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  1. #16

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    Praxat turns around to face her great-great-uncle." When I first met you, Uncle Bullick. you told me this planet, Ameprior met a minor apocalypse many decades ago. I looked into what caused said apocalypse," Praxat said.

    " My results were it wasn't caused by a natural disaster, an epidemic, or superflare bombardment. This planet's star, which your people call Bruhoth. Shoots superflares from its poles. Making it impossible for Ameprior to be bombardment by superflares," Praxat said.

    " Someone caused the minor apocalypse that happen to this planet, your home Uncle Bullick. " Praxat said. Praxat then ponders to herself. ( and I have a hunch who,) Praxat thought.

    ( It's likely that Sakin person, who put a target on my back. I did once see a ruin on this planet that looked like a place where a Guardian once lived. So it looks like that possibly Ameprior had a Guardian at one point) Praxat thought.

    ( It could be possible that this Sakin person came to this planet or sent some to this planet many decades ago to take out the Guardian of this planet. It could be possible the Intoadians fought to protect their planet's Guardian. There could have been a massive battle, ) Praxat thought.

    ( And the result of this hypothetical battle could result in a minor apocalypse,) Praxat

    ( I study up on Intoadian culture, and going by their culture, Intoadians are a race of hunters. Mostly elitist at that. I have been working on making Intoadians more opening mind. To get rid of the elitism that has plagued this planet, Ameprior,) Praxat thought.
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  2. #17
    Lin Kuei Grandmaster Sub-Zero MKA's Avatar
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    Within the depths of Hell, anarchy had taken hold. The denizens, damned to an eternity of suffering and penance, quickly learned that they had a prime opportunity to escape and enjoy a new lease on life. Thoughts of revenge and recompense urged them to take advantage. Countless souls moved like a stampede, overwhelming the Oni who had been tasked with keeping them in check. The inmates were running the asylum. With the barrier between Hell, Heaven, and Otherworld proper destroyed, innumerable battles were raging across the entire realm as old scores were being settled after years of stewing. For others who died more recently, thoughts of revenge directed their beyond the realm of the dead.

    Tundra sneered as he stomped his foot through the chest of an Oni who thought himself powerful enough to tangle with the Strongest Being in the Universe. A fatal error, as he was very quick to point out. “We are on the precipice of our vengeance,” he said to his two Lieutenants, Letchee and Daroga. “We must leave this horrid place and return to the real world. Then, I will finally get my revenge on that damned monkey queen.”

    Thoughts of a rematch with Sarada compelled Tundra to lengths he had previously never even dreamed of entertaining. For the last year, he had been training with the sole, singular focus of increasing his strength. He was already the strongest Arcosian by far, but his defeat at the hands of Sarada was an indignity that his pride could hardly stand. The previous established order needed to be reestablished. He was above any Saiyan, and his newfound power would prove that beyond the shadow of all doubt.

    He wasn’t the only one. His children, Blizz and Cooled, had been training as well after their abrupt death’s at Sarada’s hands. In fact, it was Cooled who put their father up to the idea in the first place. Initially, he arrogantly believed his strength was still superior to the Saiyan Queen’s, despite reality disagreeing.

    “Worry not, my grandson,” spoke someone nearby. “If there is one thing I have learned throughout the last five centuries, it’s that hatred of those wretched apes runs rampant throughout all of Otherworld.”

    Tundra turned toward the new voice and smirked. Glacier, the mightiest Arcosian in history - besides himself, naturally - spoke the truth. He quickly learned that not only had there been more victims of the Saiyans than even he knew, but also that they were willing to do anything to gain a chance to avenge themselves.

    “And with mutual hatred comes... unforeseen alliances.” To Glacier’s left was a Cryomancer woman.

    Tundra raised an eyebrow while Blizz rubbed his chin. “And who might you be?” the latter asked.

    “My name is Gelia Steros, Matron Mother of the Wives of Winter’s Chill,” she replied with a bow. Tundra assumed that was supposed mean something. “My people were wiped out by those Saiyans 150 years ago. I sensed that the barriers separating Otherworld and Hell had been brought down by this Sakin person. Now is our chance to avenge our deaths and the theft of our homes.” Behind her, millions of Cryomancers hollered in agreement. “There are thousands of races that have been wiped out by those wretched creatures. Many are not in a state to where they can actively fight, but there are still billions of warriors ready to cast down five hundred years of justice on those vermin!”

    Tundra felt himself smiling gleefully. How could one wage a war without an army? An army of billions of zealous warriors, all fanatically obsessed with revenge. Why, he wouldn’t even need to twist them around his finger. He bowed cordially. “Well met, Madame Steros. My name is Tundra and it seems you and I have the same goal in mind. If you’re willing to help me exterminate those monkeys, I’ll happily make it worth your while. It seems this Sakin fellow intends on anointing to godhood those who bring him these so-called ‘M-Fighters’. I’d be willing to share the reward, as Sarada and her piss ant sister were among those listed.”

    “I’ll pass,” Gelia said without any real thought. “I’m already a god.”

    He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue. More godhood for him. “Excellent! Now then, to the matter of our escape from this dreadful place...”

    “In the years since my death, I have studied with Otherworld’s finest sorcerers,” Gelia said. She then folded her legs and began hovering in midair. “Among the spells I learned was one that allowed for travel between dimensions.” She held her hands out in front of her. An instant later, a cloud of frosty mist formed between them. A swirl of blue and light blue magic danced within the mist. “I will transport us to my homeworld of Cyntosia. From there, we can procure transportation.”

    Well, that solved that issue. While she was preparing whatever it was she was doing, Tundra turned to Letchee and Daroga. “Prepare our army.”

    The command was simple and was carried out with haste. The two managed to break into Otherworld proper, where they were met with absolute pandemonium. The anarchy of Hell was only a microcosm. Literally countless deceased beings battled with the authorities of Otherworld and with each other. It was madness.

    Daroga took a breath and unleashed The Dragon’s Scream to earn their attention. “LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL, HELL BOUND WARRIORS. THE CALL HAS GONE OUT AND THE TIME HAS COME. LONG HAVE MANY OF YOU WISHED FOR VENGEANCE FOR YOUR DEATHS AT THE HANDS OF THE SAIYANS. AS I SPEAK, THE WAY IS BEING PAVED FOR US TO TRAVEL TO THE REALM OF THE LIVING. IF YOU WISH TO FIGHT FOR OUR CAUSE, FOLLOW ME.”

