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Cult of the Dragon (Epic Quest); Open To All That Qualify
Topic Started: Sep 5 2016, 04:21 PM (352 Views)
Bassolarr
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KING OF THE RING
Monitors
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Link: Quest, Thread
Participants: Bassolarr (10041), Tarble (1706) Total (11747),
Required: 10,000 + 500 per participant beyond the 1st (10,000 per person; solo)
(3500 minimum for two)(3667 minimum for three)(3834 minimum for four)
Passives: Adv2(+15%) (Bassolarr, Tarble),  Has Used the HBTC (Bassolarr), PS Gains (Tarble)


Quote:
 
The Cult of the Dragon

Difficulty: Epic

Description: The Cult of the Dragon is an old cult that has existed on Earth ever since the Dragonballs arrived here. As they refuse to utilize modern technology, due to a belief that the Dragon will provide everything they will ever need, they have never actually been able to find the Dragonballs. That is, until today.

Call it blind luck or fate, either way the Cult of the Dragon has discovered all 7 Dragonballs on top of Kami's Lookout. What's worse is that they have also discovered the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. By storing the Dragonballs inside of the chamber, they can effectively make a wish once every 24 hours. Whether you go inside and reclaim the Dragonballs, or you incapacitate all of the followers outside so they cannot make anymore wishes, you need to act soon!

Reward: +1,700 zeni, +8 DP, +3 SP, +140 all stats, +8 RPC

Bonus: If you've used the HBTC, Favor of the Dragon. For rescuing Shenron from a cycle of endless torment, he has given you a piece of him. These legendary gauntlets give you the appearance of having dragon claws. Three times per battle, can add CE: Slice to any physical combo and physical combos do +15% damage. Also adds +3% strength and speed. Cannot be stolen.
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Bassolarr
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KING OF THE RING
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"Earth? Why go there?" the massive warrior inquired, squinting down at the information tablet in his monstrous claws. He swore that whoever wrote on these things was the size of a mouse, forcing someone his size to strain the eyes just to get a good look at the statements upon its tiny screen. The information tablet had accompanied the presence of his new ship, though it was oddly devoid of a name or any designation that would lend itself to anything akin to a favored moniker. He and his growing force of men had been transferred to Station One-Eight-Four, a space station rather close to the Planet Trade Organization's territories and the Saiyan Empire's planets. For all the massive lizard-man had known, he was expecting to be sortied on a mission within the monkey's territories, but oddly enough, this just happened to be where his ship was being refit and restored for his own uses--no doubt one of the many strings that his boss, Praetor Frieza, had likely pulled in order to get him to this station and this new ship. If nothing else, it was as good of a place to meet to get his new digs and re-group with the fresh recruits that had been assigned to his unit. He still hadn't thought up of a good name for the circus of failures he had been given to try and whip them into something resembling fighting shape--but perhaps this new mission on the remote world of Earth would give him that opportunity.

The forces under his command had taken it upon themselves to take stock of the new ship and her armaments while their leader digested their new deployment orders. Apparently, they were to meet on a planet along the Neutral Zone--within the de-militarized zone, no less--and transport a group of Saiyan prisoners to their destination. The planet was called Earth, and all Bassolarr knew of it was the fact that several strong warriors had originated from there. Particularly, a group of fighters known as the 'Guardians of the Galaxy' had landed on Namek to make a mess of things with their operations, necessitating Bassolarr and Frieza to take matters into their own hands until the situation had been fully controlled. Even now, Bassolarr felt his blood boil a little just recalling them, and if travelling to Earth meant he would get the chance to fight them again, well... it was hardly an opportunity he could pass up. Between his assignments on Namek, Cactaylisma, and Damaskia, it was high time he found a challenge that was actually worth fighting against, rather than having to go up against some of these weakling snobs he had been faced with lately. Barely even worth the effort, some of them were.

"The planet itself is neutral, and the Saiyan Empire has stationed forces there to ensure there were no other uprisings of the Steel Legion--apparently, one of their leaders, Prince Vegeta, had taken it upon himself to determine whether or not the planet was capable of governing and protecting itself after the war. Of all the planets they had chosen not to colonize and bring into their fold, its odd that this planet, alone, was the exception to the normal Saiyan rule," another alien explained to the Brute. Fruitie was hardly an imposing figure, but he was incredibly intelligent, so he acted as a liaison for other PTO forces within the quadrant, handing out orders and explaining their missions in suitable detail. Standing beside one another, Bassolarr and Fruitie were practically worlds apart in terms of strength and size--but that did not seem to matter to the smaller alien who was explaining the situation as calmly and professionally as he could muster.

"In accordance with the Treaty signed two years ago, we have been allotted time to take stock of all the planets we have conquered and determine which captives of ours we can release to the Saiyan Empire in exchange for maintenance of the Neutral Zone, which allows our ships to travel unhindered to our western holdings--Namek and Kanassa, as you likely know, are pivotal worlds for our trade routes to the Damaskians, so its important we maintain the Neutral Zone by any means necessary," Fruitie went on, reading from his own tablet and no-doubt referencing various documents--some of which were highly classified. "The Saiyans have agreed to the prisoner transfer there, as well as a one-week shore leave for you and your forces. While the Saiyans have jurisdiction in the space surrounding the planet, once you land, you entire the domain of human laws and the like." The alien went on, knowing full well that the Koopa's grasp of written language was uncertain at best, not to mention he had a hard time reading the tiny scripts on the small tablet device his monstrous claws held. Job security or somesuch nonsense.

"How strong are they?" Came the obvious question from the Koopa King, more preoccupied with the chance of going up against a strong, competent opponent than any real drive to conduct business and be away from danger. Indeed, if that Chishan bloke or that Walid punk were on that planet, he could at least look forward to a right proper scrap instead of just standing around on that planet being bored out of his mind. The only way he was going to get stronger was if he went up against strong opponents as well--but his thoughts were interrupted by Fruitie rather quickly.

"The humans or the Saiyans? Well, the humans aren't worth talking about--their average power levels are barely above zero," the alien said, smirking as he looked over towards Bassolarr. "Honestly, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about the Saiyans either, as they know the diplomatic reasons for your visit there. But, if they do try to pick a fight, their average warriors fall between a thousand to roughly fifteen-thousand--hardly anything you should be concerned with anyway," Fruitie said, but a look of concern crossed his face after a moment of contemplation.

"Actually, we have received reports about incredibly powerful warriors there of late. For one, Prince Vegeta himself is overseeing the planet's development and processing, and he's one of the strongest fighters in the galaxy--second to our Lord Frieza, of course," the alien added rather quickly. "Additionally, we've gotten reports that Overlord Chishan, one of their generals, is on the planet as well, accompanied by a band of mercenaries, by the looks of things. Follow that up with Prince Vegeta's brother, Prince Tarble and his entourage, there's a lot of high-ranking Saiyan officers on the planet all said and told. I doubt anyone with power--and therefore, rank--would openly engage in hostilities, and anyone with the gumption to do so won't have the power level to really stand up against you and your men," the alien finished, nodding to himself as if satisfied with his own answer.

