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

[Yun Lao]

Morgan didn't take her eyes off the door controls, but she bit her lip in a sudden surge of frustration. "T...Then stop explaining.....Nothing about what you did was grey. We just wanted to be left alone...we never....started a fight. You did." She banged her fist into the wall off to the side.....then immediately continued pressing symbols. ".....So just.....go away......." A look of horror briefly passed over her eyes and she realized she'd just back talked the destoryer of her civilization and continued tapping away with a cold sweat. "...p...please...."

"Peace?" He said, mockingly, "What I have seen of this pit is anything but peaceful. The corruption I sought to stamp out burrowed deep into this mountain, turning the carrions that fed off the scraps into twisted monstrosities. Whatever you seek beyond that door is no doubt as warped as everything else here. "

Ochazuke said nothing at first, watching silently as Rex consumed his own kin without hesitation. Though it had once been the remnants of Charco's flesh and blood, the transformation that had occurred left little of his ki, and where the bones and sinews were stretched into this ancient, fearful shape,

"From one who would snuff out a life merely to give purpose to his own, you know your words are inadequate."

Where there had once been ambition chasing towards immense potential, this bottomless well of hatred and hunger stolen that boy's future to the curse of generations.

And yet, so long as he still stands among us...

"I've seen enough of your Grey, worm. Tethering your dependent life to the deeds of others, staking your claim in misfortunt, then demanding respect in the wake of impotent fear." Standing across the way, he stared down the hellish creature from a distance, noting the signs of scuffle knotted in the oily sheen of his scales. Crouching forward, he lift his left hand before him, a subdued fury lining his frame.

"Did you flee to this foetid place seeking refuge? A solitary place to lick your wounds among other lingering, forgotten things?"



Finally allowing the beam to break, Zaofan took up a position between the two and Morgan. Somehow on the return flight aboard the Coldlight, he'd missed this thing entirely. The comms had gone off, and they'd all felt as if the Nebula itself had lurched as Charco made his last stand against the Doctor, but seeing Rex, the familiar energy that washed over him filled him with a different sort of terror than the forces that lurched within these accursed walls.

And though he would guard her, he too had his doubts.

"Morgan," he said briskly, "You're saying he's returned here, then it must be for a reason."

He dared not take his eyes off the impending battle before him - they were quicker than his hands, after all - yet they knew whatever was at the heart of this, the fall of the Royal Guard, the diaspora of the Attendants, and the cultish orders that sprung up in the scattering of Amdapour, it was all connected to this point. "You don't need permission to take a stand, least of all from him. But I need you to tell me."

"What's behind that door?"

"I had hoped to reach any understanding with someone as strong as you, but your human sensibilities bind you." Rex replied and then glanced back to Morgan at the door, "My original purpose does not matter anymore. I must finish what I started here before whatever things those fools chose to worship try to extend their influence past this tomb."

[grampagen]

"Peace?" He said, mockingly, "What I have seen of this pit is anything but peaceful. The corruption I sought to stamp out burrowed deep into this mountain, turning the carrions that fed off the scraps into twisted monstrosities. Whatever you seek beyond that door is no doubt as warped as everything else here. "

"I had hoped to reach any understanding with someone as strong as you, but your human sensibilities bind you." Rex replied and then glanced back to Morgan at the door, "My original purpose does not matter anymore. I must finish what I started here before whatever things those fools chose to worship try to extend their influence past this tomb."

With what had transpired here millennia ago, it was no surprise that Rex had little love or regard for what lay in the darkness of this kingdom. Had he trampled his way forward on the path of Avalon's memory etched in the blood of primordial battles? Their own journey had been beset by ferrying their very guide into confronting what had befallen this place. Ochazuke found himself now standing among both survivor and calamity, and yet found the answers wanting.

The disgust for the creature before him, however, was what brought him to this polar tomb in the first place.

"Carrion feeding from scraps. In as much as you regarded the Ogatan?"

Silently, his ki began to charge, a killer intent slowly escaping concealment.

"Perhaps they thought as little of you as any other pound of flesh peeled from slaughtered bones," he said.

