Dragonball M, Chapter 4: Kidnapping! Invasion! A new Threat Strikes First!

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"I'll not beat around the bush present circumstances, considered... so how extensive is the Library here?" Inanna asked. "Is it merely concerned with earthly affairs. Or is it more robust... say."

“Both. What do you look for?”

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

“Both. What do you look for?”

"It calls itself Night." Inanna said simply.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"It calls itself Night." Inanna said simply.

Eva pales.

She quietly walks into her library, saying nothing.

After a few minutes, she comes back with a small time and opens it.

“A journal penned by Arthur’s daughter, Mab. She was a fantastic sorceress and seeress. She often went out into the universe through means of Astral Travel, observing and documenting many things.”

She opens a book to an image.

“She drew this once.”






“The first image is a Wish Dragon from Universe 18, called Jormunder, found dead and floating in space. The second is the one who slew him, a man called Night. Mab only briefly ever saw him, but he bore some strange power she did not recognize. ‘‘Twas not magic as she knew it, nor some great psychic power either.”

She shakes her head.

“Night was known as the Black Jester, Mab wrote, by the old gods and immortals. Who and where he came from is unknown. Some claimed him an Angel, some the first mortal to ever achieve god hood by his race’s potentiality, others yet a prince from the demon realm. After Asha’rah’s Rebellion, he vanished according to her.”

[bruceleegreyhulk]

While stilling dancing Praxat changes the music that she's listening to. ( Okay, I feel like listen to a song from my sister Draxat. She's really talented with a guitar,)
Praxat thought.

Praxat switch's to a guitar song by her Sister Draxat and listens to it. ( Seriously, Draxat could be a famous musician if she could just get over her stage fright,) Praxat thought as she listen to her sister Draxat's song.

[Tami]

Still up on the roof, Dash stands up and looks down. Seeing Eva she smiles and waves, then calls out, "hey, Lady Eva, Ah'm glad to see you're safe."

Seeing Eva engaged in a conversation with Inanna, Dash continues to watch only long enough to see the Lady enter her Library building and return with a book. As curious as she was about it, she figured it was not her place to pry. Lifting off of the roof, she landed not far from the library's entrance. Within a few steps, she approached the door and tried to open it, hoping to find something interesting to read within.

Finding the door locked, she turned back towards Eva and the others before deciding what to do.

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Eva pales.

She quietly walks into her library, saying nothing.

After a few minutes, she comes back with a small time and opens it.

“A journal penned by Arthur’s daughter, Mab. She was a fantastic sorceress and seeress. She often went out into the universe through means of Astral Travel, observing and documenting many things.”

She opens a book to an image.

“She drew this once.”






“The first image is a Wish Dragon from Universe 18, called Jormunder, found dead and floating in space. The second is the one who slew him, a man called Night. Mab only briefly ever saw him, but he bore some strange power she did not recognize. ‘‘Twas not magic as she knew it, nor some great psychic power either.”

She shakes her head.

“Night was known as the Black Jester, Mab wrote, by the old gods and immortals. Who and where he came from is unknown. Some claimed him an Angel, some the first mortal to ever achieve god hood by his race’s potentiality, others yet a prince from the demon realm. After Asha’rah’s Rebellion, he vanished according to her.”

Inanna took the information in, expressionless.

A dead Wish Dragon, and a power set apart from both magic and Ki. How curious. Though by the time Inanna finished this record seemed... inaccurate.

"Night didn not vanish, right away." Inanna clarified.

"The Amulet of Bitter Mourning was Night's creation, as was the entity housed within. A blend of Creator God, and Destroyer God. The Remnant, of my predecessor Indar'en." She explained, briefly. "As to Night's power, I can only guess... but considering who, and what controls Koorimaru now? Manipulation of the soul, perhaps..."

Expression darkening, the golden-eyed woman asked, "Jormunder's corpse. You said Mab found it while on the Astral Plane. I assume its corpse was never recovered?"

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

Inanna took the information in, expressionless.

A dead Wish Dragon, and a power set apart from both magic and Ki. How curious. Though by the time Inanna finished this record seemed... inaccurate.

"Night didn not vanish, right away." Inanna clarified.

