Post by Kashū on Jan 14, 2014 8:13:01 GMT
A memory...
He stood amidst the carnage and the chaos of a battle long fought. Plumes of smoke stifled the lungs of all those savage souls who still stood to survey the damage their advance had wrought, and the flames yet spread over emptied homes and fallen trees. He could hear them still, crying out for mercy or shouting out in rage. There were some in the distance who still fought on. There were some simply burned into his mind, that he might always remember the tone of their fearful or wrathful voices. A stream of blood trickled down from his hair. The searing pain in his forehead indicated that it was his own, but if he was truthful, he couldn't be sure. He was certain of only one thing in that moment.
He had won.
He was still breathing even as the smoke and the ash and the wretched stench of burning flesh made every effort to suffocate him. He could still feel the heat against his raw skin. He could still feel the sheer power coursing through his veins. He was alive, and that meant he had won. Another victory for the Saiyan Solar Empire. Another victory for the Red Lion of Vegeta. Just another notch on the ever-expanding belt of that fierce Elite whose name was spreading through the ranks even then. The appellation they'd unceremoniously bestowed upon him was fitting, he figured, but he was not attached to it; Kashū was the name he'd been given at birth, and it was the name that his people would learn to respect. Someone had to hold their respect. The heir apparent certainly could not.
He turned his head at the sound of others moving in on him. Fellow Saiyans, he saw, bearing some spoils from this, their latest conquest. He narrowed his eyes. They wasted their time gathering these trinkets, which would surely be taken from them by their superiors before they left the planet. It mattered not to him; they, too, were alive, and they could do as they pleased with their victory so long as they promised greater gains for the Empire.
"Grab what you will, and be quick about it," said the boy of thirteen. He turned his eyes to the blood red sky and watched purple clouds drifting by. He couldn't remember now if the sky had been that way since they'd arrived, or if the flames of war had tinted it. He hoped the former; it was a rather fitting environment for those who reigned in blood. "This world belongs to the Empire now. Make ready for the arrival of Inquisitors."
A journey...
Four months. That was how long it was going to take him to get to Earth, the planet that had somehow earned something of a reputation as the intergalactic neutral ground. It was four months to long as far as he was concerned, but there was nothing that could be done; as far as the transportation technology had come, it still had its limits. He bit his tongue and swallowed his anger just this once. He had to save it. He was going to need it.
The whelp was still alive, and worse yet, he was strong. So went the rumors, in any case, and the rumors were terribly persistent. The long-absent Prince of Saiyans had made his glorious return to Vegeta as the Empire's figurehead breathed his last, and none stood to challenge him when he claimed the crown. The notion made Kashū's blood boil. Where were the true warriors of the Saiyan Solar Empire? Where were the fierce defenders of the glory of their people? Where were the battle-tested souls truly worthy to reign over such a powerful force as the Saiyan armies?
Perhaps there were enough who were asking those very questions of him.
He'd been lost for too long in the thrill of conquest, and time had gotten away from him. He had perhaps forgotten entirely that their king might fade, and he had certainly not considered that the puppy Prince might return so soon. He had hoped to be there for both events--to see the king off into the next world and to show his own father his might by challenging the heir for the right to rule. He'd missed that monumental opportunity, and he could not forgive himself for that.
But there was another chance. The conference. The tournament. The strongest of all the universe's governments would gather to compete there, ostensibly as a show of good will between empires. Kashū would surely go, for who but him could so effectively represent the battle prowess of the Saiyan race? More importantly, he knew that his old punching back would be present; he was king now, after all. Kashū would defeat them all. He would conquer the Humans, and he would conquer the Arcosians. He would conquer the Namekians if they could bother to send a worthy warrior. And he would conquer the Saiyan King Zasho, for it was his destiny. Not just his own people, but all the peoples of the universe would behold his might, and then, surely then, the hunger that plagued him so--the hunger his father had passed on--might be satisfied.
"Ready my pod," he commanded, brushing past the technicians who had charted his course. "I must leave immediately."
"Lord Kashū, please" responded a beleaguered medic, clearly running on fumes. "You've only just returned from the battlefield, and your assignment here is not complete. To leave now is not just foolish on your part; it's tantamount to desertion!"
He had to respect the medics; they kept him going when piss and vinegar wasn't enough. He did not, however, have to take the challenge sitting down. "Was I unclear?" he seethed, clenching his fists in his effort to contain himself. "I must leave immediately. I will not sit by while a runt of my blood takes the reigns of this Empire when I alone have earned the right!"