Through the storied tale of Wyrm and Magi, he could think of little more than how many times had Rex had seized Charco's hand from within; and how he hadn't seen him slipping away until it was far too late.

"Among all of us, Saurian, you ought to know the depths of mortal sensibility. The Queen and her Familiar attendant are hardly alone among those who desired to escape it."

[Yun Lao]

With what had transpired here millennia ago, it was no surprise that Rex had little love or regard for what lay in the darkness of this kingdom. Had he trampled his way forward on the path of Avalon's memory etched in the blood of primordial battles? Their own journey had been beset by ferrying their very guide into confronting what had befallen this place. Ochazuke found himself now standing among both survivor and calamity, and yet found the answers wanting.

The disgust for the creature before him, however, was what brought him to this polar tomb in the first place.

"Carrion feeding from scraps. In as much as you regarded the Ogatan?"

Silently, his ki began to charge, a killer intent slowly escaping concealment.

"Perhaps they thought as little of you as any other pound of flesh peeled from slaughtered bones," he said.

Through the storied tale of Wyrm and Magi, he could think of little more than how many times had Rex had seized Charco's hand from within; and how he hadn't seen him slipping away until it was far too late.

"Among all of us, Saurian, you ought to know the depths of mortal sensibility. The Queen and her Familiar attendant are hardly alone among those who desired to escape it."

"The relationship between that tribe and myself was more than you believe, boy."

While Ochazuke sought to hide his own power, Rex saw no reason to do so as the chamber was flooded in his killing intent now as dark energies rose within him.

"In life, I was their master, their tyrant, their triumphant victory, beyond that I was their guardian spirit and curse. They've used me just as I have used them. As many times I have inflicted tragedies upon others, so too have I saved."

Energy crackled from him and a thin sheen of it surrounded one of his clawed hands, "You may consider me a monster, but know this, humanity betrayed me first! When I had sought to ensure your ancestors could survive this cruel world, the gave in to their weakness and chose to submit themselves to creatures that were not meant for this world." Pointing an energy-shrouded claw towards Morgan, he continued, "The fall of Avalon was of their own fault. This planet ill needs such beings befouling it any further and it certainly does not need such a miserable little pile of secrets as this rotting kingdom."

[grampagen]

One Year Ago

No matter how strong a stand is made, one cannot withstand a storm forever. The rain will beat you down, the howling winds sunder the surest footing, and to weather its passage, even the oldest soils shift, the hardest stones crack and erode in its passage. Despite the valiant efforts of those who stand astride it, every time the globe shrugs and shifts its great mantle, mortals must shrink from it and find shelter. There, hidden from the wrathful eye of god, they find their refuge.

Surviving in a world turned entirely against you isn't particularly difficult, especially when the enemy's largest blindspots are directly where they trammel. All you have to do was grow increasingly accustomed to living where nobody would bother to go, and even less can hope to find it. When the President of the World Government excised those who were his enemies or removed those resident inconveniences that so happened in the way of his monochrome infrastructure, he'd hardly left a trace of them behind. Excised from living memory, rural communities became prime real estate, green fields popped up overnight with all the deposits in the shale below ripe for the picking. The people that once lived there forgotten entirely.

Before Willa Rautt styled herself the Red Colonel, that was a story she shared with so many others who refused to let memory fade.

There is little remaining of the nation of Vermilion. a reminder that things had the people of the world had once been more than this. Those who remembered what was were unable to accept what had become of it in the wake of their ruin.

But nestled in the ruin was something that called to them all. Those who gather to her side were shepherded into into the promised land, promised salvation for the damned. That was the truth they held on to.

Where the clouds parted in small hollows as stealth craft rode out the storm. They touched down, unseen, hidden in the steel-supported hollows under the waterlogged cliffside pass. There were no callsigns to detect, no radar to ping, for their entrance was marked by a pact that was far more ancient. Engraved in the very spirit of the land itself, only those who knew the way could find Charlie Base.