    With those words spoken and the offer given, Daroga and Letchee nodded at each other and turned to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, the latter noticed a throng of people, the number of which he couldn’t possibly hope to measure, following after them. “Perfect. Anger and vengeance make the plebes so malleable, does it not, my friend?”

    “Indeed.”

    Along with Tundra and the rest of his clan, the Tundra Force had been training as well. Their defeats and deaths at the hands of Avoca and Tasure were a black mark on their otherwise perfect records. Revenge was not only desired, but necessary.

    “It's ready,” Gelia said. Her hands spread apart, unleashing a large cloud of frozen air that encompassed nearly a mile area. “Step through the mist. Quickly.”

    The hordes of vengeful spirits didn't need to be told twice. Practically all at once, they charged through the mist. For some, they had been waiting hundreds of years for the chance at revenge. Others, only a few short years. Either way, vengeance was finally well within their grasp.

    As they moved like a stampede of hungry buffalo, a lone Saiyan man, cloaked in a brown hood, snuck through the crowd and through the mist. He had been ostracized by his own people, exterminated like a pest. However, revenge wasn't on his mind. He had heard that Sarada was one of the main targets for those Icers and he desperately wanted... no, needed to get to her first. Not only to reminisce about the good old days, but she also had something he really wanted.

    Or rather, someone.

    You might be too old for me, Sarada, he thought to himself, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see you again. I can't wait to see how much you've grown... since the last time.
    Last edited by Sub-Zero MKA; 09-26-2021 at 09:25 AM.
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  3. #18

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    Quote Originally Posted by Cleric of Hell’s Brigade View Post
    And upon the Lookout on Earth, a familiar looking Void Lens appears and deposits a very much alive and restored to his original body Koorimaru. He looks battered and bruised, cuts covering his body, but he is alive and looks around with a curled lip. When he spots Evangeline, he slowly stands and brushes himself off.

    “I seek assistance, and I come bearing a peace offering, Kami.”

    Another Void Lens appears, and out of it drops the body of Asha’rah. Koorimaru nudges it, making sure its’s still alive, than turns and looks at Eva.

    “Call Ochazuke and the others. We need to talk, now.”
    Quote Originally Posted by Yun Lao View Post
    It was hard to tell where reality end and began and having visions of profane rituals didn't help in the transition.

    Deposited onto the lookout, Charco had the luxury of a split-second before his brains were wracked by the grandiose announcement that he and the others were to be hunted across dimension, space, and time. He assumed that was Sakin "making his move" as Islay had mentioned back on the moon. "Ugh," He groaned, his head throbbing with pain from being screwed around by the celestial order.

    He wouldn't be the only one randomly appearing as shortly after, two more appeared... or more accurately, a savagely beaten Koorimaru and what looked like a nearly dead Asha'rah, although it was difficult to tell considering the robotic shell.

    "Looks like you've gotten a taste of Sakin's handiwork."
    Silence hung in the air for a long time until a hollow whistle sang behind a black katchin staff, the thinnest warning before it struck Koorimaru, setting his face to match the rest of his bearing and pushing him away from Asha'rah's side.

    "You're a fine one to make demands, after all this time and what you did," Zaofan said, holding his weapon, Bojack, by his side, his frame rippling with a subtle power as he stood between the Arcosian and Evangeline. "But in so many words, the young man just asked you a question, got nothing to say to Charco or the rest of us, do you?"

    Zaofan narrowed his eyes. More than being filled with the fight, they were moist at the edges, loosed of all patience. When his martial brother was mentioned, the grip on his staff tightened as he poised to strike again.

    "Got a lot of nerve. He's not here," he said. "I, on the other hand, have a different problem. Bringing her here, you've just made the Earth a target without so much as a warning. One of you had better start talking."

    _____

    The Big Ghetti Star was stationary in its placement, the odd anomaly in the Sol System. It had been nearly a year since it had been rediscovered, and this early in the year the planetary revolution had brought it adjacent to the Earth. In the ringed habitation that served to station and dock ships from visitors from all over the universe, the Clarion Call of Sakin echoed through its halls of nanite steel, and the entirety of the station, normally a hub of trade and commerce was silent at first before erupting into pandemonium.

    A long stretch of monitors and holo-light displays stretched across engineering control, and Ochazuke stared deeply into them watching the scene unfold. The machine-heart of the Star resumed its automated work schedule where the engineers, paralyzed by fear, could not, for they lost heart when faced with that vision, harsh whispers passing between them as they looked to the lone M-Fighter amongst them.

    Sakin's threats had not passed idly through the denizens of the promenade, for here among businessmen of shifting scruples, taking stock of eternal life, measured against the legions that threatened he'd loosed on the universe, it was a rather easy sell. Screaming untranslatable curses the Universal Translators could not pick up, Junjo dealers unshrouded their concealed stunners and fired the first shots into a group of Prometheans, sending one of the noble giants falling into the wares of a Nevadian emporium. The Anole of the Gurro System hissed, their lizardlike features flush and frightening in equal measure as they argued with the Kitani delegation.

    "The Cookman sold us out!"

    "Bring me the heads of the Sons of Zxu'ro!"

    "You couldn't do it if you tried! Calm the hell down!"

    "Damn the Hu-mans! They wanted to put us into the Capsules! Damn them all!"

    Captain Ulysses Prizzm and his company of Navigators, on break from sorting through the last record archive of shipping manifests, soon found themselves bound to their force shields as they pushed back against a mob they weren't willing to put down. They held the line, buying time for Master Chief Petty Officer Spopovich to ferry a retinue of science officers into safer quarters as he and the EDF Security Detail scrambled to put their training to the test; Yet their numbers were thin, they had nothing but hand to hand, and as the fighting intensified, the newly minted diplomat hadn't felt a fear like this since his company had flown under the Red, all the while wondering, how could it come to this?

    The video feed of the chaos in the Satellite City reached Ochazuke in real time. It seemed like it was miles away behind an ocean of noise as the vision still echoed in his mind. The Universe split at the seams, the dead rising through the foundations laid for the living. But beyond that, he'd beheld Sakin, heard him speak, and beheld him upon his construct of ancient bones felt the wailing of souls carrying his call. In the midst of such harrowing portents of doom, the voice of the enemy was strangely assuring, authoritative, a source of comfort, promising salvation.

