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Vengeance; Quest
Topic Started: Aug 13 2016, 06:20 PM (289 Views)
Brooolliii
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Vengeance

Location: Earth

Difficulty: Easy

Description:

Tatsu Markil was once a great martial artist... until a rival clan lead by Crin Blackheart killed him, that is. They feared he would win the national tournament and take away their glory as he did the year previous. Jenna Markil, Tatsu's wife, has hired you to hunt down the Blackheart Clan and kill them all in cold blooded vengeance. Will you do as she asks, or will you find a more peaceful alternative?

Reward: +300 zeni, +2 DP, +20 all stats, +2 rp Credits

Bonus: -2 Alignment for killing the clan


Mid-morning sunlight bled through a paper-thin blanket of clouds. Wind soughed through a stretch of conifer trees, wide swathes of forest that swayed in response. The sun was hanging up there like an electrified orange, as if idle in the steady climb to its zenith. The toothy face of a mountain spanned the northern horizon, the thick pinnacles' true size revealing itself as Broli approached, mounting the air in his cloak of power. A squat establishment of concrete roads and sky-high buildings appeared between the ragged sierra, strewn with the same insignificant earthlings that were often found elsewhere.

Their, as well as the entire planet's, time would come, as all would soon know. Notwithstanding, he had come here for another cause.

His destination was located someplace in the mountains themselves, an abode harboring an entity that awaited his arrival. Broli never met this human being, but she'd contacted him, made with him a deal. Indeed, the Saiyan worked with no-one, but if there was any reason he accepted the bargain, it was that they both sought one thing; retribution. Zeni, of course, was an included commodity, but Broli couldn't care less about money; it was not a medium he'd grown terribly accustomed to during his early days. However, he knew it was needed, if he would survive on this alien planet. Regardless, the deal explicitly mentioned that someone had elected themselves a death sentence, and that he would play the executioner.

A vague projection in the forest floor suddenly snared the Saiyan's attention. He paused in midair, eyeing the hump that slowly raised his suspicions. Something about it was intriguing, and he wanted to know what. 'Approach!' - his subconscious would then scream.

And approach he did, as he now stood paces from the earthen structure, inspecting it closely. He then pressed a hand against its gritty surface, watched as fine dust seeped from its curvature, forming heaps of the powder underfoot. This structure was artificial, that much he'd realized. The question lay in how it functioned, and who he would find inside.

In answer, a portion of the hump faltered, cracks suddenly crisscrossing one another. Broli noted the web-like pattern was confined by what looked like a door's outline. Then the structure moaned, as the pattern quickly crumbled in a puff of dust. As the cloud cleared, a set of stairs appeared, leading into a darkness below.

"Enter," a voice said from within.
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Brooolliii
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Broli's frown was dubious as he gazed down the shadowed staircase. But then he realized that if this were indeed the contract owner's base, she - as the voice that had just spoken attested - was wise. Prudence was an absolute requisite when planning acts of extermination, and a hidden base was a form of many undoubtedly taken by the hidden owner. The Saiyan managed to calm his racing mind, taking the set of stairs into the underlying darkness. Broli could see nothing, but took a step forward nonetheless.

A sudden array of lamps blinded him momentarily as a strong white light punched through the gloom. The Saiyan grunted, knit his brows in annoyance. As let his eyes adjust, he found himself staring at the washed out tiled flooring. Plain walls surrounded him on all sides, the entrance seemingly shut as quickly as it had opened. His black-eyed gaze then followed the floor that went on ahead, halted as it held the weathered face of an aging woman standing behind a table.

The one behind it all.

Broli's shadow crept along as he approached, his full height putting him feet above the owner. Writings, maps, and drawings were spread out on the tabletop. A single chair against the back wall was the only object other than her study. Markil's face folded in a smile. "Greetings."

"Let's cut to the chase, woman," Broli sneered. "Tell me who you want dead."

The woman's face twisted sourly, turned to study the documents it had been holding for so long. Markil sighed under her breath. "Crin Blackheart," was her blunt answer. "And the rest of the odious dogs in his filthy clan. Slay them. All of them. Spare no-one," she hissed, an old bitterness edging her voice.

Broli had longed for a good fight since his arrival, and now one awaited him, which was all but a few hours away. The woman's words had stirred a wild feeling in him again. Soon, his everlasting bloodlust would be quenched by taking these people's lives.

"You'll find their headquarters on a few isles out in the ocean, due west. This is the clan's insignia. It's everywhere in their camp," she gestured toward a drawing, one depicting a gauntleted hand holding a lacquer-black heart. Broli found the drawing interesting. The crest, he realized, held a grim finality, and through it he knew his would not be an easy battle. Markil sighed. "Find me here when the job's done."

