"Need you? I NEED YOU?" Yusef chortled, laughing as he lumbered towards T'charrl's frightened form. "I KNOW the formula now! You're just a hindrance!"
This was going to be far too sweet. With the kind of power he now had the general was positive a single blow or two would be enough to finish off the Prince and his little Saiyan friend. Why rush a good thing though? He knew he was powerful, but he wanted to see precisely how powerful he was. And what better way then to test it against a Saiyan? Kabocha would wait though, there was a much more pressing desire to toy with T'charrl first. The boy's frightened look only served to amuse Yusef, laughing loudly at the boy's expense.
"Do try to fight back. I don't want this to be over too quickly!"
There came a bit of a surprise then, something that Yusef had somehow managed to miss. Before he could get close enough to strike down the Prince two more Saiyans appeared, from where he couldn't be too sure. Before he might have been intimidated by more of their kind by showing up, but drunk with power all he could do was grin. Let these children keep showing up, he'd squash them all like insects. There was no way he could lose, not now. Grinning wildly at the two twins he planted his feet firmly on the ground, letting out a pseudo-growl as they began to charge up their energy. How curious... He could feel that energy, something he'd never been able to do before. An effect of the injection perhaps? If he could do that then perhaps he would be able to sense all Saiyans, and he could systematically eliminate them. Not only would he be the savior of his own race, but of the entire galaxy. Think of the prominence he'd have then.
With a fair amount of Ki gathered Kai and Choi let their attacks fly, blasting across the room at the massive Kaesstrian. Any sane person would have avoided it, seeing as it was a set of attacks from two fairly strong individuals. In his euphoric state the general couldn't be bothered to move, too enthusiastic to test his new limits. Spreading his arms to his sides Yusef grinned, bracing as he took the attacks head on. The resulting explosion created a bright light, kicking the clutter of he room all over the place, several items smashing against the wall as papers subsequently caught fire and were reduced to ash. As the blinding glow faded and everything settled the twins and T'charrl would likely be shocked to see the general still standing, virtually unscathed save for a few hairs where the attacks had hit. What's more, he was laughing at them.
"This is incredible! I feel great!" Yusef roared, laughing as he flexed his bulky form. "I'm indestructible like this!"
Drunk with power might be an understatement, the general was absolutely consumed by it. It was better than he ever could have dreamed, without a doubt. He had to wonder, did he now posses abilities like the Saiyans and T'charrl had demonstrated. Looking down at his claws he focused for a moment, almost shouting with glee when his skin glowed slightly. The Prince had been talking out of his rear, there was nothing to this power, it was merely another tool. Smiling sinisterly the general placed himself firmly on the ground again, opening his mouth as energy began to gather. It was almost like second nature, he couldn't quite explain how he knew to do this, it just was. With his maw full of energy he reared back before releasing his own attack, aiming directly at the twins and T'charrl. Rather than hit them as intended the blast was redirected by another, flying into the far wall and blowing a hole right into it, a rather big one at that. Surprised at the interference Yusef looked around, chuckling when he spotted Kabocha standing up again.
"Well done! I expected you to roll over and die!"
Kabocha had managed to pull himself out of the cabinet, and subsequently the wall. The hit had been hard, as in getting hit by a speeding truck hard. This guy wasn't just a nutcase anymore, he was scary strong to boot. His stepping in to deflect that blast had barely worked, and now it looked like the general was his number one fan again. Smiling slightly the Saiyan clasped his hands together before holding them forward, beginning to charge his energy between his palms.
"Guys? Get down!"
This was probably a REALLY bad idea in this small room, but they had to stop this guy as soon as possible before things got worse. Once his energy had reached a fair size he unleashed it all in a single blast, hoping to not kill the general outright. Well, he wouldn't have to worry about killing the general, or even hurting him for that matter. It wasn't a blast that Yusef could just brush off apparently, but he certainly could redirect it. Using his new power the general blocked it first with his hands, and then lifting his arms he threw the blast up over his head. The energy didn't explode, instead tearing a gaping hole in the floor, then the floor above, and finally through the roof. It would fly well up over the city before exploding, shaking the now unstable structure with the shock waves. Stunned by how useless his attack had been Kabocha dropped his hands, staring mouth agape at the general.
"Uh... Anyone got a Plan B?"
GambolMuse
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Resurrected from the PBP graveyard!
STATUS: Back on my "pining for fictional women" shtick! 2 yrs ago
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Back on my "pining for fictional women" shtick!
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9 yrs ago
If I owe you a post, it's coming! Been a very busy week but finally settling down!
9 yrs ago
The adult in me says sleep, the kid in me wants to play NieR. The kid's winning D:
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9 yrs ago
youtube.com/watch?v=7RzA_Oom.. All of my yes. Love this theme <3
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9 yrs ago
If you've not had a chance to watch "Your Name" yet, highly recommend!
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Most Recent Posts
The night following their traumatic afternoon had hardly been ideal. Hanta couldn't get rest no matter how hard he tried. Every time he closed his eyes he'd see that boy's face, and Izumo's voice would ring out in his head. He didn't want to be at fault for it, but it was difficult to see it otherwise. Even as the sun had dipped well below the horizon and the moon hung high overhead he remained seated in his bed, staring at the walls silently. The grim images weren't the only things preventing him from getting sleep either. She might be trying to hide it from him, but Komada was clearly under duress too. Every now and again a small sob and whimper was heard, only serving to further ruin his mood. He didn't blame her for it though, only himself. Even if he felt that way it didn't mean his friend shared that opinion, and by the sounds of it she blamed herself. While he might be okay with self-loathing he couldn't well in good conscience let Komada spend the night miserable. What kind of a friend would he be if he left her there to cry herself to sleep?
"You're not weak Komada," Hanta whispered, smiling sadly. "And you'll get stronger. We both will."
He probably didn't have to say anything, but Hanta felt a reassurance was in order. As Komada resumed her crying he dutifully remain at her side, keeping a hand laid on her back to let his presence be known. In all honesty he had no clue how his being there helped, but all that mattered was it did. He may not have been able to help that boy, he reflected, but there was someone right in front of him who he could help. Even if it boiled down to only being able to help his friend he would continue to train, strive to become strong enough to ensure her safety. If in the process he should become strong enough to protect others then just as well, he'd gladly take up that mantle. Someone had to after all, and already he felt obligated to do such a thing. He wasn't going to end up clearing the game, that he was certain of. So what better did he have to do other than help keep players safe? Hanta shook his head, smiling ruefully as he looked down at Komada's now sleeping form. It was too late to be deciding things like that, he'd decide what he'd be doing later. With his friend properly consoled he could finally get some rest, or at the very least try to. Waiting a moment longer to make certain Komada was asleep he slowly lifted his tired frame over to his bed, almost collapsing onto it graciously and crawling into place. His troubled thoughts persisted, but knowing that Komada was sleeping soundly now helped slowly ease him into some much needed rest.
The sun seemed to rise much too early that morning, yet as always Hanta was prompt in waking up. As always he checked on Komada before anything else, as if having to be reassured she was safe and sound every morning. Seeing that she indeed was perfectly fine he exhaled, raising his arms up over his head in a stretch. Ideally now he'd like to go out and train, get a little more experience before his day with Komada began. That was the plan at any rate, but the sounds outside of a crowd drew him to the windows instead. The procession he then witnessed had him both awestruck and somber, the later mostly due to seeing Izumo far earlier than he'd have liked to after yesterday. It was amazing how quickly people had been mobilized to start clearing the floor, even after one of their own had just died yesterday. Hell, more than one probably died, he only knew of the one boy himself. Despite those nasty scars in their memories these players persisted, going out even though it was dangerous. The word "Clearers" kept coming up in the crowd, and for a moment it confused him. So these were the players who would be taking on the boss then, is that what it meant? That was a very admirable feat to undertake, even if it might be suicidal.
Well it was set then, he'd try to take part. If not necessarily in clearing the floor then in helping them get as close to it as possible. It was a purpose to train, more than just to keep his friend safe. Once the showing had ended he closed the windows, immediately equipping his gear without a second thought. He then went to Komada's side, giving her a gentle shake to get her up.
"Hey... We've got some training to do, rise and shine sleepy head." he whispered, smiling gently. "Some other players are going to train, and we're going to join them."
Figuring that Komada needed a moment Hanta stepped back, giving his friend space. Per usual she was slow to come to, picking herself up after a moment and collecting herself from her slumber. It was always amusing to see, and he knew full well she had never been an early riser, only making it funnier for him. The humor had to take a back seat as she rose to her feet, bringing up her menu to get dressed as well. Even if one couldn't really see anything when someone changed it was a matter of principle for them. They were friends after all, and even then it was just common courtesy not to look. Smiling knowingly Hanta turned himself around, bringing open his own menu and taking a glance at his money. If they had a good day in the field, he reckoned, he could buy Komada some new armor. So long as she was protected he could fight more freely... Hopefully. At the feeling of a hand clasping his arm he looked away from his inventory, smiling at his friend as she spoke to him. He wasn't quite sure what it was in reply to, but he nodded his head politely, glancing back at his menu and closing it silently.
"Glad to hear. Ready to go?"
Being among the Clearers gave Hanta a much better view of what he ought to strive for in terms of power. By level alone he was comparable to many of the people here, but what he really lacked was skill. He could fight a basic Wolf or Frenzy boar, even two or possibly even three if necessary. His skills were relatively lacking though, and while he'd never say it his cooperation with Komada made fighting a little difficult. She wasn't bad, but it was difficult not to worry about her while they fought. Even their surprisingly good chemistry when switching against monsters did little to alleviate his nerves, it still meant that she would be in danger. While most of his attention was focused on his friend alone he took the occasional glance at those around them as often as he could. Seeing other skilled players in action was something else, and if he didn't feel the need to train he could easily sit there and watch them work. Everyone was doing exceptionally well, but two sisters had his attention more than anyone else. They were incredible at working together, easily comparable to him and Komada. When he got the chance he'd watch these two girls, trying to pick up on any nuances of switching that could help him and his friend. Hanta was so caught up in their training he scarcely realized how much they were progressing, and by the time it dawned on him they had advanced quite a ways, clearing four new towns for players to call home. That was going to help immensely, as the Town of Beginnings was cramped as it stood. The roads would be clear for a short while, meaning people could finally begin to fan out a bit. It was a very simplistic step towards clearing the game, but by the time that they finished fighting he couldn't help but feel accomplished.