    In a word...angelic.

    Slowly, the shouts reached him, and the silence in the engineering bay stiffened his nerve.

    "So the Fallen One has shown himself."

    Silently, the hammer entrusted to him by the Forger materialized in his hand. He gazed into it deeply for a moment before setting it on the ground before him.

    "Chief. Ensigns. Galvanize the Stargates, and hail the Orbital Ring."

    Shakily, the crewmen of servicing the Gotengo did as they were told, for following this path had brought them this far, and they would be remiss to forget it. Ochazuke himself moved to a communications console. Flipping a few switches, he soon opened a channel, the signal pinging across Earth Frequencies, first the EDF frequencies, then the President's own emergency channel, then into the Nevadian band and beyond as he prepared to speak.

  4. #19

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    Quote Originally Posted by grampagen View Post
    Silence hung in the air for a long time until a hollow whistle sang behind a black katchin staff, the thinnest warning before it struck Koorimaru, setting his face to match the rest of his bearing and pushing him away from Asha'rah's side.

    "You're a fine one to make demands, after all this time and what you did," Zaofan said, holding his weapon, Bojack, by his side, his frame rippling with a subtle power as he stood between the Arcosian and Evangeline. "But in so many words, the young man just asked you a question, got nothing to say to Charco or the rest of us, do you?"

    Zaofan narrowed his eyes. More than being filled with the fight, they were moist at the edges, loosed of all patience. When his martial brother was mentioned, the grip on his staff tightened as he poised to strike again.

    "Got a lot of nerve. He's not here," he said. "I, on the other hand, have a different problem. Bringing her here, you've just made the Earth a target without so much as a warning. One of you had better start talking."

    _____

    The Big Ghetti Star was stationary in its placement, the odd anomaly in the Sol System. It had been nearly a year since it had been rediscovered, and this early in the year the planetary revolution had brought it adjacent to the Earth. In the ringed habitation that served to station and dock ships from visitors from all over the universe, the Clarion Call of Sakin echoed through its halls of nanite steel, and the entirety of the station, normally a hub of trade and commerce was silent at first before erupting into pandemonium.

    A long stretch of monitors and holo-light displays stretched across engineering control, and Ochazuke stared deeply into them watching the scene unfold. The machine-heart of the Star resumed its automated work schedule where the engineers, paralyzed by fear, could not, for they lost heart when faced with that vision, harsh whispers passing between them as they looked to the lone M-Fighter amongst them.

    Sakin's threats had not passed idly through the denizens of the promenade, for here among businessmen of shifting scruples, taking stock of eternal life, measured against the legions that threatened he'd loosed on the universe, it was a rather easy sell. Screaming untranslatable curses the Universal Translators could not pick up, Junjo dealers unshrouded their concealed stunners and fired the first shots into a group of Prometheans, sending one of the noble giants falling into the wares of a Nevadian emporium. The Anole of the Gurro System hissed, their lizardlike features flush and frightening in equal measure as they argued with the Kitani delegation.

    "The Cookman sold us out!"

    "Bring me the heads of the Sons of Zxu'ro!"

    "You couldn't do it if you tried! Calm the hell down!"

    "Damn the Hu-mans! They wanted to put us into the Capsules! Damn them all!"

    Captain Ulysses Prizzm and his company of Navigators, on break from sorting through the last record archive of shipping manifests, soon found themselves bound to their force shields as they pushed back against a mob they weren't willing to put down. They held the line, buying time for Master Chief Petty Officer Spopovich to ferry a retinue of science officers into safer quarters as he and the EDF Security Detail scrambled to put their training to the test; Yet their numbers were thin, they had nothing but hand to hand, and as the fighting intensified, the newly minted diplomat hadn't felt a fear like this since his company had flown under the Red, all the while wondering, how could it come to this?

    The video feed of the chaos in the Satellite City reached Ochazuke in real time. It seemed like it was miles away behind an ocean of noise as the vision still echoed in his mind. The Universe split at the seams, the dead rising through the foundations laid for the living. But beyond that, he'd beheld Sakin, heard him speak, and beheld him upon his construct of ancient bones felt the wailing of souls carrying his call. In the midst of such harrowing portents of doom, the voice of the enemy was strangely assuring, authoritative, a source of comfort, promising salvation.

    In a word...angelic.

    Slowly, the shouts reached him, and the silence in the engineering bay stiffened his nerve.

    "So the Fallen One has shown himself."

    Silently, the hammer entrusted to him by the Forger materialized in his hand. He gazed into it deeply for a moment before setting it on the ground before him.

    "Chief. Ensigns. Galvanize the Stargates, and hail the Orbital Ring."

    Shakily, the crewmen of servicing the Gotengo did as they were told, for following this path had brought them this far, and they would be remiss to forget it. Ochazuke himself moved to a communications console. Flipping a few switches, he soon opened a channel, the signal pinging across Earth Frequencies, first the EDF frequencies, then the President's own emergency channel, then into the Nevadian band and beyond as he prepared to speak.
    While getting in contact with her homeworld Qarica. Sets up a machine design to receive messages. ( This is a machine I specifically designed to receive interstellar messages. Basically an interstellar answer machine,) Praxat thought.

    Praxat then notices that a button on the communication station is flashing green. ( wait, someone is attempting to contact me, but who?) Praxat thought.

    Praxat uses Bio-Electromagnokinesis to remotely control the communication station she set up and adjusts communications to receive the incoming signal. ( This Electronic Communication that I was shown how to do by Uncle Bullick. Really comes in handy for remotely controlling technology,) Praxat thought.
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  5. #20
    Voice of the Authorities Cleric of Hell’s Brigade's Avatar
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    Koorimaru hisses and rubs his cheek where he was struck, eyes narrowed as he gazes at Charco and Zaofan.

    “Earth was already a target, Zaofan. All I did was make sure the plan could t go through. Your welcome.”

    He straightens up, tail lashing behind him.


    “Indeed, dinosaur, indeed. While in my….other body, trapped, I was privy to much of what Sakin has done. And will do. When you all returned those the Judge killed, you unwittingly gave me an out and I was able to sneak back into my real body, away from Remnant and the effects of the amulet. I had to lay low for a while, but I have been keeping an eye on Remnant.”

    He spits some blood out.