The Saiyan said nothing, turned on his heel as he moved to the entrance, then paused. He looked back over one shoulder and rasped, "My money better be ready when I return."

"Don't worry, big guy," Markil said, her tone suddenly merry. "It will."
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Frothing seawater coursed over sandy shores, the coastline's length basking in the afternoon sunlight. Groves of palm trees littered the foreshore in packed clusters, small green spots stippling the golden strip below. Broli's hair flickered in the wind, which thrummed in his ears as he studied the instant vicinity. His journey thus far had been an uneventful one, yet his patience held. He knew that the clan's headquarters would soon show, and his skin prickled to that thought.

He did not care about their numbers. In fact, the more scores they comprised the better; his desire only thrived on those who died by his hand--which applied to ever hapless weaklings.

A distant archipelago entered his view, a group of islands bundled together a few miles off the mainland. Hill-high flagpoles were erected from their respective isle, the tallest located on the most prominent one. The flags bore, of course, precisely the same insignia Markil had shown him.

Broli could make out scores of people clad in black, spots riddling the settled parcels. The entirety of this he would gladly reduce to ashes.

But he only bit back the temptation. Some fun was not a concept lost on the Saiyan, and before dying, these wretches would provide every bit of entertainment there was. The warrior silently hovered down to alight on the nearest island. Here was where he would start working his way to his target.

Landing on bent knees, Broli straightened to his full height, a frown plastered on his face. Heads slowly turned. He could count a dozen or so Blackhearts in the immediate vicinity, most in separated groups that had been idly standing in conversation. Silence followed as eyes regarded the huge warrior.

From the assembled clan members one man edged forward, his stern gaze unwavering on Broli, who had not so much as moved a muscle since he'd had arrived. Nonetheless, the Saiyan managed to survey his surroundings, dictate each person's power level. None, he reckoned, would pose much of a challenge. None except Crin, that is.
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A whispering breeze swept across the space between them, kicking up rising tendrils of dust to haze the clear air. Waves of the sea softly broke against the stony edge of the isle behind him, dampening his boots with their touch. Broli had estimated the man was a high-ranking member in the clan, perhaps a second-in-command. The silence broke at his words. "Who are you and why are you here?" he demanded.

Broli was motionless, said nothing.

There was a pause, then, "If you're not going to speak up, I can let our boys do a check-up on you, see if you have a tongue." The man's expression showed annoyance, then empty haughtiness. "Maybe pull it out while they're at it," he croaked. "So you going to speak up or what?"

"And ruin the growing suspense?" Broli rasped, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

Whatever surprise that appeared in the man's face was fleeting, for his face folded again in a proud grin. "So you can talk, after all," he said. "Now, are you going to answer my questions, or would you like us to go straight to the killing?"

Broli barked in laughter, shoulders heaving. He looked over at the now vexed man, said, "You want to kill me? Go ahead. I want to see you try."

Tuts of pique, and confusion both, sounded from the watchful crowd. Hissing in frustration, the man's brows furrowed as he gestured for the men behind him. "What the hell're you waiting for? Attack!"

The Saiyan heaved a chuckle as the group hesitantly inched forward, then launched itself into a jogging pace. Broli was nailed to the spot as the line of black grew larger, his arms half-raised at the elbows. Zeal grew like a fire in his core as he readied his knuckles for some wear.

The black-clad fighters rushed him. Fear was a significant undercurrent in their thunderous roars, and it only fed the Saiyan's confidence, as it always had. He strode forward, kicked himself into a jog, then a sprint. A heartbeat later he was among the clan members.

Broli attacked like a predator. Each of his blows fell one man after the other. The weaklings were no match; bones shattered, and bodies crumbled, as blood-curdling screams filled the air. Human blood ran rampant, staining his bare torso in the midst of the slaughter. Within a minute, the whole group had expired, their bodies centering the one man they'd wanted dead.

The Saiyan spared a glance at the group leader. Who was on his knees, the white of his eyes widening in disbelief.

Broli raised one arm, opened his palm and aimed.

A gasp escaped the man, then a cry, watching energy as it sheathed Broli's hand in a glowing, green orb. The Saiyan's ki whistled.

Devoid of expression, the man's face suddenly turned deadpan as he gauged the propinquity of his doom. His eyes held no emotion, they simply stared into space.

Broli tensed.

The energy ball vanished from his grasp, met the man's chest a moment later and exploded. The blast's force rocked the earth underfoot, a puff of smoke billowing at the spot. He could feel the heat of the burst against his bared skin. The cloud settled. Where the ball had exploded the ground was furrowed by the blast, and in its center the man lay face-downwards. He was charred to the bone.

