Post by Vi-Poi on Apr 1, 2015 3:23:29 GMT
(Heavy Weights On)
(Thread PL: 1,226,412 (With Weights: 306,603))
(Power Suppressed to 7,000)
(OOC Note: Any BBAer who wishes to be part of the delegation may simply RP themselves in. Please note that I will be leaving the thread within my next response or so and -may- be coming back in later to do some politicking before leaving, but you can always continue on and create NPCs/events here as desired. Just please try not to start an interplanetary incident XD This is to simply set the scene for when Vi-Poi enters the Wastelands, and the ATR. Anyone is also welcome to join him on that, though he will end up in the Destron Crags where those with lungs will probably want to bring gas masks XD This is the start of one of Vi-Poi's personal story arcs, where he is hunting ancient Tuffle tech he has only heard legend of.)
Vi-Poi had landed in Big Blu’s largest littoral shuttle in the midst of Cacumber Capital. The bay doors of the shuttle slowly opened like a mechanical maw, the lower door doubling as a ramp as it slowly arced downward. The pink sky of Vegeta was slowly exposed as the door swung out. Vi-Poi was at the head of the small procession, wearing his slender and dark Dimhault armor.
The ten times gravitational pull of the planet compared to Earth felt like nothing to him, but to those in his delegation might be feeling the effects differently. To the weakest, it would be absolutely crushing, even fatal, and so only Vi-Poi’s seasoned ki-sensitives were brought with him.
After relaying to those in the shuttle not to commit violence in Cacumber Capital for any reason, Vi-Poi descended onto a bone-white landing pad.
The delegation was met by a group of curious and wary Saiya-jin. They’d heard of the Earthlings, even had long-range dealings with them via an Ambassador, but this was the only time in their memories that a large Earthling delegation had arrived on their planet.
Vi-Poi paused a foot away from one, who was unmistakably the leader. He wore a long purple cloak, and his battle armor was burnished until Vi-Poi could see his own reflection in the pearly white shell. The small and scrawny blue-haired android had crane his neck back to look up into the tall and burly leader’s intense black eyes. There was no fear there, only the surety that came with command.
VI-Poi’s built-in scouter rang in a number:
Impressive by Saiyan standards, but the leader would be a mere trifling annoyance to Vi-Poi.
“I am Virtual Poi.” The android said in Universal, raising a hand slowly in greeting. He did not break the leader’s gaze. “Please call me Vi-Poi. And we represent Blue Banner, and the interests of Earth. We come in peace -- to explore your world, as you have explored our own.”
The two met eyes for several seconds, neither budging. It had all the feeling of a tense standoff. Vegetan warships circled high overhead, like buzzards awaiting the leavings of a battle.
Eventually though, the Saiyan grunted and raised a hand in ceremonious response, twisting his mouth before responding. “I’m Viceroy Mustad. The Palace sends their regrets, but the royals were unable to attend.” He said coarsely. He had thick ki-burn scars that twisted around his muscled neck. He focused his scouter on Vi-Poi, and glowered at the numbers. “Seven thousand. Not bad, but our best soldiers top that.” He grumbled, glaring at Vi-Poi suspiciously.
“I am sure they do.” Vi-Poi said diplomatically, before he leaned to the side and peered down the line of assembled Saiya-jin. All of them were armored, some even with energy cannons on their arms. They had expected a fight, it seems. Vi-Poi would be happy to disappoint them.
The Saiyans paired off with those who’d joined Vi-Poi as a sort of honor guard, he supposed, though he was certain that the guard part of that equation held more import here. The Viceroy himself had all the look of a jailer about him – more warrior than diplomat. The Saiyan warriors around him were little different, some wearing eyepatches, others, mechanical braces to aide ruined limbs. Their Imperial expansion had been built on these wounds, on an entire generational system of brutal and pitiless work to advance the common cause. Vi-Poi held a certain admiration for that ethos. An inexorable grind was difficult to maintain, but carried with it certain payoffs.
Vi-Poi’s stealth taps into Vegeta’s computer network showed that Viceroy Mustad had grown up on the seedy side of the Radittsu District – Cacumber Capitol’s slum -- and had earned the esteemed position through merit, and not bloodlines. It meant that the Viceroy was no fool, and that he was dangerous, ambitious.