    “I saw a chance to steal Asha’rah away when Remnant was distracted by Sakin’s Great Work, but Sakin had many parasites guarding her still and thus my condition.”
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  6. #21
    Voice of the Authorities Cleric of Hell’s Brigade's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by grampagen View Post
    Silence hung in the air for a long time until a hollow whistle sang behind a black katchin staff, the thinnest warning before it struck Koorimaru, setting his face to match the rest of his bearing and pushing him away from Asha'rah's side.

    "You're a fine one to make demands, after all this time and what you did," Zaofan said, holding his weapon, Bojack, by his side, his frame rippling with a subtle power as he stood between the Arcosian and Evangeline. "But in so many words, the young man just asked you a question, got nothing to say to Charco or the rest of us, do you?"

    Zaofan narrowed his eyes. More than being filled with the fight, they were moist at the edges, loosed of all patience. When his martial brother was mentioned, the grip on his staff tightened as he poised to strike again.

    "Got a lot of nerve. He's not here," he said. "I, on the other hand, have a different problem. Bringing her here, you've just made the Earth a target without so much as a warning. One of you had better start talking."

    _____

    The Big Ghetti Star was stationary in its placement, the odd anomaly in the Sol System. It had been nearly a year since it had been rediscovered, and this early in the year the planetary revolution had brought it adjacent to the Earth. In the ringed habitation that served to station and dock ships from visitors from all over the universe, the Clarion Call of Sakin echoed through its halls of nanite steel, and the entirety of the station, normally a hub of trade and commerce was silent at first before erupting into pandemonium.

    A long stretch of monitors and holo-light displays stretched across engineering control, and Ochazuke stared deeply into them watching the scene unfold. The machine-heart of the Star resumed its automated work schedule where the engineers, paralyzed by fear, could not, for they lost heart when faced with that vision, harsh whispers passing between them as they looked to the lone M-Fighter amongst them.

    Sakin's threats had not passed idly through the denizens of the promenade, for here among businessmen of shifting scruples, taking stock of eternal life, measured against the legions that threatened he'd loosed on the universe, it was a rather easy sell. Screaming untranslatable curses the Universal Translators could not pick up, Junjo dealers unshrouded their concealed stunners and fired the first shots into a group of Prometheans, sending one of the noble giants falling into the wares of a Nevadian emporium. The Anole of the Gurro System hissed, their lizardlike features flush and frightening in equal measure as they argued with the Kitani delegation.

    "The Cookman sold us out!"

    "Bring me the heads of the Sons of Zxu'ro!"

    "You couldn't do it if you tried! Calm the hell down!"

    "Damn the Hu-mans! They wanted to put us into the Capsules! Damn them all!"

    Captain Ulysses Prizzm and his company of Navigators, on break from sorting through the last record archive of shipping manifests, soon found themselves bound to their force shields as they pushed back against a mob they weren't willing to put down. They held the line, buying time for Master Chief Petty Officer Spopovich to ferry a retinue of science officers into safer quarters as he and the EDF Security Detail scrambled to put their training to the test; Yet their numbers were thin, they had nothing but hand to hand, and as the fighting intensified, the newly minted diplomat hadn't felt a fear like this since his company had flown under the Red, all the while wondering, how could it come to this?

    The video feed of the chaos in the Satellite City reached Ochazuke in real time. It seemed like it was miles away behind an ocean of noise as the vision still echoed in his mind. The Universe split at the seams, the dead rising through the foundations laid for the living. But beyond that, he'd beheld Sakin, heard him speak, and beheld him upon his construct of ancient bones felt the wailing of souls carrying his call. In the midst of such harrowing portents of doom, the voice of the enemy was strangely assuring, authoritative, a source of comfort, promising salvation.

    In a word...angelic.

    Slowly, the shouts reached him, and the silence in the engineering bay stiffened his nerve.

    "So the Fallen One has shown himself."

    Silently, the hammer entrusted to him by the Forger materialized in his hand. He gazed into it deeply for a moment before setting it on the ground before him.

    "Chief. Ensigns. Galvanize the Stargates, and hail the Orbital Ring."

    Shakily, the crewmen of servicing the Gotengo did as they were told, for following this path had brought them this far, and they would be remiss to forget it. Ochazuke himself moved to a communications console. Flipping a few switches, he soon opened a channel, the signal pinging across Earth Frequencies, first the EDF frequencies, then the President's own emergency channel, then into the Nevadian band and beyond as he prepared to speak.

    Jinzi picks up immediately.

    “You seeing this Ochazuke? I’ve got seventeen different satellites all broadcasting hot spot locations that just erupted on Earth.”
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  7. #22
    Astonishing Member KingofPie's Avatar
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    Sasheem sat asleep on a straw mat in his chambers at Coral Canyon. His snores were getting louder by the minute, threatening to echo throughout the cavernous chambers of the school. In his dreams, he was chasing a giant pie. He'd almost reached it, able to breach the crust to reach the apple filling inside when...

    "Master, wake up!" A woman's voice called out. The woman was Sasheem's first official student, Pytha. The first of....well many wasn't quite what Sasheem would call it. There was less around seventy or so, less than he'd hope for but more than he expected. He'd planted the rumors of the Snake School's resurrection in key locales both in the martial world and the criminal underworld. As such there was a mix of self-trained assassins looking to make a bigger name for themselves or some kind of purpose, wayward martial artists displeased by the way of things taught by the other schools...or those expelled for their more vicious steak. Criminals, mercenaries, all sorts of unsavory characters.

    Sasheem could relate to many of them almost. The scum of Earth looking to better themselves...well, perhaps he couldn't relate, after all, he was already the best. Sasheem sat up, grumpily glaring at Pytha for her jostling him awake. She was a bit different from most other recruits. A mother who saw the world as dangerous and would take any means necessary to protect her kid. Some kid Sasheem happened to save from his split-off eviller half years ago. Perhaps she'd thought he'd be grateful. Sasheem would've turned her away if her cookies weren't in the upper echelon of pastries he's had during his time on Earth, Still...she proved herself to be a vigilant enough student.

    That didn't mean it was her job to keep him on task. Sahseem batted her hand away as it was still shaking his shoulder. He'd heard Sasheem's message as well as the rest of them. Had to put an end to a handful of his own students who were stupid enough to think they could beat him. But given the state of things such as the state of panic the world must be in, not to mention the hordes of enemies encroaching at the doorstep of Coral Canyon, despite his efforts to keep it hidden. He figured the best thing to do in this scenario...just nap. Best to relax before dealing with annoying situations.