"Lord Kashū..." The doctor found himself at a loss for words. It was the first time that Kashū had so openly expressed his treasonous desires, a truth that was only now dawning on him. The gaffe only made his irritation more intense, and his purpose ever clearer. He scoffed and averted his gaze, speaking through clenched teeth.
"Just ready my pod, or I will start crushing skulls until I come upon one who will see to the task. It will be done in half an hour."
The Red Lion stormed from the room, ignoring the shooting pain the lingered in his ribs. It would heal while he slumbered; four months was plenty of time.
A promise...
"So, this is Earth."
If the cities were all so massive, he would count himself impressed; the Earthlings had far more to their name than he had imagined such squishy beings might. He understood that they had an empire of their own, or perhaps had possessed one at some time in the past. If it still existed, he knew of not one planet under its sway besides the one upon which he now stood. Given how sensitive the Earthlings tended to be to any minor changes in their environment, it was no surprise that their colonization efforts were rather piss poor.
But, there was strength here. He would be a fool if he failed to acknowledge it altogether. Perhaps that strength might stand in his way, for there would no doubt be a score of Earthlings entering the tournament he meant to use as the launch point for the claim to his own people's throne. He had made it to the planet and gotten through the customs agents. All that remained now was to wait and prepare for the festivities to begin. King Koregutsu would arrive soon. He was sure of it.
"Come, little pup, come. My fists have missed your face."
He walked at a rather brisk pace toward the outskirts of the city, hoping to get free of its limits; chaos on the battlefield was cathartic, but the hustle and bustle of the overcrowded metropolis had begun to get to him quickly. He wasn't wholly sure how long it would be before the tournament began, but he knew that it was neither this day nor the next. That meant the wait would be far too long for his liking. He hoped he might find something to occupy his mind in the wilderness--some beast to conquer or some obstacle to crush. He knew well enough that visiting here meant tempering his instincts, lest he instigate a war with his actions. It was not his place to initiate a war with Earth. Not yet.
"I wonder how they would fare," he mused to himself. He could see no obvious warriors, but they must surely exist; history had shown attacks against Earth to be ultimately suicidal more often than not. The thought of the glorious battles that might arise were the Saiyan Solar Empire to clash with Earth's forces sent a chill down his spine and brought a smirk to his face. It was a notion he would have to keep tucked away for now. After all, this was to be a conference for peace.
And peace was terribly wonderful.
He stood amidst the carnage and the chaos of a battle long fought. Plumes of smoke stifled the lungs of all those savage souls who still stood to survey the damage their advance had wrought, and the flames yet spread over emptied homes and fallen trees. He could hear them still, crying out for mercy or shouting out in rage. There were some in the distance who still fought on. There were some simply burned into his mind, that he might always remember the tone of their fearful or wrathful voices. A stream of blood trickled down from his hair. The searing pain in his forehead indicated that it was his own, but if he was truthful, he couldn't be sure. He was certain of only one thing in that moment.
He had won.
He was still breathing even as the smoke and the ash and the wretched stench of burning flesh made every effort to suffocate him. He could still feel the heat against his raw skin. He could still feel the sheer power coursing through his veins. He was alive, and that meant he had won. Another victory for the Saiyan Solar Empire. Another victory for the Red Lion of Vegeta. Just another notch on the ever-expanding belt of that fierce Elite whose name was spreading through the ranks even then. The appellation they'd unceremoniously bestowed upon him was fitting, he figured, but he was not attached to it; Kashū was the name he'd been given at birth, and it was the name that his people would learn to respect. Someone had to hold their respect. The heir apparent certainly could not.
He turned his head at the sound of others moving in on him. Fellow Saiyans, he saw, bearing some spoils from this, their latest conquest. He narrowed his eyes. They wasted their time gathering these trinkets, which would surely be taken from them by their superiors before they left the planet. It mattered not to him; they, too, were alive, and they could do as they pleased with their victory so long as they promised greater gains for the Empire.
"Grab what you will, and be quick about it," said the boy of thirteen. He turned his eyes to the blood red sky and watched purple clouds drifting by. He couldn't remember now if the sky had been that way since they'd arrived, or if the flames of war had tinted it. He hoped the former; it was a rather fitting environment for those who reigned in blood. "This world belongs to the Empire now. Make ready for the arrival of Inquisitors."
A journey...
Four months. That was how long it was going to take him to get to Earth, the planet that had somehow earned something of a reputation as the intergalactic neutral ground. It was four months to long as far as he was concerned, but there was nothing that could be done; as far as the transportation technology had come, it still had its limits. He bit his tongue and swallowed his anger just this once. He had to save it. He was going to need it.
