I think we might be. I want to utilize Kazuo more, but i'm actually not sure where to go with this one. Unless we jump into some kind of training exercise. I can help with planning, but we'd need to know if there is ANYBODY still interested in continuing.
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ChronoBovino
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<Snipped quote by Demon Shinobi>
Lol I'll try, just haven't thought of any yet
I'm sure you will lol
<Snipped quote by Demon Shinobi>
Yeah was thinking of getting back here with Karn/Edo-Karn
Makes sense, looks like we're gonna commit some shenanigans soon. So i'd hurry lol
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Busy and tired bu overall alright, good to see you Demon how have you been?
Just about the same. Very recently had zero/zenoram reintroduced o the story because of reasons. But yeah. Pretty cool stuff about to go down apparently.
@Silver FoxOi mate... You're fuckin alive? How the hell have you been?
"We'll both be pursuing Namog soon." Arkos replied to Beryl calmly as he scanned the paper he'd purchased from the elderly woman. He'd learned a thing or two about the city and the planet as a whole. "But don't sell the people of this world short. They are stronger than they appear." He added as he began to walk, slowly, in the direction Namog had gone. He motioned for his ally to follow. "Truth be told, the history of the nation excites me a bit." He smirked as he walked past shops, occasionally glancing at certain inhabitants. Apparently, there was a rebellion. So, based on how they played things, it was possible that they could take hold of the planet without having to destroy it or threaten it's peace. He explained this and more to Beryl.
There was a generator below powering the city. It was a special technology though. It fed of the energy of the people, all of whom he was sure hadn't volunteered. Additionally, it scanned the surface of the city for energy reading, particularly spikes which would generally occur when an individual unleashed or molded their energy. "For instance," he continued to explain, "if you or I were to unleash our power, create and aura or an energy blast, the system would activate and absorb our energy." Truth be told, he was banking on Namog trying something. Then, he and Beryl could jump in and use the opportunity to win the favor of the people, perhaps even gain an audience with their leader. It was a cruel, somewhat unfair, plan for sure. However, the Saiyan was not above cruelty depending on the circumstances
He continued to recount the planet's need for peace after decades of war, according to the paper and the words of the woman he'd spoken with. "Keep an eye out for Namog. If he does cause a stir I want to subdue him before local authorities." He didn't want to have to explain how Namog died if they went to far. Then, they'd have to take revenge in the name of the Galactic Frieza Army. Lord Frieza wouldn't take kindly to the idea that some unknown race had killed one of his men, no matter how seemingly insignificant the army itself was to him. "I'll need you to trust me if you don't want to destroy this planet completely." He then said in a hushed, but stern, voice. "Do you understand Beryl?"
@Old Amsterdam@Demon Shinobi@Leaves@yoshua171@Spiffy@floodtalon@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity so right now is some vague downtime for the crew that should really only last 1-3 posts total. Y'all can go to one of the tourist destinations to check things out and maybe you'll find yourself a little secret if you pick the right place to go, eh? But once everyone has had a couple posts just to get out some R&R type RPing it's back to the ship and onto Reverse Mountain!
Since the ship probably gonna need some fixing up, maybe i can just do that after kite rests and eats Lol a strong, ready and properly inspected ship should be a big priority lol
As the group came upon the power source, as indicated by the scouter, a city would come into view. Arkos slowed his pace. He didn't want to risk setting off any possible traps as they neared their destination. He paid little attention to the squabbling of the rest of the group, though he was sure to watch his back. He was sure Abbyl wouldn't make a move given her own cowardice and her lack of combative skill. Namog on the other hand would be as daring. Power meant nothing in the wake of a sneak attack. Especially, if you lowered your guard. Still, what he did hear irritated him. Abbyl's comments were as disrespectful to him as he was sure they were to Beryl. Still, Quamku's interjection was well placed. Of the four he held as much of Arkos's trust as Beryl.
As he continued closer some of the inhabitants of the city came into view. It was relatively well made structurally speaking. It was most certainly not the most advanced of races, but it wasn't underdeveloped either. "Hmmmm," Arkos hummed in thought as he came to a halt. Given the sheer amount of individuals in the area, it was a wonder how the scouter reading was so low. Even if every individual had a power lever below 10, the scouter reading was too low. "It seems the inhabitants of this world may be able to conceal their power level. I don't know how many and to what extent, but be careful." He warned the group.