“I’ve an interest in seeing the Tuffle ruins. I hear they are extensive.” Vi-Poi said softly. The android’s sharp eyes could almost detect the hairs standing on the end of the Viceroy’s neck after that statement.
“The Tuffles?” The Saiyan asked gruffly, but made no direct response. Instead, he brought up something else entirely. “Our spies say your organization doesn’t like us Saiya-jin.” The man garbled, shooting Vi-Poi a half glare.
They were lead into the Palace, a grand and domed structure, and ushered quickly into a smaller wing.
Vi-Poi took several moments before he responded. “That is a strange thing to hear, as our organization has Saiyans in its ranks.” He said neutrally.
Viceroy Mustad grunted in response, and with a hurrying burst of kiai from his hand, opened the double doors unceremoniously before them. “Yeah, well, there’s your quarters. Don’t expect red carpet treatment while you’re here. Your presence is tolerated. For now.”
With that, the Viceroy turned on his heels, violet cape snapping behind him.
“Viceroy?” Vi-Poi called.
The tall Saiyan froze, and Vi-Poi could see his white-gloved fist clenching.
“What of the ruins? Are we permitted to explore?” Vi-Poi asked.
The Viceroy responded without turning to face Vi-Poi. “All that’s there is death. But you’re welcome to find it.” He growled, before stomping off, cape fluttering.
“Well…” Vi-Poi said, turning to those who came down the wing with him. “That went better than expected.”
Vi-Poi would be leaving for the wilds, soon. The wastelands were a brutal, war-scorched place, roamed by predators that had evolved under the harshest of conditions. There he would be seeking out the largest ruin, the old Tuffle capital, which Big Blu’s forward scans had shown was in the north, near the old glacial runs. The stealth taps in his computer noted that there were radioactive leaks all over the city ruins from old Tuffle fission reactors still bleeding after two thousand years, and that further into the ribbon-like network of cities that had once thrived on this sphere.
The technology he sought would no doubt be found in the deepest and darkest corners of this shattered world.
(Thread PL: 1,226,412 (With Weights: 306,603))
(Power Suppressed to 7,000)
(OOC Note: Any BBAer who wishes to be part of the delegation may simply RP themselves in. Please note that I will be leaving the thread within my next response or so and -may- be coming back in later to do some politicking before leaving, but you can always continue on and create NPCs/events here as desired. Just please try not to start an interplanetary incident XD This is to simply set the scene for when Vi-Poi enters the Wastelands, and the ATR. Anyone is also welcome to join him on that, though he will end up in the Destron Crags where those with lungs will probably want to bring gas masks XD This is the start of one of Vi-Poi's personal story arcs, where he is hunting ancient Tuffle tech he has only heard legend of.)
Vi-Poi had landed in Big Blu’s largest littoral shuttle in the midst of Cacumber Capital. The bay doors of the shuttle slowly opened like a mechanical maw, the lower door doubling as a ramp as it slowly arced downward. The pink sky of Vegeta was slowly exposed as the door swung out. Vi-Poi was at the head of the small procession, wearing his slender and dark Dimhault armor.
The ten times gravitational pull of the planet compared to Earth felt like nothing to him, but to those in his delegation might be feeling the effects differently. To the weakest, it would be absolutely crushing, even fatal, and so only Vi-Poi’s seasoned ki-sensitives were brought with him.
After relaying to those in the shuttle not to commit violence in Cacumber Capital for any reason, Vi-Poi descended onto a bone-white landing pad.
The delegation was met by a group of curious and wary Saiya-jin. They’d heard of the Earthlings, even had long-range dealings with them via an Ambassador, but this was the only time in their memories that a large Earthling delegation had arrived on their planet.
Vi-Poi paused a foot away from one, who was unmistakably the leader. He wore a long purple cloak, and his battle armor was burnished until Vi-Poi could see his own reflection in the pearly white shell. The small and scrawny blue-haired android had crane his neck back to look up into the tall and burly leader’s intense black eyes. There was no fear there, only the surety that came with command.