Broli's unyielding smirk was quickly wiped off; he could feel it, a slow tear in the thin veil of his sanity. The warrior clenched his jaw. Somehow he still held, struggling as he barely kept the monster inside him in check.

Shouts rose in the distance.

More. He wanted more.
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The air had turned foul, and the final scream was cut short, ended swiftly. Death's rancid stench commanded the Blackheart isles, the battlefield that had been their establishment now scarred by ki-blasted craters and rising columns of smoke. The setting sun glared down on the homicide like a judging eye, and the stillness that had enveloped the place was all but a mausoleum's. What only remained was the clan's shattered pride.

Or lack thereof, as Crin Blackheart would think.

Skeletal, and raw, were the conjoined homes of the clan; some had been perforated with gaping holes, barely holding on weakened foundations; others had been simply flattened, reduced to nothing but debris. One however had remained doubly untouched, and Broli's ultimate target was within. Crin Blackheart had avoided facing his assassin-to-be, hoping his now late kindred would solve the inevitable. He had lost his clan, and would soon expire in the Saiyan's ever-strengthening grasp.

Standing in the middle of an exposed necropolis, Broli twisted and met the lone house with a blood-stained smirk. Soil crunched under the tall warrior as he strode forward. The man's ki signature puckered his senses, and he was drawn to it like a moth to light.

The front-door opened. Rusty hinges creaked as a short, round figure stepped out. Blackheart ambled to the edge of his house's veranda, the tip of his boots hovering off the first half-moon step. His bald pate slick with sweat, the man's eyes surveyed the scene, met the Saiyan's, then paused and narrowed.

Broli grinned.

"You know, Saiyan," the man croaked, no emotion edging his voice whatsoever, "I expected you'd come. I knew who hired you, and I also knew my clan would stand no chance... but this--" he paused as as he stood atop the last step-- "I didn't think we would be facing a monster. You killed my sons, my relatives--my whole family. My entire bloodline--you left no-one. You will pay in blood. Do you understand?"

"Empty promises are worthless to me, little man," the Saiyan said, his voice the sound of scraping gravel. Heels planted firmly in the ground, Broli raised both arms next to him. "Go ahead. Give it your best shot."

Crin's expression darkened. "With pleasure…" Dropping into an alien stance, he balled his fists, a vindictive scowl creeping into his features. The air quickly stilled.

"Won't you power up?" Broli sneered.

The leader tensed a moment, then pushed into the steps in an explosion of power. The stairs burst under the force as Crin suddenly filled Broli's view, a duke heartbeats from meeting his face.

Bringing one hand up, Broli caught the blow a hairbreadth off, grunted as he felt a jolt ripple through his arm. He pressed on the bony appendage in his hand with all his force. Fingers shattered.

Crin stifled a scream as he flung a second blow, which stroke true this time. Broli reeled back, a pulsing pain in his jaw. The Saiyan tasted blood as he quickly planted his free hand into the earth, used the new-found leverage and thrust his conjoined feet against Crin's gaunt chest.

The folds on the man's face literally thrummed from the blow, and a heartbeat later his entire body flew into the brick wall of his house, crashing it.

Broli knew Crin was only warming up, and would shrug off a broken finger or two--and that concerned even him. If he gave him the chance to power up, killing the Blackheart leader would become much more arduous.

And he could not allow this; Crin Blackheart had to die now.

The warrior blithely hovered to the house's wreckage, fumbled through the debris until he felt cloth. He pulled on the fabric and lifted a bloodied Crin, frowned as the old man eyed him with weakened smirk. He had not yet recovered. Now was Broli's chance.

The man cowered slightly as the Saiyan leaned in, and murmured: "Die."

Seeing the fear ripping through him, Broli grunted as he turned with the weight in his hand, spun on his heel. With enough momentum, he flung the body skyward with all his might. He looked up. Crin's form was shrinking quickly against the night sky.

Broli raised his hand, and took aim.

Ki exploded from his palm, an energy wave thrusting itself forth in pursuit of its target. The wave thundered through the dusk sky.

The wave reached Crin. A few moments was all it took; an explosion of energy that lit the firmament, and Crin Blackheart's disappearance in a descending sluice of ash.

The ki wave dissipated.

Singly being the last man standing, Broli scowled as he let his arm droop next to him. He gazed over at the results of his handiwork; twenty-seven people had fallen dead at his feet, and he could only find joy in this slaughter. The Blackheart clan was now extinct.

His screams however could only stir the air, as he spewed his inner rage and insanity. The Broli from a few years back would have transformed and pounded this waste of earth to dust. But now he had to earn back everything; someone had taken his powers, and he who wanted to know who. Regardless, he would start anew.

His reign had only begun.

The Saiyan of legend had returned.

-------

COMPLETE

T.W.C: 2693
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