"Bahahaha, what are you scared?" Namog belted out a hearty laugh only to be met with a stern glare.
"Don't mistake my caution for fear. Only a fool underestimates a potential enemy," Arkos replied as he began to descend into the city. Namog clearly didn't enjoy that.
"He isn't wrong," Quamku chimed in as he followed Arkos. "Fools may not get sick, but they are often the first to die in battle." He chuckled, rubbing salt in the wound of his comrade, though he was most clearly joking.
**********
As Arkos's feet touched the ground he noted the lack of shock on the faces of many of the people traversing the city streets. Beyond that, he noticed the lack of a singular race. The crowds were as diverse of the squad itself, though none mirrors races he currently knew to be part of the Frieza races. Given the lack of reaction to their uniforms and armor, nor their insignia they wore so "proudly," they were not familiar with the Galactic Frieza Army. They likely weren't refugees either. There were shops of all kinds scattered about; food, weaponry, armor. The structures were fairly new based on the lack of wear in the materials which would generally be present even in the most well maintained metals and concrete, though it was mostly metal in the case of this city.
Above the buildings where various signs indicating what the shops were for. They advertised the prime commodities, sales on foods, the most popular restaurants, and most notably, the supposed leader of the people. Based on the signs, the man was was no tyrant. The people were not sullen, nor did they seem depressed under his rule. In fact, they seemed vibrant and as though they were prospering. "Do not threaten anybody. Make no move to attack." He spoke, primarily to Namog, as he stopped at what seemed to be a stand selling news. The stand was run by a fairly old woman, sitting on a very comfortable looking chair behind the counter. He approached calmly and smiled even to show no malice, his expression softening a bit. He spoke to her calmly for a few moments. She seemed to understand, though barely. She spoke softly, but in a quick pace. The scouter worked quickly to translate her speech as Arkos managed to assure her it would.
"This is boring." Abbyl commented under her breath.
After a few more moments he placed a small sum of money on the counter top and picked up what seemed to be a newspaper. He nodded and turned to the group. "We'll gather supplies for now and return to the pods. Maintain radio silence, set your scouters and rendezvous at the pods in two hours."
"This is idiotic. We are the Galactic--"
"Namog. 2 hours. Rendezvous. You are not an individual. You are part of a group. Your actions do not only effect you." Namog clearly didn't like Arkos's decision. Still, he was hoping there wouldn't be trouble later. At least not yet, and not until they were ready. Quamku simply nodded and turned to leave without protest. Abbyl huffed, but didn't say much else as she left herself. And so as each of the three went their own way he turn his head to focus on Beryl. The scouter noted each radio signal cutting after a moment.
Arkos had taken his time in surveying the areas and trying to scan for any other forms of life. The scouter's range was fairly large, so he know it was likely that the species of this planet were either huddled altogether in a single spot or nomadic. A nomad's life was a simple life. One free of the bonds of servitude. At least in his mind. "Can't you three ever make a decision without a fight?" He finally asked as Beryl exited her pod, the final of his four teammates. He'd expected this outcome. They trio hardly ever listened to Beryl without his input. The two men were rather prideful, though in Arkos's humble opinion, they had no reason to be. And the woman hated that her opinion was generally overshadowed by Beryl's.
Still, though the Saiyan knew that the mission would be much easier were they to simply rampage, he wasn't about to waste what little this planet could have to offer. "We'll head for the reading indicated and check them out. If we are given a reason, we'll destroy them. Otherwise..."
"Figures." The woman, Abbyl, scoffed at the decision.
"Is there a problem?" Arkos questioned her with a stern look. She kept quiet, though he could tell she had a lot she wanted to say. He didn't understand why though. It was a petty matter. After all, it was still technically what she wanted.
"Oh come on! What the hell are these weaklings gonna be good for?" The rather large alien, Namog laughed. "We know what Lord Frieza wants. He'd tell us to destroy this planet and head back as soon as possible."
"That's not a very smart mindset to have." Quamku said almost immediately.
