Post by Tundra on Sept 23, 2016 0:06:01 GMT
PL: 8,346
How long had he been waiting in line? It felt like forever, but maybe that was just because he was impatient. Tundra knew what had happened. He was dead. One of many casualties from the invasion of his home planet. It was incredibly disappointing. For so long, he had been hoping to find a way off his home planet to live his own life elsewhere, and before he could make any headway, he got himself killed. It was his own fault, really. It was absolute chaos, at the time. Saiyans everywhere, a massive tree whose roots tore the land apart…if he hadn’t let himself get distracted, he could have easily been one of the survivors. And now, here he was, a wisp of a cloud floating in a long line of other cloud puffs, waiting to enter a large building for judgment. The Oni that trooped the line made it quite clear: at the end of the line was some creature called Yemma that would be sending the lost souls either to a heavenly, peaceful realm or a place of torment based on their deeds. Where would he be sent? In truth, Tundra felt as though his life had been rather…unremarkable. He hadn’t killed anyone, but he wasn’t exactly a hero either. Although, his final moments in life might have some bearing on the result.
He felt like he had gone over it over and over as he waited, wondering if there was a way he could’ve done things differently to escape death.
---
While the Tree of Might ravaged and drained Arcose and the Saiyans scavenged the planet to wipe out the natives, many either stayed to fight or tried to flee for their lives. Tundra wanted to run. He was no match for most of the Saiyans. They were well-trained and ruthless. He could have stood a chance if he transformed, but the process took too long. By the time he would be halfway through his transformation, they would have found him and took advantage of his distracted state. He couldn’t let that happen. His best chance was to hide and sneak his way to a hangar that hadn’t been destroyed yet. For a while, his low power level served him well. It was clear that the Saiyans favored better challenges, as they sought the powerful before trickling down to the weaker Arcosians. It was going perfectly. Part of him did feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that others he knew were likely dead. His father was likely among them, as well. But he couldn’t let himself be a casualty. If he ever felt the desire to avenge his people, he’d need to survive and get away.
Eventually, one of the few remaining hangars came into view. He was almost safe! He threw caution to the wind, flying as fast as he could in the hopes of finding a ship he could take, even if it was a dingy model. On the way, he spotted a small family of three also hurrying to the hangar, holding their child by its arms. At least they clearly had their priorities in order. From his experience, he had assumed most Arcosians would try to force even their spawn to fight against the Saiyans, even when the battle was clearly a lost cause. All of them drew near the hangar when the family was intercepted. A big Saiyan with wild black hair, bulging muscles, and a sinister countenance cut them off. They were a fair distance from Tundra. He could still get away, if he wanted…but that terrified scream from the child…it cut him to the core. He turned to see the two parents standing their ground, trying to shield their child…but that sadistic confidence on the Saiyan’s face told him they still stood no chance.
What possessed him afterwards…he wasn’t sure. But before he knew it, he had raised his arm to the Saiyan, his index finger extended before firing a Death Beam his way. The beam struck the Saiyan in the side of the head…but it merely exploded on impact, hardly doing anything besides enraging the Saiyan who now zeroed in on him. Tundra paled in the face when the warrior dashed towards him, seeming to completely forget his earlier prey. Before long, they were face to face.
“So, the little lizard wants to play, huh?” the Saiyan grunted.
Tundra was trembling, but jumped back, getting into a fighting position while glaring back. He didn’t want to fight, he wanted to run…but he gave himself no choice.
“Looks like I’ll have to. I’m getting off this planet, even if I have to tear through you to do so!” he snapped back, his body tensing to be on guard for anything.