The Clearers had settled themselves down in the last town to have some lunch as a sort of celebration. It was a tiny little vale that sat in a valley of lush, green grass. Buildings were sparse here, certainly more open than the first town they had seen. It was almost like a village really, with cobble homes and buildings dotting the open, spacious area. It could be a really nice place to live if it weren't so small, and if nearly every home wasn't filled with NPCs. Since there was no real place other than the inn to gather everyone, and so the entire group of some twenty players sat cluttered together inside. Hanta and Komada had found themselves a table by the window, giving them a view of the main road outside. NPCs were hurrying about their business as usual, and children ran around chasing one another, laughing and giggling merrily. In a way, Hanta reflected, he was jealous. To them this was reality, and they were home and safe. To the players this was a prison, and it was doubtful they'd ever be that happy here. No, he was confident that until they returned home this place would always have an unshakable feeling of dread about it.
The two friends sat by waiting for their food to arrive, happily chatting about how well they had done today. Or to be exact Komada talked, Hanta offered a small reply and nod now and again, not quite as ecstatic as his counterpart. Training like that was going to be a normal occurrence for him, so it was honestly not that exciting. If Komada enjoyed it though and so long as she was safe about it he'd certainly bring her along more often, as it did get lonely when doing it alone. Over the sound of people talking Hanta could hear a less than pleasant conversation taking place. By the sounds of it a girl and boy were arguing, though over what he couldn't quite tell. Curiously he lifted his head, looking around to try and find the source of the argument. To his surprise the noise seemed to be coming from one of the twins from earlier, as she was getting into it with some boy from the Clearing group. It really wasn't any of his business, but he didn't like how frustrated the girl seemed to be getting, and the guy looked to be the instigator.
"Tristan, everyone has to pay for their food! No exceptions!" the girl shouted, balling her hands into fists. "And that includes you!"
She wasn't a terribly imposing figure, but she certainly was loud. Dressed in a simple set of plate armor she stood at perhaps five feet and a half, boasting a bright head of blonde hair. From where Hanta sat he could see she also wore a set of iron bracers and shin guards, with leather boots beneath those and matching gloves on her hands. A sword and shield rested on her back, and from earlier he knew full well that she was rather adept with her weapons.
"C'mon, just spot me this once, will you?" Tristan replied, smirking as he put his hands on his hips. "Just do me this favor Hana and I'll pay you back, I swear."
Two boys were with Tristan, and they laughed it up as their friend teased the young girl. Tristan chuckled to himself as he reached out to grab at Hana, instead having his hand swat away from her. Narrowing his eyes he retained the smile, though he didn't seem nearly as amused as before.
"Well... I thought you were cute, but I guess you're just a bitch..."
Again he raised his hand, this time intending to slap Hana. As soon as his hand was raised though someone grabbed it, and he blinked in surprise before turning to his side to see who it was, noting the sword user in simple leather gear looking at hm.
"Just who the heck are you?"
"I'm a nobody really, but you're a creep. How about backing off and leaving the girl alone? She said she's not giving you money, so find your own. You ought to have some from training anyways."
Hanta released his grip before a warning about conduct could come up, keeping a stern look on his face. He hated guys like this, they treated girls like crap because they thought they could. It was a pretty big assumption to make so quickly, but he felt it fit this boy perfectly.
"Oh ho, mister hero is going to tell me what to do?" Tristan asked, grinning as he and his friends turned now onto Hanta. "If I say no then who is going to-"
"Tristan, that's ENOUGH!"
The shout came from another table, surprisingly from Izumo. The blonde boy was giving Tristan a very nasty stare, and Hanta found himself rather grateful it wasn't directed at him this time. He really didn't know who or what the deal with Izumo was, but after his input the other boy backed off. With one final exchange under his breath Tristan sulked off, heading back to his table with his friends following suit. Relieved that was over Hanta exhaled, turning to go back to the table but instead stopping as his arm was grabbed. Confused he looked over his shoulder, curious to see the girl he'd helped beaming up at him.
"Uh... Yes?" Hanta asked, giving a small, polite smile. As soon as he asked he saw the girl inhale, and braced for what he knew was about to come.
"OhmygoshthankyousomuchforyourhelpwiththosecreepshowcanIthankyou?" Hana exclaimed, not taking a single pause nor breath during her rapid speech.
Hanta only stared at the girl for a second, really not clear on what was just said. Looking back at Komada uncertainly for help he turned back to Hana, biting his lip as he rubbed the back of his head.
"I uh... Didn't catch that?" he asked apologetically. Again the girl beamed, this time getting on her toes and nearly smacking his face with her own as she leaned in.
"Thanks for the help! Those creeps were going to share their table and now we don't have anywhere to sit. Do you have room at your table?" Hana asked, slowing herself down considerably this time. "Oh, my name is Hana, and this..." she paused, grabbing her twin by the hand and pulling her over. "Is Lily? Please can we sit with you? I don't want to stand!"
Hanta was utterly beside himself, giving Hana a clueless look as he tried to process her sporadic speaking. He didn't have a problem with their sitting with him he supposed, but he wasn't the only one at the table. Holding up a finger he backed off a bit, giving Komada a hopeful glance that said "help" all over it.
"You're not weak Komada," Hanta whispered, smiling sadly. "And you'll get stronger. We both will."
He probably didn't have to say anything, but Hanta felt a reassurance was in order. As Komada resumed her crying he dutifully remain at her side, keeping a hand laid on her back to let his presence be known. In all honesty he had no clue how his being there helped, but all that mattered was it did. He may not have been able to help that boy, he reflected, but there was someone right in front of him who he could help. Even if it boiled down to only being able to help his friend he would continue to train, strive to become strong enough to ensure her safety. If in the process he should become strong enough to protect others then just as well, he'd gladly take up that mantle. Someone had to after all, and already he felt obligated to do such a thing. He wasn't going to end up clearing the game, that he was certain of. So what better did he have to do other than help keep players safe? Hanta shook his head, smiling ruefully as he looked down at Komada's now sleeping form. It was too late to be deciding things like that, he'd decide what he'd be doing later. With his friend properly consoled he could finally get some rest, or at the very least try to. Waiting a moment longer to make certain Komada was asleep he slowly lifted his tired frame over to his bed, almost collapsing onto it graciously and crawling into place. His troubled thoughts persisted, but knowing that Komada was sleeping soundly now helped slowly ease him into some much needed rest.
The sun seemed to rise much too early that morning, yet as always Hanta was prompt in waking up. As always he checked on Komada before anything else, as if having to be reassured she was safe and sound every morning. Seeing that she indeed was perfectly fine he exhaled, raising his arms up over his head in a stretch. Ideally now he'd like to go out and train, get a little more experience before his day with Komada began. That was the plan at any rate, but the sounds outside of a crowd drew him to the windows instead. The procession he then witnessed had him both awestruck and somber, the later mostly due to seeing Izumo far earlier than he'd have liked to after yesterday. It was amazing how quickly people had been mobilized to start clearing the floor, even after one of their own had just died yesterday. Hell, more than one probably died, he only knew of the one boy himself. Despite those nasty scars in their memories these players persisted, going out even though it was dangerous. The word "Clearers" kept coming up in the crowd, and for a moment it confused him. So these were the players who would be taking on the boss then, is that what it meant? That was a very admirable feat to undertake, even if it might be suicidal.
Well it was set then, he'd try to take part. If not necessarily in clearing the floor then in helping them get as close to it as possible. It was a purpose to train, more than just to keep his friend safe. Once the showing had ended he closed the windows, immediately equipping his gear without a second thought. He then went to Komada's side, giving her a gentle shake to get her up.
"Hey... We've got some training to do, rise and shine sleepy head." he whispered, smiling gently. "Some other players are going to train, and we're going to join them."
Figuring that Komada needed a moment Hanta stepped back, giving his friend space. Per usual she was slow to come to, picking herself up after a moment and collecting herself from her slumber. It was always amusing to see, and he knew full well she had never been an early riser, only making it funnier for him. The humor had to take a back seat as she rose to her feet, bringing up her menu to get dressed as well. Even if one couldn't really see anything when someone changed it was a matter of principle for them. They were friends after all, and even then it was just common courtesy not to look. Smiling knowingly Hanta turned himself around, bringing open his own menu and taking a glance at his money. If they had a good day in the field, he reckoned, he could buy Komada some new armor. So long as she was protected he could fight more freely... Hopefully. At the feeling of a hand clasping his arm he looked away from his inventory, smiling at his friend as she spoke to him. He wasn't quite sure what it was in reply to, but he nodded his head politely, glancing back at his menu and closing it silently.
"Glad to hear. Ready to go?"
Being among the Clearers gave Hanta a much better view of what he ought to strive for in terms of power. By level alone he was comparable to many of the people here, but what he really lacked was skill. He could fight a basic Wolf or Frenzy boar, even two or possibly even three if necessary. His skills were relatively lacking though, and while he'd never say it his cooperation with Komada made fighting a little difficult. She wasn't bad, but it was difficult not to worry about her while they fought. Even their surprisingly good chemistry when switching against monsters did little to alleviate his nerves, it still meant that she would be in danger. While most of his attention was focused on his friend alone he took the occasional glance at those around them as often as he could. Seeing other skilled players in action was something else, and if he didn't feel the need to train he could easily sit there and watch them work. Everyone was doing exceptionally well, but two sisters had his attention more than anyone else. They were incredible at working together, easily comparable to him and Komada. When he got the chance he'd watch these two girls, trying to pick up on any nuances of switching that could help him and his friend. Hanta was so caught up in their training he scarcely realized how much they were progressing, and by the time it dawned on him they had advanced quite a ways, clearing four new towns for players to call home. That was going to help immensely, as the Town of Beginnings was cramped as it stood. The roads would be clear for a short while, meaning people could finally begin to fan out a bit. It was a very simplistic step towards clearing the game, but by the time that they finished fighting he couldn't help but feel accomplished.
The Clearers had settled themselves down in the last town to have some lunch as a sort of celebration. It was a tiny little vale that sat in a valley of lush, green grass. Buildings were sparse here, certainly more open than the first town they had seen. It was almost like a village really, with cobble homes and buildings dotting the open, spacious area. It could be a really nice place to live if it weren't so small, and if nearly every home wasn't filled with NPCs. Since there was no real place other than the inn to gather everyone, and so the entire group of some twenty players sat cluttered together inside. Hanta and Komada had found themselves a table by the window, giving them a view of the main road outside. NPCs were hurrying about their business as usual, and children ran around chasing one another, laughing and giggling merrily. In a way, Hanta reflected, he was jealous. To them this was reality, and they were home and safe. To the players this was a prison, and it was doubtful they'd ever be that happy here. No, he was confident that until they returned home this place would always have an unshakable feeling of dread about it.
