Dragonball M, Chapter 3: In Blood, Bone, and Ash! The Way Forward Unlocked!

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

"A...a Nucka-what?!" Sasheem questioned, raising a brow. Ishtar looked startled. What the hell got her so worked up? Either way she was starting to move on ahead and so he shrugged and followed.

They shared one last glance before Parsley turned and sprinted to catch up to Ishtar and Sasheem. "Bring me abreast of these... what was it you said? Nakka-something."

Ishtar continued toward where she sensed Baric, and the others. Only to find herself flanked by not simply Sasheem, and Etrina, but Parsley as well.

Which was ... good.

Her magical countermeasures would prove useful against Marduk, Teshub, and that damnable blade to say nothing of how her Super Saiyan form would help fight back Baric. Though ... even with her help, it was dangerous all the same. A thing she would be quick to emphasize when she realized that both Sasheem and Parsley seemed to have no idea what Baric was.

"Nuckalevee. Demons ... of Rot, and Suffering, and Malice. What is known of them comes from first-hand accounts, for even other Demons are loath to speak of them ... and while there are no more than a handful they are consistent; and what they offer speaks to their nature." Ishtar said to start.

"They are monstrous in appearance. Possessed of no skin, their muscles and veins are on display for all: a pulsating necrotic mass of tissue that courses and oozes with thick, black blood. Nor are they strictly speaking humanoid; as their bodies from the waist down are equine ... its legs scrawny and maggot-eaten, it's hooves cracked, and bloody. Their humanoid half is far more grotesque however. A head with two eyes that burn with perpetual hellfire simply hangs from its body, its neck broken and useless. Arms too long for its body, the knuckles a bloody pulp of flesh that drag upon the ground as it walks. To say nothing of the corruption they spread by purely existing, to the point where even the air they 'breathe' and space they inhabit is eaten away at by their miasmic presence." The Oni paused a moment to collect her thoughts on the matter -- for it was a subject she herself had long left alone -- before continuing on in a torrent of words; hurried and hushed.

"As I understand it, there were only ever three, and as I recall only one of them ever possessed a name; for such ultimately means little to their ken. For the first two, not much is known beyond how they eventually came to be beaten down and confined, the First to the lowest level of HIFL: the plane of torture in Otherworld that Parsley is familiar with. The second, ultimately bound in secret by the Galaxy Police ... one of the few good things they have managed in their tenure as universal wards. The third however ... the one we face ? He was known as Baric the Brute and met his end on the Arcosian Homeworld some centuries ago after a protracted siege ... the first of the Nuckalevee to truly die. Or I so I thought.

"Even among the Nuckalevee, Baric was ... unique. The methods he employed to torture and kill eventually becoming more of a grotesque art than anything truly barbarous; and he never tired of it. Even when the others were struck down and contained, Baric continued his lone campaign against the living souls in this Universe. A tally that extends into the billions as I understand it, and at least a hundred worlds now long forgotten. And it did not matter the span. Once Baric set his sights upon a planet, or an inhabited moon, they eventually fell. Each and every soul upon it experiencing as much suffering and pain as their wills could bear before Death came to grant them mercy." Ishtar shrugged, before explaining how she knew.

"I will never forget when I encountered Baric, as much as I might wish it so now that I am no longer the emotionless voyeur I once was. The tenth World Zurvan bore me to witness. A garden-world on the outer rim of known space ... He arrived and no one but I knew. So I watched as he first killed the crops, to sow chaos: miasmic breath and fetid blood eating away at the flora until the world was completely bare of it. Then he waited for the survivors to regroup ... begin to rebuild ... and repeated the process with the livestock. Those who died during these phases were granted a mercy he did not afford the survivors ..." Ishtar trailed off then, shaking her head to dispel the memory before saying simply:

"It took him half a century. He never said a word."

Finished now, at least for the moment, the Oni simply pressed forward.

[grampagen]

"Even among the Nuckalevee, Baric was ... unique. The methods he employed to torture and kill eventually becoming more of a grotesque art than anything truly barbarous; and he never tired of it. Even when the others were struck down and contained, Baric continued his lone campaign against the living souls in this Universe. A tally that extends into the billions as I understand it, and at least a hundred worlds now long forgotten. And it did not matter the span. Once Baric set his sights upon a planet, or an inhabited moon, they eventually fell. Each and every soul upon it experiencing as much suffering and pain as their wills could bear before Death came to grant them mercy." Ishtar shrugged, before explaining how she knew.