It wasn’t enough. The Saiyan’s fist collided with his face in an instant. He felt the cartilage of his nose crush from the impact, blood trickling out before he was sent flying. The enemy was relentless, catching up with him to crash his elbow into Tundra’s chest, knocking him straight into the ground, forming a crater. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he coughed up blood. The pain was…unimaginable. No memory from his childhood training compared to this. And it didn’t stop. He was tossed into the air, kicked back down, uppercut, body slammed…everything but obliterated. Bones crumbled and muscles were torn…he didn’t stand a chance. By the time the Saiyan slowed down, it was a wonder that Tundra was alive at all. He was a broken, bloody mess that struggled to breathe. He couldn’t even see who it was that caught the Saiyan’s attention.
“What do you think you’re doing? Do you think we’re here to play around with the locals?”
“Hey, the brat caught me off guard! Besides, who cares if I toy with him before he dies?”
“Well, while you’re pounding away on that weakling, you’re letting dozens of them escape! You’re damn lucky one of the elites haven’t seen you wasting time like this!”
“Oh fine. I’ll take him out, happy now?”
Tundra felt the fear, knowing what was coming. He could hear the humming of energy building up, and even with his eyes closed he could see the light shining through his eyelids. This was it. No way to get out now. Then in a bright flash and a sensation of searing heat…nothing.
---
Then his vision cleared, and here he was in the afterlife. It wasn’t exactly a place he had thought about much while he was alive, so he had no expectations. Part of him still felt an edge of bitterness that he had challenged that Saiyan. Even without a scouter, he knew he was no match for him. Apart from the Death Beam, he hadn’t even managed to get a single strike in. Sadistic monkey… Still, there was a chance that someone managed to escape while he was being pummeled, so that was something. By the time he snapped out of his memories, he realized that he was very close to the end of the line, standing just before the great doors that led inside. Suddenly, he felt nervous. Before, he just wanted to get this over with, but now…he worried what that would mean. A few Oni were standing guard outside the door while others continued to patrol up and down the line, making sure no one was cutting ahead. As one neared him, he called out to catch his attention.
“Excuse me,” he said, a bit put off by the squeakiness of his voice. The Oni turned to face him, a polite smile on his pale red face. He had a single horn atop his head and a large pair of glasses over his beady eyes. “May I ask…how does this work? How is one judged here?”
The Oni chuckled softly before pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “It’s simple, really. King Yemma will ask you to share two different stories: one in which you were a good person and one in which you were bad. You’ll want to keep it short, though. He is very busy, after all.”
“And that’s it? Afterwards he sends us…where he thinks we belong?” he asked, clearly a bit nervous.
Another nod from the Oni. “That’s all. Some try to punch up their stories, but uh…I don’t recommend it.”
Tundra nodded, though it may not have appeared that way. How would a cloud nod, after all? Regardless, he fell silent and the Oni continued on his way. A good story and a bad story…he still wasn’t sure if he had done anything particularly good. The doors opened and…he was next. He slowly hovered forth and into the building. He was startled by the hulking giant that sat before him behind a desk. That expression bespoke of someone that had little patience. The Oni from before strolled in behind him.
“The next soul is Tundra, an Arcosian.”
He hesitated, unsure of what to do or say next, but finally spoke up. “Well…my worst deed…several times, I severely wounded one of my fellow trainees. The worst of which was when I ran him through with my tail…”
Already, that sounded like something he would be punished for; sure, the one he attacked survived. Each time they fought, either someone else was available to whisk him away to a hospital or, like the last time, he took him there himself. But he didn’t want to go into too much detail. This Yemma character looked the type to send him to Hell for dawdling alone.
“As for my best…just before I died, I distracted a Saiyan long enough for at least three of my people to get away,” he started, but let out a sigh. It sounded far nobler than it really was. “I don’t know if it counts, however…I don’t know if they got away and ever since the Saiyan attacked me, I’ve wished I’d continued to flee.”
He probably condemned himself right then and there. But the Oni’s advice from before prompted him to elaborate. If he hadn’t, King Yemma surely would have known he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Well, whatever the judgment, he would endure it. Even as a cloud, however, his trepidation was evident.