The two friends sat by waiting for their food to arrive, happily chatting about how well they had done today. Or to be exact Komada talked, Hanta offered a small reply and nod now and again, not quite as ecstatic as his counterpart. Training like that was going to be a normal occurrence for him, so it was honestly not that exciting. If Komada enjoyed it though and so long as she was safe about it he'd certainly bring her along more often, as it did get lonely when doing it alone. Over the sound of people talking Hanta could hear a less than pleasant conversation taking place. By the sounds of it a girl and boy were arguing, though over what he couldn't quite tell. Curiously he lifted his head, looking around to try and find the source of the argument. To his surprise the noise seemed to be coming from one of the twins from earlier, as she was getting into it with some boy from the Clearing group. It really wasn't any of his business, but he didn't like how frustrated the girl seemed to be getting, and the guy looked to be the instigator.
"Tristan, everyone has to pay for their food! No exceptions!" the girl shouted, balling her hands into fists. "And that includes you!"
She wasn't a terribly imposing figure, but she certainly was loud. Dressed in a simple set of plate armor she stood at perhaps five feet and a half, boasting a bright head of blonde hair. From where Hanta sat he could see she also wore a set of iron bracers and shin guards, with leather boots beneath those and matching gloves on her hands. A sword and shield rested on her back, and from earlier he knew full well that she was rather adept with her weapons.
"C'mon, just spot me this once, will you?" Tristan replied, smirking as he put his hands on his hips. "Just do me this favor Hana and I'll pay you back, I swear."
Two boys were with Tristan, and they laughed it up as their friend teased the young girl. Tristan chuckled to himself as he reached out to grab at Hana, instead having his hand swat away from her. Narrowing his eyes he retained the smile, though he didn't seem nearly as amused as before.
"Well... I thought you were cute, but I guess you're just a bitch..."
Again he raised his hand, this time intending to slap Hana. As soon as his hand was raised though someone grabbed it, and he blinked in surprise before turning to his side to see who it was, noting the sword user in simple leather gear looking at hm.
"Just who the heck are you?"
"I'm a nobody really, but you're a creep. How about backing off and leaving the girl alone? She said she's not giving you money, so find your own. You ought to have some from training anyways."
Hanta released his grip before a warning about conduct could come up, keeping a stern look on his face. He hated guys like this, they treated girls like crap because they thought they could. It was a pretty big assumption to make so quickly, but he felt it fit this boy perfectly.
"Oh ho, mister hero is going to tell me what to do?" Tristan asked, grinning as he and his friends turned now onto Hanta. "If I say no then who is going to-"
"Tristan, that's ENOUGH!"
The shout came from another table, surprisingly from Izumo. The blonde boy was giving Tristan a very nasty stare, and Hanta found himself rather grateful it wasn't directed at him this time. He really didn't know who or what the deal with Izumo was, but after his input the other boy backed off. With one final exchange under his breath Tristan sulked off, heading back to his table with his friends following suit. Relieved that was over Hanta exhaled, turning to go back to the table but instead stopping as his arm was grabbed. Confused he looked over his shoulder, curious to see the girl he'd helped beaming up at him.
"Uh... Yes?" Hanta asked, giving a small, polite smile. As soon as he asked he saw the girl inhale, and braced for what he knew was about to come.
"OhmygoshthankyousomuchforyourhelpwiththosecreepshowcanIthankyou?" Hana exclaimed, not taking a single pause nor breath during her rapid speech.
Hanta only stared at the girl for a second, really not clear on what was just said. Looking back at Komada uncertainly for help he turned back to Hana, biting his lip as he rubbed the back of his head.
"I uh... Didn't catch that?" he asked apologetically. Again the girl beamed, this time getting on her toes and nearly smacking his face with her own as she leaned in.
"Thanks for the help! Those creeps were going to share their table and now we don't have anywhere to sit. Do you have room at your table?" Hana asked, slowing herself down considerably this time. "Oh, my name is Hana, and this..." she paused, grabbing her twin by the hand and pulling her over. "Is Lily? Please can we sit with you? I don't want to stand!"
Hanta was utterly beside himself, giving Hana a clueless look as he tried to process her sporadic speaking. He didn't have a problem with their sitting with him he supposed, but he wasn't the only one at the table. Holding up a finger he backed off a bit, giving Komada a hopeful glance that said "help" all over it.
"So basically you've got no control over your powers?" Kabocha asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
It was a little bit like Ki again in that regard. If one could use it but wasn't practiced they could accidentally fire off energy, or in T'charrl's case use it without their knowledge. This power of his was getting more and more curious, and honestly Kabocha wanted to know a bit about it. Not quite to the obsessive level that the general was at but enough to spark his interest. To say that they should use this power to fight was ridiculous, why would anyone want to get involved in fighting? Coming from a Saiyan it was a touch hypocritical, but these people had no business getting involved in the battles of others. Heck, he couldn't imagine them being of much help on a battlefield anyways, even if they did manage to make this power work for them.
"I'm not going to give up... Our people need this..." the general replied, his voice coming out in pained gasps.
The blow to his body hadn't done any fatal damage, but it sure hurt like it did. It took every bit of his mettle to stand there as he was, trying to show bravado in spite of his injuries. Eying his discarded swords he frowned, knowing there was no way he'd be able to lean over to get those right now. If he was going to keep fighting as he said it would be with his bare hands. Either that, or he could take to more drastic measures...
"Your people need to stop fighting each other, and they definitely don't need a lunatic leading them."
Yusef glared at Kabocha as he spoke, gritting his teeth. What did the Saiyan know? His people were the worst offenders when it came to fighting, and their king was as bloodthirsty and manic as they came. Even if he might not be under the king's rule right now that didn't change what he was, nothing would. Not only was the Prince blind, but he was allowing perhaps the largest threat of them all to pull wool over his eyes. They were tricking him, deceiving the boy into believing they were his friends. He was too gullible, someone like that could never lead, that was for certain. It was why he had to be silenced, he'd only lead their people to ruin.
"Lunatic...? I think not. I see what must be done, while others do not. You might call me insane..." Yusef began, reaching into his cloak. "But our children, and their children will hail me as a hero. As the one who opened the door to a new world, to a universe! The Kaesstrians will become powerful... And nothing you will do can stop me!"
Kabocha watched the general ramble impatiently, starting to lose his willpower over not knocking the man out. He really bought into his own twisted reality didn't he? Power in the hands of someone like him only led to trouble, history had shown that plenty already. When Yusef reached into his cloak the Saiyan instinctively put himself before T'charrl, standing just to the boy's side with an arm outstretched to cover him. Expecting some more knives, he was puzzled for a moment when instead the general withdrew a small black container. Shaky hands pried the container open, and out came a syringe. Kabocha looked at the tool curiously, wondering just what the man was up to. It was filled with a blue-ish liquid that seemed to glow, something he definitely didn't recognize. As he stared at it a sudden realization hit him, making his eyes widen in surprise. The energy that T'charrl had shown just seconds before, it was the same thing coming from that vial. If it was in the syringe, that must mean the general intended to use it.
"Wait, don't! You've got no idea what that will do to you!" Kabocha shouted, stepping forward and reaching out. "Don't be an idiot, hand it over!"
"I know precisely what this will do... It will give me the strength to beat you two... And the power to lead my people."
Not heeding the shouts of the Saiyan Yusef lifted the syringe, and with no hesitation drove the needle into a vein in his neck. Groaning uncomfortably he forced the syringe down, slowly pumping the liquid into himself. Once it emptied he let the tool fall to the floor, gasping as a hand shot up to the injection site in pain. It only took a few seconds, but soon a burning sensation was wracking his neck, gradually spreading to the rest of his body. The pain from the blow earlier became dull compared to this, the general shouting as he staggered back against the wall. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he could feel the liquid pumping through his veins, spreading the energy through his body.
"This.... This is the key...!" Yusef stammered, barely able to speak through the pain. "With this... We'll achieve... Greatness!"
Another groan accompanied his words, and then he fell uncomfortably silent. Kabocha almost thought the man was dead, but kept himself securely in front of T'charrl just in case. Upon closer inspection he saw the general was indeed still breathing, hunched over though and gripping his own body firmly. Had the solution not worked at all? Giving the Prince an uneasy look he gestured for him to stay there, frowning as he slowly began to walk forward. He had barely taken two steps forward when the general began to emit small sounds of discomfort again, in of itself being a bit unnerving. However then he began to laugh, only adding further to the confusion and uneasiness that had settled over the room. Just what was going on? Kabocha immediately gave himself a mental slap for asking, as soon they got their answer, and he would really rather have not.
Yusef remained slouched over for a moment, his laughter ringing out in the otherwise silent building eerily. It wasn't a happy laughter or amused, but just... Insane. It started off as a chuckle and eventually devolved into a cackle, making him sound just as mad as they had pinned him as. Things were about to become much, much worse than that. An unsettling cracking sound could be heard, and his body began to visibly shift. At first it just looked like he was twitching, but then suddenly his entire being began to expand. His shoulders bulked out, followed by his arms and torso. His legs followed suit, gaining muscle mass unnervingly quick and lengthening as well. An already big Kaesstrian to begin with, soon the general was outright massive. He had to easily be at least 3 meters tall, towering over both T'charrl and Kabocha now by well over a meter. His body had expanded with his size, giving him a rather bulky and intimidating appearance. The worst part of it all wasn't his appearance though, but the energy that his body began to give off. Kabocha sensed it and instantly could tell it was off, it just wasn't natural. The Beastman was more natural than whatever this freak show had turned himself into.
"See...? See? I told you!" the general shouted, cackling again. "This is what we can become!"
Kabocha really did not like this. His power had rapidly risen, and even if it was a different energy it felt overwhelming. Whatever had been in that solution had turned the general into a monster, or more of one. This wasn't good, he now definitely had the power to hurt some people. Gritting his teeth he did the only thing he figured he could try, rush in to try and keep the general away from T'charrl.
"Kai! Choi! Get in here, we need you!" Kabocha shouted, speeding towards the general.
Yusef lifted his head slowly to spot the Saiyan, smiling wickedly at him with a crazed look in his eyes. Despite having a punch thrown at him he made no move to stop it, taking it head on, literally. As the fist collided with his forehead he wasn't quite sure what to expect, and thus was pleasantly surprised when he scarcely budged. Seeing the shocked look on the Saiyan's face he gave a short, harsh laugh. With a massive claw he quickly swung out, smacking Kabocha aside and into a cabinet easily, the boy crashing through it painfully. Intoxicated by his new found strength Yusef settled his gaze on T'charrl, stalking forward slowly.
