Dragonball M, Chapter 1: Silent Menace Aproaches!

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"....For a woman painted as a sadist by research, and aggressive by my own estimate, I didn't realize we were speaking of passive aggression." The Nevadian retorted, her riddles and ridicule of his comrade not going unnoticed, "I won't claim to understand him, but I can't imagine anyone who puts their life on the line as steadfastly as he does to lack belief....And I can't imagine Ochazuke as nothing, if not resolute. I would have you speak your words plainly, if you really had anything worth saying."

This bitterness.....She seems even more annoyed by him than by me, or even this turn of events....What the hell is up with these two?




"I didn't come to your base for Justice, Kenshiko." Held explained patiently, despite his irritation at the sanctimony of a sadist and cruel criminal growing by the moment, "I came to save your world, not to render judgement, or to change it." He picked up a capsule and examined it, noting a tinge of fresh blood on the capsule, that clearly was not his. He grimaced slightly.

"I'll leave such things to beings with far more ability than I in that regard--"

The Nevadians train of thought was cut off, as he was so entranced by his riches, that he had perhaps dropped his guard.



Willia.....

The Nevadian glanced at her for a moment. It seemed like ages since they had spoken, the last time being at the point of blades during the Capusle of The World tour. In her current state, she was a far cry from the confident, powerful warrior who took what she want with little concern to anything else.

But, she was merely a secondary concern at the moment.

Held was silent for a moment, stunned at Jinzi's surprising candor towards Kenshiko and the others. The billionaire had always been calm and collected---A bit erratic to be sure--and to see him otherwise was quite surprising.

...I guess it makes sense he'd be so pissed. They've been hunting him down like a dog, and they then take the chance to piss all over his work. I guess I should applaud his restraint in this case.

"I'd say something about how we should all cool down, but I suppose I should be happy that we've reached a point where bloodshed isn't feasible." He said with a sigh, "But, you know there's no way to please everyone, Jinzi."



The Nevadians quick mind had prepared a counter offer, poised to negotiate and discuss the finer points of money, the nature of the world, and the divine providence of 'Finders Keepers'. The resolute expression on the mind of the scientist had gave Held the impression that this was not a point of negotiation for him.

"Urgh....I suppose we all have our sticking points, eh?" Held replied with a sigh, "And I suppose it's not the worst deal for me....But, what are you doing to do with the money? I can't imagine you'd be content to have it sitting in your own vault, could you?"

I'd imagine if he's this serious about it, the idea of keeping that money around would feel like it tainted the rest of his own...

“Give it away. I’ll match the amount and give you the same. The stuff you got from them will go to a handful of charities. No way to track the owners unless the Raiders kept financial records, which I doubt, so that’s the best we can do.”

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Kenshiko fell silent for a moment. Held's challenge seemed to stir something in her apathetic, taunting mask. Ripples shook and scattered the image, revealing a distorted something as it disturbed something beneath.

“He's my last living student.”

No obfuscation of the matter, only the simple truth. She spoke tersely, the smoulder of her admission betraying the bonds of nostalgia and a hint of longing, in spite of her voice quavering as if to absorb the rude upturn of an dark joke.

“Dossiers and documents. How convenient. They don't tell you what it's like to live it,” she said. “To answer the call and lift up another life from nothing. The responsibility for the people who depend on you, to accept the duty of those who came before you.”

Her fangs disappeared in the shadow, a streak of red reflection catching the light of the control panel in a path down her face.

“And to feel everything moving you forward drag you down, knowing everything precious taken from you is carried on by a pretender fool,” she said, “you don't know what that's like, Xeno. But I didn't have your papers before you decided to come in and fill your pockets. That's enough of an estimate for me."

"Hell, I don't even know your name.”





One might suppose this little Capsule Corp Banter, about what's inside these Capsule Corp Capsules, in the confines of this Capsule Corp Ship would be enough for Jinzi Pantaloon to rest upon contented. It's not every day one finally manages to meet the face of a brand, and by the shadowed expression on her face, Kenshiko had found exactly what she wanted. Drifting her gaze listlessly towards him as he entered the craft, it was clear she'd expected nothing in the first place. He'd offered her and Willa a modicum of comfort before they were to face their sentence, but now that there was no audience to play to, he'd finally said his piece.

She saw the Colonel there bound in her energy-shackle irons. Kenshiko's gaze fell, impassive, as the Master Sergeant looked right through her Commanding Officer. An errant strand parted before her eyes where she locked them absently between her and Jinzi.

“It bothers you doesn't it? Not having complete control,” she said, her voice falling unbecomingly soft. “All the lovely things you've designed, all the monuments to yourself you've built, all the little things you raised up, the thought that they just might one day break down and come to nothing...”

She paused. Something between a cough - or perhaps a laugh - seized her speech. Kenshiko pressed her trembling lips together for a moment and swallowed. What she held in was broken with a long sigh, hollow resignation burning out of her like smoke.