    But....judging from the various power levels nearing the Canyon, perhaps it was time to act. It'd be a good test for his students provided they didn't perish to some of the stronger ones. But, given what was currently going on in the greater universe, Sasheem figured it may be best to take a different approach. Standing up, he walked to the main hall of Coral Canyon, Pytha following. There, most of his students had gathered and those that hadn't arrived would soon make themselves present.

    Stepping up to a small stone platform where to address his students, Sasheem put his hands in his pockets and asked the mall, "Okay, first things first. Anybody else wanna step up and die or are all you jabronis gonna shut up and listen?" He cupped a hand to his ear-hole thing to see if anyone had a so much as a smart ass peep. Nothing. Good. Wouldn't even be a workout if they tried. "Alright so listen up. Sasheem's gonna explain to you all what's really goin' on soon. This is gonna be your first big test. If you all die, means you failed the lesson. 'Course if you turn tail now, Sasheem won't even bother to chase you. Not worth it when the entire universe is about to **** itself."

    "The enemies are at our doorstep, Master Sasheem," Pytha pointed out. "We've prepared for this, have we not?"

    "What, you can't sense 'em?" Sasheem asked, folding his arms. "It's a whole sea of 'em out there. There's some heavy hitters out there, that'll definitely get you killed. Definitely not Sasheem, but all of you guys, for certain. Even if you manage to wipe out the small fry, there's always a chance you might run into the real threats."

    "What that...that Sakin guy said wasn't true, right?" one student piped up. "You...the M-Fighters. I've seen the city get invaded and repelled time and again. Are that many people stupid enough to believe that you're the bad guys?"

    "Yeah," Sasheem shrugged in reply. "But that's besides the point, Sasheem really has done a whole lotta bad stuff..." he began to count on one hand. "Destroyed countless planets back when he was a young Majin, razed Earth's criminal empires to cinders, killed off the Snake School Sasheem trained under (but he told you morons that one). Not sure why they're here, Sasheem thought some things were settled. ...Oh and there's an army of demons out there too. Not sure why, but maybe some of the dead criminals there brought 'em back with 'em."

    "...Dead criminals?" Pytha inquired.

    "Oh yeah, most of those guys are dead. Something that Sakin did. Not somethin' a good guy would do, huh? Lettin' a buncha murderers out in the..." Sasheem glanced at his students who seemed a great deal more nervous than before. "What's with all the stoopid faces? Don't tell me you losers are gettin' scared."

    "With all due respect, Master Sasheem, I have to ask...are you some kinda jabroni?" Pytha questioned. An indignant look crossed the Majin's face as he approached her, his ki flaring.

    "Care to flap your jaw again, douchebag? Sasheem could just make it easier on the opposition and level the damn mountain, y'know!" he smirked, a vein popping in his head.

    "We stuck it out through all your training so far and you think we're scared?! Demons and apparitions get to cross fists with us! We're excited!" Pytha answered, to Sasheem's shock.

    "Hell yeah! We'll show 'em it what a mistake it was to ever step up to the Snake School!"

    "Piss in their graves!"

    As the students began to pump each other up, Sasheem managed to look simultaneously impressed and dumbfounded. Half of these morons would get themselves killed and it'd probably be funny. But hey, if they actually remember what they were taught. That shittalking and swaggery were also a means to the end in the art of Snake School subterfuge (at least in Sasheem's rendition) then there was a chance they'd make it out alright. "Okay, okay, Sasheem gets it, yer stoopid, all of you! You wanna die so bad, and all of 'em out there feel just the same way. So why don't we go out there and discuss how we're not so different!" Sasheem smirked and turned around towards the entrance to the Snake Schools caverns as his students gave a rallying cry behind him.
    Last edited by KingofPie; 09-25-2021 at 05:24 PM.

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    It starts with a faint tearing sound.

    A thin line, appearing above the North Continent, slowly spreads until it reaches almost a mile long.

    The magic, grey and pulling with stolen life, stretches the line up and down, creating a massive portal. Out of the portal runs a stampede of horror.


    The Blood Steeds of the Hellmouth Khanate. Ancient demons that once invaded Earth long ago, defeated by Arthur and his allies. Much of the horde had not survived their stay in HFIL, either reborn as something else or simply destroyed. Those that remained of the horde……..they have grown more violent, more bloodlusted, more cruel and powerful. Now, transported by another enemy of old: the Circle of the Grey Thorn mages, who has enslaved these remnants of the horde, move them to Earth through the portal.

    Their first target, the city of Cask that lays only ten miles away.
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  9. #24
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    Quote Originally Posted by Cleric of Hell’s Brigade View Post
    It starts with a faint tearing sound.

    A thin line, appearing above the North Continent, slowly spreads until it reaches almost a mile long.

    The magic, grey and pulling with stolen life, stretches the line up and down, creating a massive portal. Out of the portal runs a stampede of horror.


    The Blood Steeds of the Hellmouth Khanate. Ancient demons that once invaded Earth long ago, defeated by Arthur and his allies. Much of the horde had not survived their stay in HFIL, either reborn as something else or simply destroyed. Those that remained of the horde……..they have grown more violent, more bloodlusted, more cruel and powerful. Now, transported by another enemy of old: the Circle of the Grey Thorn mages, who has enslaved these remnants of the horde, move them to Earth through the portal.

    Their first target, the city of Cask that lays only ten miles away.
    A fel wind howled across the snowy tundra, accented by the slow rumble countless feet....hoofs....whatever foul appendage tainted the white snow. Exposed decrepit ruins watched on silently as the horde passed, crumbling under the thunder of their march, an age of abandonment and the aftereffects of a now stilled upheaval.

    "HALT!" A voice carried over the Hellmouth, amplified far and wide by some ethereal force. The wind picked up...forcefully picking up the slow and carrying it as a gale across their path, obscuring all but a single lone female figure emerging from the ruins.

    "Invaders are not welcome here.....not in Avalon, and not on this world. You trample the lands where the old stewards of humanity slumber. I am their voice and I demand you leave the way you came or evoke our ire!"

    The snow cleared slightly as the figure stepped forward, revealing a young girl dressed in the garments of a mage...perhaps a bit less fit for the weather then it should, though if this had any effect on the girl it wasn't immediately obvious. In one had was a staff tipped with a fragment of deep glowing magicite, and in the other...was a quecard. The hastily scribbled note seemed to contain at least several dozen variations of intimidating speechcraft, with many words crossed and rewritten to sound as imposing and/or bossy as possible.