"Chishan? Yeah, I met him--lookin' to pay him some right proper payback," Bassolarr said to his aide bluntly, the Koopa King almost cracking and crushing the tablet in his grasp just thinking about it. He grit his teeth and growled in his throat for a moment before he shook his head, muttering something under his breath before Fruitie spoke up again.

"Conflict with any of the Saiyans is not advised, but considering the neutral territory, my superiors have assured me that it wouldn't precisely be illegal," Fruitie explained, trying to calm his superior down before he broke something. "The Quartermaster is taking an awful risk by transporting these savage prisoners to Earth, where we don't have the strongest of support, so if you do find yourself in a conflict, mobilizing reinforcements will be more than just a little difficult--and given your reputation, you probably wouldn't want any anyway," he said, trying to play on Bassolarr's pride, which worked just a little bit. "You're just there to deliver the prisoners, accept whatever prisoners they have, reconnoiter the planet for a report, then return after one week. See? Easy as pie for someone of your strength and trust-worthiness," Fruitie said with a bashful look on his face.

Bassolarr let out an angry sigh and nodded his head. "I won't promise nothin'," he said, glaring down at the tablet in his claws again before passing it back to Fruitie, "but I got it--be on my best behavior. But if anything bothers me but good, I ain't gonna hold back, y'hear?" Bassolarr threatened before turning and walking out of the office, more to make his way towards his ship and crew and get everything ready for their voyage to Earth. He would have to spend double the time they normally did for training just to get his sorry lot of warriors up to snuff--and even then, he doubted they would even want to fight--so he wasted no time in making his way towards the hangar bay, ducking under a few doors and scaffolding, muttering to himself the entire way. Leave it to a bunch of short wimps to build everything so tiny.

One his way there, he took a moment to think about the things that had led him to this point. Between his conscription into the Planet Trade Organization, the mission to Namek, and his friendly battle with the High Praetor Frieza, it was obvious that he needed to grow stronger in order to not only improve his standing within the Organization, but also to liberate his planet from a frost-hearted bitch of a Changeling. He honestly didn't care so much about the PTO itself--but if they were just another obstacle he had to conquer for his own goals, then whatever--he needed stronger opponents to face against anyway. So far, the only people he had fought against in this wide open galaxy that had any chance against him were four--Frieza (the commander of the PTO), Siberia (the Owner of his planet now), Chishan and Walid (two of those interlopers from Earth). If he wasn't allowed to fight on Earth, then why would he even bother accepting this mission in the first place? The chances of actually fighting someone strong were low, and the thought just irritated him even more.

Eventually, he found himself on the bridge of his ship, his troopers using the various computer terminals to quickly learn their jobs on the ship--from piloting, navigation, and sensor operation to engineering, weapons control, and environmental support. Everything needed to have at least four people that knew what was what, the difference between this and that, but that was hardly Bassolarr's job--his was just to lead and stomp faces but proper. He eased himself down into the all-too-small command chair, uncomfortably shifting in it for a moment before standing back up, his eyes looking across the deck with irritation and impatience. Everything about this ship bored him, though whether or not it was because he couldn't quite grasp the technology that kept everything running, it was hard to tell. He usually just smashed something he didn't understand, but this was supposed to be a present from the Praetor, so breaking it before it had even flown him to his first mission on it didn't seem right.

"What's our shove-off time?" He demanded, eliciting a flinch from everyone on the bridge, some of them pretending they hadn't heard him speak just so they wouldn't draw his ire--but of course, one of his troopers managed to summon the gumption to address him.

"B--Boss," the nervous trooper said, using a seat booster to see his terminal properly. "The crew is still learning their jobs on the ship--might be another couple of days or so to get everything sorted out before we can take off."

"Doesn't this hunk of metal have an auto-pilot function?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow at his minion, as if he had seen something splatter against the heel of his boot--not that he wore boots, his clawed feet were too large for most conventional forms of footwear. Instead, his uniform had been modified to a set of shin-plates and forearm-plates that protected his arms while his clawed fists and feet did the crumpin'. The armor was relatively the same, though it was a regular event that the armor couldn't contain his muscles very well, the protective pieces shattering off of his form whenever he decided to do more than just stretch and do light exercises. It didn't matter though--the armor was barely of any benefit to him in combat, since his body was just as tough when it came to resisting damage. Even so, he figured he cut an imposing figure between his size, physique, and uniform.

"Y--Yes, sir. Would you prefer we use that while everyone learns their tasks? We could probably be there within a week or so," the soldier said, as if dreading the consequences for some unseen slight. Bassolarr gave a grunt and nod of approval, as if that was the obvious course of action. He hated the idea of being stuck here for any amount of time longer when there was work to be done and training to be achieved.

"Right--let's do it then," Bassolarr ordered, and after a few moments, most of the ship functions were surrendered to the ship-board AI, who processed the orders and plotted a course to Earth after easing its way out of the docking bay of the space station. From there, it would just be a short while before they reached Earth--but in the meantime, it was time to train and train hard. His soldiers didn't take kindly to that announcement, but a couple of shouts later and they were begrudgingly eager to get to training as he was--for the most part. If he was going to get these hooligans up to snuff, they were going to be in for some unpleasant conditions, that was for certain.

WC: 2311
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Bassolarr
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KING OF THE RING
Monitors
The trip to Earth was uneventful, save for the shouts and chorus of training--and rigorous training at that. Bassolarr had taken it upon himself to put his soldiers through an unforgiving, if short, routine of combat drills and physical training, some of which was conducted in the brand new training facility that Frieza had teased him with back on the Righteous Fury, though Bassolarr had resisted the temptation to turn the gravity machine up any further than twice the power of normal gravity--and his troopers were struggling rather extensively just under that kind of weight whereas the Extreme King barely even felt the pressure at all. He felt the need to attend to his own training and skill development, realizing that twice normal gravity wasn't even considered a workout for him at this point, especially as he saw his warriors struggling just to move about. However, if what Fruitie had said concerning the state of the forces on planet Earth was truthful, he was hardly worried about his own performance--even though the chance of meeting someone that could be an actual challenge was present. Instead, he focused on the readiness of his troops, barking orders continuously like the harsh taskmaster he was known to be, much to the displeasure of his troopers as they sweated, swore, and generally labored within the training center and gravity chamber. With only a week to prepare, he decided to make the most of six of those days, pushing his men through brutal training regiments and trials in order to improve their combat abilities, while the seventh day would be dedicated to rest and recovery--though Bassolarr smirked to himself when he realized that the lot of them would probably be incredibly sore anyway from the rugged experience.