"The Amulet of Bitter Mourning was Night's creation, as was the entity housed within. A blend of Creator God, and Destroyer God. The Remnant, of my predecessor Indar'en." She explained, briefly. "As to Night's power, I can only guess... but considering who, and what controls Koorimaru now? Manipulation of the soul, perhaps..."

Expression darkening, the golden-eyed woman asked, "Jormunder's corpse. You said Mab found it while on the Astral Plane. I assume its corpse was never recovered?"

Her face clouds.

“Universe 18, that is where it’s form was. To the best of my knowledge......no, it was never recovered. It shouldn’t exist either. When a dragon dies their forms disappear, the dragonballs they come from turning to stone.”

She pauses, thinking.

“Manipulation of the soul........Anima-mancy. Such a thing is theoretical. If someone could.......what a terrible power.”

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Her face clouds.

“Universe 18, that is where it’s form was. To the best of my knowledge......no, it was never recovered. It shouldn’t exist either. When a dragon dies their forms disappear, the dragonballs they come from turning to stone.”

She pauses, thinking.

“Manipulation of the soul........Anima-mancy. Such a thing is theoretical. If someone could.......what a terrible power.”

"Animamancy." Inanna parroted, before trailing off a long moment.

The Dragon should have turned to stone, yet its corpse lingered; and Universe 18. A bloated, festering husk on its own. Yet time and again it proved the nexus point for multiversal disturbance... and a veritable Graveyard of the Gods. Suffice to say, this corpse never being recovered meant a trip was in order. Though to go alone, when the shadows tittered?

But who? Something to consider on the way.

"My training... will have to wait. A pity, but necessity beckons."

With a sigh, the golden-eyed woman smiled down at Evangeline before asking. "Along with this book, if there is anything in the Library that might help with this line of discovery, might I borrow it for the short-term?"

[MrSandman]

Her face clouds.

“Universe 18, that is where it’s form was. To the best of my knowledge......no, it was never recovered. It shouldn’t exist either. When a dragon dies their forms disappear, the dragonballs they come from turning to stone.”

She pauses, thinking.

“Manipulation of the soul........Anima-mancy. Such a thing is theoretical. If someone could.......what a terrible power.”

"More then theoretical....Unless I've been theorizing above my skill level." Etrina entered the conversation with all the subtly of a smug overachiever. "I've had success with the channeling, storage and use of souls.....perhaps not as much as my alternate timeline counterpart....but if our Nucklevee friend is any indication?" Etrina produced the smoky green gem and lifted it up.

"Anima-mancy.........couldn't you just shorten it to animancy? Rolls off the tongue better you know. Or maybe Phantomancy.....no wait that ghosts. Hmm......"

[bruceleegreyhulk]

While stilling dancing Praxat changes the music that she's listening to. ( Okay, I feel like listen to a song from my sister Draxat. She's really talented with a guitar,)
Praxat thought.

Praxat switch's to a guitar song by her Sister Draxat and listens to it. ( Seriously, Draxat could be a famous musician if she could just get over her stage fright,) Praxat thought as she listen to her sister Draxat's song.

Praxat stops dancing and ponders. ( Hmm, I wonder what Dash is up to?) Praxat thought. Before walking out of the room, Praxat makes sure to lower the humidity level.

After walking out of a guest room, and leaving her graphic novel New Fantastical Adventures of Termite Man in the room. Praxat looks around for Dash while still listen to her sister Draxat's song. ( Another thing my sister Draxat has is a keen eye for fashion. Seriously she did great work on design my clothing,) Praxat thought.

( Of course, what my sister Draxat often likes to wear is a bit too punkish for my taste, but Draxat is into that punkish style,) Praxat thought.

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"Animamancy." Inanna parroted, before trailing off a long moment.

The Dragon should have turned to stone, yet its corpse lingered; and Universe 18. A bloated, festering husk on its own. Yet time and again it proved the nexus point for multiversal disturbance... and a veritable Graveyard of the Gods. Suffice to say, this corpse never being recovered meant a trip was in order. Though to go alone, when the shadows tittered?

But who? Something to consider on the way.

"My training... will have to wait. A pity, but necessity beckons."

With a sigh, the golden-eyed woman smiled down at Evangeline before asking. "Along with this book, if there is anything in the Library that might help with this line of discovery, might I borrow it for the short-term?"

She shakes her head.

“If we had anything else, I would let your borrow it. That’s about everything.

