Day Three: Morning

[Kami]

The dirt was cold in his hand. The rum inside kept him warm and numbed the pain emminating from his back. The bottles in his bag clanked together, noting their emptyness with a loud clank. That damn pirate went through more of this than I thought... Kami was still on the ground, covered by brush and trees. Moving around was going to take some effort and he needed to give his back as much time to rest of possible. He could still move, but he was limping badly.

He shifted his body once again, finding another cool spot on the ground to almost act as an ice pack for his aching backside. He was still baffled by Burter's appearance. He hadn't seen the reptillian in quite some time and for him to appear at this tournament was a bit of a shock. He also reflected on how the fight went, not really accomplishing anything noteworthy for himself or his now deceased pirate companion.

Another empty bottle rolled out of the bag as the wind snuck it's way through the trees. Why is the rum always gone... Kami allowed himself a moment to sigh and acknowledge the frustrating situation he was now involved with. The best thing for him to do at the moment would be resting. If he was lucky, his Namekian anatomy would try and heal itself the best it could given the short amount of time he had on the island, but that limp would still be ever present.

Wanting to move around a little, the Namek fired a tiny ki blast from a finger tip at a tree branch. Smaller branches and leaves came crashing down to the ground as the bigger branch made it's great leap. Kami grabbed the fat part of the branch and dragged it over by him. He managed to get himself propped up against the base of the tree, sitting with his legs outstretched. He cleaned off the outside of the branch and once it was bare used it to stand up. He felt a few vertabrea in his back cracking back into place as he stood up. Moving around was hard, but he could still do it. Need be he hoped he'd still have some speed in a fight, but he might need to rely on brute force to compensate for the limp. He began to hobble his way deeper into the woods, knowing full well that if he was to be successful he'd need to begin his guerrilla war of attrition at this very moment.

Here goes nothing...