"I will never forget when I encountered Baric, as much as I might wish it so now that I am no longer the emotionless voyeur I once was. The tenth World Zurvan bore me to witness. A garden-world on the outer rim of known space ... He arrived and no one but I knew. So I watched as he first killed the crops, to sow chaos: miasmic breath and fetid blood eating away at the flora until the world was completely bare of it. Then he waited for the survivors to regroup ... begin to rebuild ... and repeated the process with the livestock. Those who died during these phases were granted a mercy he did not afford the survivors ..." Ishtar trailed off then, shaking her head to dispel the memory before saying simply:

"It took him half a century. He never said a word."

Finished now, at least for the moment, the Oni simply pressed forward.

Dragging his heels a half-step behind this motley company, Zaofan's face twist in strange pantomime of expressions as Ishtar described one- just one! - of their opponents that lay in wait. Of course, by this point there was no dispute that the Oni knew what she was talking about. By all accounts she was quite long-lived and extraordinarily well-traveled. The vistas of this existence seemed far too vast for one go 'round, but the next world and beyond, well. Even if there were some discrepancy, the present company would be hard pressed to raise an objection.

Well...maybe one.

But as Ishtar's tale of these malicious demons of rot and suffering lengthened, with the expansive and exhaustive detail of her intimate account with this sadist demon, all of a sudden he felt his windpipe stiffen and his skin crawl.

What have I gotten myself into this time? the Martial Chef asked himself. Baric was a creature of a fallen realm, some lost totemic thing carved in the shape of ancient stories. Ishtar's words left him at a loss, but for the hollow, empty feeling that remained.

"Rotten business, these Nuckalevee," he said, a quivering jaw given to clattering teeth. Frankly, he was hard pressed to say much else.

Yet in spite of being at quite a remove from the subject, that sense of dread he felt within was something he yearned to reject instinctively. Maggots and worms and pus and spoils, there were all cruel reminders of the end. Puffing a shallow breath through pursed lips, Zaofan saw Ishtar continue toward it even with all she had just relaid to them and found himself taken with a sense of awe in direct proportion to the horror conveyed. In the knowledge of the sharp eyes and minds he had for company there, so did he find the courage to put one foot before the other.

"Um...so, any suggestions?"

[grampagen]

"I guess the time for jokes is over, huh?" Held stated as he felt the blade of his mind sharpen itself against the whetstone of Ochazukes technique, "I was hoping I'd get a few more out before the hunt begins, but...."

The blood eclipse of the Shingan manifested in his eyes, brought to unparalleled heights by the even greater boost in focus. "I suppose this is probably as bad a situation as we've been in...since....."

He trailed off attempting to remember a time.

"Well, that doesn't matter." He continued at last, adjusting the weapon resting on his shoulder, "I guess the only thing let is to do what we always do...."

Besides, I wanted to see this Doctor with my own eyes. I don't know if it's some morbid curiosity, or the fact that it's still Jinzi in some form or another...Although I'm sure not even reason can reach him as he is now...

"I just hope he's ready to pay what he owes me as well."

"This whole scheme is borne upon ill humour," Ochazuke replied, one hand laid upon the black sphere as he chased after its resonance within the expanse of this deathly complex.

Though not so much as a chuckle passed through him, facing ahead into the dark corridors, a short smirk lift in the corner of his mouth.

"'Debts owed for services rendered', how mercenary," he said, "And yet, how apt indeed. The queue for the debt owed is some seven worlds' length." Moving forward, he began to pick up speed. As he did so, he took a moment to test communications as he hailed the members of the other groups.

"Even with all of Time as his ceiling, for what he's done I doubt the man has enough coined to make an honest account," he continued, "suppose you'll have to make do, won't you?"

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Amazingly, the CC brand communicators Jinzi gave them so long ago still works, even in this strange and unnerving place.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

Finished now, at least for the moment, the Oni simply pressed forward.