“Congratulations. You're one in a handful. It's all so simple a thing, up until something doesn't line up with your simple vision. Then it just needs to go away, forgotten. Well I won't let you forget,” she said. “Grinthorn's been the Prime Minister for how long? In the name of unification, how many acceptable losses do you think he allowed, turning a blind eye masking it with speeches about justice, and moving up, up, up?"

"Every day I've heard their stories. Broke bread with the survivors. Their voices weren't heard, these lives lost to a closed-door vote. Can you give them back their lives? Who fights for the forgotten?”

Her unblinking eyes flit to the Colonel for a moment, and an unspoken tension filled the air before returning to the space between the parties gathered, the firmament of spirit released to nothing, empty.



“Truly, you are the biggest humanitarian,” she continued. The rebellion bled out of her voice as she straightened herself where she sat prisoner. “That sort of **** sustains you, eating the hopes and dreams of other people. Makes you feel real big before you slap your logo on them. What a winner.”

The faint outline of the red axehead insignia on her chest, dyed in blood, faded to black in the darkness. It became increasingly unclear just to whom the fallen Tiger Master was speaking to right now, Held, Jinzi, or Willa.

“The truth is you really can't stand people at all, can you? Not unless they follow in your vision,” she said, “Why don't you just shrink down the world and stuff it into your pocket?”

He looks at them, and a sad smile flits across his face.

“No, quite the contrary. I love people. When I traveled off Earth and realized how small and fragile this place is, how fragile humanity is, I swore I would do everything in my power to protect it. To raise it up.”

He sits down, looking at them all .

“What Grinthorn has done is criminal. Even if his own hands aren’t stained in blood, his actions are. Vermillion, Calais, the Ronus affair, Crypsi, the Dangallen family, all of them. My own parents deaths. One day, soon, I’ll have enough to bring him down. But I won’t do it at the cost you seem to be willing to. I won’t tear down the entire government. The sheer amount of chaos, of instability, of bloodshed would be enormous. So I’ll do it slowly, I’ll take him down and change it. I will fix the mistakes. I’ll make sure another Vermillion never happens. But if that seems too big headed, to arrogant, there will be countermeasures in place. Adam has orders to remove me if I ever start to go the way of Grinthorn.”

He starts the ship up and nods to Held to leave.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"If you have the means to get there safely, then we'll see it done," Ochazuke said, pulling a sleeveless white shirt over himself.

He hadn't known him long, for their acquaintance broken by the the grace of Zaofan's deed. Yet Samson's passion was unbecomingly boyish for a man his age. Certainly he could not blame him. After a life held hostage, toyed with under a fickle dictator like Simon Battersea, the possibilities now must seem endless. His spirit was infectious, defying Ochazuke's expectations for a man he'd initially been quite suspicious of.

In fact, the fall of the Dragon Monks when he'd first heard of it had filled him only with thoughts of darkling humor and irony. Those who'd dedicated their lives to guarding their hoarded treasure fell in their purpose, stolen from under them by someone greedier and much more miserly than even they he'd seen as worth nothing short of mockery. Generations gathering untold sums of precious things to one place, reaped by the hand of one who simply wanted it more with the means and might to seize it. A martial artist must always be ready, much less a legacy art that never seemed to leave the confines of its litany of worldly attachments to represent itself.

He'd thought them cowards that deserved their fall before. Today he understood not all things of value stood in a monuments. The Dragon School's second chance rest on the three of them, and soon they would see the shape of the history they inherited in common.

He does, and a few hours later, the three begin moving through a forest via tree running. Another few hours later, tired but giddy, Samson has them stop in a clearing. Examining the place, he channels ki into his hand and strike sthe ground, causing a crack to open up, follows by a large hole.

Holding aloft a flaming sphere of ki fire, he sends it down the hole and the three see a large temple in a cave. A temple adorned with the dragon.

And the snake.

Samson looks at them, eyes wide.

“It cannot be. The statue said the temple was an old dragon one, what is the Snake doing here too?”

[Cyke]

"It's a strange feeling starting from zero. That is the way all things begin, forged in the crucible of the naive mind."

The principle of Shoshin is manifest in the white of gi and belt. To truly understand something new, it must be engaged by a mind untethered to what had come before. The purity of the thing is not in its presentation, but in its understanding. Yet there were no markers here, no uniforms but the saffron robe of their host and the green of the memory-echo housed in the jade. Seasoned by battle and hardship, the three of them had their work cut out for them to recover what was lost.

"You want to do right by Balon and the history of the Dragons following in their every step with due diligence," he said, noting the snap of frustration mounting in Zaofan's movements. "The proper way, too, is a cage. Don't overthink it."

There was wisdom to the words, of course. A good reminder that Zaofan wasn't just doing this to improve himself, but to honor the agreement to help revive the Dragon style, to help their last scholar unearth their mysteries. Due diligence indeed.