Naturally, however, his men were proving stubborn to improve (either through their collective laziness or general lack of drive to succeed), and most were completely failing at the challenges Bassolarr was convinced that any young Koopa would have been able to tackle with flawless abandon. At the end of each training session, he almost felt like he had just wasted his time and effort in trying to whip them into shape, but he hated the idea of just sitting around and doing nothing in the interim. His forces professed the need to learn their jobs on the ship, but Bassolarr wanted his men ready for real combat on the ground, rather than some levers and buttons. The ship could operate itself for a long duration, even when damaged, so it seemed like hardly a concern to the Dinosoid King as he kept pushing them harder and harder to keep up with their assigned training. Even so, it was almost boring to just jog around them under the heightened gravity and yell at them to do better, only for some of them to fall over or feign success. Some of them were even pretending to be unconscious, which a swift whip with his monstrous tail managed to correct on the double.

The frustration of trying to get this lot of failures up to snuff was mounting each and every day, forcing the King of the Ring to take his aggression out during his own training sessions while the rest of the crew were either asleep or tending to their ship duties. The Extreme King made it a point to crank the gravity systems as high as they could go, almost causing alarms to ring out from the extreme gravity. It felt liberating to actually be challenged by something after easily taking on so many opponents these last few months, not to mention it allowed him to release some of his internal aggression about his soldiers at the same time. Even so, the training still wasn't as extreme as he was perhaps hoping, but then again, there was only so much one could do while confined to the relatively fragile environment of a ship in the middle of outer space. He resorted to just performing muscular training at that point, making sure his body was at the highest point of shape he could muster, while his soldiers watched him work unbeknownst to the massive lizard. They knew he liked an audience, but it wasn't like any of them could really survive in that kind of environment.

On that sixth day, his troopers were thankful for the chance to relax, almost none of them reporting for their usual duties on the ship as the gross majority of them had passed out in the barracks due to either lack of sleep, energy, or both. Grumbling under his breath, the Koopa King did not begrudge them the chance to recover--they would need as much strength as possible for their days on Earth, just in case the Saiyans guarding the planet wanted more than just words--though in all honesty, he could likely take on whatever challenge that presented itself against him and his men. As diplomatic as this mission was, he was almost wishful for something negative to happen just to have an excuse to smash some heads. At any rate, Bassolarr took the time to do a light bout of training for himself, more to loosen his muscles and keep his personal energy up for the mission and days ahead. He was confident in his abilities, but damn him, he wasn't going to be caught unprepared for a scuffle. Even as he stretched and prepared himself for what was to come, he kept thinking about those warriors from before, the ones he had encountered on Namek, and swore if the chance presented itself, he was going to make up for what happened back there.

What had they been called? 'Guardians of the Galaxy' or somesuch nonsense. He didn't really care about (or for) the group name, but two of them struck out to him as particularly challenging--the monkey, Chishan, and that Avatar guy, Walid. Right now, he wanted nothing more than the chance to smash their faces in during real combat, something that would really test his abilities and force himself to improve, rather than just battles that amounted to a walk in the park. He hated not feeling challenged--it was like he was wasting his time on a fight that wouldn't matter. One way or the other, Bassolarr would pay them back for making a fool out of him, that was for certain.

Soon enough, the ship began its approach of the planet, signalling the local patrol the codes necessary to gain passage and land upon the planet. His men gathered around the viewing screen and holographic projections, remarking upon the beauty and relatively un-sullied nature of its environment. For the most part, the planet was lush with greens and blues, only a few mountainous peaks defining the rest of the landscape and giving a bit of diversity to an otherwise vibrant world. Bassolarr looked upon their destination with a brow raised, wondering what was so spectacular about it--it looked a little bit like his own home world, which only make him want to return there in earnest--but not until he had gotten much, much stronger in order to do so. The patrols themselves were stubborn at first, but the computer continued to re-iterate the codes and reason for visit, eventually allowing them passage from the checkpoint towards the planet itself.

"This trip better be worth it,' the Koopa King muttered under his breath before he looked towards his troopers, feeling both disdain at their lack of progress physically, but they were endearing to him all the same--probably because they put so much faith in him as their leader. Truth be told, he wasn't used to having so many people hang on his every word, even back on his home world, but he found the role exciting and took it in stride all the same. "Get ready, you lot--ship's about to get rumble-tumbled but good."

When the ship began its re-entry process, his soldiers took it upon themselves to strap in, some of them talking about what they would be doing on the world--other than their jobs, of course. If Bassolarr didn't know any better, he would have figured this lot hadn't actually volunteered to be part of the PTO to begin with, what with some of the plans they were trying to make, such as enjoying the food, beaches, and vaguely talking about getting laid. He rolled his eyes at their enthusiasm as he strapped himself into his own seat, grumbling at how small they made the damn things. None of them had a head for training, even after all those days of rugged training, which just spoke for their inability in terms of combat. He would whip them into shape one way or the other--somehow.

Eventually, the ship began to rumble and shake as it forced its way through the planet's magnetic sphere and atmosphere, monstrous forces at work against one another until the other succeeded, the ship finally breaking through and beginning its approach sequence towards the designated space port where the prisoner exchange would take place--and really, Bassolarr was eager to see this task done and over with so he could get to personal affairs on the planet. He wanted more than anything for this trip to actually be worth his time, and honestly, he was getting sick and tired of just being sent somewhere just because he had the right look about him. Intimidating people was just boring to the King of the Koopas--he wanted to fight someone actually worth his time, and if anything, this planet would be full of them. The only thing that worried him was how tightly everyone there was bound by this whole 'play nice' rule that was going around in the galaxy. He couldn't improve himself by fighting a bunch of weaklings, like all those thugs on Cactaylisma, those tournament fighters on Damaskia, or the tree farmers on Namek. It was like the galaxy was trying to keep him from improving his strength and--by extension--his lot in life. He wanted nothing more than to keep fighting, keep training, and keep winning. But that apparently would have to wait for another time, much to his annoyance.

Even as his men seemed nervous about the re-entry procedure, Bassolarr hardly seemed to give it any thought, focusing his thoughts on the upcoming events and motions. A whole week just to get to this planet, another week of recon and diplomacy, then back to Planet Trade Organization space to await their next mission. Taking advantage of the new training center that Frieza had outfitted the ship with had been an impressive ordeal, but it wasn't the training that he was looking forward to--it was the promise of an actual conflict that would be worth his time. As the ship began its automatic landing procedures, Bassolarr felt his muscles tighten on their own, a rumble in his chest and throat as he gave thought to those he might have a chance of facing off against.

"Those punks from Earth--what I wouldn't give to have them here, just waiting for us, so I could show them what for," he grumbled to himself as the ship finally signaled the alarm to disengage restraining harnesses and off-load their cargo and personnel. Showing up with so many warriors would likely be just as much of a display of strength as anything else--but Bassolarr didn't particularly care about their display--he only cared about how he would look in front of their enemies.

