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Post by Hiruen on Jan 12, 2014 18:13:19 GMT
Location : Castle Saru, Planet Vegeta
The prince of nineteen years of age appears casual, his back leaned against the stone wall of his childhood home. The castle itself had retained much of the architecture of days of old, but many new additions had come and gone in the thousands of years it had stood and housed the royal family. The stature had remained quite similar to the days of King Vegeta and following him, Bardack, but time itself erodes the old and the new had arrived, over time. Tens of thousands of square feet housed the royal family, their guard, and many of the Saiyan nobles.
No family nor guard stands beside the young prince, his mother deceased two years prior to his return, cardiac arrest her killer. To his immediate left, a doorway rests. Within it, his father, Zasho I, rests peacefully and attends to matters of government and military sparingly – most of those decisions now rested in the hands of the nobility and military officers, and a wry grin crosses the face of the prince as he thinks of how all that will change, so very soon.
But, alas, he awaits his retainer, a woman of the Ketsu bloodline and sworn in the very liquid to the Koregutsu family. Jeska, Zasho recalled, and his ears perked as footsteps sounded out, echoing through the grand hallway.
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Jeska Ketsu
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Post by Jeska Ketsu on Jan 12, 2014 19:11:29 GMT
Boots slapping against the floor of the palace Jeska made her way towards her first meeting with the Saiyan prince. Having just returned to his Vegeta after his nine year absence the soldier was more than anxious to meet him. Externally she was as calm and reserved as ever, but beneath the surface she was actually nervous. Would he approve of her or think her just like any other soldier under his command? Sure she was sworn to him and him alone, but that alone did not make her special. If she was to truly be of any use to him she needed to be strong and competent, more so than your average Saiyan.
Glancing down at herself she adjusts her armor slightly to make sure that it was perfectly aligned. Days ago she had been informed that Zasho II was to return so she had requested her entire set of armor be cleaned and prepped. Unscathed the armor she wore now was one she had rarely put on, an older set that she used in her training sessions. Fit and well conditioned the armor and snug suit beneath it fit her perfectly. The female Saiyan’s long, thick hair hung down behind her swishing slightly as she walked. Taking a deep breath she rounds the final corner into the hall that she expected the Prince to be waiting in. It was the hall that contained the door to the room where the King Zasho Koregutsu I resided, running the Saiyan government from his sickbed.
Close to the door, casually leaning against the wall stood the Saiyan she was sworn to. Like her the Prince had grown and changed over the previous nine years, but there was no mistaking his features. Careful not to quicken her pace and seem over anxious to get down the hall, Jeska keeps her good posture. Eyes on the Prince as she approaches, the retainers says nothing until arriving within an arm’s reach of him. Coming to a stop her right arm crosses over her chest in proper solute.
”Your Grace.” A simply sounding title perhaps, but her tone was full of respect. She did not know him well, but even so she held him in the highest esteem. Standing at attention with her arm still across her chest Jeska does not move or speak until spoken too.
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Post by Hiruen on Jan 12, 2014 19:55:49 GMT
The suspicions that Jeska Ketsu had arrived were comfirmed as her female form took a final turn and her stride brought her closer to the taller male, and her entrance flickered his attention. From the wall his tall and powerful form stood, and the salute was returned as dark eyes took in the young woman he had met whilst he was but a child. Her fighting power had far outstripped his own at that age, and Zasho thought for but a moment that he might like to test himself against the woman now that his personal mission for strength had reached completion.
But, alas, that was for another time. The prince had summoned the soldier here to see if her blood-oath was something of certainty rather than a fickle thing, but that would come to light later as well. For the moment, he took in the physical appearance of the woman. Though she stood half a foot shorter than he, her form was powerful though feminine, and her armor and base layer was impeccable. She was very much presentable, and the Saiyan let a grin cross his own features. Jeska, to Zasho, greatly resembled her father, but could she present the same loyalty to her sworn charge the way her sire had? Only time would answer such a question.