    "This land will never abide invaders again, nor the corruptions and machinations of those who would befoul the peaceful peoples of the world...this is your only warning. Turn back now or suffer.....coom...." Morgan squinted at her note. "DOOM!"

    With a tap of her staff against the frozen ground, the snowy background erupted into obscured blue light. Though none could see beyond the bank of blowing snow, great magic had been invoked.

  10. #25
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    Quote Originally Posted by MrSandman View Post
    A fel wind howled across the snowy tundra, accented by the slow rumble countless feet....hoofs....whatever foul appendage tainted the white snow. Exposed decrepit ruins watched on silently as the horde passed, crumbling under the thunder of their march, an age of abandonment and the aftereffects of a now stilled upheaval.

    "HALT!" A voice carried over the Hellmouth, amplified far and wide by some ethereal force. The wind picked up...forcefully picking up the slow and carrying it as a gale across their path, obscuring all but a single lone female figure emerging from the ruins.

    "Invaders are not welcome here.....not in Avalon, and not on this world. You trample the lands where the old stewards of humanity slumber. I am their voice and I demand you leave the way you came or evoke our ire!"

    The snow cleared slightly as the figure stepped forward, revealing a young girl dressed in the garments of a mage...perhaps a bit less fit for the weather then it should, though if this had any effect on the girl it wasn't immediately obvious. In one had was a staff tipped with a fragment of deep glowing magicite, and in the other...was a quecard. The hastily scribbled note seemed to contain at least several dozen variations of intimidating speechcraft, with many words crossed and rewritten to sound as imposing and/or bossy as possible.

    "This land will never abide invaders again, nor the corruptions and machinations of those who would befoul the peaceful peoples of the world...this is your only warning. Turn back now or suffer.....coom...." Morgan squinted at her note. "DOOM!"

    With a tap of her staff against the frozen ground, the snowy background erupted into obscured blue light. Though none could see beyond the bank of blowing snow, great magic had been invoked.
    The Khanate keep charging towards Cask, but several of the mages float up, one with a massively long white beard points a hand at Morgan.

    “The Circle of the Grey Thorn abides no opposing spellcasters, little girl. We are the dominant mages of Earth, and we shall once more have our place!”

    Thin beams of piercing grey energy shoot towards her.
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  11. #26
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    Sarada strode through her palace halls quickly. Things were very close to falling apart. She barely managed to repel a rebel invasion that could have threatened to tear the Empire apart at the seams. Using her words and not her fists was the right call. More encouraging was that fighting it out wasn’t even a consideration. If words didn’t work, she likely would have used just enough force to repel them back to their planets, then quarantined said planets until she could figure out what to do. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.

    A palace official approached her from behind. “Your Highness. We've just receive transmission from the Big Ghetti Star!”

    It was most like either Ochazuke or Zaofan. If they heard the same garbage that she and the other Saiyans heard from Sakin, then she already knew what the call was about. “Answer and broadcast to the rest of the Empire. They need to hear this.” After giving that order, she knocked on the door to Parsley's library.

    “Come in,” came a response from inside.

    She walked in to the room and closed the door. The library was a large, sprawling labyrinth of bookshelves, chairs, and small artifacts from countless worlds. On the walls were paintings by the Empire's finest artists - Parsley included - maps of different worlds, and the skull of a transformed Draconian Parsley killed years ago. The massive dragon threatened to end all life on a faraway world she just so happened to be visiting; that was until she stepped in.

    Parsley was leaning over a desk that was cluttered from corner to corner with old-fashioned papers, datapads, and holographic screens. Closer inspection revealed an array of complicated equations on those papers. Balanced precariously on the very corner was that Apparatus she had been studying for the last several months. Above her was a bulletin board with papers tacked to it and strings crisscrossing from one side to the other. Guess she's been busy.

    “We're in big trouble,” she said to announce her presence, if they hadn't already sensed her.

    “Yes,” Parsley answered without turning around or even looking up.

    “We need to convene with the others. Sakin's made his move and we need to respond.”

    Avoca cleared her throat. She was sitting in a chair by the door, which was why Sarada didn't see her when she walked in. “Before that, we need to get organized and make sure everyone knows what to do while we're gone.”

    “Right.”

    They had been training all all year for just that moment. Their strategies only needed to be reemphasized one final time. They were dealing with professional soldiers; they wouldn't needed much more than that.

    “Come on.” She walked out of the library, beckoning them to follow her, and headed for the Council's war room. She could already sense that the other council-members were waiting for her. “Once we organize, we’ll have to leave immediately. Sakin wants Asha’rah’s body for... something.”

    “Let’s just destroy it and be done with it,” Avoca suggested coldly.

    That... was not a bad idea. Sarada, if she was being honest, held no love or respect for Asha’rah anymore; not after the “debate” between her, Ishtar, and Ochazuke years ago. That same debate where she proclaimed that she would do everything over again the exact same way if given the chance to start over. That kind of empty-headed arrogance was staggering, but not surprising at the time. The goddess was up her own ass and thought she had done the right thing, even if every shred of evidence pointed to the exact opposite. She wasn’t sure where her head was at right that moment, but it didn’t matter. A harsher punishment was in order than the one that Zeno person handed out. Allowing her to keep the stolen power she slayed Indar’en for was the height of stupidity and carelessness.

    Getting rid of all these damn gods and Angels and what not would probably solve a lot of problems, she thought to herself. At least the ones who aren’t worth anything. People like Ishtar, Hammer, and She Who Stalks have got to go. And Sakin and his ilk, too, of course.

    It was something to consider in the near future.

    “Before we go in, I need to catch you up,” Parsley said suddenly. She had been so quiet, Sarada forgot she was with them.

    “...okay.”

    Parsley told her everything she had missed the last four months. The Judge was alive and on Earth working with Capsule to develop weapons and technology. Parsley, Zaofan, and Ochazuke traveled to Darkle to talk with Lord Forger. He gave them more information about three of the four remaining Ulthan, as well as a pair of telepathic retellings of the two final battles with Alakazah. They also spoke with Beast God and Last Daughter and made allies with them.