"Come here... Little Prince...!" he chimed whimsically, laughing again. "It's time to die!"
It was a little bit like Ki again in that regard. If one could use it but wasn't practiced they could accidentally fire off energy, or in T'charrl's case use it without their knowledge. This power of his was getting more and more curious, and honestly Kabocha wanted to know a bit about it. Not quite to the obsessive level that the general was at but enough to spark his interest. To say that they should use this power to fight was ridiculous, why would anyone want to get involved in fighting? Coming from a Saiyan it was a touch hypocritical, but these people had no business getting involved in the battles of others. Heck, he couldn't imagine them being of much help on a battlefield anyways, even if they did manage to make this power work for them.
"I'm not going to give up... Our people need this..." the general replied, his voice coming out in pained gasps.
The blow to his body hadn't done any fatal damage, but it sure hurt like it did. It took every bit of his mettle to stand there as he was, trying to show bravado in spite of his injuries. Eying his discarded swords he frowned, knowing there was no way he'd be able to lean over to get those right now. If he was going to keep fighting as he said it would be with his bare hands. Either that, or he could take to more drastic measures...
"Your people need to stop fighting each other, and they definitely don't need a lunatic leading them."
Yusef glared at Kabocha as he spoke, gritting his teeth. What did the Saiyan know? His people were the worst offenders when it came to fighting, and their king was as bloodthirsty and manic as they came. Even if he might not be under the king's rule right now that didn't change what he was, nothing would. Not only was the Prince blind, but he was allowing perhaps the largest threat of them all to pull wool over his eyes. They were tricking him, deceiving the boy into believing they were his friends. He was too gullible, someone like that could never lead, that was for certain. It was why he had to be silenced, he'd only lead their people to ruin.
"Lunatic...? I think not. I see what must be done, while others do not. You might call me insane..." Yusef began, reaching into his cloak. "But our children, and their children will hail me as a hero. As the one who opened the door to a new world, to a universe! The Kaesstrians will become powerful... And nothing you will do can stop me!"
Kabocha watched the general ramble impatiently, starting to lose his willpower over not knocking the man out. He really bought into his own twisted reality didn't he? Power in the hands of someone like him only led to trouble, history had shown that plenty already. When Yusef reached into his cloak the Saiyan instinctively put himself before T'charrl, standing just to the boy's side with an arm outstretched to cover him. Expecting some more knives, he was puzzled for a moment when instead the general withdrew a small black container. Shaky hands pried the container open, and out came a syringe. Kabocha looked at the tool curiously, wondering just what the man was up to. It was filled with a blue-ish liquid that seemed to glow, something he definitely didn't recognize. As he stared at it a sudden realization hit him, making his eyes widen in surprise. The energy that T'charrl had shown just seconds before, it was the same thing coming from that vial. If it was in the syringe, that must mean the general intended to use it.
"Wait, don't! You've got no idea what that will do to you!" Kabocha shouted, stepping forward and reaching out. "Don't be an idiot, hand it over!"
"I know precisely what this will do... It will give me the strength to beat you two... And the power to lead my people."
Not heeding the shouts of the Saiyan Yusef lifted the syringe, and with no hesitation drove the needle into a vein in his neck. Groaning uncomfortably he forced the syringe down, slowly pumping the liquid into himself. Once it emptied he let the tool fall to the floor, gasping as a hand shot up to the injection site in pain. It only took a few seconds, but soon a burning sensation was wracking his neck, gradually spreading to the rest of his body. The pain from the blow earlier became dull compared to this, the general shouting as he staggered back against the wall. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he could feel the liquid pumping through his veins, spreading the energy through his body.
"This.... This is the key...!" Yusef stammered, barely able to speak through the pain. "With this... We'll achieve... Greatness!"
Another groan accompanied his words, and then he fell uncomfortably silent. Kabocha almost thought the man was dead, but kept himself securely in front of T'charrl just in case. Upon closer inspection he saw the general was indeed still breathing, hunched over though and gripping his own body firmly. Had the solution not worked at all? Giving the Prince an uneasy look he gestured for him to stay there, frowning as he slowly began to walk forward. He had barely taken two steps forward when the general began to emit small sounds of discomfort again, in of itself being a bit unnerving. However then he began to laugh, only adding further to the confusion and uneasiness that had settled over the room. Just what was going on? Kabocha immediately gave himself a mental slap for asking, as soon they got their answer, and he would really rather have not.
Yusef remained slouched over for a moment, his laughter ringing out in the otherwise silent building eerily. It wasn't a happy laughter or amused, but just... Insane. It started off as a chuckle and eventually devolved into a cackle, making him sound just as mad as they had pinned him as. Things were about to become much, much worse than that. An unsettling cracking sound could be heard, and his body began to visibly shift. At first it just looked like he was twitching, but then suddenly his entire being began to expand. His shoulders bulked out, followed by his arms and torso. His legs followed suit, gaining muscle mass unnervingly quick and lengthening as well. An already big Kaesstrian to begin with, soon the general was outright massive. He had to easily be at least 3 meters tall, towering over both T'charrl and Kabocha now by well over a meter. His body had expanded with his size, giving him a rather bulky and intimidating appearance. The worst part of it all wasn't his appearance though, but the energy that his body began to give off. Kabocha sensed it and instantly could tell it was off, it just wasn't natural. The Beastman was more natural than whatever this freak show had turned himself into.
"See...? See? I told you!" the general shouted, cackling again. "This is what we can become!"
Kabocha really did not like this. His power had rapidly risen, and even if it was a different energy it felt overwhelming. Whatever had been in that solution had turned the general into a monster, or more of one. This wasn't good, he now definitely had the power to hurt some people. Gritting his teeth he did the only thing he figured he could try, rush in to try and keep the general away from T'charrl.
"Kai! Choi! Get in here, we need you!" Kabocha shouted, speeding towards the general.
Yusef lifted his head slowly to spot the Saiyan, smiling wickedly at him with a crazed look in his eyes. Despite having a punch thrown at him he made no move to stop it, taking it head on, literally. As the fist collided with his forehead he wasn't quite sure what to expect, and thus was pleasantly surprised when he scarcely budged. Seeing the shocked look on the Saiyan's face he gave a short, harsh laugh. With a massive claw he quickly swung out, smacking Kabocha aside and into a cabinet easily, the boy crashing through it painfully. Intoxicated by his new found strength Yusef settled his gaze on T'charrl, stalking forward slowly.
"Come here... Little Prince...!" he chimed whimsically, laughing again. "It's time to die!"
-----
Floor 25, June 2023
In a few short months the Clearers had managed to drive ahead four floors, from twenty one to twenty five. The speed that they were now progressing was much in part thanks to the surfacing of guilds, as players quickly began to realize that forming these organizations was the best option for their survival. Now that they had reached the twenty-fifth floor, three guilds stood at the precipice of the dungeon entrance, as well as Fitch and his group of friends. The labyrinth had already been cleared and mapped, all that remained in their way was the boss fight. Since there had been no chance to observe the boss yet this was going to be as close to flying blind as it got. There was no room for error in this fight, and as such only the best players were taking part in this raid. Plenty of players had to be turned down that opted to help, as the risk to the average warrior was just too great. With a meeting of so many players there was a definite need for a sort of commanding branch to keep everyone in control, otherwise the fight was liable to become messy. It was a common agreement that between all of the guilds, one above all should lead the battle. The guild in question was to be the Knights of Blood, a well revered guild that had been gaining prominence since their inception on floor 12. Their leader Heathcliffe was almost a household name by now, and for good reason. Every player present put their utmost confidence in the man, knowing full well that he would lead them through this battle safely and to victory. Now gathered at the entrance to the dungeon, everyone waited for Heathcliffe's opening statement, the words that would send them into the fray and to the next boss.
Standing at the door, tall and proud, Heathcliffe looked out at the players gathered around him. A heavily clad KoB member stood to either side of him, his own personal guards one would assume. As ever he seemed cool and collected, betraying little emotion as he waited for idle chatter to die down. Once everyone had gone quiet he cleared his throat, his voice resonating around the area as he spoke.
"Today we're tackling the Floor 25 boss, this you all know. Unfortunately, this is about the extent of our knowledge. Since the boss room is sealed we've not been able to gather any information, and as a result we only know a little information. I shouldn't have to stress the danger of this raid enough." He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. With his hands rested on his shield and sword he lifted one into the air, forming a fist.
"Despite this, I know that we can conquer our opponent. You are the best fighters that all of Aincrad has to offer, the ultimate example of what one can accomplish when they fight for their fellow man. We're going into the unknown, but the unknown is not something that we should fear." Heathcliffe paused again, allowing himself a small smile as he raised his voice, almost shouting. "I believe that the unknown should fear us! We will walk in there, and like so many times before we will emerge victorious. I have the utmost faith in all of you, and I know you won't disappoint. Let's take this challenge head on, and continue our fight for a better future!"
As with every time that he spoke, Heathcliffe's speech was met with a raucous applause and cheer. It was rather curious, he had this enigmatic way of rousing people's morale and lifting spirits despite being a relatively simple-spoken person. It was only in instances like these, prior to a boss raid, that he truly expressed himself, and it was always something optimistic and supportive. It was no wonder so many people looked up to him, and in turn the KoB. The title of "Aincrad's best hope" wasn't given out lightly, and this guild had most certainly earned it. As people voiced their support and enthusiasm Heathcliffe turned about, drawing his sword from its home in the shield and giving it a swing. With a nod to his guards the doors were pushed open, the stone doors grinding along the floor as they were forced open. Gesturing forward with his sword he began a slow but steady walk inside, taking it upon himself to lead into whatever might be waiting for them inside. The dungeon had already been cleared, but there would still be fights between here and the boss. They had some battling to do, but with the players present it ought to be a cakewalk.
Suto had been amongst those cheering after Heathcliffe's speech, certainly buying into the idolization of the guy. How couldn't you be in awe of the KoB anyways? They were some of the strongest players and they were fighting for the sake of everyone else, for those who couldn't. If that wasn't an admirable task then he didn't know what was. As the chorus of shouts died down and the doors open the martial artist settled himself, a smile plastered on his face. He was certainly one of the ones too who needed the comfort in words, being nervous before every expedition. Here among friends and close allies it helped to calm his nerves, making this endeavor nowhere near as daunting as it could be. As everyone began to disperse he let out a soft sigh, lifting his arms in a stretch and folding them behind his head.
"This is going to be great! We're going to crush this boss!" A renewed enthusiasm had him all excited, Suto was ready to go. "What do you think it's going to be? Something weird? Something big?"