She pauses.

“You don’t intend to travel there now do you? Alone?”

[Cleric of Hell’s Brigade]

"More then theoretical....Unless I've been theorizing above my skill level." Etrina entered the conversation with all the subtly of a smug overachiever. "I've had success with the channeling, storage and use of souls.....perhaps not as much as my alternate timeline counterpart....but if our Nucklevee friend is any indication?" Etrina produced the smoky green gem and lifted it up.

"Anima-mancy.........couldn't you just shorten it to animancy? Rolls off the tongue better you know. Or maybe Phantomancy.....no wait that ghosts. Hmm......"

“Call it as you will, technically what you’ve done isn’t Anima-Mancy, but high Necromancy. Anima-mancy is actually utilizing and binding souls as a source of power. Perhaps even shredding them entirely or making them into something new.”

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

She shakes her head.

“If we had anything else, I would let your borrow it. That’s about everything.

She pauses.

“You don’t intend to travel there now do you? Alone?”

"I'll use what's available then, thank you." Inanna said with a small smile.

"I don't intend to travel there alone, no. Too dangerous, that old Universe. That said, the need to travel there however is undeniable; and unfortunately given recent happenings I feel this is one chance where I can do this without worrying overmuch about the state of this Universe... at least for a few minutes." Inanna shrugged. "Just a matter of who to take. Unfortunately that list is small, as all here need time in the RoSaT. One of the Saiyans perhaps... presuming they could be pulled away for a short spell."

A considerable amount of their 24 hours was finished, certainly... but pulling one out prematurely might prove fatal.

"Ah well... perhaps I'll have to. Go alone that is."

[Monstrous Bird of Qin, Ou Ki]

They drifted further into the endless white void. Each step created further distance between Pinach and the safety of the living area, and increased the perilous dangerous that laid hidden within. At first, he didn't notice, as focused on the training as he was. It wasn't until he couldn't help but notice that not only were his punches getting slower, but his steps heavier that he realized that the gravity was increasing. Rousong had been baiting him further into the void to test his ability to withstand the gravity.

It was already having an ill-effect on him just a few steps in. His knees were starting to buckle with each step. His breathing was growing heavier and more pronounced. It was a struggle to even stand, much less throw a punch or kick. Even floating a few inches above the ground was a chore and ate up too much of his energy. He had only two choice: persist or give up.

As a hero, he didn't know the definition of the words give up. They sounded like some kind of alien language from a long dead race that died off at the birth of the universe. They were impossible to define, and so he didn't bother. Besides, surrendering wasn't in a Saiyan's blood. They either continued to forge ahead until they won, or they died. This wouldn't be going that far, but it might as well have been.

So, Pinach persisted as long as he could. His punches were slow, and his breathing laborious. Sweat poured off his face and splashed on the floor below them. Eventually, his knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground. He couldn't continue any further. The gravity was such that he could barely keep from faceplanting, a thing that would have led to him suffocating for sure.

As expected, Pinach eventually buckled under the gravity and oppressive atmosphere. It was to be expected, but, nonetheless, the boy's determination was laudable. Assuming he survived the next year, the boy would grow into a fine warrior.

After waiting until Pinach was absolutely at his limit, Rousong walked over to him and picked him up. He walked a short distance away, then stopped. Taking note of the distance, he lifted Pinach's gaze with his tail so that he could see the distant entrance. "This is the point at which you can push yourself without risking... permanent negative effects. Remember it well, if you ever feel the need to train on your own."

Walking closer to 'home', he eventually dropped Pinach unceremoniously once the gravity had lessened enough for him to make it back on his own, even as exhausted as he was. "You should be able to make it from here. Come." He continued on his way.

"We'll follow my mother's regimen. Several days of hard training, followed by a few days of light training--meditation and techniques refinement and creation--and then repeating the process. Even just laboring under the gravity where I... set you down will yield substantial increases very quickly. In fact, by the time you wake up tomorrow, you may very well be amazed at how much your power has increased just from that little... session just now."

Once back home, he began investigating the pantry. According to his counterpart, there was some zhu-prepared food available, but those were best reserved for when they truly needed it. The pantry seemed remarkably well-stocked... more than enough to feed two saiyans for a year, in fact.

Impressive.