He figured he looked pretty damn good.

"Alright, nerds, listen up. Grab those prisoners from down in the holds and bring 'em up here--and don't show 'em no fear, got it? We gotta make sure these monkeys know that the PTO means business but proper. I'm gonna go outside and see about whoever we're supposed to meet, make sure they're here to get these prisoners and not try and pick a fight with us," he said before smirking, as if hoping that was what the Saiyans were really going to do. If they were, he was going to show them really what for.

WC: 2019 / 4330
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Tarble
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The True King
"Foreign airship detected within Earth's atmosphere. Estimated time of landing: two minutes. Estimated location of landing: Zone 5, Northern Wastelands." Tarble's head perked up at the ship announcing such a thing. A foreigner on Earth at a time like this? With Vegeta out of commission due to his kidnapping and Chishan doing fuck-all, there was only one representative of the Saiyan Empire left to do anything. Unfortunately, he was also being made into a social pariah by the representatives of Earth. Despite that, he needed to move, there was someone waiting for his greeting.

He left the Warlord's Chambers of the Behemoth, heading to the control room. A glance was shot over to his pilot, Bea, who seemed to be nervous about something. Tarble wasted no time in asking the question that weighed on everyone's mind. "Computer, scan the ship. I want the strongest power level on my screen right now." A small noise whirred from the screen as the ship was scanned over, Tarble clasping on his crimson cape. It may have been a little grandiose, but he was the Warlord. He needed to dress like one, after all. The scanner completed, and a few gasps erupted from his crew.

375,000.

It was a staggering power level, but.. he had taken care of someone with that kind of power before. Walid was about the same range when he fought him in West City, and that battle was even between them for the longest time. "I'll go alone. Bea, track my location. If my vitals go silent, blast them with everything you've got. Everyone else, I want preparations in case things go south." The crew members saluted him as Tarble exited the Behemoth, flying through the smoky air of the Earth. Things were still in ruin and people were trying to rebuild, so Tarble chose to go above the clouds. It wasn't a rare occurrence for the humans to throw rocks at him for what he apparently did.

It didn't take very long for him to reach Zone 5 of their landing areas, and there was a magnificent ship, very similar to his own Behemoth. The man who owned that ship must have been a pretty high ranking officer to afford a beauty like that. Tarble let his aura scatter to the wind, his feet pressing against the ground below as he approached the entrance of the ship. He could sense it now, the amazing power that lied within the ship. It felt just about as powerful as Walid, but there was something about it.. it was thicker. About as thick as blood. Just what was this creature, and why was he here?

He watched intently as the ship came to open, a large, green creature stomping his way out. His form was fairly masculine, his power was insane, and the amount of.. flamboyancy that he exuded was on the level of the entire Ginyu Force combined. Despite this, Tarble took a step forward, moving to greet this very large man. "Warlord Tarble. I'm the current representative of the Saiyan Empire, and this planet is under the Empire's jurisdiction while we help relief efforts involving the humans. State your name, your faction, and your business before we further this conversation." All business, right away. Friend or foe, Tarble had no intention of starting a fight.

Whether this creature had other plans was completely up to him.

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Bassolarr
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KING OF THE RING
Monitors
While the troopers under his command went about their tasks, some of them performing maintenance on the ship, others bringing the prisoners out from the ward towards the rear of the ship, and the rest inevitably just following their boss around or loafing about, Bassolarr took it upon himself to meet up with whomever he was supposed to transfer these prisoners to. He wasn’t expecting much, in all honesty—he didn’t figure prisoners were a high priority with the Saiyan Empire—so when he emerged from the ship, dressed in his PTO armor, the Dinosoid warrior scowled a little at the sight of a singular Saiyan soldier across from him. Leave it to the Saiyans to send a runt—albeit a well-dressed one—to greet the Koopa King himself. The cape made Bassolarr pause only a little, more because of the fact that it suddenly reminded him that he wanted one as well, but red wouldn’t quite be a good color for that. Even then, he still needed a troop symbol and a name for his soldier squadron, and right now, that was eluding him as well. Even so, he had more important matters to look towards when it came to his squirt.

Regardless, Bassolarr scoffed once he met the gaze of the welcome party, the shorter ambassador introducing himself as ‘Warlord’ Tarble. The King of the Ring raised an eyebrow at the introduction, trying to remember if he had heard anything important about that name, but for the life of him, he couldn’t really recall—just as the Saiyan demanded that Bassolarr identify himself did he remember something about a ‘Prince Tarble’ on the planet and just assumed this was the same one—which just made the Dinosoid confused as to which title to address him as. Either way, that scowl on the Brute’s face turned into a smirk as he digested what the short warrior had said. That was hardly an introduction for someone that was supposed to be important--it didn't have any pizzazz or enthusiasm about it, as if he were just a stick in the mud and focusing on professionalism.

He wanted a proper introduction? It was time to show these monkeys to not mess with the best when it came to spectacular introductions. He couldn't help but smirk at the whole set up, as if this had been planned from the very beginning, and for the life of him, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to really impress some yokel as to who he was dealing with. It was time--to shine!

“You wanna know who I am?” The Dinosoid repeated, and like clockwork, the soldiers behind him groaned and their hands met their faces. They clearly were not approving of whatever the Warlord had said, as well as the follow up question from their Brute boss, some of them rolling their eyes in annoyance.

“Oh no…”
“You just had to ask…”
“Not again…”
“I can’t stand these…”
"I swear I can't hold these poses..."

”SOLDIERS! POSITIONS!” the massive Dinosoid proclaimed, and with practiced efficiency, the fifty soldiers lined up behind their leader, rows of ten soldiers each, the lot of them mimicking their commander’s every movement as Bassolarr stood tall, his hands on his hips, legs shoulder-width apart as everything suddenly went dead quiet—and soon enough, the silence was interrupted by the sound of music being blasted from the ship’s speakers in what could only be called some kind of theme song for the illustrious warrior standing before the Overlord.

”I come from the Planet Koopa, where only the strong earn the right to rule!” Bassolarr began, crossing his left arm over his chest before it retreated around his back, his right arm and leg moving forward, each one bent at a ninety-degree angle, both appendages flexing spectacularly, the Dinosoid’s physique pressing against the constraints of his armor and spandex uniform! ”Only by beating the old king can you become king! I defeated the old King and became King of the Koopas, Champ of the Ring!” the introduction continued, left arm and leg moving forward in order to square his shoulders towards their ‘host’, his left arm extended towards the horizon while his right arm was bent, flattened fingers to form a straight line with his upper arm to point in the same direction! Each movement seemed to strain the relationship between the Brute’s massive muscles and the clothing that tried to mask them!