For now, they would speak for but a moment.
“Your grace,” she said, her greeting. Zasho had moments before let the grin pass from his features, his lips a picture of neutrality. It had been only recently that he had been referred to and looked upon with such respect, for before his departure he had been but a whelp in comparison to some of the lowliest warriors the Saiyan army called their own. The respect was a welcome thing, though Zasho accepted it with reserved apprehension.
After all, the prince was still acclimating to the idea of speaking at all. For nearly a decade, he had known only the many enemies he had slaughtered in the name of Vegetasei in his quest for power. There were no words between prey and predator.
“You. . .appear well, Jeska,” the tall royal managed, before he looked towards the door with a bit of nervousness flecking his dark eyes.
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Jeska Ketsu
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Post by Jeska Ketsu on Jan 12, 2014 22:35:51 GMT
His first reaction to her presence was a grin, the soldier not quite sure how to respond to the expression. It might mean he was pleased with what he saw or perhaps he found her amusing. Having left her scouter behind Jeska could not read the Prince’s power level, the female having decided not to bring the device. Being able to read his signature and therefore make her own assessment of his strength was inappropriate for their first meeting. This all lead her to the assumption that he might be able to read her signature, was that what had him so amused? She hoped not. Despite the unexpected expression from Zasho and the possibly reasons behind it Jeska maintains her poise during the solute.
”You…appear well, Jeska” As the taller Saiyan opened his mouth to speak she let her fist fall from her chest plate. The fact he used her first name came across as…informal, but of course it was not something she planned to openly question. The Prince had the right to refer to her simply as “girl” if he chose and if he did so, Jeska would offer no complaint. While Zasho was not used to titles and the respect that he deserved she had been raised in quite an opposite environment than him. During his time alone amongst the stars with little interaction beyond combat, she was being raised by a multitude of individuals. Bishon had been her mentor, but he was not the only one that had shaped her into the warrior she was now. Many soldiers had been at her disposal to train with, to learn from as she grew stronger. Through that upbringing she had grown to respect titles and accept the chain of command as it was. No matter what others thought of the Prince, Jeska held him far above herself.
”I am quite well, thank you. I pray I have not kept you waiting, your grace.” Still trying to be as formal as possible Jeska did not want to come off as cold. Watching his eyes glance to the door she was only able to wonder at the thoughts going through his head. Zasho no doubt worried about his father’s failing health.
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Post by Hiruen on Jan 13, 2014 1:48:31 GMT
The warrior prince listened intently as the conversation intensified, his attention, for the moment, entirely focused on the slightly older Saiyan before him. Jeska had expressed she had not wished to keep the royal waiting, and thankfully, she had not. Truth be told, it would have mattered not. Zasho Koregutsu was a young man of patience both in combat and in his typical life. The sharp jawline and tousled spikes atop his head went side to side as he expressed himself.
“Not at all, Jeska,” and once again, Zasho chose to employ her given name. If he and this woman were to build any bond at all, one of king and sworn protector, then it would start here and now. To what extent, Jeska would discover shortly. . .should she be up to the task, Zasho thought to himself as he gave a second look toward the doorway separating he and the man whom had given him the same title.
The father and the son had never been close, per-say. Zasho recalled his early years on the remaining sand and terraformed soil of Vegeta with a bitter taste in his mouth, for his father was abhorrent of his lowly battle power. From the moment of his birth it had been a constant struggle to prove oneself to a sire he had so longed to please, and perhaps now, with his newly attained strength, his father would finally accept him as the rightful heir to the Vegetan throne. A hint of dread and a bit of optimism fought for supremacy in his mind, battling: back and forth, to and fro. Finally, the optimism won.