After all, if Zaofan fashioned himself as a wanderer and explorer, the least he could do, then, was to honor the hosts and their traditions and practices. That was the greatest education, for it would open so many doors to other paths of knowledge. There was so much that Zaofan didn't know of the world, and that's what got him to get up one day and become a vagabond.

"Cage,' you say? I can't say that I'm a big fan of those. Point taken, friend."

Ochazuke turned at the waist, casting a three-pronged finger strike forward, sinking his weight down at his core, his arm the coiling spring of the Dragon's maw.

The crucible of the naive mind burns all things away like slag from ingots, leaving behind the pure ideal, a thing to strive toward. Hearing Zaofan speak drew a short chuckle from him, the mirth in its weight opposed to the flatness of his expression focused in his execution.

"He was a champion for those who worshiped strength and bowed to the altar of might," Ochazuke replied. "He paved the path, but those who walked in his wake saw the place he went. They were just as complicit in propping up this image."

Resplendent as Turtle Island had been, Battersea's tournament was just a symptom of a rot that consumed it from within. Violence in the name of ego, so concerned with reputation and proving the smallest truth; by might alone, the worth to exist was proven. It was a thing that was driven into his very being there, on the cedar-board planks in the Grandmaster's dojo. The only objective for much of Ochazuke's life had simply been to win, no matter the cost. Behind closed doors he'd met many who would call themselves champions and would cast them down. Locked in the moment of violence, as legacies imparted to fists smashed into the flesh of the other, they'd sort out an unspoken understanding. Only the victor was worth anything.

"Battersea sat atop the tower. He didn't build it."

"I suppose it's on us -- or any practitioner -- to pay attention to those who sit on top, eh?"

Continuing the motions, Zaofan's resolve was focused. "And towers are meant to be climbed...!"

He does, and a few hours later, the three begin moving through a forest via tree running. Another few hours later, tired but giddy, Samson has them stop in a clearing. Examining the place, he channels ki into his hand and strike sthe ground, causing a crack to open up, follows by a large hole.

Holding aloft a flaming sphere of ki fire, he sends it down the hole and the three see a large temple in a cave. A temple adorned with the dragon.

And the snake.

Samson looks at them, eyes wide.

“It cannot be. The statue said the temple was an old dragon one, what is the Snake doing here too?”

Zaofan looks down, eyes wide open but trying to ascertain what they see. "I must admit, the Snake School is perhaps the one I'm most unfamiliar with by now. All I know of their philosophy is that they're pre-emptive in practice, draping themselves in enigma and swiftness. But the Dragon style is about fortitude. What could they be doing together here?"

The vagabond chef then pulls an apple out of his sleeve and takes a bite. "I suppose we should make our way down to investigate."

[KingofPie]

P-Sta soared around the city, until he spotted a police car, a policewoman sitting in it asleep, her feet kicked up upon the dashboard. Alighting down, P-Sta knocked on her door, waking her up. As soon as she spotted him, he gave a friendly wave. She tentatively rolled down the window, wondering what he wanted.


"Greetings, fellow law enforcement official!" P-Sta saluted, before shifting into a swift pose. "Have you seen a diminutive demon stuck in a toilet?" he asked, wrapping his cape around himself. The officer responded by slowly rolling up the window and falling back to sleep.

"Hmm...perhaps, a bit of visual representation would be helpful," P-Sta noted, placing a hand to his chin.

P-Sta soon flew by a man walking his dog in a nearby park. Landing in front of him, P-Sta presented a horrifically poor drawing. "Good sir! Have you perhaps seen a diminutive toilet demon that looks...somewhat similar to this portrait?!"

The man stared at P-Sta blankly. "Er, citizen?" the alien lawman questioned as the man's dog, lifted it's leg and pissed on the picture...as well as P-Sta's cape. "..."

Later, at the laundromat, P-Sta placed an arm on the washing machine, leaning on it and becoming lost deep in thought as he watched the spin-cycle. ...Alright, he was actually just staring at his own reflection in the machine's glass window. His concentration broke as one of the employees walked by. "Ah, excuse me sir! But have you seen a demon stuck in a toilet about..." P-Sta lowered his hand towards the ground. "Yay high? ...Also do uh, can you break down space-zeni into change?"

Much more later...a baby stroller was rushing down a hill, the baby's mother screaming and running after it. Luckily, P-Sta was there to stop it. Pushing the carriage back towards the mother who was immensely grateful, P-Sta, of course, had to ask, "Maam, have you seen some sort of toilet demon anywhere around the city?"

The mother thought for a moment, before holding out her baby, whose diaper was drooping and now had a foul stench emanating from it. "Er, no that's...that's not quite what I meant..." P-Sta stated, backing off.

P-Sta, slept atop his own ship, still parked in the same parking lot, which was now a lot less empty. "The creature is certainly dangerous....but no one has seen him yet. Has he not attacked anyone? I probably should've payed more attention to what Miras told me...but, no matter! P-Sta never fails a case!"

"Uh, sir?" A security officer asked, approaching P-Sta and his ship. "You know that's a paid parking space, right?"