He didn't feel like preparing a fancy feast, so he simply got some meat, some spices, and started grilling. "I wonder if my mother and that Avoca woman have engaged with Daroga and Letchee yet? Those two will be in for quite the surprise, if they have." Whether or not he meant his mother and Avoca or tundra's henchmen when he said 'those two' was up in the air.

[Miburo]

The Nevadian floated within the depths of space as the thrusters of his suit maintained his position, overlooking the carnage his had inadvertently wrought. His breath fogged up his visor for the briefest of moments, before fading.

The Space station was capsized, thrown head over heels from the sheer power hidden in the Nevadians body, so great that the mere force of his sneezes were enough to jeopardize the safety of his crew, and the integrity of the ship.

It was frightening, even to his own mind. He had always been disciplined, almost never using strength beyond what he deemed necessary and something as minor as a sneeze had never manifested itself so violently, so beyond the limits of a normal Nevadian body, that it could do....

It was a compulsion that seemed to override mind and body entirely.

The Thrusters vainly flashed into existence, trying to undo what had been undone, but they were meant to aid in maneuvering, or maintain balance, not restore what had been lost.

"You really lead a charmed life...." Held mumbled to himself, thinking of how he could best restore order, "I've got to be the only Ace out there whose losing ships for reasons that have nothing to do with his piloting skills..."

A chirp on his intercom cut through his thoughts like a knife.

"Sir....We're ready when you are...." A surprisingly perky voice informed him, her resolve and apprehension over the comms in equal measure.

"You're sure" Held asked, still somewhat ambivilent about his plan, "Shields up? Everyone's holding onto something? Magnetic Harnesses engaged?"

"Roger, Sir!" She exclaimed, "We're ready on your mark!"

"Well...I guess the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get to drinking and apologizing profusely, eh?"

The confused silence lingered over the intercom for a moment.

"Anyways. Ready. All Hands on deck!"

Through the darkness of his visor, the burning red visage of the Shingan could be seen, as an aura of blue light surrounded the Nevadian.

The shield of the station shimmered into focus.

SHINGAN: KIAI!

Burst of energy rapidly manifested into being around the Nevadians position, colliding against the shielding of the station with violent ferocity. It would have been far more trouble than it was worth--for the poor crewmen--to try and rush things, so the Nevadian applied consistent pressure, an endless barrage of burst colliding with the ship, each more powerful than the last.

It was tedious work, but the Nevadian was loathe to make a bad situation worse, doing more damage to the ship by overestimating its shields, and underestimating his power. Each blow was precise, aimed at the lowest point of the station--which had once been its crown--following the direction of the thrusters, hoping to aid in their en devour.

Finally, after a moment, the space station began to move in earnest, slowly, painfully, the the hands of a clock moving from six to twelve, but moving nonetheless. The strength of the bursts plateaued, before the the Nevadian ceased.

For a moment.

An ocean of burst collided against the hull of the ship, endless in frequency, yet contained in strength.

Oraoraoraoraoraoraoraoraoraora

The sound made as the blows impacted against the shield no doubt startled the crew, as resolute as they were. The head of the ship was at the nine o'clock mark.

OraOraOraOraOraOraOraOra

It was as endless as a rainstorm attacking a paper house.

11'o clock.

ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA

With one final push, the station had been pushed upright once more, and order was restored, the shield of the ship barely--

"Oh, ****. Right." Held exclaimed to no one in particular as his jetpack roared to life, taking him to the other side of the station in the briefest of moments.

If the Nevadian failed to counteract the force he enacted, it was wasted effort. Or even worse, the ship would simply capsize once more, perhaps to an even greater degree, circularizing over and over.

ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA

It hovered between 12 and 1, as the Nevadian ceased his attack, and the thrusters of the station did their part, restoring it to a pristine 12, before dying out in unison with the ships shields.

"...Status report?" Held asked over the comm sighing deeply.

"I...We're all going to need to request bed rest and emergency janitorial services, Sir." the voice informed him, her resolve replaced with unease nausea. "I--Oh No--"

The sound of mass vomiting could be heard in the background. First, one, then another, than another, joining in unison, a chorus of the unwell playing a sickening symphony.

"Approved." Held replied, cringing as he cut the communication rely. If his face could be seen through his helmet, the disgust was more than obvious.

"....Good Grief....Do I even want to go in there right now?"