"Honestly Suto... Listen to yourself..." Luna mumbled, rolling her eyes. "You're the only one who could be this annoyingly cheerful before a raid."
She didn't quite share her friend's enthusiasm, having a more somber mood herself. Luna had confidence they were going to triumph too, but she wasn't going to act as if it was going to be an easy task. There had been close calls before, and as they climbed up the floors it would only get more dangerous hereon out. Simply put, she didn't believe cheerfulness was a luxury that any of them had, or should have. Shaking her head in disbelief Luna made a stroke in the air with her index finger, drawing up her equipment menu. A sword materialized on her back then, a two-handed blade that near rivaled her height in its sheer size. If not for the game's strength stat she'd never realistically be able to use a weapon like this. In the game it was a small feat, and her high stat let her swing it about with relative ease. Now truly equipped for combat she allowed herself a tiny smile, holding her head up proudly as she walked along. She might not be Heathcliffe, but she liked to think she was strong in her own right, and this fight was a chance to show it.
"I could be all mopey if you'd prefer," Suto retorted, smiling in spite of the glare he got. "But that would only be worse. Besides, not like I'm hurting anyone by getting worked up for this."
In a few short months the Clearers had managed to drive ahead four floors, from twenty one to twenty five. The speed that they were now progressing was much in part thanks to the surfacing of guilds, as players quickly began to realize that forming these organizations was the best option for their survival. Now that they had reached the twenty-fifth floor, three guilds stood at the precipice of the dungeon entrance, as well as Fitch and his group of friends. The labyrinth had already been cleared and mapped, all that remained in their way was the boss fight. Since there had been no chance to observe the boss yet this was going to be as close to flying blind as it got. There was no room for error in this fight, and as such only the best players were taking part in this raid. Plenty of players had to be turned down that opted to help, as the risk to the average warrior was just too great. With a meeting of so many players there was a definite need for a sort of commanding branch to keep everyone in control, otherwise the fight was liable to become messy. It was a common agreement that between all of the guilds, one above all should lead the battle. The guild in question was to be the Knights of Blood, a well revered guild that had been gaining prominence since their inception on floor 12. Their leader Heathcliffe was almost a household name by now, and for good reason. Every player present put their utmost confidence in the man, knowing full well that he would lead them through this battle safely and to victory. Now gathered at the entrance to the dungeon, everyone waited for Heathcliffe's opening statement, the words that would send them into the fray and to the next boss.
Standing at the door, tall and proud, Heathcliffe looked out at the players gathered around him. A heavily clad KoB member stood to either side of him, his own personal guards one would assume. As ever he seemed cool and collected, betraying little emotion as he waited for idle chatter to die down. Once everyone had gone quiet he cleared his throat, his voice resonating around the area as he spoke.
"Today we're tackling the Floor 25 boss, this you all know. Unfortunately, this is about the extent of our knowledge. Since the boss room is sealed we've not been able to gather any information, and as a result we only know a little information. I shouldn't have to stress the danger of this raid enough." He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. With his hands rested on his shield and sword he lifted one into the air, forming a fist.
"Despite this, I know that we can conquer our opponent. You are the best fighters that all of Aincrad has to offer, the ultimate example of what one can accomplish when they fight for their fellow man. We're going into the unknown, but the unknown is not something that we should fear." Heathcliffe paused again, allowing himself a small smile as he raised his voice, almost shouting. "I believe that the unknown should fear us! We will walk in there, and like so many times before we will emerge victorious. I have the utmost faith in all of you, and I know you won't disappoint. Let's take this challenge head on, and continue our fight for a better future!"
As with every time that he spoke, Heathcliffe's speech was met with a raucous applause and cheer. It was rather curious, he had this enigmatic way of rousing people's morale and lifting spirits despite being a relatively simple-spoken person. It was only in instances like these, prior to a boss raid, that he truly expressed himself, and it was always something optimistic and supportive. It was no wonder so many people looked up to him, and in turn the KoB. The title of "Aincrad's best hope" wasn't given out lightly, and this guild had most certainly earned it. As people voiced their support and enthusiasm Heathcliffe turned about, drawing his sword from its home in the shield and giving it a swing. With a nod to his guards the doors were pushed open, the stone doors grinding along the floor as they were forced open. Gesturing forward with his sword he began a slow but steady walk inside, taking it upon himself to lead into whatever might be waiting for them inside. The dungeon had already been cleared, but there would still be fights between here and the boss. They had some battling to do, but with the players present it ought to be a cakewalk.
Suto had been amongst those cheering after Heathcliffe's speech, certainly buying into the idolization of the guy. How couldn't you be in awe of the KoB anyways? They were some of the strongest players and they were fighting for the sake of everyone else, for those who couldn't. If that wasn't an admirable task then he didn't know what was. As the chorus of shouts died down and the doors open the martial artist settled himself, a smile plastered on his face. He was certainly one of the ones too who needed the comfort in words, being nervous before every expedition. Here among friends and close allies it helped to calm his nerves, making this endeavor nowhere near as daunting as it could be. As everyone began to disperse he let out a soft sigh, lifting his arms in a stretch and folding them behind his head.
"This is going to be great! We're going to crush this boss!" A renewed enthusiasm had him all excited, Suto was ready to go. "What do you think it's going to be? Something weird? Something big?"
"Honestly Suto... Listen to yourself..." Luna mumbled, rolling her eyes. "You're the only one who could be this annoyingly cheerful before a raid."
She didn't quite share her friend's enthusiasm, having a more somber mood herself. Luna had confidence they were going to triumph too, but she wasn't going to act as if it was going to be an easy task. There had been close calls before, and as they climbed up the floors it would only get more dangerous hereon out. Simply put, she didn't believe cheerfulness was a luxury that any of them had, or should have. Shaking her head in disbelief Luna made a stroke in the air with her index finger, drawing up her equipment menu. A sword materialized on her back then, a two-handed blade that near rivaled her height in its sheer size. If not for the game's strength stat she'd never realistically be able to use a weapon like this. In the game it was a small feat, and her high stat let her swing it about with relative ease. Now truly equipped for combat she allowed herself a tiny smile, holding her head up proudly as she walked along. She might not be Heathcliffe, but she liked to think she was strong in her own right, and this fight was a chance to show it.
"I could be all mopey if you'd prefer," Suto retorted, smiling in spite of the glare he got. "But that would only be worse. Besides, not like I'm hurting anyone by getting worked up for this."
Pure-bred made me think of bread. Bread usually means sandwiches, or in some cases subs. Subs mean steak and cheese, and there's this really good sub shop in town that I've been dying to go to again... Now I'm hungry.
Did I go off topic? xD
Did I go off topic? xD
"You're blind, child! You fail to see the possibilities we're being given!"
The Prince still refused to acknowledge the chances presented to them by his powers, that angered the general. His primary research, the bit closest to completion, was not scattered along the floor, and that pissed him off. Really just about everything right now was making Yusef angry, quite a bit more than his controlled demeanor would normally let him. Because of this he was rushing blindly at T'charrl, wanting to simply strike the boy down and be done with it. Even in his hasty assault he was a force to be reckoned with however, having plenty of power and speed behind himself. With his natural strength and superior size surely he'd break through the boy's defenses this time...
As Yusef drew closer and his blades swung in a smile spread across his face, he had his target. There was absolutely no way that T'charrl could block his weapons at this point, not both anyways. The Prince did something rather curious in the last few moments though, something that threw the general through quite the loop. The glowing that came from the young man immediately told him something was wrong, and seeing said energy on the blades only made things even more troublesome. With momentum pushing him forward there was very little Yusef could do about it at this point though, save follow through and hope for the best. In a flash the energy disappeared from T'charrl's weapons and seemed to ebb into his entire being. The general was helpless as his attacks missed, finding a massive brunt force slamming into his body right after the fact. Again he was sent flying, losing his weapons where he had stood as he slammed against the far wall, hard enough to dent it. There he stayed hung against it for a moment before pathetically dropping off, landing on his front with a painful groan.
Kabocha had been on his toes, ready to counter if things looked to be getting bad, but apparently that wasn't going to be needed. The Saiyan stood still and watched awestruck as T'charrl made toppling the larger general look easy. He too had noticed the energy, rather curious as it almost looked like it backfired before he unleashed it and sent Yusef crashing into the far wall. That was certainly not something he'd seen coming, and apparently neither had their opponent.
"Holy crap! That was awesome!" Kabocha exclaimed, beaming as his posture relaxed. "When did you learn to do that?"
It was an awful lot like Ki, by the looks of it. He could even feel it to a small degree, and could tell enough that it felt different than the energy Saiyans and Humans used. It was weird, Kabocha didn't really think there was any type of energy besides Ki, but apparently there was. If Kaesstrians had this power in them then why was T'charrl the only who seemed to be able to use it? If it was widespread then the general wouldn't be trying to recreate it, and it wouldn't be such a mystery. Shrugging it off for now as it wasn't the time to ask he looked over at the general, whistling softly.
"So... I think we win? That seems to have done it..." He'd have gone over to make sure Yusef was down, but seeing how the general barely moved made it a pretty safe bet he was finished.
Kabocha grinned, walking over to T'charrl and clasping his shoulder. One strike to bring the feared general down, that was something that earned congratulations. He hadn't seen the big deal over the man to begin with, and this only serve to concrete that mindset. He supposed comparatively the general might be strong for a Kaesstrian, but compared to near anything else they were still pretty weak. Sending a casual glance in Yusef's direction he was a little surprised to see the man struggling to stand up, groaning audibly as he laid a hand on his forehead. Did this guy know the meaning of the word quit?
"I'm not... Done yet..." Yusef mumbled, struggling to his feet. "You won't win... That easily..."
The Prince still refused to acknowledge the chances presented to them by his powers, that angered the general. His primary research, the bit closest to completion, was not scattered along the floor, and that pissed him off. Really just about everything right now was making Yusef angry, quite a bit more than his controlled demeanor would normally let him. Because of this he was rushing blindly at T'charrl, wanting to simply strike the boy down and be done with it. Even in his hasty assault he was a force to be reckoned with however, having plenty of power and speed behind himself. With his natural strength and superior size surely he'd break through the boy's defenses this time...
As Yusef drew closer and his blades swung in a smile spread across his face, he had his target. There was absolutely no way that T'charrl could block his weapons at this point, not both anyways. The Prince did something rather curious in the last few moments though, something that threw the general through quite the loop. The glowing that came from the young man immediately told him something was wrong, and seeing said energy on the blades only made things even more troublesome. With momentum pushing him forward there was very little Yusef could do about it at this point though, save follow through and hope for the best. In a flash the energy disappeared from T'charrl's weapons and seemed to ebb into his entire being. The general was helpless as his attacks missed, finding a massive brunt force slamming into his body right after the fact. Again he was sent flying, losing his weapons where he had stood as he slammed against the far wall, hard enough to dent it. There he stayed hung against it for a moment before pathetically dropping off, landing on his front with a painful groan.