“Let us meet with my father,” the prince hurriedly murmured as he turned from the woman and to the door, opening the thing after a split-second of thought and entering the room. Though it was not King Zasho's bedchamber, the mattress and frame that bore the massive man had been moved into the royal infirmary some time ago, when the king had fallen ill. The gargantuan slept with difficult breaths, his massive chest rising and falling as a nurse rested in a nearby chair. There was one other occupant of the room, a Saiyan Guard, and from the look of him, Zasho decided, an elite. . .the man held himself as such in his attentive posture.
The red stone that had hung from the first king of the Saiyan's neck, rose and fell with the graying giant's chest. Bordered in gold with a matching chain around his neck instantly reminded the prince why he had returned to a home that he hoped would finally respect him and adore him as their new leader.
The guard came to attention upon notice of whom had entered his ruler's resting place, and delivered a sharp salute to Jeska, and immediately the prince beside her realized this woman actually outranked him. Perhaps he was a rank-and-file elite, and it would be sensible. . .overall, Zasho I was a beloved ruler whom ran little risk of assassination. Zasho II nodded to the soldier before he stepped to his father's side, and roused the man with a touch of his lips to the broad forehead. The prince immediately felt the fever.
The response was gruff after the old king realized whom stood above him.
“What do you want, whelp?” Apparently whatever illness the old man suffered from had delivered him no second-thoughts for his stance upon his son.
“Father, I have come to ask of you the title king. I have fought for the last nine years to pro. . .”
The old man cut him off as he turned to the soldier at his side. “Tell me his power level, Honuk.”
Almost immediately the soldier turned to face the son of his king and pressed his fingertip to the scouter adorning his left eye. “2,170 measurements of power, my lord.”
For a moment, the sickly father was silent before he laughed, harshly, and broke into a fit of coughing.
“Pitiful. . .whelp!” and he took a moment for his lungs to come to rest before he continued, while his son stared into his eyes, his expression blank, listened to every word. “You are no son of mine, Zasho. If not for your mother, I would have sent you away as a babe to some planet that would never allow you to return! Nine years, and two thousand is the best you can manage! Get out of my sight. You will never be the king of the Saiyan race!”
For a moment, the prince took it all in before he never uttered a word, turned from a father whom would never be pleased with anything from him, and headed towards the doorway. The voice of the old man stopped him.
“You can thank your pitiful mother for your weakness, boy!” the old king spat.
In truth, the only parent the son had ever had as a boy was his mother. She had trained him as best she could, taught him the ways of the Tsurunoha, and showered him with love and affection. It was she whom had presented him with the idea of roaming the stars to propel his strength to greater heights in hope of proving to her husband that her offspring was fit to lead the people, it was she whom the prince could never stand to her cursed in such a way. Zasho I had free reign to disrespect and lower his son, but the young prince stopped in the doorway. This was a transgression he could not withstand.
His visage was one of ice as he turned his eyes to the woman whom had sworn herself to his side, and his form shuddered once with rage. “Jeska Ketsu, are you with me no matter the circumstance?” Certainly, she would be given but a moment to respond or try to prevent whatever situation Zasho had in mind.
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Jeska Ketsu
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Post by Jeska Ketsu on Jan 13, 2014 5:05:44 GMT
As Zasho shook his head the retainer felt a wave of relief wash over her, pleased that he had not been leaning against the wall for long. First impressions mattered, a proven fact, and if her first one had been disappointing in the least then the warrior would not have been able to forgive herself. Again he chose to refer to her by name, Jeska drawing the conclusion that was the title he was going to continue to address her with. From her perspective the use of her name convey a measure of respect from the younger prince, and that was more than the devoted soldier ever expected upon their first meeting.
Her soft brown eyes remain on him as he, for a second time, glances at the doorway to the room housing his father. Zasho appeared quite anxious to enter and speak with the King, his next words confirming her suspicions. The rushed words and the lack of hesitation for a possible response from her hinted at the fact that perhaps the prince had not yet spoken to his father since his return. That business was none of her own of course and her response was not needed, if Zasho was ready to enter the room then Jeska would follow.