    The most important thing - to her - was that Forger had been cursed by Alakazah to a restless life of paranoia and fear. It explained why he went to the extreme lengths he did to eliminate a threat that hadn’t even presented herself as a threat yet. It explained why he was so willing to make such craven, cowardly actions in the name of justice. Why so many people had to die for his goals to progress forward.

    Learning it was a curse that set him on that path made it easier to let go of Banespell’s actions against her wife.

    “There’s one more thing,” Parsley said. “When I was training with the retired Creation God Caliban, he mentioned a technique that is quite similar to one you’ve already developed. It’s called Ultra Instinct. I have a feeling he’ll be showing up again soon, so talk with him about it if you get a chance. It sounds like something that’ll help.”

    Ultra Instinct? Sarada knew that there was more to Peerless Instinct than what she and Parsley discovered during their training. She felt like she had only hit the very tip of the iceberg of what that technique was capable of, but just didn’t have the time to devote to really digging deep into it and pulling more out of it. From the name alone, Ultra, she was right. “Good looking out,” she said with a reserved grin. “I’ll look him up for sure.” Hopefully it would be sooner, rather than later.

    With that, they finally walked inside. The Council was waiting for her, holographic images of the planets within the colony, as well as small figures representing the army already queued up on the table. “Welcome back, Your Highness,” Senerg said quietly. “Seems like the unrest has died down considerably in the last few minutes, if the reports are true.”

    That had a lot to do with what she and Ochazuke had to say, without doubt. “Good. I fear **** is about to hit the fan in a big way very soon. We all need to be on the same page.”

    They nodded in unison. “The portals between worlds have been placed on lockdown. The shields are at maximum and the army is on high alert,” Mato reported. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be for whatever this Sakin throws at us next.”

    “He already has,” Parsley said. “He’s been planning this out for tens of thousands of years. There is no way his only tactic is to sick the universe on us. I’m willing to wager he’s already opened the Way Between Worlds with that machine of his. We also already know he’s had some sort of dealings in Otherworld, so it’s very likely he’ll be doing something with that.”

    “Like, we would have to deal with a zombie invasion?” Becbaga asked with a skeptical eyebrow.

    It was like fate answered her question before Parsley could. A loud beep screamed to life from the table, accompanied by a steady flashing purple light emanating from the module designated to Langal’s distress line. “Code Black?!” The worst, most dire of circumstances only reserved for a full scale invasion. Tundra’s army would have warranted such a coding if the system had been implemented at that time, as opposed to only a few months ago.

    Sarada calmly tapped the table to ping the Communications and Security Tower. “What’s going on?”

    =We received a distress call from Langal only a few seconds ago. There’s a full scale invasion! Led... by Tundra!!=

    Sarada eyes bulged out of her head. She shook her head, as if to clear what had to have been restricting her hearing, because there was no fucking way she heard that right. “Get a grip. I killed Tundra myself and no one is stupid enough to wish that scum back.”

    Instead of replying, the CST simply sent her a still image. Sure enough, there he was, leading an army of countless millions.

    Sarada stared helplessly for what felt like an eternity. The dead has been released? But how? Why?!

    ...Sakin...


    “You were right,” she said to Parsley. “I think Sakin somehow made a way for the dead to cross over into the realm of the living.”

    Alarmed murmurs rippled through the war room. “If... if the dead have returned...,” Senerg said, her normally authoritative voice as quiet as a mouse, “...then that means....”

    “All of the our victims have returned,” Botarega finished, tone grave as the reality of their situation just hit them.

    “That has to be billions,” Avoca said. “Hell, Parsley alone killed a quarter of a billion by herself.”

    “And all of them are ransacking Langal as we waste time talking!” Mato jumped out of his seat, only to halt before he could take the first step when Sarada raised her hand. “But, Your Highness...”

    “There could be upwards of a hundred billion vengeful spirits there as we speak,” she said, her tone clipped and terse. “Langal is a lost cause. The priority is not allowing that army to reach the rest of the Empire. We still have the dragonballs. Anyone who dies today will be brought back. But for that to even be an option, we need to protect Maiz and keep that invasion quarantined.” She glanced at Botarega. In her eyes, he saw a fiery, resolute firmness that convinced him she had the matter well in hand. “Give the word to the rest of the worlds. Tell them to destroy Langal’s portal docks.”
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    He nodded and tapped his comm to relay the order. The order than damned Langal and every single man, woman, and child to certain death. Tundra was there. That alone meant that the war was a losing battle, even if he was alone. He wasn’t. On his side was an untold number of slain soldiers, hardened and driven mad by thoughts of revenge and vengeance.

    In her reign, she had been fortunate to not have to make too many difficult decisions. This... she could feel it tugging at her heart strings. So many innocent people, some of which weren’t even Saiyans, were going to die... and she was allowing it.

    She was also too late.

    More shrill beeps and flashing black lights lit up the table. Ruco, Pepa, Callion, even the new colonies. What was more, the alert klaxon filled the war room, along with the flashing black light. “No! What the hell is going o-” Before she could finish, a tremendous explosion ripped through the palace, engulfing half the building in flames. The occupants of the war room was thrown off their feet and slammed into the floor hard.

    Sarada’s head banged against the floor when she landed, leaving her feeling slightly dazed. Her hearing was muted from the explosion, but not her senses. She could feel them; a number of hostile signatures too large for her to even begin numbering. Most weren’t that powerful, but there were a handful that were distressingly powerful.

    Five were beyond familiar.

    “Ohohohohohohoho! Well, well. We meet again.”

    She forced her eyes to open despite the smoke and dust in the air and strained to see the source of the voice. Suddenly, what appeared to be a gust of wind pushed any obstructive obstacles out of the way. “...no...”

    Front and center was Tundra. To his right were Blizz and Cooled; to his left Daroga and Letchee. Behind them was an imposing figure far larger than Tundra, though they looked eerily similar. He was the ancient warlord Glacier, the architect of their enslavement.

    Behind him was a massive, Brobdingnagian throng of people of dozens of races. She saw Tuffles, Sneks, Cryomancers, some kind of robotic race, a race of four-armed beings, fish people, bird people, bull people, bear people, the list could have gone on forever.

    Sarada stood up slowly. The realization finally hit her.

    Over the five hundred year reign of terror, it was estimated that the Saiyans conquered tens of thousands of planets and killed hundreds of billions of people. It was absolutely staggering to think about, but it was the truth. Finally... finally, their penance had come. Scores of angry, vengeful spirits had come back from the dead to seek justice and revenge. Langal was almost certainly a desolated ruin, filled from one end of the horizon to the other with dead bodies. The threat of the other eight Saiyan worlds suffering that same fate was very, very real.

