Post by Helix Crust on Sept 30, 2017 19:37:39 GMT
[T4 Shop]
Helix’s hand clenched into a fist. The Saiyan force descended hard and fast, a massive warship planting itself onto Namek’s flinching soil. Helix knew that Xylo would meet them, and knew he should join their plight. And yet, everything in the prophet was frozen.
Those years… Those three long years since namek was destroyed. Helix lived in constant guilt. If only he had been there, he convinced himself, he would’ve been able to change the course of history. He would’ve been able to be the diplomat with earth. He would’ve been able to prevent his people from being whisked into darkness. The nights where he spent hours on the floor, cradling himself in a nightmare, flashing awake with the unutterable words “I’m sorry” painted across his lips.
There had been days on end where Helix was completely consumed in aching desire, desperate desire to go back and do something different, to change what his people had gone through. He was supposed to be their leader all along, convincing himself of anything else was just denial. He had a grand destiny laid out for him, sprawling lists of good deeds to commit, of hearts he really could change. And yet he woke up paralyzed. Every night, he woke up frozen with inaction.
Terror.
Helix was terrified not by the saiyans, not by the earthlings, by his own people. Because for every day and night that he sat on top of this tower he thought of how he had failed his people by not being on Namek when it needed him most. Terrified, not because the powerful foes landing on his homeward now had the potential to destroy it, but because he might not have the power to stop it.
Helix pushed to his feet, nervously pacing. The veins in his arm pulsed furiously, desperate to move faster, but stuck in time. The guru stepped outside of his hut for the third time on that day. His chest was on fire, and the cracking guru clenched his teeth, steadying himself before his exertion.
Finally, the god of planet named turned his eyes upwards, casting his infinite gaze across the planet. At once, flashing faces burned themselves in his mind: Xylo, Rhytid, Kizuki. And the saiyans.
Helix staggered backwards, a grinning disbelief etched in his worn countenance. The guru shook his head twice, and gasped for air once before kneeling over slightly.
The guru was paralyzed. After all the years of telling himself what a difference he would’ve made, here he was, unable to move his feet. Helix dropped to his knees and planted himself on all fours, panting heavily. The stress of the planet’s danger was wear enough, but the fear of betraying his people was worse.
Helix Crust was not a fighter. Helix Crust was barely a leader. Helix was just a regular namekian, caught up in his prophesy, caught up in his good heartedness who had gone through such a period of illusion that he now believed himself capable of doing something like defending his planet. He would be nothing but a liability to Xylo out in battle.
Down below in the town, there was no fear, no horror. Namekians stood outside of their homes, their watering cans and books abandoned on the ground in the same spot that they were standing when they heard the news. There was no clamor. Old and young dragon castes huddled in groups silently, holding hands and praying, meditating.
Helix ducked away in shame; the namekians below probably all assumed he had already set out to join the battle. The guru flinched, snuffing out his power level. He was letting his people down— Desperately, the prophet stumbled into his palace, leaning against the central table as soon as he tumbled through the door.
"Please, Father Porunga—“ Helix choked out under his breath, bracing himself with both hands above the cracked stone dragon ball resting on the pedestal, “Send me a sign, send me something to—“ He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear escaped from his eyelid’s tight gate, hesitating, then darting down his cheek and letting go at his chin. The droplet wettened the stone dragon ball below.
Helix opened his eyes and looked down. This pedestal had been here since he officially accepted his guruship; this stone dragon ball was Helix’s guruship incarnated, hardened into tough stone. Overtaken in a moment of heat, the guru dropped to his knees and cradled the dragon ball, pressing his forehead to the cracked orb, searching for some sort of peace.
A moment of vulnerable, fertile silence passed; then came a quiet realization. Finally, a cold determination. Helix’s heart hardened, as his long tanned fingers cradled the dragon ball on the table. There was something he could do, and he knew exactly how to do it. It required no fighting on his part, but it was by no means in his comfort zone.
The guru pushed himself onto his feet, picking up each cold stone half in one hand. He took two staggering steps forwards, one humbly and vulnerably, the next with a contesting determination. The prophet quickly blasted out the front door of the palace, and conjured a milky white energy between his fingers. The magic gelled and cradled the stone semispheres, and finally Helix lifted the dragon ball to his face and pressed the two halves together, forming one full artifact.
The two star ball. One of each of the halves was painted with a faded grey marking, and when they united into one, the cracks formed seamlessly.
Suddenly, the guru’s hands began to shake. He placed the newly formed rock two star ball on the ground and tapped on it, drawing a line of white magic into the air above it and then expanding the energy, shaping his palms into that of a sphere. He tightened his grip, and the magic orb solidified into a second stone dragon ball.
Helix’s face flashed excited for a minute, and then returned to an intense focus. Five times more he repeated the process, drawing stone orbs out of the original two star ball.
Finally, the guru looked down at his creation. This plan would only work if all of the parts operated perfectly at once. But he had no other option but to try. It was the only way he could help his people.
The orbs shifted on grass as Helix lifted his hands, unleashing his full energy. The guru’s white pupils grew to a blinding brilliance, and his forehead tattoo transformed into a brilliant beacon. One by one, the dragon balls would rise in the air, poised to burst into life: One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
This was the only way Helix could save his people. His finger curled back slightly, and seconds before he committed the life changing act, the guru beamed off a telepathic message.