”I am a Brute of the Planet Trade Organization!
”King of the Hill, King of the Ring, King of the Planet!
”The Mighty, the Sensational, The Indestructible Master of Muscle!
”The End All, The Be All, The Believe All!
”EXTREME KING, BASSOLARR!

With his final introductory phrase, he brought his arms up in the classic flexing pose, his legs spread out as they flexed, the armor around his torso practically exploding from his profound and chiseled chest, muscles rippling expanding to their maximum size, the only clothing capable of keeping his dignity (if he had any) were his black, spandex shorts, all the while, his soldiers fired blasts of energy into the air above the both of them, the balls of energy exploding into fireworks that vaguely made the shape and detail of Bassolarr’s face, along with the words ‘EXTREME KING’ in the sky in glorious revelry, his troopers cheering like a crowd (some were obviously less enthusiastic than others). With the fabled, flamboyant, and impressive introduction out of the way, the Extreme King pointed one of his clawed fingers towards Tarble, almost like a challenge was going to be declared.

”By order of the Planet Trade Organization, agreed by King Cold and Lord Frost of the planet Frieza, I was assigned the task of delivering Saiyan prisoners of war to this planet to be given back to you and your lot, runt,” Bassolarr said, his hands and arms crossing over his fantastically impressive torso while his soldiers finally escorted the prisoners from their holds and out onto the ship’s ramp to be transferred to Tarble’s authority. For the most part, the prisoners looked defiant—as if their pride and spirit had refused to yield during their two-year imprisonment—yet it was clear that some level of torture or malnutrition had taken place within those two years, some of them sporting scars and less muscle mass than one would have expected.

Bassolarr looked over his shoulder towards the prisoners as they were finally set free, their shackles removed with complicated key cards and the like. Unsurprisingly, a few of Bassolarr’s troopers were knocked aside by the Saiyans that were now released from imprisonment, some of them understandably irritated at the conditions of their capture and incarceration—and Bassolarr merely rolled his eyes at his soldiers’ inability to properly defend themselves. He made a sweeping gesture towards his minions and barked at them loudly. ”You buncha nerds—getting pushed around by this lot! And you,” he protested as his gaze switched towards the former prisoners, ”You’re free to go with this short runt—but next time, I won’t be all polite like, got it?” he said, a confident smirk across his face as it was clear just who was the truly powerful warrior here. The lot of them grit their teeth and grunted from the threat, but it was clear they were in no condition to fight a serious opponent.

Bassolarr finally looked back towards Tarble and scoffed, as if disappointed that his goad hadn’t been answered. ”Tch—They’re all yours, runt. As agreed back when the treaty was signed and all that boring garbage,” he said, as if this whole ordeal was starting to bore him. ”I trust everythin’ is satisfactory?” He asked, as if expecting there to be trouble—and practically welcoming it.

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Tarble
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The True King
The amount of vigor put into the man's voice was enough to almost knock the Saiyan off his feet, never having met such an.. energetic personality in all his years as a fighter. Happy-go-lucky, sure, but this guy didn't seem very run of the mill. No, there was a lot more to this flexing, scaly creature that exuded power comparable to that of the strongest beings in the universe. The creature seemed more than happy to introduce himself, much to the dismay of his soldiers. Was there a proper courting to be done for his name to be sounded off, or was there just some random procedure made by the man himself?

He had to settle on the louder as what could only be described as 'epic' music began to boom throughout the landing zone. This individual hailed from the Planet Koopa where the strong ruled and prevailed. It was an ideal that the Saiyan could definitely get behind, but it would probably go a lot smoother if he wasn't proclaiming it under seventy different titles. Suddenly, the Koopa's clothes were torn asunder by the mere expansion of his muscles alone, only a black pair of tight pants that left very little to the imagination being the only survivor. It was only then that Tarble would be blessed with his name: Bassolar.

He was an envoy of the Planetary Trade Organization sent to meet up with Tarble to transfer prisoners into their care. Tarble wasn't aware of any such transfer, but he wasn't about to turn it down. It was probably some business that Vegeta left behind when he was kidnapped. Unphased by the show he was treated to alongside the introduction, a small amount of scrawny Saiyans were presented to him from within the ship. Their battle powers were fairly low and, while Tarble was disappointed in them to a very high degree for being captured, he took slight pride in the fact that they were still beating the soldiers around.

"Soldiers, grab each other's shoulders." Once they gathered, they looked at each other uncomfortably, not wanting to make any odd physical contact with one another. Tarble wasn't one for caring. "Or would you rather I send you back with the Koopa King for a few more years?!" Almost instantly, they clasped onto each other, Tarble pressing his hand against a Saiyan's back and using his Instant Transmission. He warped to their base on the moon to drop off the prisoners, only to return right back to his position within a matter of seconds, not wanting to leave Bassolar alone.

"Yes. I appreciate you coming here to transfer prisoners to our jurisdiction, but I doubt you're just here on business." A smile tugged at the corner of the Warlord's lips, finally finished with the official business of the Empire. He was able to show his true colors now. "A man like you isn't just content with standing around. The way you talk, the way you present yourself, you're a Koopa made for battle, aren't you?" He approached the Koopa to the point where he was looking straight up the man's body toward his eyes. "As a Saiyan.. it'd go against my very blood if I didn't try to have a friendly match with a person of such power."

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Bassolarr
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He wasn't addressed directly--at least not right away. Instead, the runt directed his attention immediately to the captive soldiers, informing them to hold one another's shoulders, causing the giant lout of a lizard to tilt his head slightly to the side, one eye brow raised. His facial expression held more questions than he could ever voice, watching as they eventually held on to each others soldiers and the Saiyan Officer stood next to the group, at least, after a bit of a tongue lashing after their apparent hesitation. In all honesty, Bassolarr would have hesitated as well, not exactly expecting that kind of order from someone trying to act so professionally. Now that he thought about it, where exactly were they supposed to go anyway? The runt of a Saiyan Warlord hadn't arrived with a ship or anything, he was just there waiting for him and his troopers to deliver the prisoners to his custody--which just raised another question as to who was really in charge around here. Suddenly, in an instant, they were gone in a flash, causing the lizardman warrior to look around, but he didn't see where they might have gone--almost as if they had completely disappeared. What kind of technique or technology did they have on this planet anyway? He blinked a few more times, trying to grasp what in the world had just happened as he and his troopers kept looking around, expecting to find them a ways away, but none of them could see anyone or anything of relevance. Had that damn imp ditched them?