    “Nothing else to say?” Tundra said mockingly. “Very well.” His face was split by a sinister grin. “Let the festivities begin.”
    DBM | Sarada | Parsley

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    Quote Originally Posted by Cleric of Hell’s Brigade View Post
    The Khanate keep charging towards Cask, but several of the mages float up, one with a massively long white beard points a hand at Morgan.

    “The Circle of the Grey Thorn abides no opposing spellcasters, little girl. We are the dominant mages of Earth, and we shall once more have our place!”

    Thin beams of piercing grey energy shoot towards her.
    With a frown, Morgan let the slip of paper fly from her hand into the wind.

    "Your place died with the old ways....Your not even fit to be the dominant mage of a latrine." Morgan exploded from the ground, flying upwards and avoiding the beams as they tore the ground beneath her apart. "...and I'm not a little girl...."

    Hovering in the air, she extended her arm as if issuing a command. "I am Morgan Le Fey, Guardian of Avalon. Your kind has no place here anymore. The ghosts of her people stand in defiance."

    Behind her, a wave of flaming bolt rises from the snowstorm...arcing over her and descended upon the front wave of the hellmarch, each igniting in a explosion of magical energy. The snow parts, revealing an army of Avalonian armored knights in formation, armed with glowing swords, shields, spears, bows and staffs. At their front, several regal knights ready their weapons...thrumming with power, and charge forward.

    "As does my friends." Morgan smiled. "....like the one right behind you."

    The White Bearded Mage would feel something burning rip into his back....and a massive set of claws emerge from his chest.

    "G~A~O!" The Monster behind him whispered. The Grey Thorn Mages around him, having neither seen nor sensed anything before, would fine a albino woman now holding their brethren aloof...giving their claw several hard shakes before grabbing the bearded mage by the foot and literally tearing him from her claw....swinging him wildly with a war cray that sounded more like a beast howl.

  14. #29
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sub-Zero MKA View Post
    He nodded and tapped his comm to relay the order. The order than damned Langal and every single man, woman, and child to certain death. Tundra was there. That alone meant that the war was a losing battle, even if he was alone. He wasn’t. On his side was an untold number of slain soldiers, hardened and driven mad by thoughts of revenge and vengeance.

    In her reign, she had been fortunate to not have to make too many difficult decisions. This... she could feel it tugging at her heart strings. So many innocent people, some of which weren’t even Saiyans, were going to die... and she was allowing it.

    She was also too late.

    More shrill beeps and flashing black lights lit up the table. Ruco, Pepa, Callion, even the new colonies. What was more, the alert klaxon filled the war room, along with the flashing black light. “No! What the hell is going o-” Before she could finish, a tremendous explosion ripped through the palace, engulfing half the building in flames. The occupants of the war room was thrown off their feet and slammed into the floor hard.

    Sarada’s head banged against the floor when she landed, leaving her feeling slightly dazed. Her hearing was muted from the explosion, but not her senses. She could feel them; a number of hostile signatures too large for her to even begin numbering. Most weren’t that powerful, but there were a handful that were distressingly powerful.

    Five were beyond familiar.

    “Ohohohohohohoho! Well, well. We meet again.”

    She forced her eyes to open despite the smoke and dust in the air and strained to see the source of the voice. Suddenly, what appeared to be a gust of wind pushed any obstructive obstacles out of the way. “...no...”

    Front and center was Tundra. To his right were Blizz and Cooled; to his left Daroga and Letchee. Behind them was an imposing figure far larger than Tundra, though they looked eerily similar. He was the ancient warlord Glacier, the architect of their enslavement.

    Behind him was a massive, Brobdingnagian throng of people of dozens of races. She saw Tuffles, Sneks, Cryomancers, some kind of robotic race, a race of four-armed beings, fish people, bird people, bull people, bear people, the list could have gone on forever.

    Sarada stood up slowly. The realization finally hit her.

    Over the five hundred year reign of terror, it was estimated that the Saiyans conquered tens of thousands of planets and killed hundreds of billions of people. It was absolutely staggering to think about, but it was the truth. Finally... finally, their penance had come. Scores of angry, vengeful spirits had come back from the dead to seek justice and revenge. Langal was almost certainly a desolated ruin, filled from one end of the horizon to the other with dead bodies. The threat of the other eight Saiyan worlds suffering that same fate was very, very real.

    “Nothing else to say?” Tundra said mockingly. “Very well.” His face was split by a sinister grin. “Let the festivities begin.”
    A fist breaks Tundra’s cheek and sends the Frost Demon flying.

    There, breathing hard and still dressed in his partial Threshling armor, is Sir Kakarot.

    In SSJ3 mode.
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  15. #30
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    Quote Originally Posted by MrSandman View Post
    With a frown, Morgan let the slip of paper fly from her hand into the wind.

    "Your place died with the old ways....Your not even fit to be the dominant mage of a latrine." Morgan exploded from the ground, flying upwards and avoiding the beams as they tore the ground beneath her apart. "...and I'm not a little girl...."

    Hovering in the air, she extended her arm as if issuing a command. "I am Morgan Le Fey, Guardian of Avalon. Your kind has no place here anymore. The ghosts of her people stand in defiance."

    Behind her, a wave of flaming bolt rises from the snowstorm...arcing over her and descended upon the front wave of the hellmarch, each igniting in a explosion of magical energy. The snow parts, revealing an army of Avalonian armored knights in formation, armed with glowing swords, shields, spears, bows and staffs. At their front, several regal knights ready their weapons...thrumming with power, and charge forward.

    "As does my friends." Morgan smiled. "....like the one right behind you."

    The White Bearded Mage would feel something burning rip into his back....and a massive set of claws emerge from his chest.

    "G~A~O!" The Monster behind him whispered. The Grey Thorn Mages around him, having neither seen nor sensed anything before, would fine a albino woman now holding their brethren aloof...giving their claw several hard shakes before grabbing the bearded mage by the foot and literally tearing him from her claw....swinging him wildly with a war cray that sounded more like a beast howl.
    The mage slumps even as the other aha out out in rage. Grey beams wrap around the women, attempting to shackle her in place.

    Meanwhile, the Khanate charge towards the knights.
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