They'd adopted the moniker of Red Raiders, and as the years passed they had grown exceedingly efficient at it. Shipments cut across the globe, and recently they had grown bigger. Yet ever since their marshaled effort had been disrupted by that force of offworlders they hadn't fielded any serious campaigns in nearly three years. Years of planning, they'd poked their heads up searching for a wish. Their adversaries were commissioned by the WG, no doubt; they had Capsule craft, it was all starting to fall together.

After the last operation, The Colonel had been imprisoned and with it, her dream. The sergeant had gone with her after calling in an evacuation of their assembled reserves. In their absence, the Major, despite his rank was no commander, and a Golem without his heart was nothing less than his stone body. In the deepest chambers of Charlie Base he had sequestered himself, sunk brooding over that muddy field of red flowers, as if searching for something hidden deep in the earth below the aquifer.

Willa steps upon it as well, and suddenly the earth churns up and down, swallowing them whole.

A terrible wrenching sensation follows, and the two are spat out inside the ruins of some ancient stone building. Willa rights herself and smiles.

“Damask, well done.”

The golem looms up, nodding.

“It is good to see you both.”

“My home. Charlie Base.”

Damask nods towards a pile of clean clothes, what looked like a pool of hot water from a spring, and a pile of food.

“Clean yourselves, eat, change. Much to be done.”

Willa runs a hand over Damask’s arm affectionately, then starts stripping her prison garb off to go bath in the spring. She seems unbothered by stripping before either of them.

“Come along, Sergeant.”

Then there was much rejoicing when they had returned. Right under the watch of Grinthorn himself, Willa and Kenshiko had escaped from the lowest levels of the maximum security prison, and Major Damask has returned the rightful master of this land to her station. Yet as much as it had seemed to be marked by providence, the celebrations were quickly cut short when everybody who took up the Red were told to wait.

Something happened to Kenshiko in Solitary that changed her. She'd come up from their lower ranks, serving with distinction, in her tenure she'd be the first to beat the piss out of a new recuit; She'd also be the first to throw herself into the line of fire to pull them out. Now, she'd distanced herself from the rank-and-file troopers, preferring to do her training in solitary, offering few answers, and more than a few injuries. When the Colonel passed through making her rounds on daily inspections, everyone snapped to and saluted her.

Everyone, that is, except the Sergeant. Nobody quite figured out what happened, but from the outset, it appeared they were not exactly on speaking terms. To get her mind off the malaise, she constantly returned to the one thing that never failed her, the training.

Get a company ready to fight, with no battle to give them, even a sanctuary can seem like a prison. Even though they had come back...there had not returned to the fight for a while, and the company was growing restless. That crack of discipline in the chain of this group of ragtags was the start of it. The men and women who resisted the hegemony of the WG banner were once filled with fighting spirit, and when the Golem had made his move, they thought they were finally able to move out. But the Colonel returned, full of strength and fine words, and orders were to traffick supplies and run offgrid tests by request from their insider at Capsule Corp. Rather than galvanizing the liberation of a world ensnared, the control seemed to strangle their will to fight. A stifling atmosphere, to say the least, from living quarters, to the food. Seldom are revolutions fueled on feasts fit for a king, and it is difficult to keep your head high on lofty ideals when you're hungry on a diet of mashed beans and rehydrated potatoes. The starving will eat each other alive.

A little over two weeks after returning, Kenshiko, fresh from a round of training, suddenly made an appearance joining the grunts in the communal mess hall. Immediately the chatter died in the mess hall, and all eyes were on her as she surveyed the condition of their fighting reserve. Even off hours, there were a few who saluted her - someone was even daring enough to loose a whistle - but her expression was carefully guarded beneath her red tresses as she looked them over. There hasn't been a mission for two years. Hardly any of them would've seen any recent combat

How curious to her that despite this, a number of their personnel were covered with fresh scars.

As she scarfed whatever grey mash it was over the boiled rice, she turned to a table of her comrades. One in particular had several raised white scars scrawled across his face. "Who's running this operation?" she asked.

"Well gee Sarge. You would know how easy it is to earn your stripes when you're the only one left." Boots set down a heavey clatter atop the table. "Ain't got much to show for it, do ya, bunch of pussies?!"