"Oh! My apologies! I didn't realize! Is there a fine?! I'll pay it right away!" P-Sta sat up.

"Well yeah, but there's no need for that, just move the ship. t'd actually be easier for me to-,"

"No, no, I insist!" P-Sta insisted. "Now, if my calculations are correct...and they always are, Space-Zeni converts into Earth Zeni by about..."

[Hazard]

The man in front of him is full of muscles, in possession of a neck wider than child's torso, and tall. Well, tall by Earther standards. Slak still has to look down to meet his eyes like he has to do with almost everyone else in the planet.

"I don't want any trouble," Slak says. He makes note of the large knife at the man's side and the yellow jacket he is wearing. He is not the only one with that jacket. Several other men in the bar have it, and they are all looking at him with dark eyes. He guesses they are a gang of some sort.

"Well, too bad," the man says. "You found me. Me and my buddies, we're the Yellow Jackets. This is our town, and you're not welcome here."

Slak blinks.

"Wait," he says. "You are saying you are the ones in charge here? You are responsible for this place? Is that it?"

"Damn right!" The man says, proud. "We run this fucking town, and everyone knows it! Ain't that right, boys!"

The man raises his fist and cheers came from his fellows.

"I see."

----

One fight scene and one hour later, the people of the town are celebrating with great joy as their town is finally rid of the gang that had been terrorizing it.

"Cheers to the hero who got of those pests!" the mayor of the city says as he raises his glass. Applause and cheers follow.

"Hey, you can't not be drinking at your own party. Here," one of the townspeople says, offering Slak a mug of beer.

"Ah, I don't actual-" Slak's words are cut off as the beer is pushed into his mouth and he ends drinking it.

The taste reminds him of what happened at the Lookout the night Zaofan made that weird water. He had forgotten it with all the excitement that followed, but something had happened with him after drinking that. He got the feeling he had gotten close to something important.

He looks at his beer for a second.

"Do you have something stronger?

[Tami]

Month 4 - Week 1

A warning sound told Meagan that landfall was imminent. Quickly taking the pilot's chair and strapping in, she checked the controls and through the view-screen saw the planet of Symbos getting increasingly larger as her spacecraft sped increasingly closer.



The entry into the atmosphere was both thrilling and a little nerve racking, but her confidence in Jinzi's skills was rewarded when the craft's re-entry rockets engaged, slowing down the descent. The landing gear deployed and the craft made touch down on level terrain. Leaning back in her seat, Meagan let out a sigh of relief then unlatched her seat belt. After standing up and taking a moment to adjust to the gravity change, she walked over to a portal and looked out onto the terrain.

The landscape was stark and bleak. The few trees that she could see looked stunted and half-way dead.

Before heading out, she took time to change her clothes. She doubted she would need armor, so she settled on her regular training cloths and boots, her cloak now wrapped around her waist as a sash. The supplies she brought with her were safely stashed in the craft, all the systems were shut down and locked down. No one but her should be able to operate it, so no more hi-jinks like what happened on that infamous food run.

Once she was ready, she opened the hatch and stepped outside, shutting it tight as soon as she was touching the ground. Not seeing any sign of life, she took a deep breath and called out, "Hello!!" then once again, "Can anybody hear me?", then with another breath, she shouts, "I'm looking for Nyklos!"

After a moment, she hears a sound, then another louder one, then with the third sound the ground beneath her feet begins to shake.

[Miburo]

“Give it away. I’ll match the amount and give you the same. The stuff you got from them will go to a handful of charities. No way to track the owners unless the Raiders kept financial records, which I doubt, so that’s the best we can do.”

"Well, I suppose I could find a few ways to creatively give this vast wealth away for the greater good." Held replied, a slight grin on his face despite the circumstances, "Although, it's still hard to believe a businessman wouldn't lose sleep on such a deal. Still, as long as you have no issue with it, I won't."

Kenshiko fell silent for a moment. Held's challenge seemed to stir something in her apathetic, taunting mask. Ripples shook and scattered the image, revealing a distorted something as it disturbed something beneath.

“He's my last living student.”

No obfuscation of the matter, only the simple truth. She spoke tersely, the smoulder of her admission betraying the bonds of nostalgia and a hint of longing, in spite of her voice quavering as if to absorb the rude upturn of an dark joke.

“Dossiers and documents. How convenient. They don't tell you what it's like to live it,” she said. “To answer the call and lift up another life from nothing. The responsibility for the people who depend on you, to accept the duty of those who came before you.”

"The last....?" Held asked, just as much as he reflected on the meaning. Given the unfortunate history of the woman, the Nevadian had an inkling of the fate that befell them, which Ochazuke had somehow avoided.

This history truly is depressing, isn't it? All I see when I speak to one about the other is a profound sadness and regret....I feel I might have done them a disservice by granting his wish in the first place, almost.

Her fangs disappeared in the shadow, a streak of red reflection catching the light of the control panel in a path down her face.

