Dragonball M, Chapter 1: Silent Menace Aproaches!

[Tami]

OOC: edited out. Best not to speak unless you have something worth talking about. Right now, I don't have much.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

“It’s a hidden location where Kami lives. It’s mobile, however, ever sense old Kami fell so he and others like him couldn’t find it.”

"I see." A mobile location; good for staying hidden from an enemy as dangerous as Fife. Sarada remembered Kami mentioning a place where they could get an entire year's worth of training in just a single day. She silently pondered whether or not the Lookout was such a place. Probably so; at least, she hoped so. A year of training would allow her to implement Tasure's training method, which meant that she would get unbelievably strong if the past two days were any indication. Perhaps even strong enough to become Vocado's new arena champion when she returned home.

"How close are you to finding it?"

[KamenRaida]

Ninlil nods.

“I will speak to this Vitalmancer if you wish.”

Jinzi then nods and hands Koorimaru a small case. Inside is a neural link patch to put on ones neck and three small metallic spheres.

“Your Void tunnel is amazing, but I noticed it seemed eyeline based. With that neural link, you could command these recon drones to scout around a battlefield and let you see places your eyes cannot. I believe you’d be able to cast your Void Tunnel through them then, as you would be seeing what they see. If it works, your range would no longer be inhibited by what you can see.”

"You're not far from the truth, my dear Pantaloon. While my Void Tunnels can be opened outside of my field of vision, it takes no small amount of effort to achieve such a feat, particularly where great distances of concerned. Of course, if my assumptions of the general area in which I wish to open them are mistaken, they shall be rendered ineffective. Which is why this gift may prove useful indeed."

He raised the neural patch to eye level, appraising it with the curiosity given new material to dissect. Cyberisation, while of no great interest to Koorimaru, was not unheard of among his people. During the moments of desperation and madness immediately following his defeat by Saradasuke, Koorimaru had once briefly considered making use of the cyberisation process to replace what he had lost.

His flirtation with the idea passed, though now it seemed the opportunity to explore it in some less intrusive means now presented itself. Slapping the patch onto the back of his neck, at first there was nothing. And then... there was nothing.

"Wha-?"

The blackness soon passed as his vision returned to normal... only now interposed along with what he could see within his line of sight, the confines of a casket seemed also visible to him. It was only when the shock of it all passed that he became aware of a sharp tingling sensation at the base of his skull, and in diverting his consciousness to it, the mechanical orbs lifted, and with their rising, the layered visions changed in accordance to their new position.

He sent one to the far end of the dungeons, while another swung low, surveying the grounds of the prison. The last turned to each occupant in the room in turn before resting on a pallid yellowish-weight figure, marked with violet crests and poorly contained glee etched on his face.

"Yes. Very useful indeed. I suspect this will be of much use during our raid on Willa's base." Koorimaru said before turning and bowing deeply to Jinzi, "My thanks, my dear Pantaloon. With your ingenuity, we may yet even the playing field against our foes."

[Monstrous Bird of Qin, Ou Ki]

Jack stretched as well, "I'd say no killing, if you kill the other guy, you lose," Jack grinned, "So don't do that." Jack pulled another hand rolled from his new jacket and lit it. "I'd also say that we should keep the maiming to a minimum. I know we have the healing tanks, but considering the events of today," Jack let the reality of Ishtar's permanent arm loss hang in the air for a moment, "Let's jut not do that, cool?"

"I'm interested to see what you got, Totoma," Jack said as he fell into a fighting stance, "You've mentioned that you used to be a lot stronger, right? Been in a lot of tough battles? Beating me should be a sure bet, I'd wager."

"Whenever you're ready."

OOC: Sorry for the slow response. Had... distractions.

IC: "No, not really," said Totoma. He assumed the aggressive Saiyan-Do stance. "I relied on overwhelming power when I was a kid, and whatever skill I may have is rusty. I only started fighting and training again a year ago. Anyway..."

He shot towards Jack, gliding on the air using flight. When in range, he threw a quick flurry of jabs at the man, meant more to 'feel' him out than actually hit or inflict damage. He wanted to get a feel for Jack's style before actually upping the ante.

[Ptrvc]

OOC: Sorry for the slow response. Had... distractions.