They didn't have to wait long, the short Saiyan reappearing without the prisoners, as quick as you please, which just left the giant lizard wondering if the runt was just really good at teleporting or if he had a lot more speed to him than met the eye. The Saiyan Warlord also seemed a bit more looser in attitude and tongue than before, which gave Bassolarr a bit of a pause from the contrast alone. Must have been all business earlier, prompting the Warlord to act all professional, which caused the Koopa King to smirk at little at the gesture since it seemed there was more to this little grunt than met the eye. Maybe this runt hated politics too, and if that was the case, maybe he could let loose after all. The Warlord made the quick guess that Bassolarr was here for reasons other than just delivering the prisoners, and while Bassolarr didn't confirm or deny that statement, his smirk grew a little wider, a chuckle in his chest from the gesture. He couldn't really let on all they were there for, but if nothing else, he could at least humor the little guy.

"Battle is how we solve everything on my home planet," He said, as if it were obvious from his strength and stature. "On my world, we only have one law--the strongest rules. We got tournaments and competitions to decide everything, so strength is important! But if you're looking for a right proper scrap, then by all means, runt, I'm more than willing to show you what I can do, heh!" he said, letting his arms hang at his sides as his muscles tensed up, as if gearing up for a proper fight. Oddly enough, the prospect of a battle, no matter how friendly, seemed to cheer up the Dinosoid instantly. He must have left his scouter back on the ship, so he couldn't really check the runt's power level and figure out if this was even worth doing, but he really didn't care--if this kid was weak, he still had the gumption to stand up to him, and if he was strong, that meant the Dinosoid would get the workout and challenge he was actually looking for. Either way, the midget had balls, and the Dinosoid could respect that--at least with a punch or two, at the very least!

Of course, the inevitable happened.

"S--sir!" One of Bassolarr's soldiers interrupted from behind him, the turtle-esque alien barely coming up to his boss' knee. "W--we were told not to start any trouble here, right? So--so no fighting now--at--at least I think so? I mean, we were just here to deliver the prisoners and then head out, correct? I don't--I don't think starting a fight would really help our cause..."

Bassolarr's mood did a complete turn flip, the overgrown lizard locking his jaw in place as he grinded his teeth, eyes squeezed in irritation, before that powerful tail of his launched the unsuspecting goon up onto the roof of the recently-landed ship with a heavy, metallic thud. The minion screamed the entire time while airborne, still screaming even after he had landed, only ceasing once he realized he was, in fact, not dead yet. "I'm--I'm okay!" Came the sound of the soldier from far away, causing the Brute to roll his eyes and shake his head. The rest of his soldiers were startled by the gesture, most retreating into their shells, hiding in the ship, or just generally frozen in place from the sheer intimidation value. It was clear Bassolarr had a tight rope on these sorry excuses for soldiers.

"That ain't what he said, you nerds. This is just a good spar, see? We ain't startin' trouble--we're just gonna have a bit of fun, eh?" Bassolarr explained to his minions, as if he needed to say anything more on the matter after almost launching one of his soldiers into orbit--with just his tail. However, just at that moment, the sky suddenly grew dim and dark, clouds gathering over the horizon amongst a sea of lightning and bolts of thumder in the distance. Bassolarr looked over in that direction, squinting towards it, but he couldn't see what had caused it so suddenly.

"No one said this planet had bonkers cycles--the hell is going on?" he demanded in irritation, looking over at his soldiers, but judging by their clueless faces, they had no idea what could possibly be happening. The exchange went on for just a second longer before the skies brightened again with the normal, azure sky and the clouds receded beyond human sight, causing Bassolarr to drop the minion he had picked up and threatened to actually throw him into space. The Koopa King searched the sky for a little while longer before looking back towards their 'host', an inquisitive look on the alien Brute's face.

"This planet usually go dark all of a sudden? Don't seem natural, that," he asked, looking towards the Saiyan--if anyone had information on that sort of phenomena, it would probably be one of those that had overseen this planet for the last two years, that much Bassolarr assumed. If it wasn't natural, that meant it would be something dangerous, important, or both. He hoped it was something he could fight, in all honesty--either he was going to fight this midget Saiyan or he'd get a chance to fight something really unique, and either prospect excited him immensely.

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Tarble
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The True King
Tarble was about to get pretty battle-ready himself, facing off against the King of Koopas himself, but the sky turned to a dark black right before they could get started with their bout. It caught the Saiyan off-guard-- he almost thought that it was part of the process for Bassolarr here to power up to his maximum. However, considering the lack of strain on his extremely large muscles, that seemed very unlikely. There had to be another point of origin for a sudden case of night time on the Earth.

His attention was brought back to the Koopa as the sky turned bright again, just as if nothing had happened beforehand. "There's only one time such a phenomenon occurs.. Allow me to check something for a moment." It was something he never left the ship without these days, now that he had been on the hunt for the orbs twice over in the past year. Taking out a small circular device, he clicked it gently, letting the radar's waves wash over the Earth's surface. He hoped they were close. In the distance, seven orange dots appeared all in the same place. They shouldn't still all be there, despite just making a wish.. are they being abused yet again?!

Shoving the radar back into his pocket, he looked over the large, green Koopa. Maybe this would be a good time to get acquainted with his new friend here. "It looks like we've got a case of Dragon Ball abuse. Koopa King, if you'd honor me with such a thing, how about we take on this mission together? Before we fight, I'd like to get an idea of what you can do with assignments." A white aura enveloped the Saiyan before the man could answer, his small body flying into the air as he stared at the Koopa. "I assume you're capable of following a trail? Meet up with me at Kami's Palace, if you're interested in my offer."

With that, he left the ship and the soldiers there. He knew they wouldn't cause any trouble due to the treaties in place, but Bassolarr.. he silently hoped that the flamboyant Koopa would take the initiative and follow after Tarble. Despite having to take care of official business once more, he couldn't wait for the chance to fight against the creature with his bare hands. His Saiyan blood boiled as he neared the Palace, idly floating underneath the rim of view. If someone had taken it over yet again, he didn't want to set anyone off. The last time that happened, he almost lost the kid Luka was bearing..

He watched in the distance, hoping to sense a large power level coming after him. He knew that Bassolarr was a big guy, but a 'big guy' was not enough to hold such a high ranking in a place like the PTO. No, there were other things that made the Koopa King such a powerful being, right? Tarble was determined to get to the bottom of it, but hopefully he would be presented with a pretty nice challenge. He never really got enough of those as of late, and honestly.. if he could make friends with someone on the side of his rival empire, maybe it would bridge the way for peace treaties in the future.

Maybe.

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Bassolarr
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When the Saiyan runt spoke up about the incident and took out a small device, Bassolarr snapped his fingers towards his soldiers, prompting one of them to retrieve a spare set of armor for the Koopa King to wear over what remained of his clothing. Apparently, this sort of habit was regular enough for his soldiers to carry spare sets of armor with them so he could wear them, almost as nonchalantly as giving someone a plate at dinner. He stretched the material as far it would go just to get it on his muscular person, finally looking the part of a proper Planet Trade Organization officer once again as the Warlord put his device back into his pocket, a small look of concern on the short warrior's face. Bassolarr made it a point to keep his ears open as he dressed, listening to the situation as the Warlord explained it. It sounded serious, but it also raised a few questions.