Ishtar's recounting painted a creature of ill-intent. A walking disease who gave no quarter to the well-being of those whom his miasmic aura infected. He killed without prejudice, man and animal alike for no discernible reason other than it wanted to. It took its time, drawing out their suffering by -- if the example provided was any indication -- killing their possessions and supplies, then them. Over the course of half a century, proving it had patience beyond most mortal creatures.

The barbarism and sadism was far beyond anything Parsley had heard of. The Saiyans are too straight-forward for this kind sadistic need to inflict the maximum amount of suffering over those they conquered. Their wars ended quickly; prolonging them just to making their victims suffer was nary a thought in any of their one-track minds.

No, this was beyond anything she had encountered or thought of. Only a creature of abyssal ancestry could devise such means of death and destruction. And for what? It seemed to be in their very nature. They were creatures of Suffering and Malice. To do such things was for them the same as eating and breathing were to mortal creatures. It was necessary, she supposed.

Worrying still was not the number, but the means the other two were disposed of. They were trapped, not killed. A creature of this caliber of danger would have wiped from the face of the universe at the first opportunity if such were possible. That only one was supposedly -- and clearly not -- killed spoke poorly of their options.

Parsley pondered silently. She was better suited to face Marduk, as his magic would likely be ineffective against her -- especially as a Super Saiyan, as it would only empower her. Baric, on the other hand, had her considerably more concerned.

Finally, she spoke. "He can only be contained, then. Not killed? That cuts down on our options considerably." It was difficult, but not impossible. For her, that was the pinnacle of combat. The odds were high against her; what else could she do except overcome? "Tell me about this other Oni you said you saw."

[KingofPie]

"Nuckalevee. Demons ... of Rot, and Suffering, and Malice. What is known of them comes from first-hand accounts, for even other Demons are loath to speak of them ... and while there are no more than a handful they are consistent; and what they offer speaks to their nature." Ishtar said to start.

"They are monstrous in appearance. Possessed of no skin, their muscles and veins are on display for all: a pulsating necrotic mass of tissue that courses and oozes with thick, black blood. Nor are they strictly speaking humanoid; as their bodies from the waist down are equine ... its legs scrawny and maggot-eaten, it's hooves cracked, and bloody. Their humanoid half is far more grotesque however. A head with two eyes that burn with perpetual hellfire simply hangs from its body, its neck broken and useless. Arms too long for its body, the knuckles a bloody pulp of flesh that drag upon the ground as it walks. To say nothing of the corruption they spread by purely existing, to the point where even the air they 'breathe' and space they inhabit is eaten away at by their miasmic presence." The Oni paused a moment to collect her thoughts on the matter -- for it was a subject she herself had long left alone -- before continuing on in a torrent of words; hurried and hushed.

"As I understand it, there were only ever three, and as I recall only one of them ever possessed a name; for such ultimately means little to their ken. For the first two, not much is known beyond how they eventually came to be beaten down and confined, the First to the lowest level of HIFL: the plane of torture in Otherworld that Parsley is familiar with. The second, ultimately bound in secret by the Galaxy Police ... one of the few good things they have managed in their tenure as universal wards. The third however ... the one we face ? He was known as Baric the Brute and met his end on the Arcosian Homeworld some centuries ago after a protracted siege ... the first of the Nuckalevee to truly die. Or I so I thought.

"Even among the Nuckalevee, Baric was ... unique. The methods he employed to torture and kill eventually becoming more of a grotesque art than anything truly barbarous; and he never tired of it. Even when the others were struck down and contained, Baric continued his lone campaign against the living souls in this Universe. A tally that extends into the billions as I understand it, and at least a hundred worlds now long forgotten. And it did not matter the span. Once Baric set his sights upon a planet, or an inhabited moon, they eventually fell. Each and every soul upon it experiencing as much suffering and pain as their wills could bear before Death came to grant them mercy." Ishtar shrugged, before explaining how she knew.

"I will never forget when I encountered Baric, as much as I might wish it so now that I am no longer the emotionless voyeur I once was. The tenth World Zurvan bore me to witness. A garden-world on the outer rim of known space ... He arrived and no one but I knew. So I watched as he first killed the crops, to sow chaos: miasmic breath and fetid blood eating away at the flora until the world was completely bare of it. Then he waited for the survivors to regroup ... begin to rebuild ... and repeated the process with the livestock. Those who died during these phases were granted a mercy he did not afford the survivors ..." Ishtar trailed off then, shaking her head to dispel the memory before saying simply:

"It took him half a century. He never said a word."