IC: "No, not really," said Totoma. He assumed the aggressive Saiyan-Do stance. "I relied on overwhelming power when I was a kid, and whatever skill I may have is rusty. I only started fighting and training again a year ago. Anyway..."

He shot towards Jack, gliding on the air using flight. When in range, he threw a quick flurry of jabs at the man, meant more to 'feel' him out than actually hit or inflict damage. He wanted to get a feel for Jack's style before actually upping the ante.

Jack body voided each punch with a step back and to the left or right with the flow of each punch. He did this roughly five times before changing rhythm before stepping in to dodge Totoma's next blow.

He grabbed the half-human's wrist as he did side, and with a sharp turn of the hips attempted to fling Totoma into the air.

"How does flight, change things, by-the-by?"

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

“For us, or for anyone.” Koorimaru replies, the slightest signs of effort used to maintain an expression of composed security betraying him only briefly, “The fact remains Kami is better off in our hands than in Fife’s.”

If the Oni noticed that Koorimaru had been upset by her words, she didn't seem to care. Instead focusing on the last comment made. "We can barely protect ourselves, from ourselves."

And it wasn't as if the Ishtar was wrong. Two days, two separate instances of carelessness that wounded many. Their sanctuary compromised casually, and one of their 'acquaintances' revealed as nothing more than a threat to the safety of others.

"Perhaps you have the right of it, in the end. Yet until I am shown otherwise, I can no longer bring myself to believe it."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

If the Oni noticed that Koorimaru had been upset by her words, she didn't seem to care. Instead focusing on the last comment made. "We can barely protect ourselves, from ourselves."

And it wasn't as if the Ishtar was wrong. Two days, two separate instances of carelessness that wounded many. Their sanctuary compromised casually, and one of their 'acquaintances' revealed as nothing more than a threat to the safety of others.

"Perhaps you have the right of it, in the end. Yet until I am shown otherwise, I can no longer bring myself to believe it."

"What do you suggest we do about Kami, then?" Sarada inquired. "Leaving her with Fife is not an option. Do you suggest we just go our separate ways after rescuing her?"

[Monstrous Bird of Qin, Ou Ki]

Jack body voided each punch with a step back and to the left or right with the flow of each punch. He did this roughly five times before changing rhythm before stepping in to dodge Totoma's next blow.

He grabbed the half-human's wrist as he did side, and with a sharp turn of the hips attempted to fling Totoma into the air.

"How does flight, change things, by-the-by?"

As expected, Jack was quite skilled at evading his flurry of half-hearted jabs. He clearly had some training, but something told Totoma that the bulk of the man's skills were from hard-won, hands-on experience. What sort of life had Jack led that he'd picked up such skills? Interesting.

Totoma was flung into the air, but came to a stop, upright, but facing away from jack. He pivoted to face him. "Haha, well, it's fun as heck. But in battle, more mobility is always better, yeah? It can be hard for some to think in three-dimensions, though. And at our current level, it'll quickly tire ya out."

He floated to the ground, landing gingerly. "Anyway, nice moves. Seems half-assing it won't be enough. Time to up it to three-quarters of an ass."

Assuming the Saiyan-do stance aggressive stance again, Totoma studied Jack intently. He'd already fought Sarada, who was probably more skilled than him and had a similar style. As a result, Jack had some second-hand experience with how he moved, attacked, and... defended. Even setting aside the skill difference, that left him at a disadvantage.

Hm.

Totoma fired a Kiho at his feet, damaging the floor and kicking up a cloud of dust. Inside the dust cloud, he dug the tip of his boot into the damaged portion of the floor and launched the entire floor panel in Jack's direction. A split-second after, he took flight, readying a Kiho follow-up to the floor panel, whether it hit or Jack dodged.

[Ptrvc]

As expected, Jack was quite skilled at evading his flurry of half-hearted jabs. He clearly had some training, but something told Totoma that the bulk of the man's skills were from hard-won, hands-on experience. What sort of life had Jack led that he'd picked up such skills? Interesting.

Totoma was flung into the air, but came to a stop, upright, but facing away from jack. He pivoted to face him. "Haha, well, it's fun as heck. But in battle, more mobility is always better, yeah? It can be hard for some to think in three-dimensions, though. And at our current level, it'll quickly tire ya out."