“Xylo,” boomed Helix in the voice of a thousand namekian spirits,
“Get to the palace. Now.”
Helix’s hand clenched into a fist. The Saiyan force descended hard and fast, a massive warship planting itself onto Namek’s flinching soil. Helix knew that Xylo would meet them, and knew he should join their plight. And yet, everything in the prophet was frozen.
Those years… Those three long years since namek was destroyed. Helix lived in constant guilt. If only he had been there, he convinced himself, he would’ve been able to change the course of history. He would’ve been able to be the diplomat with earth. He would’ve been able to prevent his people from being whisked into darkness. The nights where he spent hours on the floor, cradling himself in a nightmare, flashing awake with the unutterable words “I’m sorry” painted across his lips.
There had been days on end where Helix was completely consumed in aching desire, desperate desire to go back and do something different, to change what his people had gone through. He was supposed to be their leader all along, convincing himself of anything else was just denial. He had a grand destiny laid out for him, sprawling lists of good deeds to commit, of hearts he really could change. And yet he woke up paralyzed. Every night, he woke up frozen with inaction.
Terror.
Helix was terrified not by the saiyans, not by the earthlings, by his own people. Because for every day and night that he sat on top of this tower he thought of how he had failed his people by not being on Namek when it needed him most. Terrified, not because the powerful foes landing on his homeward now had the potential to destroy it, but because he might not have the power to stop it.
Helix pushed to his feet, nervously pacing. The veins in his arm pulsed furiously, desperate to move faster, but stuck in time. The guru stepped outside of his hut for the third time on that day. His chest was on fire, and the cracking guru clenched his teeth, steadying himself before his exertion.
Finally, the god of planet named turned his eyes upwards, casting his infinite gaze across the planet. At once, flashing faces burned themselves in his mind: Xylo, Rhytid, Kizuki. And the saiyans.
Helix staggered backwards, a grinning disbelief etched in his worn countenance. The guru shook his head twice, and gasped for air once before kneeling over slightly.
The guru was paralyzed. After all the years of telling himself what a difference he would’ve made, here he was, unable to move his feet. Helix dropped to his knees and planted himself on all fours, panting heavily. The stress of the planet’s danger was wear enough, but the fear of betraying his people was worse.
Helix Crust was not a fighter. Helix Crust was barely a leader. Helix was just a regular namekian, caught up in his prophesy, caught up in his good heartedness who had gone through such a period of illusion that he now believed himself capable of doing something like defending his planet. He would be nothing but a liability to Xylo out in battle.
Down below in the town, there was no fear, no horror. Namekians stood outside of their homes, their watering cans and books abandoned on the ground in the same spot that they were standing when they heard the news. There was no clamor. Old and young dragon castes huddled in groups silently, holding hands and praying, meditating.
Helix ducked away in shame; the namekians below probably all assumed he had already set out to join the battle. The guru flinched, snuffing out his power level. He was letting his people down— Desperately, the prophet stumbled into his palace, leaning against the central table as soon as he tumbled through the door.
"Please, Father Porunga—“ Helix choked out under his breath, bracing himself with both hands above the cracked stone dragon ball resting on the pedestal, “Send me a sign, send me something to—“ He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear escaped from his eyelid’s tight gate, hesitating, then darting down his cheek and letting go at his chin. The droplet wettened the stone dragon ball below.
Helix opened his eyes and looked down. This pedestal had been here since he officially accepted his guruship; this stone dragon ball was Helix’s guruship incarnated, hardened into tough stone. Overtaken in a moment of heat, the guru dropped to his knees and cradled the dragon ball, pressing his forehead to the cracked orb, searching for some sort of peace.
A moment of vulnerable, fertile silence passed; then came a quiet realization. Finally, a cold determination. Helix’s heart hardened, as his long tanned fingers cradled the dragon ball on the table. There was something he could do, and he knew exactly how to do it. It required no fighting on his part, but it was by no means in his comfort zone.
The two star ball. One of each of the halves was painted with a faded grey marking, and when they united into one, the cracks formed seamlessly.
Suddenly, the guru’s hands began to shake. He placed the newly formed rock two star ball on the ground and tapped on it, drawing a line of white magic into the air above it and then expanding the energy, shaping his palms into that of a sphere. He tightened his grip, and the magic orb solidified into a second stone dragon ball.
Helix’s face flashed excited for a minute, and then returned to an intense focus. Five times more he repeated the process, drawing stone orbs out of the original two star ball.
Finally, the guru looked down at his creation. This plan would only work if all of the parts operated perfectly at once. But he had no other option but to try. It was the only way he could help his people.
The orbs shifted on grass as Helix lifted his hands, unleashing his full energy. The guru’s white pupils grew to a blinding brilliance, and his forehead tattoo transformed into a brilliant beacon. One by one, the dragon balls would rise in the air, poised to burst into life: One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
This was the only way Helix could save his people. His finger curled back slightly, and seconds before he committed the life changing act, the guru beamed off a telepathic message.
“Xylo,” boomed Helix in the voice of a thousand namekian spirits,
“Get to the palace. Now.”
Helix is creating the dragon balls! If he is uninterrupted for 72 hours, the seven orbs will blast off across planet namek!
Lord Xylo
Lord Xylo