Finished now, at least for the moment, the Oni simply pressed forward.

"So, it's just a walking rot factory?! And here Sasheem thought Erosa's stomach would be the worst thing he smelled in his life..." Sasheem noted, as he continued following the oni. Such a creature at a first glance appeared as if it'd get along swimmingly with the Majin. A single minded focus; annihilate everything.

But there was a very blatant, clear cut difference. No flash, no substance to it's method of destruction. Just...literally stink uo a place until everything died. That'd be funny the first time, but that being one's entire destructive M.O? Bleh.

Of course, now that Sasheem was the greatest hero of Earth, possibly space, eventually time, he couldn't let this thing stick around anyway. It even had the audacity to walk around with it's neck already broken and it's body already rotting. It's like it was born to take away half the fun of killing it and you can't even do that anyway!

"So we can't kill Nuckee Duckee...maybe," The Majin added after a minute. "How's it do against magic ****?"

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

The Path of Despair:


Walking down the hallways reveals little in the way of personality from the First Race, only shattered workrooms and laboratories. It takes half an hour of walking, twists and turns and stair cases down. Down many corridors and pathways, the group heading down here eventually walks into a working lab.



Multiple ‘pod’ containers exist here, and within are bodies. At least two dozen exist in these spheres, alongside computer banks and unknown equipment.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

The Path to the Doctor:

Down an endless line of similar corridors, the feeling of this path is one of purposeful confusion. If not for Nail’s Artifact, the way would have been lost, but it’s steady light cleaved through the deception and leads them truly.

Until a path separates. Forward to the Doctor:




And a branching path heading downward towards Ishtar’s kin:

[MrSandman]

"Nuckalevee. Demons ... of Rot, and Suffering, and Malice. What is known of them comes from first-hand accounts, for even other Demons are loath to speak of them ... and while there are no more than a handful they are consistent; and what they offer speaks to their nature." Ishtar said to start.

"They are monstrous in appearance. Possessed of no skin, their muscles and veins are on display for all: a pulsating necrotic mass of tissue that courses and oozes with thick, black blood. Nor are they strictly speaking humanoid; as their bodies from the waist down are equine ... its legs scrawny and maggot-eaten, it's hooves cracked, and bloody. Their humanoid half is far more grotesque however. A head with two eyes that burn with perpetual hellfire simply hangs from its body, its neck broken and useless. Arms too long for its body, the knuckles a bloody pulp of flesh that drag upon the ground as it walks. To say nothing of the corruption they spread by purely existing, to the point where even the air they 'breathe' and space they inhabit is eaten away at by their miasmic presence." The Oni paused a moment to collect her thoughts on the matter -- for it was a subject she herself had long left alone -- before continuing on in a torrent of words; hurried and hushed.

"As I understand it, there were only ever three, and as I recall only one of them ever possessed a name; for such ultimately means little to their ken. For the first two, not much is known beyond how they eventually came to be beaten down and confined, the First to the lowest level of HIFL: the plane of torture in Otherworld that Parsley is familiar with. The second, ultimately bound in secret by the Galaxy Police ... one of the few good things they have managed in their tenure as universal wards. The third however ... the one we face ? He was known as Baric the Brute and met his end on the Arcosian Homeworld some centuries ago after a protracted siege ... the first of the Nuckalevee to truly die. Or I so I thought.

"Even among the Nuckalevee, Baric was ... unique. The methods he employed to torture and kill eventually becoming more of a grotesque art than anything truly barbarous; and he never tired of it. Even when the others were struck down and contained, Baric continued his lone campaign against the living souls in this Universe. A tally that extends into the billions as I understand it, and at least a hundred worlds now long forgotten. And it did not matter the span. Once Baric set his sights upon a planet, or an inhabited moon, they eventually fell. Each and every soul upon it experiencing as much suffering and pain as their wills could bear before Death came to grant them mercy." Ishtar shrugged, before explaining how she knew.