“And to feel everything moving you forward drag you down, knowing everything precious taken from you is carried on by a pretender fool,” she said, “you don't know what that's like, Xeno. But I didn't have your papers before you decided to come in and fill your pockets. That's enough of an estimate for me."

"Hell, I don't even know your name.”

"It's a pity you all seemed so consumed by vengeance...." The Nevadian said at length, reflecting deeply on the Tigress and her plight. It was something Held could empathize with. While he had never had the misfortune of earning the ire of the government of his people, he could imagine how alienating it was, how limiting it could be. To find that same government responsible for tragedies of the highest order heaped upon your head....

"If you managed to accomplish this much as an enemy of the world, I wonder what you could have done if you had chosen another path...Or at least a slightly different route."

Well, under similar circumstances, the Nevadian could not say for certain that his answer would have been much different than those that so many of their number had found.

"Either way, the name is Held. Held Debon of Nevada." He said, knowing full well they were past the point of introductions.

[Miburo]

One might suppose this little Capsule Corp Banter, about what's inside these Capsule Corp Capsules, in the confines of this Capsule Corp Ship would be enough for Jinzi Pantaloon to rest upon contented. It's not every day one finally manages to meet the face of a brand, and by the shadowed expression on her face, Kenshiko had found exactly what she wanted. Drifting her gaze listlessly towards him as he entered the craft, it was clear she'd expected nothing in the first place. He'd offered her and Willa a modicum of comfort before they were to face their sentence, but now that there was no audience to play to, he'd finally said his piece.

She saw the Colonel there bound in her energy-shackle irons. Kenshiko's gaze fell, impassive, as the Master Sergeant looked right through her Commanding Officer. An errant strand parted before her eyes where she locked them absently between her and Jinzi.

“It bothers you doesn't it? Not having complete control,” she said, her voice falling unbecomingly soft. “All the lovely things you've designed, all the monuments to yourself you've built, all the little things you raised up, the thought that they just might one day break down and come to nothing...”

She paused. Something between a cough - or perhaps a laugh - seized her speech. Kenshiko pressed her trembling lips together for a moment and swallowed. What she held in was broken with a long sigh, hollow resignation burning out of her like smoke.

“Congratulations. You're one in a handful. It's all so simple a thing, up until something doesn't line up with your simple vision. Then it just needs to go away, forgotten. Well I won't let you forget,” she said. “Grinthorn's been the Prime Minister for how long? In the name of unification, how many acceptable losses do you think he allowed, turning a blind eye masking it with speeches about justice, and moving up, up, up?"

"Every day I've heard their stories. Broke bread with the survivors. Their voices weren't heard, these lives lost to a closed-door vote. Can you give them back their lives? Who fights for the forgotten?”

Her unblinking eyes flit to the Colonel for a moment, and an unspoken tension filled the air before returning to the space between the parties gathered, the firmament of spirit released to nothing, empty.



“Truly, you are the biggest humanitarian,” she continued. The rebellion bled out of her voice as she straightened herself where she sat prisoner. “That sort of **** sustains you, eating the hopes and dreams of other people. Makes you feel real big before you slap your logo on them. What a winner.”

The faint outline of the red axehead insignia on her chest, dyed in blood, faded to black in the darkness. It became increasingly unclear just to whom the fallen Tiger Master was speaking to right now, Held, Jinzi, or Willa.

“The truth is you really can't stand people at all, can you? Not unless they follow in your vision,” she said, “Why don't you just shrink down the world and stuff it into your pocket?”

Well, I can certainly see where Ochazuke gets his insight from....

Held had nothing to add, feeling that the conversation had little to do with him, as both a person, and as a being from an entirely different world. His history, his experience was completely different those who had been born and raised on this planet, whose family could be traced back through numerous generations. He could understand their feelings and burdens on an intellectual level, but the sentiment, won through experience on this blue rock, still alluded him to an extent.

He looks at them, and a sad smile flits across his face.

“No, quite the contrary. I love people. When I traveled off Earth and realized how small and fragile this place is, how fragile humanity is, I swore I would do everything in my power to protect it. To raise it up.”

He sits down, looking at them all .

“What Grinthorn has done is criminal. Even if his own hands aren’t stained in blood, his actions are. Vermillion, Calais, the Ronus affair, Crypsi, the Dangallen family, all of them. My own parents deaths. One day, soon, I’ll have enough to bring him down. But I won’t do it at the cost you seem to be willing to. I won’t tear down the entire government. The sheer amount of chaos, of instability, of bloodshed would be enormous. So I’ll do it slowly, I’ll take him down and change it. I will fix the mistakes. I’ll make sure another Vermillion never happens. But if that seems too big headed, to arrogant, there will be countermeasures in place. Adam has orders to remove me if I ever start to go the way of Grinthorn.”

He starts the ship up and nods to Held to leave.

Held sighed, nodding at Jinzi.