"Dragon Balls? Thought they only had those on Namek," He said as he finally stretched and pulled the armor over his head and onto his shoulders and chest where the suit belonged. Even then, portions of his muscles could be barely seen beneath the stretching plates of his body armor, as if the device was pushed to its limit just to contain his overwhelming strength. He then pulled the wrist-armor and leg-plates on as the Saiyan explained the situation, as well as offered the Extreme King to go along with some kind of mission--as if this were some kind of test before the two of them could have their proper smack down. In all honesty, Bassolarr really didn't care about the local problems of this planet, but if helping this runt with whatever was going wrong meant they could have their fight--or perhaps fighting something even stronger than the Warlord--that was cause enough for the Dinosoid to accept the challenge and offer. Besides, otherwise, he probably was going to be bored out of his mind concerning this whole entire visit to this planet, so any distraction was going to be a welcome one. He nodded to the vertically challenged Saiyan before he looked back over towards his soldiers and pointed to them, the lot of them standing up straight and giving him their undivided attention--though whether that was out of loyalty or fear, it was difficult to say.

"Alright, nerds, listen up. I'm gonna see what this whole Dragon Ball thing is all about--you lot stay here and protect the ship, keep the local yokels from messin' with it but proper, got me? One scratch on our new ship and Imma whip you lot so hard in training, you'll wish you were never born," He ordered, one of his men tossing a scouter towards their boss, who caught it with one hand before affixing it to his head and activating it.

"Um, sir, what if we already wish we weren't--"

"CAN IT, NERD. Just do what I told you and try not to muck this up, got it? You're part of the Koopa Force, so you best act like it, got it?"

"Koopa Force? Is that our name?"
"Kinda lame if you ask me. I mean, can't we come up with something better than that?"
"Let's make it a contest while the boss is out. Give us something to do right?"

The large lizard rolled his eyes as they started arguing amongst themselves, wishing more than anything he had some actually competent warriors under his command, but he turned away from them all the same--most people probably wouldn't go near the ship to begin with anyway, so that was probably good enough for the Dino King.

As he took to the skies to follow after the Saiyan runt, he focused the scouter's readings to home in on the same signature he had used back on Namek--to track the status and location of anything that remotely resembled that. Already, he could tell they were headed in the right direction as they flew, the King letting his aura fully encompass him as they flew high and fast. The seven spheres seemed to be gathered in one place, but the signal was hazy, as if it was being disrupted by something between there and here. Whatever it was, Bassolarr paid it no attention--if it was another one of those weird boxes, he'd smash it just like the others he had found on that worthless planet Namek.

But now that he knew where they were going (in a general sense), it was hard not to try and turn it into a race, but the lizard man decided to let the squirt do the leading for now, just to make sure no funny business was involved. After all, the runt probably knew this planet better than the Brute, so it was just smart to let the Saiyan lead on for this mission. He didn't like the idea of someone else taking point on something important, but at the same time, he didn't really trust Saiyans quite yet either. So for now, he would just follow the runt the way there. However, that didn't stop the painfully obvious question on the Koopa King's mind.

"What's a 'Kami'? He some big-wig for this planet?" He asked, more to pass the time as they traveled quickly towards the location of the Dragon Balls. He didn't really care, precisely, but Bassolarr liked to know what he was getting into and why people on this planet held themselves with so much damned importance if they were so weak--at least, compared to him, anyway. So far, he had visited over a dozen worlds that weren't where he had grown up at, and each one of them were bizarre and different in their customs and procedures. Most of those laws the Brute could ignore--in a way, PTO military could carry itself above the laws of the weak and insignificant, so why was this planet so important? He really didn't understand. Not to mention most of those planets had rather weak people within it, so it made the experience of 'tourism' less than exciting.

Whatever this 'Kami' was, he sounded important--and that usually meant they were pretty strong, right? As if someone important would be completely weak as hell--that would just be blindingly stupid of anyone to do that.

Eventually, they started approaching a towering needle that seemed to stick out of the planet like a weed, reaching high into the sky and past the clouds above, prompting the both of them to start ascending higher and higher into the cooling air. Bassolarr grit his teeth a bit as his body tried to adapt to the colder winds, already hating the change in temperature. Give him a hot, humid day any time of the week, he would always prefer it to these cold environments. He looked back up towards their direction of flight, thinking they would find the Dragon Balls at the top of it, only to soon spot some strange-looking bowl at the precipice. He blinked a few times at the sight, wondering how in the world it managed to stay upright like that, not to mention just how obscenely high it was going, almost like an orbital elevator like on a few planets he had been to. Instead of forcing ships to go from the ground into space, they would use an elevator to go all the way up into space and build the ships there. Perhaps this was something of the same thing?

He didn't voice that question, however, as they came up to the lip of the platform, observing the area that seemed rather wide and polished, clean and proper, or so Bassolarr thought. He blinked a few times at the sight, remarking at the pristine upkeep of the place, as if someone lived here and thoroughly maintained the place, between the trees and bushes that lined the walkway towards the expansive and impressive temple that stood at one side. Immediately, he spotted several figures around the platform, mostly gathered around the large mansion at one end of the platform, which was rather impressive if Bassolarr had to say so. It was a little larger than the one he had back home, and if he had to guess, it probably rivaled Praetor Frieza's home estate as well, which prompted the giant lizard to whistle a little at the sight, looking around with a nod and an impressed expression.

"Nice digs you got here. Looks like a proper place for someone important, I'd say--but, who are these yokels?" He asked, gesturing towards the various individuals that were also on the wide platform, the lot of them slowly noticing Tarble and Bassolarr land upon one side of the wide expanse. The air was a lot warmer here than what Bassolarr had expected, making things a lot more comfortable for him despite the wind whipping about the place. "They don't exactly look like they belong here," he commented, noticing their less-than-pristine clothing and the symbols upon their robes and tabards. Some of them looked worse for wear, whereas others at least tried to keep up a clean appearance. Their faces were covered in dragon-looking masks, as if they were some kind of weird cult or religious order, which started to give Bassolarr more and more negative vibes the more he looked at them.


He thumbed his scouter again, getting a reading on the power levels gathered in the gigantic courtyard and scowling a bit in disappointment despite their fiercesome appearance. "Tch. None of them are above a hundred thousand--I didn't expect humans to have power like that though," he commented, blinking at the lot of them as they started to walk towards himself and Tarble, their body language clear and plain that they weren't open to visitors or guests. Some of them took up combat stances while others started floating in the air, as if trying to surround Tarble and Bassolarr in a complete dome of mooks, though Bassolarr didn't seem all that worried about their threatening positions. If anything, he just wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on and get to fighting the Warlord as quickly as possible--that was the real thing he was looking forward to, especially since these goons didn't even seem strong enough to pay attention to. The Koopa King crossed his arms over his chest as he looked across the group before he made a realization that made his brow furrow in thought.

