Post by Mirai Trunks on Oct 11, 2019 12:38:32 GMT -5
Difficulty: Medium 3,700 words
Master Frost has noticed the true extent of your brutality and gives you his trial. For his trial you must learn to harness the true power of your rage. He sends his best assassins to kill you. You must destroy them before they get you first!
Reward: +500 zeni, +5 DP, +40 all stats, +5 Rp Credits
Post by Mirai Trunks on Oct 11, 2019 12:39:06 GMT -5
Kotaro slid the razor’s edge of his dagger across the throat of the grey skinned creature he had stalked for the past two days. Warm, grey rivers of blood poured from the wound as the poison Kotaro had grown fond of lacing his daggers with begin to sizzle and pop as the skin peeled away from the victims ruined neck. The creature's milky-white eyes opened with surprise and its pale lips parted as it tried to speak, but it died there silently, its eyes turning slowly to meet Kotaro's hallow stare with a look of confusion as its life slipped away through the festering wound.
Killing had always been an intimate affair, watching the life behind their eyes slip away into nothingness. Lately, he preferred taking them in their sleep. Too often they cried, and begged for just a few more moments of meaningless life, as if it would have made a difference.
At first, he had enjoyed their cries for mercy, but their reactions had become predictable, and he resented them for their cowardice, hated them for their weakness. Their promises of the great wealth they would bestow upon him if he would but let them live. The worlds they would make him the master of if he would allow them to see another day. As if that was why he did this, why they had been marked for death.
In truth, even he did not truly know what his motives were. Some killed for wealth, he knew this. Others for power or control. Still more for the thrill, the rush of it all. Perhaps that had been the start of it for him too. The high one reached when feeling the life drain from another. He had once taken enjoyment in it, traveled the stars killing those the Lord Frost had marked for death, but lately he had grown distasteful of it all. He had done as ordered, killed those who defied the commands of the Changeling lord. Yet their death did not satisfy him as it once had. They were weak, not worthy of being hunted. It had grown, too easy.
He knelt by the body, cleaning the dull matte grey finish of the dagger’s blade with a corner of the bodies ragged tunic until he was satisfied that the creatures blood would not stain the weapon before sliding it silently into the sheath strapped to his thigh.
A rustle of noise caused his head to jerk to the right, his dark eyes coming to rest on a tiny figure who stood there staring at the body of what Kotaro concluded must have been this tiny beast's father. He held out a hand, palm up, and beckoned the child forward. “You should not be here little one.” He whispered in a soft voice.
The grey skinned child moved forward, hesitantly, without reply, taking the assassin’s hand. “Has he joined my mother in the other world?”
“The other world?” Kotaro asked, pulling the child nearer to him. “I do not know. I have never been there.”
“My father told me that is where my mother has gone, he said we would find her there again, someday. Has he gone there, to find her?”
Kotaro gave a shallow nod, “I suppose he has. Yes.” He slid his dagger once more, and the child’s eyes followed the tip of the blade.
“Will it hurt?”
Kotaro shook his head, “No. It will not, little one.” He put the blade against the small chest, he could feel the steady heart beat through the child’s back. “Tell me, little one, are you afraid?”
Their eyes met and the boy was silent for a moment, but there was no fear in his expression, and he did not tremble. “No. I don’t think so.”
“I do not think that you are either." Kotaro gave a slight smile as if pleased. "Your father would be proud to see how brave you are.”
The boy blinked, “Will they be there waiting for me?”
Kotaro smiled, “Yes. I think that they will be.” He paused. “What is your name, little one. A warrior as brave as you deserves to have their name remembered.”
“My name? I am called Hurlon.”
Kotaro nodded again, “Ah, I see. A fine name. I shall not forget it, Hurlon.” He slid the blade home with a quick, deliberate thrust.
The child gasped, but did not cry out as his eyes closed slowly and the weight of his small frame slumped into the strong grip of the assassin. Kotaro lowered him gently to rest next to the body of his father.