There was a cocksure First Sergeant in the reserves who who would slack on the drills, coasting by on this maverick streak he would take any sign of insubordination to clown his fellow troopers. He had an affinity for two things: his big bowie knife, and calling orders. The platoon started calling him Connor the Cutter.

Connor was once part of a unit assigned to shadow Chris the Knife, and though they never saw much action - contract killers tend to work alone, naturally - he managed to crack the Merc's shell and picked up a few moves from him. Ever since the Colonel hired Chris to bolster their ranks, he got it in his head that war was for profit. This became especially true when it came out who Willa's father was. Kenshiko had called a Code Charlie, and the Golem pulled a full retreat, but after the botched invasion of Turtle Island, they never heard a thing about Chris after two years. Life in the Red Raider Corps went on, and he suddenly found himself a very big fish in a small pond.

The Major only had eyes for the Colonel, and when she was gone, so was much of the golem's mind for combat. Bloody hell Damask... Without someone on top, this one slipped through the cracks and decided to promote himself.
Kenshiko looked over to Connor, amber eyes unblinking as she raised a tin cup to her lips. When she finished, she glowered, "Do you think this war is a joke?"

"All I know is we been laying low for almost two years without any action. My blade is thirsty."

"Careful. You draw that thing on base, you better be prepared to use it properly."

"Oh, I'm ready, Ginger. And willing" Eight inches of carbon steel slid out of the leather sheath on his shoulder. Forward balanced, he flipped it backwards towards himself from hand to hand. "In fact I've been thinking. If I take you down, that means I'm as good as Master Gunney," he grinned "And what if I rub you out? Or the Colonel? That mean I get full run of the place?"

The room was suddenly filled with a fevered tension as steel benches and tables were peeled back with a clatter. Nobody said it outright, but this was the start of something the Raiders in their rebellion were not entirely prepared for within their own ranks.

Mutiny.

[grampagen]

"I'm warning you," Kenshiko bristled, "We're already on the back foot as it is."

"Oh don't I know it. The Colonel, she trusted the Knife, after all," he snickered, "And he proved himself, Kitten, because he was stronger than you!" In an instant, Connor's arm snaked forward and slashed the air. Kenshiko's eyes narrowed as she turned her head to the side, The Piercing Lance of Heaven leaving a razor thin line bleeding across her cheek. Behind her, a decommissioned APC lurched as an exit wound the size of a tank shell ripped out of its other side. Tearing out of her seat she began to move forward, dodging consecutive lances that continued to perforate the walls behind her and the cave floor to the rhythm of his jibes.

"Ohh, look at you. You sure have a talent for running don't you? Is that how you and the Major lost the ground we took?!"

Stealing forward, the Raider company seemed to split down the middle around them like a wall on either side. The lancing strikes continued, and with utter disgust she found her movements limited. Walked right into it. Flanked me from the outset. He's using our own men as meatshields.

"You weren't there, you don't even know what it's like to be in the thick of the battlefield" she snarled as she slowly weaved into melee range. "A lot of good people died that day to save you ungrateful lot. What do you have to show for it?"

"Good people, that you trained." Connor, holding his knife overhand, feinted high, then dipped low. Suddenly, the downward thrust stopped short; he was going for a back-cut with the false-edge. "History's never written by the losing side. And last I heard? Between the two of you it was Chris had the better record!"

Leaning back, Kenshiko dodged as the tip of the knife clipped her fringe, and as she returned to position, Connor had built a charge into his knife. The Last Call of the Hammer! As much as she had butted heads with The Knife, he lived up to his namesake well as he maximized the utility of his weapon. This ki attack from above was meant to flatten and destroy a large area in one shot, guaranteeing entry for a one-man bunker buster.

But whether it was just the guy tripping or his lack of control, she knew intuitively as it fell less like a hammer than a rain of hot, lead nails, his control was tenuous. And that was because Connor hadn't mastered a goddamn thing.

Kenshiko's right hand fell to her side, and rose up carrying the small, fixed blade of a kerambit. Pointed up and outwards under the edge of her palm, it swung outward like a fang. Tracing a path around her, channeling the ki of the Tiger's Slash she cut clean through the deluge, holding the knive high as she faced the Cutter.