Kabocha had been on his toes, ready to counter if things looked to be getting bad, but apparently that wasn't going to be needed. The Saiyan stood still and watched awestruck as T'charrl made toppling the larger general look easy. He too had noticed the energy, rather curious as it almost looked like it backfired before he unleashed it and sent Yusef crashing into the far wall. That was certainly not something he'd seen coming, and apparently neither had their opponent.
"Holy crap! That was awesome!" Kabocha exclaimed, beaming as his posture relaxed. "When did you learn to do that?"
It was an awful lot like Ki, by the looks of it. He could even feel it to a small degree, and could tell enough that it felt different than the energy Saiyans and Humans used. It was weird, Kabocha didn't really think there was any type of energy besides Ki, but apparently there was. If Kaesstrians had this power in them then why was T'charrl the only who seemed to be able to use it? If it was widespread then the general wouldn't be trying to recreate it, and it wouldn't be such a mystery. Shrugging it off for now as it wasn't the time to ask he looked over at the general, whistling softly.
"So... I think we win? That seems to have done it..." He'd have gone over to make sure Yusef was down, but seeing how the general barely moved made it a pretty safe bet he was finished.
Kabocha grinned, walking over to T'charrl and clasping his shoulder. One strike to bring the feared general down, that was something that earned congratulations. He hadn't seen the big deal over the man to begin with, and this only serve to concrete that mindset. He supposed comparatively the general might be strong for a Kaesstrian, but compared to near anything else they were still pretty weak. Sending a casual glance in Yusef's direction he was a little surprised to see the man struggling to stand up, groaning audibly as he laid a hand on his forehead. Did this guy know the meaning of the word quit?
"I'm not... Done yet..." Yusef mumbled, struggling to his feet. "You won't win... That easily..."
Name: Walter Cromwell
Age: 190 (Turned at 42)
Species: Vampire
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Beast Appearance: Very similar to an Underworld vampire. His skin becomes gray and tough as leather, wings sprout from his back, his features become elongated and his canines grow larger as well.
Personality:
Like any vampire, Walter is exceptionally good at deceiving and luring his prey. He's rather keen on picking up nuances about those he stalks, often using their desires or even fears against them. While crafty he doesn't enjoy holding advantages over others heads, having a sense of honor and fairness that perpetuated since his life as a human. He uses his tools when he must feed, but refuses to do so otherwise.
As a former military man he is prompt, direct and carries himself with a sense of pride. He has no issue with taking orders from superiors, and at the same time no issue with dealing them out as well. To a certain degree he is relatively indifferent towards the death of someone, rarely caring even. Should it be someone in his own coven however he becomes a fair bit enraged, and pity be on the person responsible for the fallen member's demise, as more often than not he'll fly into an insatiable rage.
In normal circumstances, when not feeding or in action, he is often quiet and brooding. His replies in conversations are short, as often times he has little to say or offer, being a bit lackluster in regular conversation. It may even be safe to say he often seems bored with what's going on around him, and to a degree one would be correct. He's relatively young for a vampire, but has seen a fair bit of the world. There is very little that interests him, hence why the peak of his expression is during busy events.
Brief History: Walter is a native to Scotland, Edinburgh to be precise. Born in 1640 during the reign of King Charles I he experienced quite a bit growing up. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms, a battle fought over the unification of Scotland, Ireland and England by one ruler. Taking up the bulk of his early childhood it was not uncommon to be caught in the middle of the fighting. Despite the constant conflict around them his life was fairly stable, with perhaps the exception of his father being away often. His father was blacksmith, and as such was often busy away at work, toiling to supply their local forces. The first ten years of his life then were dominated by going between helping at home and apprenticing with his father, trying to make both his home life and his family's business work.
After the war ended in 1660 Walter, at 20 years old, decided to enlist in the military, the royal navy to be precise. Having never been outside of Edinburgh let alone on a ship it was quite the culture shock for him. Given a year however he adapted, being assigned to a gunboat amongst a few dozen other men. In the span of the next few years there was relatively little action, the bulk of their time at sea being patrolling trade routes with the occasional pirate attack here and there. Nonetheless Walter enjoyed the freedom of being on the open sea, and opted to remain in the military as long as he could, not being terribly fond of his father's line of work as a blacksmith anyways. Even with other conflicts arising, such as the Glorious Revolution of 1668, he never saw any real warfare. That did not mean that his service went without danger.
In the year 1672, at 32 years of age Walter was finally shown the horrors of combat for the first time. Prior to this he and his crew, many of which had been regular faces over the years, had been lucky. With some of the best equipment in the world and exceptional training far and few between could dare challenge their might at sea. As fate would have it they made a mistake one day, taking a Spanish merchant ship and its escort, a schooner, as pirate vessels. In truth the flags had been lowered for repair, and that fact had been overlooked by the crew. Thinking the ships to be trespassing they opened fire, almost instantly sinking the merchant vessel with ease. The schooner however had avoided fire, and subsequently returned it with more cannons and speed at its disposal. Whether by a show of mercy or by running out of ammunition the assault stopped, and after scuttling the remnants of the merchant ship the schooner left. Walter and his crew had suffered greatly under the assault, losses nearing seventy five percent. The ship somehow remained afloat, though a mast lay in the sea and the deck littered with corpses and shredded material. Knowing they had to return to England and being concerned about having corpses aboard Walter and the survivors had to meticulously dump each body overboard to prevent their rotting. A few men had been unfortunate enough to not die immediately, having to be put to death by Walter as well to spare them the agony of a slow demise. A shadow of their former glory the ship limped home, its crews heads hung low in shame.
From that day on there was an unshakable, almost consuming fear of death that gripped Walter. Yet his long time of service in the crown's name refused to let him shirk his duties, and with a recent promotion to captain of his own vessel he certainly could not turn away now. Now forty years of age and a seasoned maritime traveler he returned to his duties on-board a newly furnished brig. Despite his experience, the wealth of equipment and trained crew and his superior vessel Walter was still haunting by an ever-impending demise. He was getting older, a fact that had not eluded him at all, and as the days wore on his tension only served to grow. To his men he was a strong, determined and just captain, but on the inside he was as timid as a young boy in the dark. He had to find a way to cheat death, whatever the cost.
As fate would have it he'd have his saving grace in just a few short years. With no real cause for concern amongst the seas Walter and his crew spent a fair amount of time docked in various cities around Europe. During their stay in France the crew is gathered at a local tavern, enjoying drink and song during their time off. In their merriment a woman approaches the beleaguered captain, offering him a 'good time' with a seductive smile. Never married and usually stuck with naught but other men Walter agrees, leaving the tavern with the cheers and shouts of his mates. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of this night, but what came to follow certainly wasn't in his expectations. The night in question remains hazy to this day, though the pain that beset him is as clear as day. He awoke the following day, lucid and weak from whatever had gone on the night before. He didn't feel right, he felt sick and like he was dying. Forlorn he laid in the alley he had awoken, unable to move much at all. When night fell he finally crept out, finding himself a stall with food to try and get some nourishment. It was fruit, probably spoiled, but he scarcely cared. As he ate the owner appeared, furious that his goods were being eaten by an "urchin". When Walter saw the man something overtook him, a primal and vicious desire. In a flash he was upon the owner, feeding furiously off of his blood until he was nearly a prune. It was at this moment he realized with horror what he was, that he'd become a monster. With no idea where to go he stole off into the night, refusing to accept his new reality.
Age: 190 (Turned at 42)
Species: Vampire
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Beast Appearance: Very similar to an Underworld vampire. His skin becomes gray and tough as leather, wings sprout from his back, his features become elongated and his canines grow larger as well.
Personality:
Like any vampire, Walter is exceptionally good at deceiving and luring his prey. He's rather keen on picking up nuances about those he stalks, often using their desires or even fears against them. While crafty he doesn't enjoy holding advantages over others heads, having a sense of honor and fairness that perpetuated since his life as a human. He uses his tools when he must feed, but refuses to do so otherwise.
As a former military man he is prompt, direct and carries himself with a sense of pride. He has no issue with taking orders from superiors, and at the same time no issue with dealing them out as well. To a certain degree he is relatively indifferent towards the death of someone, rarely caring even. Should it be someone in his own coven however he becomes a fair bit enraged, and pity be on the person responsible for the fallen member's demise, as more often than not he'll fly into an insatiable rage.
In normal circumstances, when not feeding or in action, he is often quiet and brooding. His replies in conversations are short, as often times he has little to say or offer, being a bit lackluster in regular conversation. It may even be safe to say he often seems bored with what's going on around him, and to a degree one would be correct. He's relatively young for a vampire, but has seen a fair bit of the world. There is very little that interests him, hence why the peak of his expression is during busy events.
Brief History: Walter is a native to Scotland, Edinburgh to be precise. Born in 1640 during the reign of King Charles I he experienced quite a bit growing up. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms, a battle fought over the unification of Scotland, Ireland and England by one ruler. Taking up the bulk of his early childhood it was not uncommon to be caught in the middle of the fighting. Despite the constant conflict around them his life was fairly stable, with perhaps the exception of his father being away often. His father was blacksmith, and as such was often busy away at work, toiling to supply their local forces. The first ten years of his life then were dominated by going between helping at home and apprenticing with his father, trying to make both his home life and his family's business work.
After the war ended in 1660 Walter, at 20 years old, decided to enlist in the military, the royal navy to be precise. Having never been outside of Edinburgh let alone on a ship it was quite the culture shock for him. Given a year however he adapted, being assigned to a gunboat amongst a few dozen other men. In the span of the next few years there was relatively little action, the bulk of their time at sea being patrolling trade routes with the occasional pirate attack here and there. Nonetheless Walter enjoyed the freedom of being on the open sea, and opted to remain in the military as long as he could, not being terribly fond of his father's line of work as a blacksmith anyways. Even with other conflicts arising, such as the Glorious Revolution of 1668, he never saw any real warfare. That did not mean that his service went without danger.