He floated to the ground, landing gingerly. "Anyway, nice moves. Seems half-assing it won't be enough. Time to up it to three-quarters of an ass."

Assuming the Saiyan-do stance aggressive stance again, Totoma studied Jack intently. He'd already fought Sarada, who was probably more skilled than him and had a similar style. As a result, Jack had some second-hand experience with how he moved, attacked, and... defended. Even setting aside the skill difference, that left him at a disadvantage.

Hm.

Totoma fired a Kiho at his feet, damaging the floor and kicking up a cloud of dust. Inside the dust cloud, he dug the tip of his boot into the damaged portion of the floor and launched the entire floor panel in Jack's direction. A split-second after, he took flight, readying a Kiho follow-up to the floor panel, whether it hit or Jack dodged.

"I'd ask you just to go ahead and full ass it, but considering how these fights seem to end for you saiyans, I'd rather you just kept your pants on, friend."

Jack heard the floor panel whirling towards him and managed to catch it, albeit, in the ribs. "OW!" Without pausing he quickly tossed the floor panel back at where he assumed Totoma to be thanks to his ki sense, before backflipping out of the dust cloud.

He was definitely at a disadvantage not being able to fly as Totoma could easily keep out of reach. Hopefully the floor panel would mess up Totoma's aim enough to miss him, but Jack got ready to deflect the incoming attack regardless, he definitely feel the half-breed pooling his power for some kind of attack.

[Monstrous Bird of Qin, Ou Ki]

"I'd ask you just to go ahead and full ass it, but considering how these fights seem to end for you saiyans, I'd rather you just kept your pants on, friend."

Jack heard the floor panel whirling towards him and managed to catch it, albeit, in the ribs. "OW!" Without pausing he quickly tossed the floor panel back at where he assumed Totoma to be thanks to his ki sense, before backflipping out of the dust cloud.

He was definitely at a disadvantage not being able to fly as Totoma could easily keep out of reach. Hopefully the floor panel would mess up Totoma's aim enough to miss him, but Jack got ready to deflect the incoming attack regardless, he definitely feel the half-breed pooling his power for some kind of attack.

Totoma heard an "OW!" and then the floor panel came whirling back at him. He smirked and released the partially-charged Kiho at the floor panel, obliterating it into debris and dust. Heh. Dustbris. Without hesitation, he propelled himself through the cloud, fist first. He needed a distraction... but wha--aha!

"Hey Jack!" he yelled as he rocketed towards Jack. "SWIMSUIT SARADAAAA!"

Totoma figured Jack was probably a bit attracted to the purebred--and on a physical level, he... couldn't blame him at all--so maybe the mental image would distract the guy enough for a hole to appear in his defenses.

[grampagen]

Walking off the foggy dreams of death, Ochazuke wandered the halls of the ruined geofront. The scarred walls of the facility seemed to bleed, dyed red from where somebody had pressed a wound against it in desperate need of support. Wakened by the scars of the past he ambled into the ruin of the present.

He'd seen so much death that even as he walked away it seemed to follow him. No matter how far he'd move, he'd never escape that shadow. To face it, screaming in defiance as he had done, was only a moment illumination before it would eventually take him.

Asha'rah caught an out of breath bandana'd Zaofan emerging from the kitchen double doors, laying the last giant bowl onto the cafeteria counters. The plates and trays were back in their orderly stacks, every chair and table upright once again, and maybe even a sparkle flashed from the floor. And a rolling cart stood next to the counter. Zaofan, his face marked with blotches of dough and black and red sauces, his apron a mess, and even some stains on his white shirt. As the doors kept flapping, Asha'rah could also see but paid no mind to an otherwise spotless kitchen.

"Ah. Welcome! I was hoping someone would show up. Here here, lemme show you what we have: here's some Paozusaurus congee sprinkled with tripe and scallions. It's full of protein. Giant radish rice porridge for the vegetarians; but it's also full of protein! Thin crust pizza with your choice of Wild Boar (shredded or in pepperoni form), assorted vegetables, or both. South City salad with some sourdough croutons I found in the pantry. And two types of infused water: lime-mint, or strawberry-mango. Of course, if you need something hot, I've some green tea with ginger and honey as well."