King Yemma
[Word Count: 1,705]
How long had he been waiting in line? It felt like forever, but maybe that was just because he was impatient. Tundra knew what had happened. He was dead. One of many casualties from the invasion of his home planet. It was incredibly disappointing. For so long, he had been hoping to find a way off his home planet to live his own life elsewhere, and before he could make any headway, he got himself killed. It was his own fault, really. It was absolute chaos, at the time. Saiyans everywhere, a massive tree whose roots tore the land apart…if he hadn’t let himself get distracted, he could have easily been one of the survivors. And now, here he was, a wisp of a cloud floating in a long line of other cloud puffs, waiting to enter a large building for judgment. The Oni that trooped the line made it quite clear: at the end of the line was some creature called Yemma that would be sending the lost souls either to a heavenly, peaceful realm or a place of torment based on their deeds. Where would he be sent? In truth, Tundra felt as though his life had been rather…unremarkable. He hadn’t killed anyone, but he wasn’t exactly a hero either. Although, his final moments in life might have some bearing on the result.
He felt like he had gone over it over and over as he waited, wondering if there was a way he could’ve done things differently to escape death.
---
While the Tree of Might ravaged and drained Arcose and the Saiyans scavenged the planet to wipe out the natives, many either stayed to fight or tried to flee for their lives. Tundra wanted to run. He was no match for most of the Saiyans. They were well-trained and ruthless. He could have stood a chance if he transformed, but the process took too long. By the time he would be halfway through his transformation, they would have found him and took advantage of his distracted state. He couldn’t let that happen. His best chance was to hide and sneak his way to a hangar that hadn’t been destroyed yet. For a while, his low power level served him well. It was clear that the Saiyans favored better challenges, as they sought the powerful before trickling down to the weaker Arcosians. It was going perfectly. Part of him did feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that others he knew were likely dead. His father was likely among them, as well. But he couldn’t let himself be a casualty. If he ever felt the desire to avenge his people, he’d need to survive and get away.
Eventually, one of the few remaining hangars came into view. He was almost safe! He threw caution to the wind, flying as fast as he could in the hopes of finding a ship he could take, even if it was a dingy model. On the way, he spotted a small family of three also hurrying to the hangar, holding their child by its arms. At least they clearly had their priorities in order. From his experience, he had assumed most Arcosians would try to force even their spawn to fight against the Saiyans, even when the battle was clearly a lost cause. All of them drew near the hangar when the family was intercepted. A big Saiyan with wild black hair, bulging muscles, and a sinister countenance cut them off. They were a fair distance from Tundra. He could still get away, if he wanted…but that terrified scream from the child…it cut him to the core. He turned to see the two parents standing their ground, trying to shield their child…but that sadistic confidence on the Saiyan’s face told him they still stood no chance.
What possessed him afterwards…he wasn’t sure. But before he knew it, he had raised his arm to the Saiyan, his index finger extended before firing a Death Beam his way. The beam struck the Saiyan in the side of the head…but it merely exploded on impact, hardly doing anything besides enraging the Saiyan who now zeroed in on him. Tundra paled in the face when the warrior dashed towards him, seeming to completely forget his earlier prey. Before long, they were face to face.
“So, the little lizard wants to play, huh?” the Saiyan grunted.
Tundra was trembling, but jumped back, getting into a fighting position while glaring back. He didn’t want to fight, he wanted to run…but he gave himself no choice.
“Looks like I’ll have to. I’m getting off this planet, even if I have to tear through you to do so!” he snapped back, his body tensing to be on guard for anything.