In the year 1672, at 32 years of age Walter was finally shown the horrors of combat for the first time. Prior to this he and his crew, many of which had been regular faces over the years, had been lucky. With some of the best equipment in the world and exceptional training far and few between could dare challenge their might at sea. As fate would have it they made a mistake one day, taking a Spanish merchant ship and its escort, a schooner, as pirate vessels. In truth the flags had been lowered for repair, and that fact had been overlooked by the crew. Thinking the ships to be trespassing they opened fire, almost instantly sinking the merchant vessel with ease. The schooner however had avoided fire, and subsequently returned it with more cannons and speed at its disposal. Whether by a show of mercy or by running out of ammunition the assault stopped, and after scuttling the remnants of the merchant ship the schooner left. Walter and his crew had suffered greatly under the assault, losses nearing seventy five percent. The ship somehow remained afloat, though a mast lay in the sea and the deck littered with corpses and shredded material. Knowing they had to return to England and being concerned about having corpses aboard Walter and the survivors had to meticulously dump each body overboard to prevent their rotting. A few men had been unfortunate enough to not die immediately, having to be put to death by Walter as well to spare them the agony of a slow demise. A shadow of their former glory the ship limped home, its crews heads hung low in shame.
From that day on there was an unshakable, almost consuming fear of death that gripped Walter. Yet his long time of service in the crown's name refused to let him shirk his duties, and with a recent promotion to captain of his own vessel he certainly could not turn away now. Now forty years of age and a seasoned maritime traveler he returned to his duties on-board a newly furnished brig. Despite his experience, the wealth of equipment and trained crew and his superior vessel Walter was still haunting by an ever-impending demise. He was getting older, a fact that had not eluded him at all, and as the days wore on his tension only served to grow. To his men he was a strong, determined and just captain, but on the inside he was as timid as a young boy in the dark. He had to find a way to cheat death, whatever the cost.
As fate would have it he'd have his saving grace in just a few short years. With no real cause for concern amongst the seas Walter and his crew spent a fair amount of time docked in various cities around Europe. During their stay in France the crew is gathered at a local tavern, enjoying drink and song during their time off. In their merriment a woman approaches the beleaguered captain, offering him a 'good time' with a seductive smile. Never married and usually stuck with naught but other men Walter agrees, leaving the tavern with the cheers and shouts of his mates. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of this night, but what came to follow certainly wasn't in his expectations. The night in question remains hazy to this day, though the pain that beset him is as clear as day. He awoke the following day, lucid and weak from whatever had gone on the night before. He didn't feel right, he felt sick and like he was dying. Forlorn he laid in the alley he had awoken, unable to move much at all. When night fell he finally crept out, finding himself a stall with food to try and get some nourishment. It was fruit, probably spoiled, but he scarcely cared. As he ate the owner appeared, furious that his goods were being eaten by an "urchin". When Walter saw the man something overtook him, a primal and vicious desire. In a flash he was upon the owner, feeding furiously off of his blood until he was nearly a prune. It was at this moment he realized with horror what he was, that he'd become a monster. With no idea where to go he stole off into the night, refusing to accept his new reality.
Yay, thanks! :D
Name: Walter Cromwell
Age: 190 (Turned at 42)
Species: Vampire
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Beast Appearance: Very similar to an Underworld vampire. His skin becomes gray and tough as leather, wings sprout from his back, his features become elongated and his canines grow larger as well.
Personality:
Like any vampire, Walter is exceptionally good at deceiving and luring his prey. He's rather keen on picking up nuances about those he stalks, often using their desires or even fears against them. While crafty he doesn't enjoy holding advantages over others heads, having a sense of honor and fairness that perpetuated since his life as a human. He uses his tools when he must feed, but refuses to do so otherwise.
As a former military man he is prompt, direct and carries himself with a sense of pride. He has no issue with taking orders from superiors, and at the same time no issue with dealing them out as well. To a certain degree he is relatively indifferent towards the death of someone, rarely caring even. Should it be someone in his own coven however he becomes a fair bit enraged, and pity be on the person responsible for the fallen member's demise, as more often than not he'll fly into an insatiable rage.
In normal circumstances, when not feeding or in action, he is often quiet and brooding. His replies in conversations are short, as often times he has little to say or offer, being a bit lackluster in regular conversation. It may even be safe to say he often seems bored with what's going on around him, and to a degree one would be correct. He's relatively young for a vampire, but has seen a fair bit of the world. There is very little that interests him, hence why the peak of his expression is during busy events.
Brief History: Walter is a native to Scotland, Edinburgh to be precise. Born in 1640 during the reign of King Charles I he experienced quite a bit growing up. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms, a battle fought over the unification of Scotland, Ireland and England by one ruler. Taking up the bulk of his early childhood it was not uncommon to be caught in the middle of the fighting. Despite the constant conflict around them his life was fairly stable, with perhaps the exception of his father being away often. His father was blacksmith, and as such was often busy away at work, toiling to supply their local forces. The first ten years of his life then were dominated by going between helping at home and apprenticing with his father, trying to make both his home life and his family's business work.
After the war ended in 1660 Walter, at 20 years old, decided to enlist in the military, the royal navy to be precise. Having never been outside of Edinburgh let alone on a ship it was quite the culture shock for him. Given a year however he adapted, being assigned to a gunboat amongst a few dozen other men. In the span of the next few years there was relatively little action, the bulk of their time at sea being patrolling trade routes with the occasional pirate attack here and there. Nonetheless Walter enjoyed the freedom of being on the open sea, and opted to remain in the military as long as he could, not being terribly fond of his father's line of work as a blacksmith anyways. Even with other conflicts arising, such as the Glorious Revolution of 1668, he never saw any real warfare. That did not mean that his service went without danger.
In the year 1672, at 32 years of age Walter was finally shown the horrors of combat for the first time. Prior to this he and his crew, many of which had been regular faces over the years, had been lucky. With some of the best equipment in the world and exceptional training far and few between could dare challenge their might at sea. As fate would have it they made a mistake one day, taking a Spanish merchant ship and its escort, a schooner, as pirate vessels. In truth the flags had been lowered for repair, and that fact had been overlooked by the crew. Thinking the ships to be trespassing they opened fire, almost instantly sinking the merchant vessel with ease. The schooner however had avoided fire, and subsequently returned it with more cannons and speed at its disposal. Whether by a show of mercy or by running out of ammunition the assault stopped, and after scuttling the remnants of the merchant ship the schooner left. Walter and his crew had suffered greatly under the assault, losses nearing seventy five percent. The ship somehow remained afloat, though a mast lay in the sea and the deck littered with corpses and shredded material. Knowing they had to return to England and being concerned about having corpses aboard Walter and the survivors had to meticulously dump each body overboard to prevent their rotting. A few men had been unfortunate enough to not die immediately, having to be put to death by Walter as well to spare them the agony of a slow demise. A shadow of their former glory the ship limped home, its crews heads hung low in shame.
From that day on there was an unshakable, almost consuming fear of death that gripped Walter. Yet his long time of service in the crown's name refused to let him shirk his duties, and with a recent promotion to captain of his own vessel he certainly could not turn away now. Now forty years of age and a seasoned maritime traveler he returned to his duties on-board a newly furnished brig. Despite his experience, the wealth of equipment and trained crew and his superior vessel Walter was still haunting by an ever-impending demise. He was getting older, a fact that had not eluded him at all, and as the days wore on his tension only served to grow. To his men he was a strong, determined and just captain, but on the inside he was as timid as a young boy in the dark. He had to find a way to cheat death, whatever the cost.
As fate would have it he'd have his saving grace in just a few short years. With no real cause for concern amongst the seas Walter and his crew spent a fair amount of time docked in various cities around Europe. During their stay in France the crew is gathered at a local tavern, enjoying drink and song during their time off. In their merriment a woman approaches the beleaguered captain, offering him a 'good time' with a seductive smile. Never married and usually stuck with naught but other men Walter agrees, leaving the tavern with the cheers and shouts of his mates. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of this night, but what came to follow certainly wasn't in his expectations. The night in question remains hazy to this day, though the pain that beset him is as clear as day. He awoke the following day, lucid and weak from whatever had gone on the night before. He didn't feel right, he felt sick and like he was dying. Forlorn he laid in the alley he had awoken, unable to move much at all. When night fell he finally crept out, finding himself a stall with food to try and get some nourishment. It was fruit, probably spoiled, but he scarcely cared. As he ate the owner appeared, furious that his goods were being eaten by an "urchin". When Walter saw the man something overtook him, a primal and vicious desire. In a flash he was upon the owner, feeding furiously off of his blood until he was nearly a prune. It was at this moment he realized with horror what he was, that he'd become a monster. With no idea where to go he stole off into the night, refusing to accept his new reality.
(Sorry if this is SUPER long, got carried away as I wrote xD)
Age: 190 (Turned at 42)
Species: Vampire
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Beast Appearance: Very similar to an Underworld vampire. His skin becomes gray and tough as leather, wings sprout from his back, his features become elongated and his canines grow larger as well.
Personality:
Like any vampire, Walter is exceptionally good at deceiving and luring his prey. He's rather keen on picking up nuances about those he stalks, often using their desires or even fears against them. While crafty he doesn't enjoy holding advantages over others heads, having a sense of honor and fairness that perpetuated since his life as a human. He uses his tools when he must feed, but refuses to do so otherwise.
As a former military man he is prompt, direct and carries himself with a sense of pride. He has no issue with taking orders from superiors, and at the same time no issue with dealing them out as well. To a certain degree he is relatively indifferent towards the death of someone, rarely caring even. Should it be someone in his own coven however he becomes a fair bit enraged, and pity be on the person responsible for the fallen member's demise, as more often than not he'll fly into an insatiable rage.
In normal circumstances, when not feeding or in action, he is often quiet and brooding. His replies in conversations are short, as often times he has little to say or offer, being a bit lackluster in regular conversation. It may even be safe to say he often seems bored with what's going on around him, and to a degree one would be correct. He's relatively young for a vampire, but has seen a fair bit of the world. There is very little that interests him, hence why the peak of his expression is during busy events.
Brief History: Walter is a native to Scotland, Edinburgh to be precise. Born in 1640 during the reign of King Charles I he experienced quite a bit growing up. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms, a battle fought over the unification of Scotland, Ireland and England by one ruler. Taking up the bulk of his early childhood it was not uncommon to be caught in the middle of the fighting. Despite the constant conflict around them his life was fairly stable, with perhaps the exception of his father being away often. His father was blacksmith, and as such was often busy away at work, toiling to supply their local forces. The first ten years of his life then were dominated by going between helping at home and apprenticing with his father, trying to make both his home life and his family's business work.