"I'd ask if either of you have anything else left to say, or a message to relay..." Held said, glancing at Willia and Kenshiko, "But I'd imagine at least one of you has said all you needed to."

[Tami]

Month 4 - Week 1

Tensing up, Meagan prepared for possible combat, not knowing what was heading her way. Eventually she saw something approaching from around a large outcrop....



The creature must have been seven feet tall. Seeing Meagan it let out a sound, much like a cross between a lion's roar and a bird's squawk, only far louder. She quickly placed her hands over her ears, but otherwise stood her ground, even though said ground was trembling underfoot.

Once the creature ended it's call, Meagan dropped her hands, clenched her fists, and flare up her aura in it's most psychedelic display of power.

As she guessed, once the creature saw the light show, it got rattled, turned and ran away.

As it did, Meagan heard another sound coming up behind her. The sound of clapping. Returning to normal, she turned around to see who was watching her.

Alien-Teacher-3w.jpg

Giving him a bow, "Master Nyklos, I presume?"

The old man looked at her with no show of emotion, "I do not take to training other's pet projects. I should send you back, however, you did well in dealing with the Laferai and Kami of the Earth spoke highly of you."

The man then turned, and began to walk away. As he did, Meagan heard him speak, "Keep up, or you shall fail." with that she followed the odd old man, pushing aside any thoughts of fear or concern or doubt. The stakes were way too high to give in weakness now.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Samson leads them down, keeping a few ki flame spheres alight so they could see.

Going deeper, not just Snake and Dragon, but symbols and carvings of Tiger, Crane, and Turtle are found.

Even deeper still, a large unmarred statue is found. It is a fast crane winged creature with a turtle shell on its back, the limbs of a mighty tiger. It’s tail that of a snake, and it’s head a roaring dragon.

Samson pales a bit, though his awe is easy to hear in his voice.

“Zxu’ro, this is a temple to Zxu’ro. Never in my life did I expect to see this. I thought it was just a heretical myth.”

[Sion Reaver]

So the rumours were true. Huh, must be a way of... marking mates, he guessed? Or maybe it just felt good, like a... mini version of what happened when they drank blood? Whatever the reason, it would be... interesting to see if Karine, uh... gave into that instinct. Totoma was fine either way, since it was more the process of discovering new things about his love that excited him.

'Y-yeah, I just sort of... kept talking when I should've shut up, there,' came his response to her 'i'll get back to you' comment. After that, he went silent, though the link was still open. He remained silent for a long while.

Totoma mostly kept his eyes on the ground, watching the ocean--and the occasional island--pass him by. He could sense Karine gradually gaining ground on him, though at this point 'winning' the race wasn't foremost in his mind. Rather, he was... thinking. About himself, about Karine, about the future, what sort of person he wanted to be. Finally, after a long while, he spoke.

'...so, uh, I learned a new ability from Miss Ishtar the other day. Haven't quite mastered it, and I want to put my own spin on it eventually, but you may have noticed that I haven't been as... ravenous the past few days. She calls it Haurvatat, and it's basically the ability to subsist only on water... somehow.' There was a pause, and then Totoma added: '...it's kinda weird, not being peckish in an hour and starving in two. Weird, but nice.'

There was another, more extended pause.

'...but miss Ishtar's way of teaching it was... very do or die. She reminds me of mom in that way.'

He was trying to make small talk, to pass the time until they got to Capital City, which... should be pretty soon, if he had his numbers right.

'I haven't talked to Ishstar too much as I would have liked, but the times we interacted we've always gotten on. That is strange. Is it Ki or something else? It doesn't truly sound like a Ki attack. They are exceptions but they're usually straight forward far as effects. Most of the time.' Came the reply from Karine.

[grampagen]

There was wisdom to the words, of course. A good reminder that Zaofan wasn't just doing this to improve himself, but to honor the agreement to help revive the Dragon style, to help their last scholar unearth their mysteries. Due diligence indeed.

After all, if Zaofan fashioned himself as a wanderer and explorer, the least he could do, then, was to honor the hosts and their traditions and practices. That was the greatest education, for it would open so many doors to other paths of knowledge. There was so much that Zaofan didn't know of the world, and that's what got him to get up one day and become a vagabond.

"Cage,' you say? I can't say that I'm a big fan of those. Point taken, friend."


"I suppose it's on us -- or any practitioner -- to pay attention to those who sit on top, eh?"

Continuing the motions, Zaofan's resolve was focused. "And towers are meant to be climbed...!"

A positive outlook, a shared vision, solidified that shape of truth and solidified fast its meaning. Ochazuke had seen men like Battersea as a force pressing down, a vainglorious conceit building heavy monuments marking a path to nowhere charting a course to be avoided. Zaofan saw a plateau to surpass by virtue and by deed, a limiter to be engaged, opposed, and set right for all those who set it there.

Only a span of a few years separated them, but his martial brother, the vagabond, never settled his feet for too long and seen a longer horizon, and a broader scope of promise. The slightest angle changed the view, from looking to one who loomed above to the sky beyond the shadow, and this made all the difference.