"And what the hell does that make you? The Knife's protege?"

From across the mess hall, she'd finally caught him face-to face. The bowie knife in Connor's hand flipped to an underhand grip as he seized the distance and hurled himself forward. The range advangate afforded by his weapon, however, was nullified by the subtle handiwork of the kerambit's angles, and as the linear cut stabbed perpendicular to the outside, she steered his knife-hand with her free one. Folding his joints inward and upwards, she caught and seized his elbow by the threat of the inner edge of her blade, ;ooping aroind the crook of his arm threatened to sever the tendons of his his bicep.

"Your fundamentals are ****. Maybe you should've spent less time sucking the Knife's off and more time on active rotation."

The Cutter knew very well the threat a live blade was: plucking it out once was all it took for it to be all over. He steered himself away to avoid the point, and in that instant had given away his arm to her total control. Seizing him by the wrist in the extension, Kenshiko pulled it out and made several shallow push-cuts. Stamping bloody lines down his arm from shoulder to wrist, his skin split open as easily as paper. By the grace of his own freely flowing blood, her grip slipped, and in an instant Connor vanished into thin air.

The Raiders's raucous roars dinned. In the silence of the mess hall, one could hear stalactite drips at the far end of the base as they tried to follow his footwork. Between the two assembled rows, Kenshiko prowled as she looked from one trooper to the next, liquid settling a single great drop in her blade's blood groove.

"The Knife should have told you. The art of an assassination only works if your opponent can't see it coming." A flicker, a brief distortion, a disruptive issue of ki lashed out from her like the stripes of a Tiger. "Standing in front of them in the ****, that's something else entirely"

Slowly, Connor the Cutter's evasive maneuver crumbled away, revealing his person as he stalked behind her, his knife raised up.

"Is this what you wanted to prove to them, 'Cutter'?"

He paused, and in that instant, Kenshiko crouched low and kicked his legs out from under him.

"That when the chips are down and when they're counting on you to watch their backs, you'll stick a knife in them to save your own ass?"

His knife fell down under his hand as he fell forward, and in the sprawl Kenshiko jammed the point of her blade straight down through the carpal bones. Twisting it into the rock below, the self-promoted First Sergeant screamed.

"Instead of prepping our men, you spent all this time dicking around, sticking your piece in anyone that wouldn't know any better," she said. Setting her boot down on his palm, his palm split to the wrist beneath her grinding heel. "You were supposed to keep these men ready to fight, ************. Can you explain to me why the **** is your first instinct as a commanding officer is to carve up your own goddamn platoon?!"

She pried the toothy blade through the split wound, and as she leaned in, she wiped the edge of the karambit's sickle surface clean over his shirt collar.
"You don't deserve to wear that uniform." The two lines of soldiers clapped and cheered, until she fish-hooked the crescent into the flap of Connor's cheek to the chatter of enamel on metal as she pulled.

"I ought to shove this thing under your tongue, or prick it upward into your brain. But you're all talk, so where would that leave you? Just about the same place the Knife ended up." On the lam and dead from what she had heard. "But fortunately for you, we need our men more than the President needs his. It's how most of you ended up in this outfit in the first place, so learn something."

"Listen up!" Kenshiko barked. "A soldier's skill should not be turned against an ally! You remedial rejects got that?!"

Hastily, boots fell at ease into formation, and the slumped soldiers stood straight as ramrods. "YES, SERGEANT!"

Connor the Cutter wailed as he continued to bleed out, curled on the floor as he clutched at his hand.

"And get this sack of **** out of the mess hall."

[grampagen]

Ochazuke’s body is quickly stabilized by Ronin Kai, who appears amidst a swirl of air. The in training Kami works to start to heal the wounds, while Samson Balon arrives moments later.

Samson lands and carefully picks Ochazuke up once Ronin Kai has made sure Ochazuke is healed sufficiently.

Kai nods and the three vanish in a swirl of air, only to reappear on the Lookout, Eva anxiously guiding them into her personal room to lay Ochazuke down in.