After the war ended in 1660 Walter, at 20 years old, decided to enlist in the military, the royal navy to be precise. Having never been outside of Edinburgh let alone on a ship it was quite the culture shock for him. Given a year however he adapted, being assigned to a gunboat amongst a few dozen other men. In the span of the next few years there was relatively little action, the bulk of their time at sea being patrolling trade routes with the occasional pirate attack here and there. Nonetheless Walter enjoyed the freedom of being on the open sea, and opted to remain in the military as long as he could, not being terribly fond of his father's line of work as a blacksmith anyways. Even with other conflicts arising, such as the Glorious Revolution of 1668, he never saw any real warfare. That did not mean that his service went without danger.
In the year 1672, at 32 years of age Walter was finally shown the horrors of combat for the first time. Prior to this he and his crew, many of which had been regular faces over the years, had been lucky. With some of the best equipment in the world and exceptional training far and few between could dare challenge their might at sea. As fate would have it they made a mistake one day, taking a Spanish merchant ship and its escort, a schooner, as pirate vessels. In truth the flags had been lowered for repair, and that fact had been overlooked by the crew. Thinking the ships to be trespassing they opened fire, almost instantly sinking the merchant vessel with ease. The schooner however had avoided fire, and subsequently returned it with more cannons and speed at its disposal. Whether by a show of mercy or by running out of ammunition the assault stopped, and after scuttling the remnants of the merchant ship the schooner left. Walter and his crew had suffered greatly under the assault, losses nearing seventy five percent. The ship somehow remained afloat, though a mast lay in the sea and the deck littered with corpses and shredded material. Knowing they had to return to England and being concerned about having corpses aboard Walter and the survivors had to meticulously dump each body overboard to prevent their rotting. A few men had been unfortunate enough to not die immediately, having to be put to death by Walter as well to spare them the agony of a slow demise. A shadow of their former glory the ship limped home, its crews heads hung low in shame.
From that day on there was an unshakable, almost consuming fear of death that gripped Walter. Yet his long time of service in the crown's name refused to let him shirk his duties, and with a recent promotion to captain of his own vessel he certainly could not turn away now. Now forty years of age and a seasoned maritime traveler he returned to his duties on-board a newly furnished brig. Despite his experience, the wealth of equipment and trained crew and his superior vessel Walter was still haunting by an ever-impending demise. He was getting older, a fact that had not eluded him at all, and as the days wore on his tension only served to grow. To his men he was a strong, determined and just captain, but on the inside he was as timid as a young boy in the dark. He had to find a way to cheat death, whatever the cost.
As fate would have it he'd have his saving grace in just a few short years. With no real cause for concern amongst the seas Walter and his crew spent a fair amount of time docked in various cities around Europe. During their stay in France the crew is gathered at a local tavern, enjoying drink and song during their time off. In their merriment a woman approaches the beleaguered captain, offering him a 'good time' with a seductive smile. Never married and usually stuck with naught but other men Walter agrees, leaving the tavern with the cheers and shouts of his mates. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of this night, but what came to follow certainly wasn't in his expectations. The night in question remains hazy to this day, though the pain that beset him is as clear as day. He awoke the following day, lucid and weak from whatever had gone on the night before. He didn't feel right, he felt sick and like he was dying. Forlorn he laid in the alley he had awoken, unable to move much at all. When night fell he finally crept out, finding himself a stall with food to try and get some nourishment. It was fruit, probably spoiled, but he scarcely cared. As he ate the owner appeared, furious that his goods were being eaten by an "urchin". When Walter saw the man something overtook him, a primal and vicious desire. In a flash he was upon the owner, feeding furiously off of his blood until he was nearly a prune. It was at this moment he realized with horror what he was, that he'd become a monster. With no idea where to go he stole off into the night, refusing to accept his new reality.
(Sorry if this is SUPER long, got carried away as I wrote xD)
"I thought he was trying to kill me... Maybe he changed his mind?" Kabocha joked, shrugging. "Can we just stop already? I'm hungry..."
T'charrl raised a good point to boot. He'd left all of his 'precious material' just sitting there, and then the fight had broken out. Seriously, what did he think was going to happen to it? Then again they had sort of barged in on him, so he may not have been expecting it and hadn't bothered then to secure it elsewhere. Whatever was in those containers it was enough to freak out over, as now the general was really mad. Using the poisoned knives again he tossed a handful their way, the tips dripping with the viscous ooze. Kabocha readied himself to grab the Prince and dodge them, but before he could react T'charrl had a surprise of his own. A thin wall of energy appeared before them, something unlike which he had ever seen. As the knives collided they didn't even penetrate the thin shield, bouncing off and sending small sparks racing along the surface as they clattered to the ground. Was that the power the general was after?
Yusef hadn't expected the knives to do much, that would have been too easy. He really didn't expect a wall of energy to materialize in front of the two boys, stopping his thrown weapons with minimal effort. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched it unfold, immediately glaring at T'charrl. So that was the kind of things one could do with his ability, and yet he was selfishly keeping it to himself. Their people would be unstoppable with that, no one would be able to harm them. This thought only piled on to his mounting anger, and with a shout he launched himself at the boys again, determined to cut them down.
"Graaaaaaah!"
Yusef brought both blades across in a wide, sweeping cut to try and catch the two fighters off guard. While T'charrl went up to avoid them Kabocha dashed to the side, his weapons only getting air as a result. Lifting his head he gazed furiously up at the Prince, trying to get himself up to chase the boy. Before he could make a move T'charrl came down to meet him, and Yusef had to raise his arms to block the swing. With a surprising amount of force in the blow he slid back on the smooth floor slightly, his arms straining to absorb the hit.
"That liquid is what will make us great!" the general shouted, pushing T'charrl away as he stepped off. "I will take down anyone who denies our race power!"
Kabocha kept to the side as T'charrl and Yusef exchanged blows, not wanting to complicate things by throwing himself into the fray. Despite being weakened it looked like the Prince was doing okay, managing to get the general to back off with his counterattack. As soon as the larger Kaesstrian was clear the Saiyan launched himself forward, intending to bash Yusef down with a strong punch. Unexpectedly the alien followed his movements this time, just barely, but quick enough to react. Seeing a sword coming his way Kabocha held a hand towards the ground, blasting himself up towards the ceiling with a shot of Ki to avoid being cut in two. Flipping in mid air his feet touched the ceiling, and immediately he launched himself down at an angle. This time he managed to connect, using both hands in a hammer motion and smacking Yusef in the back, knocking him on his front to the ground. Kabocha flipped himself back over once more, moving hastily to try and subdue the general.
Yusef let out a groan as he was hit, the blow being perhaps more forceful than intended. He fell to the ground like a deadweight, nearly losing his weapons as he hit the ground, dazed and near winded. As he opened his eyes he heard someone walking behind him, and a second later his lower arms being pulled back painfully. Emitting an odd snarl out of anger he swung back blindly with his sword, managing to make Kabocha move off of him. Rolling onto his back he reeled his legs up, kicking the Saiyan in the chest to get him away before scrambling to his feet. Thanks to that hit his right side was awfully sore, and he was slouching slightly as a result. Now that T'charrl was the closer of the two he stepped to the side, charging headlong at the Prince a third time. In the process of this he took out his last two knives, throwing them at Kabocha to keep him at bay. As soon as he got in striking distance he raised both weapons, bringing them down so they'd cross in an 'X' pattern to try and get T'charrl off guard.
T'charrl raised a good point to boot. He'd left all of his 'precious material' just sitting there, and then the fight had broken out. Seriously, what did he think was going to happen to it? Then again they had sort of barged in on him, so he may not have been expecting it and hadn't bothered then to secure it elsewhere. Whatever was in those containers it was enough to freak out over, as now the general was really mad. Using the poisoned knives again he tossed a handful their way, the tips dripping with the viscous ooze. Kabocha readied himself to grab the Prince and dodge them, but before he could react T'charrl had a surprise of his own. A thin wall of energy appeared before them, something unlike which he had ever seen. As the knives collided they didn't even penetrate the thin shield, bouncing off and sending small sparks racing along the surface as they clattered to the ground. Was that the power the general was after?
Yusef hadn't expected the knives to do much, that would have been too easy. He really didn't expect a wall of energy to materialize in front of the two boys, stopping his thrown weapons with minimal effort. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched it unfold, immediately glaring at T'charrl. So that was the kind of things one could do with his ability, and yet he was selfishly keeping it to himself. Their people would be unstoppable with that, no one would be able to harm them. This thought only piled on to his mounting anger, and with a shout he launched himself at the boys again, determined to cut them down.
"Graaaaaaah!"
Yusef brought both blades across in a wide, sweeping cut to try and catch the two fighters off guard. While T'charrl went up to avoid them Kabocha dashed to the side, his weapons only getting air as a result. Lifting his head he gazed furiously up at the Prince, trying to get himself up to chase the boy. Before he could make a move T'charrl came down to meet him, and Yusef had to raise his arms to block the swing. With a surprising amount of force in the blow he slid back on the smooth floor slightly, his arms straining to absorb the hit.
"That liquid is what will make us great!" the general shouted, pushing T'charrl away as he stepped off. "I will take down anyone who denies our race power!"
Kabocha kept to the side as T'charrl and Yusef exchanged blows, not wanting to complicate things by throwing himself into the fray. Despite being weakened it looked like the Prince was doing okay, managing to get the general to back off with his counterattack. As soon as the larger Kaesstrian was clear the Saiyan launched himself forward, intending to bash Yusef down with a strong punch. Unexpectedly the alien followed his movements this time, just barely, but quick enough to react. Seeing a sword coming his way Kabocha held a hand towards the ground, blasting himself up towards the ceiling with a shot of Ki to avoid being cut in two. Flipping in mid air his feet touched the ceiling, and immediately he launched himself down at an angle. This time he managed to connect, using both hands in a hammer motion and smacking Yusef in the back, knocking him on his front to the ground. Kabocha flipped himself back over once more, moving hastily to try and subdue the general.
Yusef let out a groan as he was hit, the blow being perhaps more forceful than intended. He fell to the ground like a deadweight, nearly losing his weapons as he hit the ground, dazed and near winded. As he opened his eyes he heard someone walking behind him, and a second later his lower arms being pulled back painfully. Emitting an odd snarl out of anger he swung back blindly with his sword, managing to make Kabocha move off of him. Rolling onto his back he reeled his legs up, kicking the Saiyan in the chest to get him away before scrambling to his feet. Thanks to that hit his right side was awfully sore, and he was slouching slightly as a result. Now that T'charrl was the closer of the two he stepped to the side, charging headlong at the Prince a third time. In the process of this he took out his last two knives, throwing them at Kabocha to keep him at bay. As soon as he got in striking distance he raised both weapons, bringing them down so they'd cross in an 'X' pattern to try and get T'charrl off guard.
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