"I will never forget when I encountered Baric, as much as I might wish it so now that I am no longer the emotionless voyeur I once was. The tenth World Zurvan bore me to witness. A garden-world on the outer rim of known space ... He arrived and no one but I knew. So I watched as he first killed the crops, to sow chaos: miasmic breath and fetid blood eating away at the flora until the world was completely bare of it. Then he waited for the survivors to regroup ... begin to rebuild ... and repeated the process with the livestock. Those who died during these phases were granted a mercy he did not afford the survivors ..." Ishtar trailed off then, shaking her head to dispel the memory before saying simply:

"It took him half a century. He never said a word."

Finished now, at least for the moment, the Oni simply pressed forward.

".....Hmm.....What a mess." Etrina mumbled to herself. It wasn't enough they had to fight two oni, but this....thing....sounded all the worse given the situation they were in. In addition to sounding utterly repulsive, they had a local corrupting effect on the air, and considering where they were....things could get stuffy inside fairly quickly.

"We're not in a good position to deal with someone poisoning the little air we have around here. I don't suppose any of you have something we use to at least keep him from suffocating us in toxic rot."

Yet in spite of being at quite a remove from the subject, that sense of dread he felt within was something he yearned to reject instinctively. Maggots and worms and pus and spoils, there were all cruel reminders of the end. Puffing a shallow breath through pursed lips, Zaofan saw Ishtar continue toward it even with all she had just relaid to them and found himself taken with a sense of awe in direct proportion to the horror conveyed. In the knowledge of the sharp eyes and minds he had for company there, so did he find the courage to put one foot before the other.

"Um...so, any suggestions?"

Etrina followed behind Ishtar with a look of deep thought on her face. ".....None....save our usual approach. Use the environment to our advantage, exploit weaknesses and avoid dying in the process. Beyond that I haven't the foggiest."

[MrSandman]

"This whole scheme is borne upon ill humour," Ochazuke replied, one hand laid upon the black sphere as he chased after its resonance within the expanse of this deathly complex.

Though not so much as a chuckle passed through him, facing ahead into the dark corridors, a short smirk lift in the corner of his mouth.

"'Debts owed for services rendered', how mercenary," he said, "And yet, how apt indeed. The queue for the debt owed is some seven worlds' length." Moving forward, he began to pick up speed. As he did so, he took a moment to test communications as he hailed the members of the other groups.

"Even with all of Time as his ceiling, for what he's done I doubt the man has enough coined to make an honest account," he continued, "suppose you'll have to make do, won't you?"

"Hey, Hey!" A voice whispered back....but not from the communicator.

It was the white mini-etrina, sitting proud and smug on his shoulder perch. "Reporting for duty chief, in case you need a little magic on this path."

[MrSandman]

The Path to the Doctor:

Down an endless line of similar corridors, the feeling of this path is one of purposeful confusion. If not for Nail’s Artifact, the way would have been lost, but it’s steady light cleaved through the deception and leads them truly.

"Gaaao....." Erosa let out a edged growl at the stretched hallway before them, then turned her head back and forth before looking to Ochazuke. "Ocha, want me to scout ahead ero? I'll watch whats just up ahead so we don't get ambushed ero."

The Path of Despair:

Walking down the hallways reveals little in the way of personality from the First Race, only shattered workrooms and laboratories. It takes half an hour of walking, twists and turns and stair cases down. Down many corridors and pathways, the group heading down here eventually walks into a working lab.

Multiple ‘pod’ containers exist here, and within are bodies. At least two dozen exist in these spheres, alongside computer banks and unknown equipment.

Upon entering the chamber, Cthylla scanned around with a perplexed expression. "How curious.....a prison of machinery." The Voidling floated slowly over to the nearest accessible computer, looking it up and down....she had, in the past, observed beings using such machines to summon information important to the local area, or to inflict damage on the machines of the enemy. However.....having viewed from outside the sphere did not lead well to the context of how they were used.

After examining the device, she turned to the closest of the group and pointed her finger. "How does one operate this machine."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

*snip*

The Path of Despair:


Walking down the hallways reveals little in the way of personality from the First Race, only shattered workrooms and laboratories. It takes half an hour of walking, twists and turns and stair cases down. Down many corridors and pathways, the group heading down here eventually walks into a working lab.