Zaofan poured himself a glass of lime-mint water and wiped his brow. "Now, I don't know if you eat. I don't know much about androids. But if you can taste anything, then please enjoy. I'm going to take some of the congee up to sickbay, in case anyone wakes up from the tanks. Soups and stews are generally easier to digest. But I must say, you did exceptionally well back there."

Before long he found himself in the dining area, the last threshold of order over this fragmented band of fighters before everything came crashing down. The acrid smell of vomit laced with cheese was the first thing he noticed, and casting his eyes around briefly he saw streaks of things he couldn't identify strewn about the place. Tomato, half-chewed bread, and spattered drippings.

Two hours hanging stale in the air it still smelled so good.

He had work to do, but that would wait until he had recovered his strength. Finding what seemed to be the last clean bowl in the place, he opened an aluminium vessel containing the congee. Generously portioned and garnished, it still carried some heat from the stove fire even now. The tender tripe melded seamlessly with the green onions, and the crack of ginger and white pepper sharpened his awareness. Before he knew it the first bowl was empty; he soon served another.

I'll have to show Zaofan my thanks later...

[KingofPie]

Sasheem sat in the middle of the ruined training grounds, his arms folded, his head looking down towards the ground, and his eyes closed. To the untrained eye, it would appear the Majin was sleeping, but he was, in fact, very awake. One could say, Sasheem was meditating, but he really didn't have the temperament for such a thing. Instead, he was coming through his chaotic brain, searching for a memory that would prove useful to him in his quest to regain his strength.

Sasheem remembered sitting upon a stool in the lobby of a yellow building, several stories tall. Yellow on the inside too, full of statues of tigers, surrounding each corner of the perfectly decorated room. A woman in a chefs uniform had brought to him a platter. As he greedily pushed the lid off the platter and onto the floor, he noticed someone approach him out of the corner of his eye.

"I am glad our boss has provided you with a sufficient amount of food to convince you to join our cause Majin Sasheem," Sasheen remembered an elderly man in light blue robes woth purple sleeves spoke to. He had a large gray mustache and was entirely bald aside from a long braided ponytail. "Your power may be great, but it lacks refinement. Before we let you loose under our banner, we'll have you learn our ways first..."

Sasheem seemed to recall ignoring the old human, or Master Toast as he was called by the other humans, during this time, instead choosing to dedicate his time to the platter of cookies that lay in front of him.

"I know you can hear me, creature..." the old man spoke calnly, snatching the tray away with such quickness that Sasheem failed to notice as he was attempting to grab another cookie and smashed his hand onto the wooden table the platter was set on.

"Ragh! Bradagh!" Sasheem exclaimed, raising his right hand, garnering yellow ki inside his palm. This human just threw away his life...although he did not seem particularly phased with facing impending annihilation.

"Yes, I suppose that would do me in, wouldn't it?" The old man smirked that seemed more bemused then anything. "But then what would you learn from that...?"

...LEARN?! The ki Sasheem was gathering seemed to intensify.

"When it comes to illiciting destruction, you are indeed unmatched, but our organization...people in our line of work? They need a little more finesse," Toast continued to state, his arms folding behind his back, giving no indication that he was going to attempt to even dodge. "Besides, not every occasion will require you to go all out. If it did, things would get boring fast, wouldn't they?"

Sasheem's ki blast rescinded a bit. He did hate being bored...

"So allow us to train you in our ways..." Toast continued. "We have full trust in your capabilities to innovate and improve upon what we teach you. And every time you succeed..." the old man gestured his hand towards a door on the far left. Several dozen chefs lines up in a row, all woth steaming silver platters each emitting a variety of savory smells. "You will be compensated..."

Sasheem remembered his eyes widening at the time, his vendetta against the old bastard forgotten. If this treatment was to continue, he'd attempt to learn something....just this once.

Sasheem's eyes snapped open, a flood of memories flashed back into his mind. Beginning to raise his arm, he remembered the motions one of the techniques he was taught, the Samehada. One of the few he could use period that wasn't restricted by the toilet. A thin shark-fin shaped layer of ki erupted from the ground, slicing an already downed tree further in half.