Stepping into the room right behind her charge the soldier assessed the room like she had been taught. Now at the side of her blood sworn charge the female was alert and attentive, her eyes taking in the room with a glance before stepping to the side. In his bed was the ailing King, his figure still slightly imposing despite his labored breathing and sickly color. Physically the large Saiyan did not seem a threat to anyone, but having grown up on Vegeta Jeska was well aware of all the King had accomplished. From her birth she had learned about him and his feats, many days of martial prowess under his belt in his younger years. She had never been this close to him though, her only time spent with him as an audience member to ceremonies or celebrations over the years.
The nurse and guard’s presence made perfect sense, neither seeming to be a threat to anyone in the room. As Zasho continued over towards his father’s bedside, Jeska steps to the side of the door, clasping her hands behind her back to silently stand at ease. From that vantage point she remains silent and watches the exchange between the two males, having her own opinions of course, but knowing they mattered little compared to the two that spoke.
While Zasho greeted his father with respect the King was not so kind in return, not even using the Prince’s name to refer to him. Not knowing about the sour relationship that had festered between the two for years Jeska thought it might be attributed to the illness, the old warrior’s patients growing thin as his strength and power faded. Staring straight ahead she seems to focus only on the wall across from her, but her ears listen carefully.
Years of discipline had been beaten into her and if it were not for that her eyes might have widened at the Prince’s words. Regardless of the surprise she stifles the soldier understood the request from a logical standpoint. Zasho I was sick, dying most likely and his son had returned to Vegeta. A powerful warrior like Zasho II would better fill the demands and duties that were required of the Saiyan King. Jeska already respected the Prince, his bold words only reinforcing that respect. Unfortunately his father did not feel the same.
Rudely turning away from the Prince mid sentence the King requested a reading of his son’s power, scoffing at the soldier’s reply of 2,170. Jeska herself was impressed. Over the last nine years she had spent hours training every single day and had only managed to reach a power level of 1,830 herself. Zasho must have suffered through many trials on his journeys to acquire that strength.
The large Saiyan’s insult about two thousand being pitiful stung her as it no doubt stung her charge. Like Zasho she had put her full effort into attaining her current power, but their efforts were met with disrespect. Still it was not her place to comment and definitely not her place to step into a conversation between members of the royal family. Motionless near the door she makes no hint that the words had even registered with her, even as Zasho walked back towards the door she remained silent. One last insult followed him as he approached her, one that also targeted his mother.
Prepared to follow him out of the room she is about to move when he stops in the doorway. Seeing his piercing eyes shift to look at her, Jeska’s respond in kind. Noting the shudder that runs through his muscular frame her eyes lock with his. Then his question came, her stare unwavering in response. Jeska had no idea why he had chosen now to ask such a question, but it mattered little for the answer would forever be the same.
”Without a moment’s hesitation, your grace.”
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Post by Hiruen on Jan 14, 2014 0:02:49 GMT
“Then follow me as I abandon the title prince. . .” the tall male murmured as he turned his eyes from hers and began to step through the open doorway.
. . .the scouter upon the ear and over the eye of Honuk began to sound off erratically as Vegetan numerals flashed across the screen.
In the same moment, the ailing giant began to chuckle and cough uncontrollably. . .
And finally, with that forward foot planted and the doorknob in reach, the prince of Vegeta, Zasho Koregutsu II, became something surgical and fluid in an instant. With a spin, the prince accomplished three things while the scouter twittered and his father celebrated his child's anger: the doorway clicked shut, and the free hand sent a piercing beam of energy through the throat of the nurse still resting tiredly in the corner of the room. Through the esophagus it traveled before it cut the spine at the brain stem and peacefully removed her from the realm of the living.
The third and final act in that miniscule moment in the endlessness of time was a wink from Zasho and a whispered, “Good bye,” towards Honuk before the hand that had shut the door lifted and a sphere of shining emerald, a lightly charged Big Bang Attack, lit the room briefly.