Throughout the gradual process of healing, Ochazuke silently fought to remain conscious. His one good eye stared seemingly at nothing, through it all wearing a weary,numb expression. It was if whatever sensation he experienced through the repair of bones and tissues was nothing to the pain of knowing that despite how far he had come in this journey of rediscovery, there was still a great deal he had yet unaccounted for.

When the blood dried, the swelling cleared, and his bones hastily knit together, as soon as he felt he was able to, with a great labouring effort he sat up slowly like a man possessed.

"The Red Raiders," he said to Balon, his speech sundered by low gasps. "They're on the move, and they know."

"We're not the only heirs to the Legacy of Zxu'ro, the teachings of the Phoenix and the Lion have spread to at least five others," he explained, "If they discovered everything he had, then it's only a matter of time until they find the Master himself."

OT: Zaofan, Sasheem, Samson.

IC:

Going down the staircase, the three find themselves in pitch darkness for a long time, until suddenly they are not walking downstairs, but up. Nor are they surrounded by darkness, but a brilliant blue sky rests above them. The staircase is a wide stone one, surrounded by lush forest canopy on both sides, and appears to keep going upwards for some time.

Elsewhere, Zaofan stood in the clearing. Passing through the Master's wall and the darkness found below, all sense of grounding direction seemed to be swallowed up in the earth, and yet he could feel some unspoken thing guiding him forward towards in.

Now he stood before the mountain amid curious, lush greenery and sighed.

Should've turned back with Master Balon, but the alternative... Looking over his shoulder, the mischeivous Majin loomed far too close for comfort, and the martial chef's shoulder visibly rounded. ...better me than him alone with Sasheem.

Ochazuke had handed them the key to this place, and now they were perhaps the first two in thousands of years to stand amid this undiscovered country. And the words...

"...quite the discovery," he lazily lobbed. When it came to small-talk, he was at his worst when he was with his newly minted martial brother.

[KingofPie]

Elsewhere, Zaofan stood in the clearing. Passing through the Master's wall and the darkness found below, all sense of grounding direction seemed to be swallowed up in the earth, and yet he could feel some unspoken thing guiding him forward towards in.

Now he stood before the mountain amid curious, lush greenery and sighed.

Should've turned back with Master Balon, but the alternative... Looking over his shoulder, the mischeivous Majin loomed far too close for comfort, and the martial chef's shoulder visibly rounded. ...better me than him alone with Sasheem.

Ochazuke had handed them the key to this place, and now they were perhaps the first two in thousands of years to stand amid this undiscovered country. And the words...

"...quite the discovery," he lazily lobbed. When it came to small-talk, he was at his worst when he was with his newly minted martial brother.

"Sure. Be a shame if someone blew it up," Sasheem tossed a rock he'd carried with him from the tunnel and tossed it into the air. Blasting it apart with a concentrated shot of ki, he turned to Zaofan and shrugged. "...That was a joke before you piss yourself."

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Sasheem and Zaofan eventually get to the top, seeing before themselves a small hut off to the side and a large, square, training arena before them.

Sitting cross legged in the middle is this young man.



He opens his eyes and smiles. He appears young, maybe early twenties, and seems fairly average looking aside from his height, which if standing is probably about 6’1 or so.

“Hello!” He says cheerfully.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Balon nods and brings some tea over for Ochazuke.

“Sasheem and Zaofan are ahead of them. While you were away, we discovered the island and the means to gain entry within a strange door marked with the sigils of all ten schools. Or, Zaofan did I should say. The Genki technique was the key. Both went inside.”

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Kana nods and begins speaking to Inanna.

“Zxu’ro, the human, was the first of us Palatine’s. He found a means to traverse the worlds, and sought out those of us with skill, wit, and guile enough to help oppose the tide that was Eldfen.”

“So he spent one year gathering us up, some easier than others. Banespell was....a disagreeable man, and it took a contest of strength to finally get him on our side, but when we did...that Darkling can work magic like you and I breathe. I’ve not seen a craftsman of his skill since. Regardless, once we were all gathered, we went out and opposed Eldfen at each of his congregated places of influence, where he had the most sway. Armies and navies, force and guile and sheer will was cast against us time and again, yet we pushed back and pushed back until Earth was the last holdout of his power. We wrested his dragonballs, six at the time as Zxu’ro had stolen the seventh before the old dragon could get them all, from the planet and Banespell helped scatter and hide them, each of us taking one as he laid mighty spells and defenses against them being taken.”