Sasheem smirked. This wasn't his favorite technique, but it could be devastating. It would suffice as far as techniques he could utilize while still restrained go.

[Lord Falcon]

Etrina, absorbed in her reading, mumbled quietly to herself as Asha'rah approached. It wasn't until his question that she turned her attention his way with a raised eyebrow. "No more now then I did upon my initial examination....that its a couple centuries old, ineffective lump of pottery being held together with spit, glue and magic seals. I can make adjustments to the sealing enchantment....but until I compensate for outside assistance or his particular spellcraft I can't rule out a repeat of Dusk City will happen another century down the road."

She snapped her book shut, her serious look giving way for a moment. "....Also hello.....Asha'rah was it.....you've been the one cavorting around with my familiar yes? I hope she didn't attempt anything particularly horrendous in my absence."




"Karine Cromwell? Karine Cromwell......Karine....Cromwell...." She repeated the name like a mantra a couple times. "Your name has quite a ring to it....rather reminds of the strong family names of nobility. I'm Etrina Von Stoltengarde....." Etrina let out a cough to dampen her over excitement. "Of course Etrina is fine...."

Such precision, such vigilance, mind always on the job. Anytime her mind wasn't on the job, Etrina was thinking about what might go wrong. It kept her productive, focused. But what sort of toll was it taking on her soul? She had already rejected herself, burying everything she instinctively wanted deep down until she couldn't take it anymore, then resorted to spellcraft to rid herself of them. But Erosa didn't entirely lack self-restraint. Etrina didn't entirelty lack emotion and desire either. Was she on the road to developing the same problems all over again? What goal was she so fervently working towards?

All questions for later. Conversations must be allowed to flow.

"Erosa was wonderful," Asha'rah replied, raising a hand to reassure Etrina, "we helped each other with a number of important issues, and I have entrusted her with the safety of the Four-Star Dragon Ball."

[grampagen]

A fourth bowl of congee was emptied. The gentle boil melded each element within to a smooth perfection, but something else beyond its ingredients, the composition of elements brought it to a new level. A skilled turn of a hand, the adaptation of temperature, the sense tempered by years of insight. Zaofan's skill in blending the disparate into a seamless whole was something to experience. Once he'd finished his meal, he felt a gathering of familiar presences some distance away from the arena that had all too quickly become a killing field. He left the dining area and went to meet them.

It's design was unfamiliar to the Nevadian, tilting his head from side to side as he examined it. It seemed old. No, ancient. It seemed old, compared to that of the majority of weapons he had encountered during his time on earth....

No, even by comparison to those he had seen in his travels among the stars, it looked like the very definition of antiquated, a blade from an era that had been more of a rumor, than one that had actually existed at some point in time.

Was this what she treasured so much? It was certainly valuable, from the looks of it. Although, as destroyed as it was, what could it possibly provide to the Oni, other than some sense of familiarity and comfort. It might have been powerful, at some point, but whatever power it possessed had been dispersed the second the blade was rent asunder.

But, it was not his place to speculate, nor to judge.

He had came here for only a simple reason. He tied the cloth surrounding it into a large knot, keeping the shards in place.

Carefully, cautiously, he grasped beneath the cloth which held it, slowly lifting it from it's resting place. He did not breathe, perhaps out of fear that the blade were so sharp that with the slightest aid from gravity it would shred its container into nothingness.

He rose to his feet. The shirt held. He exhaled.

He sighed.

Walking out of the building, he took one last glance backwards at the ruinous locale.

“....What a mess I've stumbled into.”

Pacing on the path toward the Geofront Arena, Ochazuke held the sight of carnage in his peripheral vision. At times it was a terrible force of habit, for very few things escaped his notice - and the things that did made themselves known in the worst and chaotic ways. A man fighting a god's war will always be at a disadvantage, and the widening gulf between himself and the enemy, now even would-be comrades, seemed to widen with every waking moment.

How long had the Fallen One been watching? Has the threat truly passed?

He balled his hand into a fist, inhaling deeply to find his centre and calm himself. The burning scar in his chest cast furious energy from an ember of the past, the hollow shock of fear sending him on high alert.