*snip*

Multiple ‘pod’ containers exist here, and within are bodies. At least two dozen exist in these spheres, alongside computer banks and unknown equipment.

The path Ochazuke indicated led to a lab of some kind. It was dingy, nasty, and sent an ice cold chill up Sarada's spine. "This has to be where he creates those damned hybrids," she spoke as she slowly walked through the lab. Her eyes bounced from one side to the other, taking stock of everything she could readily see.

Rows of pods lined the floor, each one occupied with an unknown body. Undoubtedly more of his creations. Her first mind was to destroy them all before they could be unleashed and attack them, but she refrained for just a moment. She stepped up to one of the computers and attempted to access it.

[KingofPie]

The Path of Despair:


Walking down the hallways reveals little in the way of personality from the First Race, only shattered workrooms and laboratories. It takes half an hour of walking, twists and turns and stair cases down. Down many corridors and pathways, the group heading down here eventually walks into a working lab.



Multiple ‘pod’ containers exist here, and within are bodies. At least two dozen exist in these spheres, alongside computer banks and unknown equipment.

Blizzar, not eager to have landed himself in another laboratory so soon, tries to see of he can spot any equipment similar to Incenio and the alternate Gero's handiwork.

The path Ochazuke indicated led to a lab of some kind. It was dingy, nasty, and sent an ice cold chill up Sarada's spine. "This has to be where he creates those damned hybrids," she spoke as she slowly walked through the lab. Her eyes bounced from one side to the other, taking stock of everything she could readily see.

Rows of pods lined the floor, each one occupied with an unknown body. Undoubtedly more of his creations. Her first mind was to destroy them all before they could be unleashed and attack them, but she refrained for just a moment. She stepped up to one of the computers and attempted to access it.

"I wonder..." Blizzar began. "If all of these hybrids are even serving him voluntarily. We already know he recruits through means inducing....well, despair, offering safety for their respective timelines in return for service to him. Some of these hybrids are undoubtedly purely mindless creations from mishmashed dna..." he trailed off, walking around to observe those imprisoned within the various 'cells'

"...But perhaps others were simply beings already rife evil and given more power to inflict the torment they want, while others wrre tortured until their wills were broken and they saw no alternative but to serve their new master."

[Tami]

The Path of Despair:


Walking down the hallways reveals little in the way of personality from the First Race, only shattered workrooms and laboratories. It takes half an hour of walking, twists and turns and stair cases down. Down many corridors and pathways, the group heading down here eventually walks into a working lab.

Multiple ‘pod’ containers exist here, and within are bodies. At least two dozen exist in these spheres, alongside computer banks and unknown equipment.

The path Ochazuke indicated led to a lab of some kind. It was dingy, nasty, and sent an ice cold chill up Sarada's spine. "This has to be where he creates those damned hybrids," she spoke as she slowly walked through the lab. Her eyes bounced from one side to the other, taking stock of everything she could readily see.

Rows of pods lined the floor, each one occupied with an unknown body. Undoubtedly more of his creations. Her first mind was to destroy them all before they could be unleashed and attack them, but she refrained for just a moment. She stepped up to one of the computers and attempted to access it.

As Sarada moved to the computers, Dash walked along the pods, peering inside each as she did. She could feel a sense of unease and anxiety in the pit of her stomach, however she managed to quell them both with an effort of will. It would be unproductive to let her emotions run wild in a place like this.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

The computers are complicated, but those familiar with Jinzi and his works can probably figure them out. None are password locked. Those familiar with Incenio’s labs would remark these are somewhat similar.

The two dozen pods serve as stasis and holding cells, alongside experimental holding.

Fifteen are dead outright. Experimental surgery evident on them. Two Namekian’s, three Arcosian, three Saiyan, one human, one Kitsuna, one Yadratian GP Officer, one Oni, one Threshling, one Majin, and one unknown race.

Of the seven remaining, four are empty, but three hold those still alive. One is a Promethean, though he’s in a bad way. Another is a serpentine female humanoid, a Nagaian, who’s hurt but not as badly, and the last is a Half-Saiyan man in weird uniform. He appears the most stable, though he has clearly been there a while.