Dragonball M, Chapter 2: Lighthouse! Across the Shores of Shattered Time!

[Cyke]

He pauses again before responding. The voice is rough, the words clearly not spoken in a while.

“Yes ma’am.”

He looks at the spice and sauce applicators, before slowly grabbing the spice one and pouring some on his food.

“Right thing. Right thing to do.” he says quietly, his hands clenching his food a little tighter. He stands quickly and opens a small container nearby, pulling out a green bottle before sitting down again and returning to his food. He sips the green water and keeps eating his food.

Zaofan puts a spoonful of rations in his mouth, grimaces a little, and swallows. "Oh, so you CAN talk. Alright then. Could you tell us about this planet? Like what's happened here? Just why you're alone? And why the dead keep rising from the grave?"

The man’s hand stills, clenches, then slowly he keeps eating. Ignoring Sasheem.

"Oh, don't mind him," Zaofan reassures the stranger. "Sasheem here is just a silly goose. By the way, I'm Zaofan, that hungry one over there is Sarada, and the lovely woman over there is Meagan. What's your name?"

[Monstrous Bird of Qin, Ou Ki]

Totoma had reverted from his Oozaru form and, exhausted, taken a seat and immediately dozed off. As such, he missed scenery on the way. By the time he awoke, the group was arriving at the secret bunker. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and groggily followed the others.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, he plopped down on a bench, fiddled around with one of his capsules, and out popped... a whole bunch of water bottles. He grabbed one and downed it in one go, a feeling of refreshment flooding through him. Not just because he was parched after... quite some time fighting, but also because the Haurvatat he'd modified from Ishtar's teachings had begun its work converting the water into energy--and ki.

...actually, him not immediately gorging himself on food might strike the other Saiyans as odd, come to think of it.

[Ptrvc]

"..." Sasheem took a glance at the contents of the can and made a disgusted sneer. "So...last survivor, huh?" He asked, speaking further before he could receive an answer, "Y'know, if you ever wanna join your friends and family, Sasheem can get you there in a flash," he stated...jokingly?

Jack smacks Shasheem upside the head with his palm.

"This is why I was hoping one of the sieletons would eat you or something."

[Tami]

Taking one or the MREs, Dash opened it up then glanced over her shoulder as Cyanna was staring at it, looking hungry. Handing it to her, "Here..." the younger girl takes it, sniffs it, then hands it back, her nose wrinkled, "It smells bad."

Taking it back, Dash shrugs then starts eating, while Cyanna stares at it.

Walking over to where they are, Dash takes another and throws it to her, "Here, Cya, catch."

Cyanna catches it, then looks at it uncertainly.

Dash continues to eat hers, ignoring her partner.

Cyanna finally relents and opens hers up. Taking some of it, she then continues to eat more until the can was empty.

Shaking her head, Dash finishes her own while wondering how they were getting out of this mess.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

Parsley observed everything in silence. This... bunker would suit their purposes well enough, but she was not to live in this place for very long. She would venture out into the wilderness on her own before she spent more time in this hovel than necessary.

The man who saved the others from those skeletal creatures -- she was in no danger and thus wasn't "saved" -- was a quiet one, only having barely spoken when spoken to and nothing more. It was clear that he had been alone in this place for a very long time. The others bombarded him with question after question, either missing his obvious discomfort with their presence or -- worse -- not caring. Though Parsley cared very little about his sob story, she knew that they weren't going to get much out of him at this juncture.

Instead of stand around watching people eat, drink, or try to pry answers out of the man, Parsley walked out of the commissary toward the back rooms to explore this place. If they were going to be using this place as shelter until the Oni could return them to their own universe, it would be prudent to get to know the layout of the building. With that in mind, she tried to walk inside the first room.

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Wordlessly he approached Ishtar. He said nothing, and whether it was the fatigue of the battles or simply to acrid smell of the corpsed air, Ochazuke's features strained silently.In his hand he had one of the Enseiji fruits Evangeline acquired from parts only thought mythical. Perhaps it would be a familiar sight to one who tended the Hell Orchards, but for the moment he was reluctant to inquire.

Ishtar, silent herself -- not from the stench, but from exhaustion, and failure -- regards Ochazuke's approach with some curiosity. When his hand reached out in offering of an Enseiji Fruit however, the Oni understood.

Taking the fruit without a word, Ishtar nodded her thanks before being pulled away and forced into the Hovercar. They could speak perhaps, once they were free of this place. The air was thick with death, and failure ... anything offered would be drowned out in it.