"The arts are a means to express your intention. They're a part of our identity," he said, "History as written has often regarded this the other way around."

The blood spilled between the Five as they fought to find that spot on top of the tower dyed the earth red, and for what? A place to look down on the others in fear until they fell.

He does, and a few hours later, the three begin moving through a forest via tree running. Another few hours later, tired but giddy, Samson has them stop in a clearing. Examining the place, he channels ki into his hand and strike sthe ground, causing a crack to open up, follows by a large hole.

Holding aloft a flaming sphere of ki fire, he sends it down the hole and the three see a large temple in a cave. A temple adorned with the dragon.

And the snake.

Samson looks at them, eyes wide.

“It cannot be. The statue said the temple was an old dragon one, what is the Snake doing here too?”

"The root of the arts are the same. They were all extensions from the hand of the same master. Still, this is conspicuous."

Much of the life of the Obushi-sennin was shrouded in mystery, but the stories held fast to the histories shaped in its wake. In auspicious times to oppose the calamity of the world, he put and end to them, and each time the Warrior Sage came down from the mountain, he'd seemed to bring somebody new with him. Nomi the general's daughter; Yoroi the Abbot; Seiryuu the Sage; Doku the Assassin; and Bya Kau the Journeyman. The stories differed in every account - or depending on who told them - from the origins, the shape of the techniques, and who fell that day, but no matter what faction, the legend of the Master, the wandering warrior who fought for this world, stood luminous over the squabbles of doctrine and uniform.

"Two thousand years ago, The Five were once One. Although I had not known a nameless Warrior Hermit to ever need temples erected in his name."

Zaofan looks down, eyes wide open but trying to ascertain what they see. "I must admit, the Snake School is perhaps the one I'm most unfamiliar with by now. All I know of their philosophy is that they're pre-emptive in practice, draping themselves in enigma and swiftness. But the Dragon style is about fortitude. What could they be doing together here?"

The vagabond chef then pulls an apple out of his sleeve and takes a bite. "I suppose we should make our way down to investigate."

Ochazuke turned to Zaofan and asked, "is there much difference between a Dragon's kiss and a Snake's bite?"

He raised his hand in the three-clawed posture, forefingers extended, thumb curled to grasp. Turning it inward, he looked to it, folded his thumb inward and curled the claws to paired fangs.

He'd seen it once before that night when he'd foolishly challenged Sasheem thinking the Majin might remember the discipline of training. Instead, by his form rendered to kill and the merciless spread of his technique, the two all but killed each other to test their mettle.

"The good and the bad," he said, gazing at the Snake's form as its silhouette seemed to bleed in with the Dragon's with each passing moment, "what lies below is the truth."

[Lord Falcon]

Midori grinned as she said "I need to be able to design and possibly build my own upgrades without relying on Shiro to do it for me, but I don't have the programming or the knowledge to do so. But I'm an android, so I can just download the knowledge and programming necessary to do so! It'll be dangerous, yes, but if I succeed I'll be able to improve myself and even Shiro without needing her to do all the work!"

Asha'rah nodded her encouragement. Midori had taken her first step on the harder path. Now came time to do what she did best - leap forward with action in mind. It sounded like a workable idea. The internet was a vast place, and safe items taken separately could easily become a weapon when put together. Still, this was a new venture for Midori, and now she was leaping out on something she admitted was dangerous.

"There is no Shiro for insurance this time, and that is important. But that didn't mean one shouldn't take any precautions. The boring but important parts are yours to deal with now as well."

She gave the green android a two-handed salute.

"Godspeed on your quest, Midori."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

All Sarada wanted to do was enjoy a nice day at the beach with a few of her new friends.

Ever since the tribunal and Dahir's guilty verdict, she and several of his victims stayed in touch. Support was the primary reason, but they soon found that they had other things in common other than having been violated by the same person. The person she found herself being closest two was the girl who smiled at her at the tribunal, Colrizada. Pale of skin and with a head full of long, luscious red hair, Colrizada fell outside of Sarada's preferred body type – that being big boobs. Still, that was a good thing, as it allowed her to focus on enjoying her company rather than constantly fantasizing about mating with her. Not to say that she wasn't attracted, but she wasn't that attracted. Okay, they mated after the trial, but that was it!

It was about six weeks since the tribunal, and five months since Sarada left Earth, when she and a few others decided to travel to Ruco to enjoy a fun-filled day at once of their pristine beaches. Maiz let her stay at her penthouse there to keep from paying the admittedly high hotel prices.

The sand was warm between her bare toes as she walked to where the others were situated. It was a perfect day: the sun was shining, but there was a noticeably cool breeze blowing to offset the heat. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. The birds were chirping, the sea was bubbling serenely, and the sounds of the playful laughter of children and the idle chatter of adults filled the air. It was paradise.