[KingofPie]

Sasheem and Zaofan eventually get to the top, seeing before themselves a small hut off to the side and a large, square, training arena before them.

Sitting cross legged in the middle is this young man.



He opens his eyes and smiles. He appears young, maybe early twenties, and seems fairly average looking aside from his height, which if standing is probably about 6’1 or so.

“Hello!” He says cheerfully.

And "goodbye", the Majin cackled as he watched the hapless human get ripped apart by a torrent of venomous ki....or that's that's what he would've liked to have happened anyway.

In truth, he was quite uncertain of what to make of this newfound hidden land. It was interesting on some level that the planet had such secrets that had yet to be uncovered until individuals such as himself (and help) went digging, but on the other hand...

Hidden underground tunnels, mystical gates, barring entry until given the life energy of the Earth itself. Behind these ancient rites, he expected to find more answers. But what stood before them now was most assuredly, yet another trial.

"Sasheem's heard enough outta you, ya sniveling jabroni. Out with it!" the Majin spoke dismissively. "No need for small talk. Just tell us what we gotta push, pull, jump over, solve, or fight."

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

And "goodbye", the Majin cackled as he watched the hapless human get ripped apart by a torrent of venomous ki....or that's that's what he would've liked to have happened anyway.

In truth, he was quite uncertain of what to make of this newfound hidden land. It was interesting on some level that the planet had such secrets that had yet to be uncovered until individuals such as himself (and help) went digging, but on the other hand...

Hidden underground tunnels, mystical gates, barring entry until given the life energy of the Earth itself. Behind these ancient rites, he expected to find more answers. But what stood before them now was most assuredly, yet another trial.

"Sasheem's heard enough outta you, ya sniveling jabroni. Out with it!" the Majin spoke dismissively. "No need for small talk. Just tell us what we gotta push, pull, jump over, solve, or fight."

“Oh, well, jeez I guess that would be me.”

He puts his hand behind his head and chuckles, eyes closing slightly.

“Take it easy though. It’s been a while.”

[KingofPie]

“Oh, well, jeez I guess that would be me.”

He puts his hand behind his head and chuckles, eyes closing slightly.

“Take it easy though. It’s been a while.”

"Tch..." Sasheem spat, frowning. He couldn't tell if this guy was mocking them or not. For Zaofan, that was alright. Expected even. But this kid didn't seem ready to fight at all. Though, if he was truly a kid at all was yet to be determined.

"You sure you're ready for this? It's two against one, and even Sasheem'll admit this moron's no slouch..." the Majin pointed a thumb over at Zaofan, taking the time to see if he could get a sense of this guardian's power level while he made small talk.

Of course it'd do no good if it was hidden, but all the same, he might as well check and see if he was stronger than him and the bungling chef.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"Tch..." Sasheem spat, frowning. He couldn't tell if this guy was mocking them or not. For Zaofan, that was alright. Expected even. But this kid didn't seem ready to fight at all. Though, if he was truly a kid at all was yet to be determined.

"You sure you're ready for this? It's two against one, and even Sasheem'll admit this moron's no slouch..." the Majin pointed a thumb over at Zaofan, taking the time to see if he could get a sense of this guardian's power level while he made small talk.

Of course it'd do no good if it was hidden, but all the same, he might as well check and see if he was stronger than him and the bungling chef.

“We can chat if you like instead. I’m not one for violence to be honest with you.”

You sense a vague power level above an average human but below yours.

[Miburo]

The Unicorn galloped upon the glowing road manifesting mere inches before his hooves, congealing into the world in an instant. If one were to look behind it, they would see an endless radiant road, stretching out into the horizon.

Before being swiftly destroyed by as a massive arm cleaved through it, pursuing its creator, scattering the road into the sea.

Frogspierres mighty form swam behind Crazy Horn in pursuit, his breaststroke breaking closing enormous gaps of space between the two with every deft movement.