It wasn’t enough. The Saiyan’s fist collided with his face in an instant. He felt the cartilage of his nose crush from the impact, blood trickling out before he was sent flying. The enemy was relentless, catching up with him to crash his elbow into Tundra’s chest, knocking him straight into the ground, forming a crater. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he coughed up blood. The pain was…unimaginable. No memory from his childhood training compared to this. And it didn’t stop. He was tossed into the air, kicked back down, uppercut, body slammed…everything but obliterated. Bones crumbled and muscles were torn…he didn’t stand a chance. By the time the Saiyan slowed down, it was a wonder that Tundra was alive at all. He was a broken, bloody mess that struggled to breathe. He couldn’t even see who it was that caught the Saiyan’s attention.
“What do you think you’re doing? Do you think we’re here to play around with the locals?”
“Hey, the brat caught me off guard! Besides, who cares if I toy with him before he dies?”
“Well, while you’re pounding away on that weakling, you’re letting dozens of them escape! You’re damn lucky one of the elites haven’t seen you wasting time like this!”
“Oh fine. I’ll take him out, happy now?”
Tundra felt the fear, knowing what was coming. He could hear the humming of energy building up, and even with his eyes closed he could see the light shining through his eyelids. This was it. No way to get out now. Then in a bright flash and a sensation of searing heat…nothing.
---
Then his vision cleared, and here he was in the afterlife. It wasn’t exactly a place he had thought about much while he was alive, so he had no expectations. Part of him still felt an edge of bitterness that he had challenged that Saiyan. Even without a scouter, he knew he was no match for him. Apart from the Death Beam, he hadn’t even managed to get a single strike in. Sadistic monkey… Still, there was a chance that someone managed to escape while he was being pummeled, so that was something. By the time he snapped out of his memories, he realized that he was very close to the end of the line, standing just before the great doors that led inside. Suddenly, he felt nervous. Before, he just wanted to get this over with, but now…he worried what that would mean. A few Oni were standing guard outside the door while others continued to patrol up and down the line, making sure no one was cutting ahead. As one neared him, he called out to catch his attention.
“Excuse me,” he said, a bit put off by the squeakiness of his voice. The Oni turned to face him, a polite smile on his pale red face. He had a single horn atop his head and a large pair of glasses over his beady eyes. “May I ask…how does this work? How is one judged here?”
The Oni chuckled softly before pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “It’s simple, really. King Yemma will ask you to share two different stories: one in which you were a good person and one in which you were bad. You’ll want to keep it short, though. He is very busy, after all.”
“And that’s it? Afterwards he sends us…where he thinks we belong?” he asked, clearly a bit nervous.
Another nod from the Oni. “That’s all. Some try to punch up their stories, but uh…I don’t recommend it.”
Tundra nodded, though it may not have appeared that way. How would a cloud nod, after all? Regardless, he fell silent and the Oni continued on his way. A good story and a bad story…he still wasn’t sure if he had done anything particularly good. The doors opened and…he was next. He slowly hovered forth and into the building. He was startled by the hulking giant that sat before him behind a desk. That expression bespoke of someone that had little patience. The Oni from before strolled in behind him.
“The next soul is Tundra, an Arcosian.”
He hesitated, unsure of what to do or say next, but finally spoke up. “Well…my worst deed…several times, I severely wounded one of my fellow trainees. The worst of which was when I ran him through with my tail…”
Already, that sounded like something he would be punished for; sure, the one he attacked survived. Each time they fought, either someone else was available to whisk him away to a hospital or, like the last time, he took him there himself. But he didn’t want to go into too much detail. This Yemma character looked the type to send him to Hell for dawdling alone.
“As for my best…just before I died, I distracted a Saiyan long enough for at least three of my people to get away,” he started, but let out a sigh. It sounded far nobler than it really was. “I don’t know if it counts, however…I don’t know if they got away and ever since the Saiyan attacked me, I’ve wished I’d continued to flee.”
He probably condemned himself right then and there. But the Oni’s advice from before prompted him to elaborate. If he hadn’t, King Yemma surely would have known he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Well, whatever the judgment, he would endure it. Even as a cloud, however, his trepidation was evident.
King Yemma
[Word Count: 1,705]