Sarada let out a content sigh and sat down next to Colrizada, who was lounging on a beach towel. She was wearing a pair of yellow trunks, but no top. Sarada was wearing orange trunks with a matching top. According to the clothing store she bought it from, it was called a bikini or swimsuit. The fact that some races – Earthers in particular – actually wore clothes to swim was silly. Yes, sand was irritating and got everywhere, but that gave no reason to wear one's clothes in the water. It didn't make sense and was just one reason out of many that Earthers were weird.

The dozen or so people with her were engaged in a conversation about nothing in particular, so she was content to simply lay there and half-listen. Slowly, her eyes drifted closed. She wasn't asleep, but rather was thinking. About Earth, Vocado, and most importantly, Ishtar and Jack. As for the latter, she hadn't heard from him – unsurprisingly – since they last mated before she left. If she was pressed to admit it, she missed him. Mostly, though, she was concerned. He tended to be reckless, so she hoped he wasn't dead.

She meant what she said to him. She was going to kill him if he died before she could see him again. She didn't know how she was going to get to Otherworld to find him, but she was. Hum. I wonder if he's thought about me at all. Not that I care or anything, but I'm just curious.

He probably had. Hehe. She made sure during their last time together that he couldn't possibly forget her. She couldn't wait to see him again. Not because she missed him or anything stupid like that, but rather because they needed to fight again. She had gotten a lot stronger since the last time – and she was sure he had, as well – and had learned many new techniques. He had gotten lucky the first time, and her win the second time had an asterisk since it came right after they fought Nunlil. This third time needed to come when they were both well-rested and at top fighting shape.

As for Ishtar, she actually did miss her. She missed her touch, her scent, her taste, the way she held her after a night of passionate mating, the gentle way she worshiped her body. She missed her company, even though thanks to Aka Manah, they were never truly separated.

She felt Ishtar's ethereal presence during the last few weeks. The emotional support the Oni provided through their bond was one of the reasons she was able to remain so strong and composed during the tribunal. If not for that, she would have broken down like so many of them had during their testimonies.

The positive support wasn't, unfortunately, the only thing Ishtar transmitted her way. Before they went their separate ways, she mentioned returning to Ilargi, the place where her first love was brutally and senselessly murdered by her own followers. Sarada wanted to try and convince her to stay with her, and perhaps travel to Vocado with her, but she had no right to. This was Ishtar's decision, and she knew she needed to respect that. Reluctantly, she let her go, with a promise to see her again in the near future.

A promise she intended on keeping.

She felt clearly the trepidation and uncertainty that could have only come from finally arriving at her destination. And while Sarada could only hope that was the extent of the negativity, and that her trip to that haunted place was fruitful and beneficial, that just wasn't the case. At least not entirely.

In the end, all Sarada could do was endure the horrific pain she felt through Ishtar and do her best to send her reassuring feelings of confidence and strength, something she would need to endure this trial.

The idle talk around her suddenly quietly to a tense hush. Sarada opened her eyes where she felt the heat of the sun leave her skin. “What the hell?”

A massive alien warship hovered menacingly overhead. She could sense hundreds of power levels onboard. They all felt vengeful and ready for war.

Suddenly, a single hole in the bottom opened, allowing a thin figure to fly out. “Hear me Saiyans, and tremble!” bellowed a woman. “I am Deya, Empress of the Planet Snek! Four hundred years ago, your ancestors nearly pushed my people to extinction. For four hundred years, we waited, watched, replenished our numbers, and thirsted on the bitter dregs of hatred and vengeance for your wretched kind. And now, on this day, our revenge against you animals begins! Quake with fear at the sound of my voice, for it is a death knell for you and all your wretched kind!!!”

Oh. Oh, this was fantastic. Absolutely perfect timing. Today, when Sarada decided to go to the beach with her new friends was the day these morons decided to exact their revenge against long dead Saiyan conquerors – or in all likelihood, conqueror – that had diddly **** to do with her.

“Your penance begins henceforth! Snek warriors, ATTACK!” With a unified battle cry, thousands of Snek soldiers poured out of holes in the bottom of the ship. As they got closer, it became clear that the Snek warriors were Naga, creatures that were half-humanoid, half-serpentine. She remembered reading about their race and the Saiyan who nearly drove their race to extinction before he was killed in battle. Otatop V decided against finishing them off, as their planet held no real value to the Saiyans and wouldn't fetch nearly what they thought due to lack of resources.

“Ugh. How irritating,” Sarada sighed. The Snekians weren't very strong, other than three who were around Super Elite level. She could have just ignored them, as the odds of them doing more than inconvenience her or anyone else on the planet were slim. Sure enough, Ruco's defense force jumped into action to meet the invaders head on.

The battle was quick and brutal. The Rucoan Saiyans were much stronger on average than their Vocadoan cousins, and better trained. They fought in tandem and quickly overwhelmed the weaker invaders. They made an effort to vaporize those they killed so their dead bodies wouldn't litter and defile the pristine white sands of the beaches below.