When Erosa let Sarada down next to Ishtar, the young Saiyan immediately leaned over and gave the Oni a peck on the outline of her jaw. It wasn't much, but the little things always made for the biggest impacts. Her love had had a difficult time trying to get that runic spell together, only to have all of her hard work undone in mere moments by those insidious creatures. "You did... the best you could," she assured her softly. So well that the next time, she was sure to get it right the first time, and they'd be back home in no time. There was nothing that sounded better than her large, ultra-comfortable bed in Vocado's palace right now. With her love right next to her, of course.

She let her focus shift from Ishtar to the view of the ruins outside. Everything was dead. Not just dead, but ancient. The rocks, the sky, even the waters of the oceans had dried up ages ago. Her dark brow fell downward. Just where were they? Where had Jagam managed to send them with his last ditch effort? Surely, his spell couldn't have managed to send them this far, to another universe entirely? There had to be another explanation.

Yet, what was there? Her portal generator didn't work, meaning it couldn't contact the nodes on any of the Saiyan worlds, which would have been impossible if they were in their universe.

Magic was so powerful, it could send them to other universes...

Perhaps...

Perhaps she was wrong about it. Maybe there was some use for it outside of turning people into stuffy old bastards who turned their noses up at everything that didn't align with their narrow-minded world view, like those assholes at the magic library Etrina took them to. Clowns.

Anyway, Jagam's spells gave her more trouble than she cared to admit. If she could meld it with her own fighting style, then that would make her all the more dangerous going forward. She'd be better able to protect the Saiyan empire from any and all threats going forward. Even a simple healing spell that could be cast on a whim, saved for when she was at death's door, would be an invaluable asset.

"I...," she started reluctantly. Despite the solid reasoning in favor of it, she still didn't want to take the time to learn all the groundwork, new phrases, and all that nonsense. "I want you to teach me some spells. Grrr. There's still a lot I need to learn about ki and my place as a fighter, but adding magic to my arsenal will only make me a better warrior."

She was sure that Ishtar would have said yes had she left it at the first part, but she needed to enunciate the second part aloud, if only for her own benefit. I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm a warrior, not a trickster, damn it!

The peck on the cheek was met with silence, Ishtar remaining silent save she give way to curses, and lamentation instead of a proper reciprocation, and yet a hand reached out to squeeze Sarada's own. When the comfort came -- from one who mattered most -- however, the Oni's lips parted and offered a sigh.

"And yet again, not good enough."

Thankfully however, after the silence settled in again -- this ancient world its master -- the subject shifted as Sarada weighed the worth of magic in her mind before she made a decision:

She wished to learn.

The golden-eyed Oni nodded.

"When I fashion the spell to bring us home, you will watch."

The man leads them through the outskirts to the other side of the city until they take an off ramp and several short turns, leading down to place that looks slightly more alive.

As they traveled, Ishtar made a note of how familiar, and yet foreign this version of Earth, looked. For it was Earth, even with its two moons and ring of space debris. Yet it was older ... far older, such that even Ishtar herself was its younger.

Yet how could such be ?

In their 'where', Ishtar predated mortal life. She had to be, in order to serve their shepherd in the Afterlife ... though in the end, this was not her 'where', their universe. It was something else, entirely.

One that came before ...

As they traveled through this Necropolis of a world, Ishtar made a point to scan the horizon and the broken buildings that jutted from cracked, Earth ... and when they reached the ancient oasis, she took a keen interest in the flora.

The view did not last long however, and Ishtar soon found herself in the worn down commissary with the others. Which she appraised curiosity enough, though with less interest than the outside world. Though ...

Safe from the undead and their hunger, the Enseiji Fruit that had been offered by Ochazuke in silent acknowledgement of what had been sacrificed, was quickly devoured by Ishtar ... and almost immediately she felt her strength return; a thing those with sense enough to notice, would feel as well.

"..."

In the past she when she had given herself over to Wrath, fully, the Oni had not undergone such ... noticeable alterations. Though she did not know her horns glowed a soft blue -- against the darkened blue-black -- she could feel the energy that filled them, and really, the rest of her ... and yet it still felt ...

"Hollow."

Ishtar knew then there was more to this. Perhaps even, something that needed to happen in time given the relative ease of this initial deviation ... yet what it was, Ishtar couldn't say.

He pauses again before responding. The voice is rough, the words clearly not spoken in a while.

“Yes ma’am.”

When the man spoke, Ishtar turned from her rumination.

He had been alone for some time, and knew well the danger that hid beneath the surface of this world. Yet before she asked after the nature of these ... things, she needed to know.

"This Charnel ... World. How long ?"

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

He looks at Zaofan and Ishtar.

“Wilhelm Greylight, Sergeant, Royal Arms.”