"Heh... nobody ever accused Nagom of being smart."
"Why you lit--"
"That's enough you three." Arkos spoke again. He was patient, but Beryl was not and he could already see she was annoyed. He'd rather not have more trouble on this mission than it was currently worth. "Namog, don't try to act as if there's only one way to handle things. And do not speak for Lord Frieza. You know as well as I he has built his empire on an ever growing mass of servants and resources. It wouldn't make sense not to gather intelligence and see what, if anything, this planet may have to offer." It was true. After all, even after only stepping out of the pods, the group was met with plains covered in grass. The planet was brimming with life beyond what they could pick up on their scouters.
After the brief scolding things were quiet. Arkos sighed and shook his head, slowly floating into the air. "Watch each other's backs. We still don't know enough about the world," he sfinally said before taking off in the direction the scouter had given them, heading for the power signatures of the people. The others would likely follow, so he wasn't worried.
Prologue:
As of Age 761, The Planet Trade Organization (PTO) continues to grow, spreading its influence across the universe. The tyrants in charge continue to send waves of scouts and warriors to find and destroy planets, provided they refuse to submit to their rule and serve them. Planets not destroyed, whose inhabitants have either been wiped out or enslaved are colonized, sold or farmed for resources. The soldier’s numbers have become practically uncountable.
Within the larger whole are sections; each under the rule of one of three. First, there is King Cold. He is a powerful tyrant who commands respect over the entirety of the forces, though he has a select few elite warriors under his personal command. Next, is his eldest son, Cooler, who reigns over his legion, albeit he does not seem to branch out much further than is necessary to remain in the good graces of his father. Finally, there is Frieza. Although he is the younger of the two brother’s he is the most widely known. He is a tyrant feared by all. His Faction of the PTO is seen as the most ruthless and prone to conflict. He rules his faction with an iron fist, the group far more widely known than it’s parent organization as the Galactic Frieza Army.
The army itself seems to dwarf the other factions in size, though a majority of it is comprised of lower class warriors. Still above those groups lie the Elite. And if the Elite are not enough, Frieza may call about the Ginyu Force. And yet, the focus of this story is not the Ginyu, the elite, or Frieza himself. This story focuses on what are considered low class warriors. And so it begins on a far off planet, not yet aware of the fate that awaits them.
As the pods opened within craters they had formed in the otherwise green plains of the surface they’d plummeted into. A hand, somewhat tanned, clutched the frame of the opening. A man standing at roughly 5’10” with a fair, but lightly tanned skin complexion, stepped out. He used his free hand to form a visor and shield his eyes from the rays of the bright sun.
“One sun.” He spoke aloud, though it was mostly into the communicator of the scouter that adorned his face. The red lense, positioned before one of his black eyes, gave him a brief reading of the area; nothing nearby, but there were power signatures a few miles east of the location. They were weak. Another docile planet to add to the list. In other words; a bore.
“Hopefully this planet has more to offer than this.” Arkos said as he left his capsule and prepared to move out onto this unsuspecting world. He stepped out to stretch his legs before the rest of the squad accompanying him. He rolled his head around and cracked his knuckles. He wore black, sleeveless full-body jumpsuit. The sleeves extended just past his shoulders, armor clutching his body. It was black, to match his jumpsuit with an off-white trim and a red midsection. His gloves were black and fingerless connecting to black and red wrist guards with a banded pattern reach part way up his forearm. Adorning his feet with white, red tipped boots, typical of the Frieza, but more importantly the Saiyan, battle attire.
The Saiyan began to climb up out of his crater, his sharp eyes surveying the area. There was little more than a quiet intensity to his gaze. He gave off little emotion, as was expected of a warrior when conquering a planet. His tail, brown in color as was typical of the saiyan race remained wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair maintained a spiky, in not utterly unkempt, appearance. It was black all over, save for four red bangs hanging just over the minor widow’s peak he sported just in front of his face. “How should we handle this?” He asked.
“Well, we could try to find the capitol and confront the leader of this world.”
“That’s boring. We should just blow up a couple places and let the authorities come to us.”
“Intelligence gathering would be the ideal course of action.”
“Of course you would say that.”