Honuk had been momentarily taken unawares, but he was, after-all, a Saiyan, and a highly trained warrior. He was accustomed to seeing death in all shades, and his own power spiked as he began to prepare an answer for his treacherous prince.
The Big Bang Attack took him fully in the chest, his orb of energy fizzling from existence as his breastbone was crushed inward and his heart stopped. A final gasp of air left his lungs as pupil rolled behind lid, and the body of the Saiyan elite slid to the floor with a trickle of crimson boiling out of his mouth and nostrils before the flood became more pronounced, the liquid completely covering the chin and dripping from the jawline.
King Zasho Koregutsu I had never ceased to chuckle, though his breath had failed him and his voice was faint when he ceased.
Zasho II had calmly walked to the position beside the bed, the same as before, and looked down on his father. Slowly, he reached down and unclasped the chain from his neck before the ruby of Vegeta went around his own, and in that moment, he became the King of Vegetasei. The father's teeth locked in a sneer before he snarled out the last words his firstborn would ever hear, if everything went accordingly. . .
“It matters not, whelp. . .you have kin upon Earth, an heir that far surpasses your weakness! Mark my words, dog, one whom bears the blight will take what you have taken from me!”
Zasho processed the declaration for a moment before he turned his eyes towards Jeska Ketsu, whom had just informed him she stood by him no matter the circumstance. The son of a dying king was in the process of taking the crown without proper challenge and hellbent on seeing him slain, but he would not be the one to fully bear the treasonous act. “Kill him,” he said, before he looked into the eyes of the old man a final time, and hopefully the last. “I want to see the life leave his eyes!”
. . .and claim the title King, Zasho thought to himself.
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Jeska Ketsu
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Post by Jeska Ketsu on Jan 14, 2014 4:19:39 GMT
Not sure what his words meant Jeska does not react to them at first, standing still as he reaches for the doorknob. Hearing the telltale beep of a scouter reading a signature she glances over to the guard to see numbers scrolling across the small screen over his eye. Not able to read signatures on her she could not be certain who’s it was right off the bat, but by process of elimination it had to be Zasho’s. With that in mind her hands unclasped from her around her wrists in case they were needed, but her arms do not move from behind her back. Any sudden movement might have drawn unneeded attention.
Of course as the next couple seconds pass Jeska realizes any movement she might have made would have gone unnoticed. Zasho, in all his glory, acted with speed and power she had rarely seen. With one motion of his hand the nurse sitting at the side of the room was no more, a thin beam of energy lancing through her slender neck, ending her life without her making a sound. To his credit the guard alongside the King begins to react, fulfilling his duty to the best of his ability. Unluckily for him he was up against the Saiyan Prince, a glimmer blast from Zasho’s other hand slamming into the warrior’s chest. With a death much more brutal than the nurses the Saiyan slumps to the ground, blood quickly beginning to pool around him.
As the one she was sworn to serve arrives at his father’s bedside Jeska exhales, not realizing she had held her breath for the last couple seconds. At this point it was obvious what was in motion, his previous statement now making perfect sense. Even after that display the King, in the last moments of his rule, insults Zasho. As he claimed there was another heir…on Earth of all places. Jeska wonders at the validity of the words. Most dying men or whose time would soon be up said anything to comfort themselves in their final moments. Still, the comment was something she took note of in case it proved true.
Next to the door Jeska looks to Zasho as he turns to regard her. ”Kill him.” Being ordered to kill a King was something most might hesitate to respond to, many would probably even reject the order. Not Jeska Ketsu. Sworn to Zasho I the retainer owed loyalty to him, not his father. To reject an order, even one such as this was against everything she had been raised to do. Without a word her arms unfold from behind her back as she calmly walks towards the King’s bed. ”I want to see the life leave his eyes!” The order was simple enough despite the magnitude of the act she was about to commit.