The whelp was still alive, and worse yet, he was strong. So went the rumors, in any case, and the rumors were terribly persistent. The long-absent Prince of Saiyans had made his glorious return to Vegeta as the Empire's figurehead breathed his last, and none stood to challenge him when he claimed the crown. The notion made Kashū's blood boil. Where were the true warriors of the Saiyan Solar Empire? Where were the fierce defenders of the glory of their people? Where were the battle-tested souls truly worthy to reign over such a powerful force as the Saiyan armies?
Perhaps there were enough who were asking those very questions of him.
He'd been lost for too long in the thrill of conquest, and time had gotten away from him. He had perhaps forgotten entirely that their king might fade, and he had certainly not considered that the puppy Prince might return so soon. He had hoped to be there for both events--to see the king off into the next world and to show his own father his might by challenging the heir for the right to rule. He'd missed that monumental opportunity, and he could not forgive himself for that.
But there was another chance. The conference. The tournament. The strongest of all the universe's governments would gather to compete there, ostensibly as a show of good will between empires. Kashū would surely go, for who but him could so effectively represent the battle prowess of the Saiyan race? More importantly, he knew that his old punching back would be present; he was king now, after all. Kashū would defeat them all. He would conquer the Humans, and he would conquer the Arcosians. He would conquer the Namekians if they could bother to send a worthy warrior. And he would conquer the Saiyan King Zasho, for it was his destiny. Not just his own people, but all the peoples of the universe would behold his might, and then, surely then, the hunger that plagued him so--the hunger his father had passed on--might be satisfied.
"Ready my pod," he commanded, brushing past the technicians who had charted his course. "I must leave immediately."
"Lord Kashū, please" responded a beleaguered medic, clearly running on fumes. "You've only just returned from the battlefield, and your assignment here is not complete. To leave now is not just foolish on your part; it's tantamount to desertion!"
He had to respect the medics; they kept him going when piss and vinegar wasn't enough. He did not, however, have to take the challenge sitting down. "Was I unclear?" he seethed, clenching his fists in his effort to contain himself. "I must leave immediately. I will not sit by while a runt of my blood takes the reigns of this Empire when I alone have earned the right!"
"Lord Kashū..." The doctor found himself at a loss for words. It was the first time that Kashū had so openly expressed his treasonous desires, a truth that was only now dawning on him. The gaffe only made his irritation more intense, and his purpose ever clearer. He scoffed and averted his gaze, speaking through clenched teeth.
"Just ready my pod, or I will start crushing skulls until I come upon one who will see to the task. It will be done in half an hour."
The Red Lion stormed from the room, ignoring the shooting pain the lingered in his ribs. It would heal while he slumbered; four months was plenty of time.
A promise...
"So, this is Earth."
If the cities were all so massive, he would count himself impressed; the Earthlings had far more to their name than he had imagined such squishy beings might. He understood that they had an empire of their own, or perhaps had possessed one at some time in the past. If it still existed, he knew of not one planet under its sway besides the one upon which he now stood. Given how sensitive the Earthlings tended to be to any minor changes in their environment, it was no surprise that their colonization efforts were rather piss poor.
But, there was strength here. He would be a fool if he failed to acknowledge it altogether. Perhaps that strength might stand in his way, for there would no doubt be a score of Earthlings entering the tournament he meant to use as the launch point for the claim to his own people's throne. He had made it to the planet and gotten through the customs agents. All that remained now was to wait and prepare for the festivities to begin. King Koregutsu would arrive soon. He was sure of it.
"Come, little pup, come. My fists have missed your face."
He walked at a rather brisk pace toward the outskirts of the city, hoping to get free of its limits; chaos on the battlefield was cathartic, but the hustle and bustle of the overcrowded metropolis had begun to get to him quickly. He wasn't wholly sure how long it would be before the tournament began, but he knew that it was neither this day nor the next. That meant the wait would be far too long for his liking. He hoped he might find something to occupy his mind in the wilderness--some beast to conquer or some obstacle to crush. He knew well enough that visiting here meant tempering his instincts, lest he instigate a war with his actions. It was not his place to initiate a war with Earth. Not yet.
"I wonder how they would fare," he mused to himself. He could see no obvious warriors, but they must surely exist; history had shown attacks against Earth to be ultimately suicidal more often than not. The thought of the glorious battles that might arise were the Saiyan Solar Empire to clash with Earth's forces sent a chill down his spine and brought a smirk to his face. It was a notion he would have to keep tucked away for now. After all, this was to be a conference for peace.
And peace was terribly wonderful.