VI-Poi’s built-in scouter rang in a number:
>(35,000)<
Impressive by Saiyan standards, but the leader would be a mere trifling annoyance to Vi-Poi.
“I am Virtual Poi.” The android said in Universal, raising a hand slowly in greeting. He did not break the leader’s gaze. “Please call me Vi-Poi. And we represent Blue Banner, and the interests of Earth. We come in peace -- to explore your world, as you have explored our own.”
The two met eyes for several seconds, neither budging. It had all the feeling of a tense standoff. Vegetan warships circled high overhead, like buzzards awaiting the leavings of a battle.
Eventually though, the Saiyan grunted and raised a hand in ceremonious response, twisting his mouth before responding. “I’m Viceroy Mustad. The Palace sends their regrets, but the royals were unable to attend.” He said coarsely. He had thick ki-burn scars that twisted around his muscled neck. He focused his scouter on Vi-Poi, and glowered at the numbers. “Seven thousand. Not bad, but our best soldiers top that.” He grumbled, glaring at Vi-Poi suspiciously.
“I am sure they do.” Vi-Poi said diplomatically, before he leaned to the side and peered down the line of assembled Saiya-jin. All of them were armored, some even with energy cannons on their arms. They had expected a fight, it seems. Vi-Poi would be happy to disappoint them.
The Saiyans paired off with those who’d joined Vi-Poi as a sort of honor guard, he supposed, though he was certain that the guard part of that equation held more import here. The Viceroy himself had all the look of a jailer about him – more warrior than diplomat. The Saiyan warriors around him were little different, some wearing eyepatches, others, mechanical braces to aide ruined limbs. Their Imperial expansion had been built on these wounds, on an entire generational system of brutal and pitiless work to advance the common cause. Vi-Poi held a certain admiration for that ethos. An inexorable grind was difficult to maintain, but carried with it certain payoffs.
Vi-Poi’s stealth taps into Vegeta’s computer network showed that Viceroy Mustad had grown up on the seedy side of the Radittsu District – Cacumber Capitol’s slum -- and had earned the esteemed position through merit, and not bloodlines. It meant that the Viceroy was no fool, and that he was dangerous, ambitious.
“I’ve an interest in seeing the Tuffle ruins. I hear they are extensive.” Vi-Poi said softly. The android’s sharp eyes could almost detect the hairs standing on the end of the Viceroy’s neck after that statement.
“The Tuffles?” The Saiyan asked gruffly, but made no direct response. Instead, he brought up something else entirely. “Our spies say your organization doesn’t like us Saiya-jin.” The man garbled, shooting Vi-Poi a half glare.
They were lead into the Palace, a grand and domed structure, and ushered quickly into a smaller wing.
Vi-Poi took several moments before he responded. “That is a strange thing to hear, as our organization has Saiyans in its ranks.” He said neutrally.
Viceroy Mustad grunted in response, and with a hurrying burst of kiai from his hand, opened the double doors unceremoniously before them. “Yeah, well, there’s your quarters. Don’t expect red carpet treatment while you’re here. Your presence is tolerated. For now.”
With that, the Viceroy turned on his heels, violet cape snapping behind him.
“Viceroy?” Vi-Poi called.
The tall Saiyan froze, and Vi-Poi could see his white-gloved fist clenching.
“What of the ruins? Are we permitted to explore?” Vi-Poi asked.
The Viceroy responded without turning to face Vi-Poi. “All that’s there is death. But you’re welcome to find it.” He growled, before stomping off, cape fluttering.
“Well…” Vi-Poi said, turning to those who came down the wing with him. “That went better than expected.”
Vi-Poi would be leaving for the wilds, soon. The wastelands were a brutal, war-scorched place, roamed by predators that had evolved under the harshest of conditions. There he would be seeking out the largest ruin, the old Tuffle capital, which Big Blu’s forward scans had shown was in the north, near the old glacial runs. The stealth taps in his computer noted that there were radioactive leaks all over the city ruins from old Tuffle fission reactors still bleeding after two thousand years, and that further into the ribbon-like network of cities that had once thrived on this sphere.
The technology he sought would no doubt be found in the deepest and darkest corners of this shattered world.