Stepping up along the edge of the bed she lifts her right leg so that her knee can slide onto the bed. Leaning in over the Kings left side her right hand reaches out, grabbing onto the sickly Saiyan’s throat. Without hesitation she starts to squeeze, her powerful grip quick to cut off the air supply to his already struggling lungs. Jeska’s grip tightened just enough to block off his air without crushing his windpipe. Zasho had wanted to see the life leave his father’s eyes and that is what he would get.
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Post by Hiruen on Jan 15, 2014 1:52:19 GMT
A hardened stare. There was no delight in the eyes of the man, and the light of battle had faded from his dark hues. Zasho Koregutsu had simply watched the woman cross the room without question or statement before she straddled the side of the bed and pressed her hand to the throat of the crown, removing the man already departing from the world of the living. It was done, the jewel of Vegeta chained 'round his muscular neck, his father finished. With a collected movement, the offspring of the dead one closed the empty eyes with a swipe of his hand.
“My father was dead before we arrived,” Zasho began, formulating their defense against any inquisition. “Honuk and the nurse said nothing as we entered the room, instead, they immediately attacked me. The guard struck me and I stumbled, and you killed the nurse as she prepared an energy attack. . .”
The Saiyan thought for a moment before setting his eyes fully upon the Saiyaness whom had proven her loyalty far beyond spoken oath in moments.
“Honuk had collected himself and turned towards you. I feigned disorientation, but killed the man with my Big Bang Attack while his sights were set elsewhere,” and by this time, Zasho had stepped over to Honuk and removed the scouter from his possession. With the push of a button and a finger over his lips for silence, Zasho began to speak again.
“This is King Zasho Koregutsu II. . .there has been an assassination attempt and myself and Jeska Ketsu are in need of assistance.”
The new ruler of the Saiyan race paced quickly to Jeska, standing within arm's reach as he lifted his chin and gave the final order of the day, for officers would certainly debrief his retainer and the nobles would have their own question for their new king. “Punch me.”
The tall Saiyan winked to affirm his request, “Do it,” for if Honuk had struck him, evidence would be required.
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Jeska Ketsu
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Post by Jeska Ketsu on Jan 15, 2014 3:20:11 GMT
As the King’s body finally became still, his weak struggling nothing compared to her current strength, she looks to the deceased man’s heir. With that short, brutal action Zasho I was indisputably King of the Saiyan race. Sliding her leg off the bed she looks to her commander, listening intently to his words. An alibi was definitely needed or the two of them would be executed quickly for what they had just done, Prince or not.
She was the one that had killed the nurse, fine; it had to be done by one of them. Truth be told Zasho could have pinned all of this on her, still getting his throne with none of the blame coming his way and she would not say a word. What many might consider stupidity she called loyalty. As the King pauses his eyes then focusing on her Jeska’s do not flinch, her calm orbs locking with his.
The explanation was viable especially coming from the new King himself. Watching Zasho remove the scouter and contact the royal guard she remains quiet, allowing him to deliver the false report that would send events in motion leading to his official coronation as King. With the assistance call sent the taller Saiyan makes his way over to her, tilting his chin up. Even before he spoke the words she knew what they were going to be. If part of the story was the guard striking him then evidence was needed to support the claim. The wink was unexpected though, the females eying for a moment after it before again doing as she was told.
”My apologies, Your Grace.” Balling her right hand into a fist Jeska prepares to do something she had never thought she would ever do, strike Zasho Koregutsu I. With the speed expected of someone with her power the retainers arm snaps up, her gloved fist driving hard into his jaw. Knowing now that the King’s signature read slightly above hers she expected him to at least stumble from the force of the blow.
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Zucceta
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Post by Zucceta on Jan 20, 2014 18:49:04 GMT
(Pre-finish grade for tournament - 2480 PL for ordering patricide for our new king,
2280 for our retainer committing said heinous act.
Feel free to continue, just a 'top-up' if Zasho wishes to start his fights)
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