiky haired brat with the tail. The Ensuing explosion shot great chunks of earth, dirt and whatever else into the air, the world flashing a brilliant, bright gold the light and heat of which consuming everything, leaving behind an even bigger than the old man created once the storm of dust dispersed, much to Daimao's pride. As for the old man himself, yes, there he was, hovering in the middle of the crater, astoundingly still alive, his form flickering in the super-heated air "Wha?…." Wait a minute.
Flickering?
The sneaky, ham size orb of energy took Piccolo square in the back and he howled with the pain of it, the back of his robes smoking and his flesh painfully scorched. The pain however served to fuel his fury, bringing on a curious focus as he felt the old Martial Artist's lightning fast approach. Piccolo snapped out his leg, taking the advancing Master Roshi in the chin and hurling him back, though by then King Piccolo was already giving chase. He caught up, delivered a double axe-handle that slammed the insolent old weakling into the ground which stared with cracks beneath the impact. Daimao then kicked Roshi into the air, grabbed his leg as he rose and then began swinging him from left to right, hammering Roshi cruelly into ragged, unforgiving ground over and over. By the twelfth repetition his victim went limp and Piccolo smirked in triumph. But suddenly, Roshi twisted, startling him.
Master Roshi, still dangling upside down in his opponent's grip, abruptly twisted, grabbing both of Piccolo's ankles while driving his free leg into the Namek's chin once, twice and a third extra hard time, breaking Piccolo's grip entirely. As his Namekian foe staggered back, Roshi flipped to his feet, maintaining a grip on the Demon Kings surprisingly knobbly ankles, pulling them up to his underarms at shoulder height whereupon he began spinning around like a supercharged clock-hand, going faster and faster, grinning meanly at Piccolo's "Woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-woah-WWWOOOOAAAAHHHH!"s before letting go and watching Piccolo sail off several hundred meters, crashing through several trees on the way which snapped like matchsticks until Daimao finally slammed deep into a huge cliff face, giving it some structurally unwelcome interior renovations.
Roshi wasn't done yet however; he extended an open handed arm, palm facing forward, steadying his wrist with the other hand, his eyes paper-cuts of concentration. The hand glowed bright red in colour and white hot heat. He held it, held it, waited till the timing was perfect then….
"ROSHI SLAP!" The Turtle Hermit bellowed and with a final shove of willpower the hand shaped manifestation of red Ki sling-shotted fourth, covering the distance between him and the jagged tunnel Piccolo made hitting the rock wall in an instant, arriving just as the Namek lumbered out like a pissed off grizzly bear, palming him full in the face with a wet towel-whipping –Sthwack- and throwing him back into the cave with an anguished howl as the flesh on his cheek burned and blistered.
"Hehehe, thanks for teaching me that one ladies." It was true, the amount of times he'd been slapped by women had got him thinking how damn painful it is, which in turn gave him an idea for a new, if somewhat silly technique; and thus the Roshi Slap was born. They didn't call him the encyclopaedia of fighting techniques for nothing after all.
Once his juvenile giggles subsided, the dizziness of spinning and the pains of this opening bout suddenly caught up with Roshi who staggered slightly
"Ohhh, why did I go and do that so soon after riding Gamera? I think I'm going to…to..Uccchhh…" He threw up right there on the spot, but feeling immediately better for it, he decided it was high time he start giving this fight his all, because he knew King Piccolo certainly would now understand he faced a fighter almost his equal instead of a bug he could just step on. So Roshi used the remaining few seconds he had to recover and gather precious energy while keeping vigilant just in case old Daimao got crafty and tried a sneak attack, which was unlikely as he lacked the patient strategic mind of his son. But why risk it?
Roshi's concerns proved unfounded, as indeed, the expected raw came up from the bowls of the huge rocky mountain before the whole thing exploded and the man, or rather Namek of the hour burst from the rubble and surged toward him on a gale force wind of raw speed, veins bulging all over his green forehead. Shockingly though, Piccolo didn't attack, instead he halted a dozen meters before Roshi who fought to repress his rising snickers at the pinkish smudge of burnt, blistered flesh on the Demon King's right cheek which vaguely resembled the shape of a deformed human hand.
Comical as the sight was however, Piccolo seemed none too vexed. In fact the Namek took a calming breath to dispel his anger and actually smirked, much to Roshi's annoyance. So it was as he'd suspected; playtime really was over. Yet it was Piccolo's turn to be miffed when Roshi returned his cocky smirk, though for a perpetually intemperately tempered fiend, The Demon King recovered his composure admirably fast.
"Well it's been fun, uh, Roshi wasn't it? But it saddens me to inform you that playtime is over." Piccolo gloated, tearing his tattered, weighted GI robes off and tossing them unceremoniously to one side where it flopped ungracefully to the dirt, the action a clear conveyance of a message he was now deadly serious about this battle.
Master Roshi gave Piccolo a gruesome smile "You read my mind. It's time to resolve this little feud of ours once and for all." Matching Piccolo's gesture of severity, Master Roshi also discarded his jacket and in the blink of an eye, bulked up to 50% of his full power, the same slightly leaner more muscled form he'd fought Tien in back during the 22nd World Martial Arts tournament, increasing strength without taxing speed or agility. Oh he knew it wouldn't quite be enough to match Old Piccolo in a physical contest, but it would certainly even the odds enough to give him a fighting chance. Perhaps he could even feign to be weaker than he really is, then go at him full force when he least expects it.
They faced eachother, now truly watching for weaknesses in the other's defences, searching for injuries to exploit and waiting for the other to flinch or look away. But Roshi's stance was perfect and Piccolo's power more than compensated for any lack of form.
During this stare down, Master Roshi Took a page from the current generation's book and, in a rare display of showmanship, let his aura flare about himself, and Daimao, not willing to be outdone on the bravado front, did the same. Sea blue waves of power clashed with sunshine gold, crackling in mini explosions before retreating back into the bodies of their respective owners who tightened their respective fighting stances just as the roaring black-grey sky of dancing lightening decided right then was an excellent time to dump it's watery load in such an elegant manner as to mold this scene of virulent grudges and unsatisfied vengeance into the gloriously dark atmospheric masterpiece of living art both combatants had always intended it to be.
And it was on.
Power Levels for those who care for such things
Master Roshi –skinny old man- base form : 182
Master Roshi –more muscled- 50% form : 245
King Piccolo –not taking Roshi seriously- : 200
King Piccolo –Serious but not 100% - : 250