"You don't think they used them Dragon Balls to become stronger, do ya? Pfeh! That ain't no way to earn strength," he said, some how even more disappointed than before. He knew the Dragon Balls were capable of powerful abilities and could grant a person any wish they wanted, but that seemed like the cheap way out of a problem to Bassolarr--if he was going to defeat his enemies and rivals in combat, he was going to do it the right proper way. If these bafoons had used the Dragon Balls to make themselves stronger, than it was right proper to send them packing with violence, just to teach them to learn their skills and gain strength the correct way--the honest way. The was the only reason Bassolarr hadn't pursued the darn things himself back on Namek, since it felt like a cheap way to gain strength and power, rather than earn it and properly learn how to wield it. A fighter with a lot of power was useless if he didn't understand how it worked.

"Psh. If you lot are lookin' for a fight, you're way outta your league," He said with a smirk, raising his arms to flex and causing his body armor to creak and groan from the sheer strain of the maneuver. He might as well let them know just how much shit they had dug themselves into before teaching them a right proper lesson. "Best leave now before I crump the lot of you."

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Bassolarr
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KING OF THE RING
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The warriors and cultists around them were silent for a long moment, causing the King to glare at them though he didn't bother looking around. So far, none of them had shown any kind of power that would even come close to challenging him or the runt beside him, and he was far and away from backing down from an apparent challenge to his progress here. If these morons were the cause of the darkened skies and crisis that the Saiyan Warlord had hinted about, then these goons would just have to be taken down as an example. They hardly seemed worth the effort, but since they were between him and a proper fight, then he wasn't going to go lightly on them.

"We are worshipers of the Sacred Dragon, the Great, Almighty Shenron! We have gained his favor by gathering the seven mystical orbs of legend and brought them to this holy place so that we may be granted his power and bounty through our faith. The Guardian of the Dragon and this planet tried to keep us from our worship, but we have claimed this holy place for ourselves and sequestered the orbs into a place where they will be treasured and kept, granting us power eternal every day for us as the chosen of the Dragon's powers!" One of the cultists started preaching, proclaiming stuff about a Dragon and orbs, and something about a Hyperbolic Time Chamber, all of which wasn't all that interesting to the Brute that was standing there with his arms across his chest, looking more and more bored by the moment as he listened to this hopelessly forgettable sermon. The other cultists joined into what Bassolarr could only assume was some kind of demented prayer or song, and upon the conclusion thereof, one of the cultists lunged towards the giant lizardman, striking out with a kick towards the Koopa's head.

The blow didn't even register to the Brute, still looking towards the leader of these morons despite a foot pressing up against his cheek. "What's all that then? Shenron? Hyper-what's-it Chamber? You lot sound like you're on something stupid," Bassolarr growled as he lifted a hand to snag the offending leg and toss the cultists over the cliff of the platform they were standing on, still keeping eye contact with the cultist leader as if the King of the Ring had done nothing more than scratch an itch somewhere. The cultist was sent flying over the edge, yelling something about his faith in the dragon until his voice could no longer be heard. Well, if there was any time for the goon to learn how to fly, the time was now.

"You infringe upon the holiness of this place and must be removed--begone from this place and never return, or the might and power of the dragon shall strike you down with his divine retribution, for we are chosen by his grace and magnificence and have been imbued with his power and strength! If you will not leave, we will throw you from this place and prevent entry from there on!" The cultist leader said, gesturing towards Bassolarr and Tarble with a hostile stance, prompting the other warriors to leap towards the Saiyan and the Koopa.

"Tch! Biggest mistake of your lives, nerds!" The King yelled as he moved forward to meet against the cultists and warriors, their blows like rain drops against the powerful muscles of the PTO Brute, his fists and legs smashing against bodies and sending them flying in all directions as the punishing melee initiated. Three closed the distance with the lizardman before they were launched back by a single swipe of the muscled tail, two more grabbing onto Bassolarr's arms before they, too, were thrown about. They threw themselves at the pair of visitors, trying to keep them from making forward progress as the cultist leader tried to direct their efforts from afar and behind, telling them to protect the sacred Chamber that housed the 'divine' orbs.

Seriously, did that guy know when to shut up? Every word he was uttering in some eulogy was starting to get on the Extreme King's nerves, especially since this lot of pathetic warriors were just testing his patience rather than being anything akin to a challenge. Bassolarr grabbed the arm of a warrior that tried to grapple him from behind, slamming him into a nearby palm tree that shuddered for a moment before standing upright again. Three more warriors launched energy blasts that didn't even cause the King to flinch, but the King managed to retaliate with blasts of his own, knocking the three out of the sky and causing them to land on the platform with thuds as they hit the hard ground. They weren't dead--at least not by Bassolarr's reckoning, but their attacks were just pathetic and feeble. Like they didn't really know how to use the power they had been granted by their wishes from the Dragon Balls.

"Gonna have to try a lot harder than that to take me down, wimps!" Bassolarr roared, completely forgetting Tarble's presence on the battlefield altogether as the Koopa King tried to make himself the center of attention, calling out the warriors to give him their best when clearly their best was going to be far from good enough--hell, this was the only way he was going to get any kind of real workout out of this kerfuffle, them all focusing their attention on him. And sure enough, a majority of the warriors descended towards the green beast, their attacks either failing to connect due to the Koopa's speed or their blows impacting against hard muscle and scales, their attacks swiftly retaliated by monstrous blows of clawed fists, feet, or his spined tail that took down several warriors with each swing.

At this point, even the cultist leader joined the fray, along with reinforcements from within the mansion, the platform once serene turned into a chaotic battleground between two warriors and the hordes of cultists that were trying to keep them from correcting a situation that should never have come to pass. If they had been stronger, Bassolarr likely would have eventually enjoyed the bout, but as was the case now, they were hardly threatening in the least. The battle continued as such for a long while until the last of the warriors dropped to the ground from exhaustion and pain, leaving Tarble and Bassolarr standing as victorious.

As the battle drew to a close, all of the cultists left for unconscious and defeated, the Koopa King walked towards the direction of the mansion, noticing various knick knacks and doodads that seemed to point towards a door within the massive estate. It was regaled and decorated, though a simple knob led the way inside. The entrance way was guarded by a pair of statues that looked crude, as if they had been placed there by the cultists when they moved into the place, prompting the Dinosoid to knock them down to allow the door to open. Without even thinking, the Koopa King opened the door and looked inside, squinting against the bright light within--and the orange lights that darted away from the door, seven orbs of light flying out of the chamber and into the sky above them where they gathered for a moment before splitting apart into seven different directions across the planet.

"...That was it then? Some divine guidance, eh?"

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