Squabbling among three of the other four members of the team dispatched rang out in Arkos’s ear. He sighed. He didn’t want to join this pointless squabble. But they had to decide. Preferably, they could learn more about the world and whether it was one in need of such violent tactics. He was always interested in a battle and a powerful opponent, but needlessly pummeling the weak wasn’t his ideal choice of entertainment. Not like other Saiyans or members of Frieza’s Forces. “Decisions, decisions,” he said with a small chuckle and sigh, poking fun as the arguing trio.
As of Age 761, The Planet Trade Organization (PTO) continues to grow, spreading its influence across the universe. The tyrants in charge continue to send waves of scouts and warriors to find and destroy planets, provided they refuse to submit to their rule and serve them. Planets not destroyed, whose inhabitants have either been wiped out or enslaved are colonized, sold or farmed for resources. The soldier’s numbers have become practically uncountable.
Within the larger whole are sections; each under the rule of one of three. First, there is King Cold. He is a powerful tyrant who commands respect over the entirety of the forces, though he has a select few elite warriors under his personal command. Next, is his eldest son, Cooler, who reigns over his legion, albeit he does not seem to branch out much further than is necessary to remain in the good graces of his father. Finally, there is Frieza. Although he is the younger of the two brother’s he is the most widely known. He is a tyrant feared by all. His Faction of the PTO is seen as the most ruthless and prone to conflict. He rules his faction with an iron fist, the group far more widely known than it’s parent organization as the Galactic Frieza Army.
The army itself seems to dwarf the other factions in size, though a majority of it is comprised of lower class warriors. Still above those groups lie the Elite. And if the Elite are not enough, Frieza may call about the Ginyu Force. And yet, the focus of this story is not the Ginyu, the elite, or Frieza himself. This story focuses on what are considered low class warriors. And so it begins on a far off planet, not yet aware of the fate that awaits them.
As the pods opened within craters they had formed in the otherwise green plains of the surface they’d plummeted into. A hand, somewhat tanned, clutched the frame of the opening. A man standing at roughly 5’10” with a fair, but lightly tanned skin complexion, stepped out. He used his free hand to form a visor and shield his eyes from the rays of the bright sun.
“One sun.” He spoke aloud, though it was mostly into the communicator of the scouter that adorned his face. The red lense, positioned before one of his black eyes, gave him a brief reading of the area; nothing nearby, but there were power signatures a few miles east of the location. They were weak. Another docile planet to add to the list. In other words; a bore.
“Hopefully this planet has more to offer than this.” Arkos said as he left his capsule and prepared to move out onto this unsuspecting world. He stepped out to stretch his legs before the rest of the squad accompanying him. He rolled his head around and cracked his knuckles. He wore black, sleeveless full-body jumpsuit. The sleeves extended just past his shoulders, armor clutching his body. It was black, to match his jumpsuit with an off-white trim and a red midsection. His gloves were black and fingerless connecting to black and red wrist guards with a banded pattern reach part way up his forearm. Adorning his feet with white, red tipped boots, typical of the Frieza, but more importantly the Saiyan, battle attire.
The Saiyan began to climb up out of his crater, his sharp eyes surveying the area. There was little more than a quiet intensity to his gaze. He gave off little emotion, as was expected of a warrior when conquering a planet. His tail, brown in color as was typical of the saiyan race remained wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair maintained a spiky, in not utterly unkempt, appearance. It was black all over, save for four red bangs hanging just over the minor widow’s peak he sported just in front of his face. “How should we handle this?” He asked.
“Well, we could try to find the capitol and confront the leader of this world.”
“That’s boring. We should just blow up a couple places and let the authorities come to us.”
“Intelligence gathering would be the ideal course of action.”
“Of course you would say that.”
Squabbling among three of the other four members of the team dispatched rang out in Arkos’s ear. He sighed. He didn’t want to join this pointless squabble. But they had to decide. Preferably, they could learn more about the world and whether it was one in need of such violent tactics. He was always interested in a battle and a powerful opponent, but needlessly pummeling the weak wasn’t his ideal choice of entertainment. Not like other Saiyans or members of Frieza’s Forces. “Decisions, decisions,” he said with a small chuckle and sigh, poking fun as the arguing trio.
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