It was then that he noticed in the corner of his view a figure moving from the battlefield. Instantaneously his battle meditation spread through the cracked veins in the artificial earth and he raised his hand.

Only to discover it was the offworlder, Held. He sighed; a moment too late and he'd hate to think what he might have done.

Withdrawing his preparation to attack, he gradually made his way over to the Nevadian at the end of his destination. He carried in his hand a knotted cloth parcel. Chuan's shirt.

"How fortunate," he said, bereft of greeting, "you've recovered something from the battle."

[Miburo]

A fourth bowl of congee was emptied. The gentle boil melded each element within to a smooth perfection, but something else beyond its ingredients, the composition of elements brought it to a new level. A skilled turn of a hand, the adaptation of temperature, the sense tempered by years of insight. Zaofan's skill in blending the disparate into a seamless whole was something to experience. Once he'd finished his meal, he felt a gathering of familiar presences some distance away from the arena that had all too quickly become a killing field. He left the dining area and went to meet them.



Pacing on the path toward the Geofront Arena, Ochazuke held the sight of carnage in his peripheral vision. At times it was a terrible force of habit, for very few things escaped his notice - and the things that did made themselves known in the worst and chaotic ways. A man fighting a god's war will always be at a disadvantage, and the widening gulf between himself and the enemy, now even would-be comrades, seemed to widen with every waking moment.

How long had the Fallen One been watching? Has the threat truly passed?

He balled his hand into a fist, inhaling deeply to find his centre and calm himself. The burning scar in his chest cast furious energy from an ember of the past, the hollow shock of fear sending him on high alert.

It was then that he noticed in the corner of his view a figure moving from the battlefield. Instantaneously his battle meditation spread through the cracked veins in the artificial earth and he raised his hand.

Only to discover it was the offworlder, Held. He sighed; a moment too late and he'd hate to think what he might have done.

Withdrawing his preparation to attack, he gradually made his way over to the Nevadian at the end of his destination. He carried in his hand a knotted cloth parcel. Chuan's shirt.

"How fortunate," he said, bereft of greeting, "you've recovered something from the battle."

As Held traversed the area, searching for where Ishtar--or, more accurately, for where Nunlil was being held, as finding the latter would lead to finding the former---he almost entirely would have missed Ochazuke, had the man not given his salutations. As well as Chaun's shirt seemed to be holding, the Nevadian still could not shake the concern that somehow, unbeknownst to him, a sliver of the blade would worm its way from it's container.

He had his skepticism that he would be so unlucky, but had such a fate befallen, he felt certain that the Oni would know and even worse, would insist on carrying out the search herself regardless of her condition. As such, he had commanded a almost single minded focus on the object he held in his hand.

Hm?

He looked up from the parcel, facing Ochazuke.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging the mans presence.

"I don't know if 'fortunate' is the right word." He replied, a slight sigh escaping his lips.

Recover? I think salvaged is a better word....If Ishtar hadn't said anything, I wouldn't be surprised if someone had tossed it all in the rubbish bin.

Removing his hand from the top of the knot, he parted a side of the shirt, revealing the pale blue fragments within it.

"Ishtar's blade." He said simply, trusting the shattered remnants told the warrior all he needed to know.

"She was....."

He thought back to the Oni, barely able to move, intent on recovering what was hers, despite her obvious fatigue.

"Insistent--" was the word he settled for "--on getting this back. If I hadn't come back for it, she'd probably be trudging her way down the halls as we speak."

He closed the cloth once more, obscuring the blue glass behind a veil of white.

"Even that was barely enough to convince her to listen to me, though." He admitted with a wry chuckle. "But, I'm not entirely unlucky."

He looked over Ochazuke, attempting to discern his own reason for being in the area.

"And what about you? Was there something you were looking for? Or are you one of those types who get, say we say, restless?"

It was a polite term for those who could not resist the call of battle for more than a few moments, and this facility was certainly filled with them. Even as he walked the halls, all manner of sparring matches seemed to be taking place, not that he could find much fault in their reasoning. The time until they had to act could be measured in days, with a new enemy poised to attack at any hour.

Perhaps it's was vigilance, and renewed motivation that had pushed them so.