He gestures to the outside world.

“When it started or when it ended?”

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

He looks at Zaofan and Ishtar.

“Wilhelm Greylight, Sergeant, Royal Arms.”

He gestures to the outside world.

“When it started or when it ended?”

"I am Ishtar." Ishtar offered. "Though ... I must know first, when it ended. The magic in those wards ... I am ancient, and yet it is older than I am ... "

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Parsley observed everything in silence. This... bunker would suit their purposes well enough, but she was not to live in this place for very long. She would venture out into the wilderness on her own before she spent more time in this hovel than necessary.

The man who saved the others from those skeletal creatures -- she was in no danger and thus wasn't "saved" -- was a quiet one, only having barely spoken when spoken to and nothing more. It was clear that he had been alone in this place for a very long time. The others bombarded him with question after question, either missing his obvious discomfort with their presence or -- worse -- not caring. Though Parsley cared very little about his sob story, she knew that they weren't going to get much out of him at this juncture.

Instead of stand around watching people eat, drink, or try to pry answers out of the man, Parsley walked out of the commissary toward the back rooms to explore this place. If they were going to be using this place as shelter until the Oni could return them to their own universe, it would be prudent to get to know the layout of the building. With that in mind, she tried to walk inside the first room.

It’s a weapons room. Racks of guns, ammo of various sorts, explosives, and other such things.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

The peck on the cheek was met with silence, Ishtar remaining silent save she give way to curses, and lamentation instead of a proper reciprocation, and yet a hand reached out to squeeze Sarada's own. When the comfort came -- from one who mattered most -- however, the Oni's lips parted and offered a sigh.

"And yet again, not good enough."

Thankfully however, after the silence settled in again -- this ancient world its master -- the subject shifted as Sarada weighed the worth of magic in her mind before she made a decision:

She wished to learn.

The golden-eyed Oni nodded.

"When I fashion the spell to bring us home, you will watch."

Sarada nodded. "Okay, I'll watch and learn." She already knew that this type of spell required a lot of blood, something she found to be counterproductive. Still, it was a spell, so at least learning how to... do whatever it was that spells required was a start.

She wanted to ask about this new form, but it was clear she was in no talking mood, so Sarada left it alone until things settled down.

He looks at Zaofan and Ishtar.

“Wilhelm Greylight, Sergeant, Royal Arms.”

He gestures to the outside world.

“When it started or when it ended?”

The man finally spoke, stating his name and - she assumed - his rank in some kind of army. "Wilhelm. Thanks for the assist and the food. I'm Queen Sarada of the Saiyan Empire."

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"I am Ishtar." Ishtar offered. "Though ... I must know first, when it ended. The magic in those wards ... I am ancient, and yet it is older than I am ... "

“The world ended...two hundred years ago. The Cairn Yard is far more ancient, ten, fifteen thousand or so years ago from the last battle of the heavens and near this planet, Terra’s, beginning.”

He waves his hand.

“At least that is what legend says.”

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Sarada nodded. "Okay, I'll watch and learn." She already knew that this type of spell required a lot of blood, something she found to be counterproductive. Still, it was a spell, so at least learning how to... do whatever it was that spells required was a start.

She wanted to ask about this new form, but it was clear she was in no talking mood, so Sarada left it alone until things settled down.



The man finally spoke, stating his name and - she assumed - his rank in some kind of army. "Wilhelm. Thanks for the assist and the food. I'm Queen Sarada of the Saiyan Empire."

His hand stops, his breath hitches at her race name. It lasts only a moment before he hesitates and then offers a clearly out of practice salute.

“Highness.”

[Sub-Zero MKA]

It’s a weapons room. Racks of guns, ammo of various sorts, explosives, and other such things.

The first room, Parsley saw quickly, was a weapon's cache. Guns, ammunition for those guns, explosives, and every other sort of weapon a lone survivor would need could be found there.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprise. This man has survived for what I assume to be most of his life. If not his entire life.

She took some time looking at everything; out of curiosity as opposed to with the intent of using it. She, as a true warrior, had no need or desire to sully herself with such paltry weapons.

The others, on the other hand, would likely find some use in these items. Especially the two weakling companions of the Chromakai.

She moved on to the next room.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

His hand stops, his breath hitches at her race name. It lasts only a moment before he hesitates and then offers a clearly out of practice salute.

“Highness.”

Ah, so Wilhelm had encountered the Saiyans of this universe. Or, at least knew of them. His respectful, of not rusty, gestured was appreciated and reciprocated.

"I take it you've had encounters with my race? I can only hope they've been... pleasant."

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Ignore this.