And with every stroke, an attack. Bubbles once attacked to the massive forearms of Frogspierre launched forth like cannonballs, aimed straight towards the Unicorn and his Nevadian rider.

The Nevadian loosened his grip upon the mane of the stead, steadying himself as he rose, standing on the back of the majestic beast. The sight before him was awe inspiring, and he felt a twinge of fear in his heart, If only slightly, before years of training set in.

Poise. Grace. Peace. These were the precepts of the Unicorn. He would face this monstrosity, this behemoth, just like he had faced everything else. Thoughts success or failure, the idea of justice, lingering guilt…. Such things had no place on the battlefield.

The creation of the road was as simple as breathing for one who had been blessed with the transcendent power that Crazy Horn possessed, but even for one bathed in power and skill, and born for battle, the conditions present today was…. Impressive.

The end of the ocean was beyond sight. Below him was the sea and its depths, a source of strength for the gargantuan amphibian who pursued the two. Above them, clear translucent spheres blotting the sky like clouds, blocking their exit to the heaves above. Behind them, their pursuer and the anticipation of blood and justice he represented.

There was only one path: Forwards!

And this challenge was found pleasing by the Lord of The Sunlit Planes, his soul surging with every step taken. His memory might still be lost in the deepest fog, but his ethereal body told him that what his mind had already intuited.

Rising to every challenge put forth was in his very nature.

The long golden spear of the Nevadian stood ready for battle, it’s shorter silver sister in his other hand.

A bubble shot forth from the Toadian. The Nevadian shifted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding it.
Another towards his arm, and the most subtle tilting of his body caused that one to miss its mark. Yet another, towards his face, and the slightest bending of his legs caused it to sail harmlessly overhead. These attacks persisted, as did the steps taken to avoid them.

On rare occasion, the Nevadian was forced to parry the projectiles, lest they hit Crazy Horn, but he had made their mark. He gently deflected those ones, sending them sailing harmlessly to the side.

This dance seemed to go on for quite some time, although, merely several moments had passed.

The Toadians precision even in these circumstances was dazzling. Had he been facing off against a foe less adept in anticipation, less talented in the use of the Shingan, or simply less lucky, death would have been assured in an instant. The Nevadian breathed a sigh of relief. This was hardly impossible. The distance was still great, and easy enough to maintain. Crazy Horn would make it to landfall soon enough, and they could finally wage a battle on their—

What?

Held almost missed the annoyed snort of Crazy Horn in the chaos of the battle, the crashing of waves, the breaking of energy constructs, and the perilous dance of death between the two parties.

What was he—Oh.

It took a moment for the Nevadian to notice the devious ploy of the Toadian avenger. The attacks—The bubbles—that had been avoided by the Nevadian did not dissipate or continue their motion into infinity. They slowly began to stop, gathering next to each other, one after another, as they began to form a barrier, slowly beginning to box the warriors in.

“Good Grief…. He must have really done his homework.”

Crazy Horn snorted once more.

“Forwards.” Held said simply, “You handle what’s in front of us, I’ll do the rest…. I have no intention of being slaughtered like a caged animal.”

The Nevadian breathed deeply, gathering his energy around his forearms as he prepared his counter attack. The energy manifested into numerous tiny shards, arrow like in their appearance, slowly rotating around his arms, and then the shafts of the spears he held.

Frogspierre, even in the throes of wrath, was as uncanny a warrior as they came. The sudden spike of energy, the change in tactics in the Nevadians plan—Someone who had been so content to run—told him that his ploy had been seen through.But, it was not too late to spring the trap, or destroy the Nevadian in the hailstorm of its completion.

Hundreds of bubbles launched towards the rider in a second, blinding in their speed and radiance. The wall would be completely, or the Nevadian would be pulverized and exploded before it came to that.

Jeez...What a guy. He really has been waiting to take me on. I've barely even started my counter attack and he's already trying to batter me into submission. Still, it's not like he has the monopoly on sheer volume..I hope.

The Nevadian reared his hands back, before thrusting his weapons outwards towards the deathly bubbles approaching him.

Piercing Horn Stampede!