Post by Mirai Trunks on Oct 16, 2019 19:31:25 GMT -5
The room was cold and dark. Uninviting, and sparsely furnished. Even to the eyes of a Saiyan, Bardock found it difficult to make out anything beyond the suggestion of shapes, like a half remembered dream that could not quite take form. He blinked, trying to adjust his vision to the sudden darkness. In the deafening silence he could hear the drumming of his heart. Fatigue made his arms heavy, and his skin was slick with sweat as he sucked in air.
His ribs were broken. Three of them, at the least. They pulsed in rhythm with his pounding chest and plain flared through his torso with each expansion of his burning lungs. ‘Where the fuck is he?’ He thought, wiping at the ruined corner of his mouth, where an earlier blow had split his lip open, forcing him to try to keep the blood from choking him into an untimely death.
He rolled hard to his left, sending a fresh wave of pain crashing through him. It was an ugly maneuver, the roll. And he came up awkwardly on one knee facing another dark corner of the room, his palm outstretched and braced his wrist with the other. Electric flares of energy crackled and popped as he flowed what energy he yet had and fired awkwardly before moving again. The beast of the shadows was a crafty one, and Bardock would not allow him to counter his own attack so easily by staying in the same place he had attacked from, not again.
The small blast rocketed forward, burning the air around it as it soared towards its intended target.
There was a chuckle, and suddenly the momentum of the blast hung, motionless in the darkness. Its soft glow just enough to illuminate the tightly corded, muscled forearm of the changeling, Lord Frost. “My, my… Bardock, you’ve improved since we last fought.” Its voice was high pitched. Feminine, like that of an adolescent child with a sense of arrogance, borne through a lifetime of world’s groveling at its feet.
Frost held Bardock’s blast above the palm of his milk-white hand, staring at it as if waiting for something more to happen. “Though, I am curious to know what you thought this attack would do?”
Bardock sunk to one knee, the pain and exhaustion more than he could bear standing.
Frost’s chuckling ceased. “Perhaps I was too hasty in offering you praise, if you’ve given up so quickly.” He tossed the white ball of energy in the air like a baseball. “Using everything you had in this one attack was… well it was foolish, rash and halfcocked. Apparently humanities outlook on the intelligence of apes is lost upon your kind. Perhaps the Saiyan Prince is having a negative effect upon you. Not that I—”
Bardock thrust his hand forward, his fingers in the shape of a gun and fired a small blindingly fast beam of light that collided with the energy Frost still held. When the two attacks met, they sparked a chain reaction of explosive power that ignited in the changelings face, causing him to cry out in pain and surprise.
Bardock spit a mouthful of blood out onto the cold tile floors as the lights in the training facility once more came to life. Frost was standing near him, scorch marks snaked across his chest, neck, and face. His eyes burned with barely checked anger.
Twelve guards rushed the training room, their weapons drawn as they circled the kneeling Saiyan.
Bardock looked up. Their eyes meeting, as Bardock made the effort to ignore the blasters around him, and the itchy trigger fingers of their carriers. He smirked and rose slowly to his feet, “Did I hurt you, lord Frost? If I did, it was not my intent.”
Frost, for his part began to chuckle. “You will attend me this evening for dinner to discuss my final lesson. Then perhaps you will leave my world. I believe I have had my fill of the demon apes of King Vegeta.
Bardock nodded, stifling a groan as more pain burned across his broken ribs. He managed a slight bow. “Lord Frost.” He turned to go.
Post by Mirai Trunks on Oct 13, 2020 19:36:02 GMT -5
The chamber was dark and cavernous. Braziers of charred coal lined the perimeter of the chamber, their flames casting long shadows that danced wildly upon the white washed walls. The heat from the fire kept the worst of the cold at bay as a lone figure sat at the head of a large, and heavy table, hewn from great beams of dark timber. Heavy tapestries hung high upon the white walls from golden fasteners that flickered slightly in the fire light. Rich white embroidery had been intricately stitched into patterns depicting the rise of the Frieza’s as they spread their empire across the stars.
He could feel the eyes of Frost’s personal guardians upon him as he entered the room, no doubt hands hovering at the hilts of their heavy blades, waiting for Bardock to make some indication that would warrant the use. He smirked slightly. Frost was a master of death and destruction, on a level perhaps even above King Vegeta. Yet, even here, in the heart of their mighty empire, the changeling lord surrounded himself with guardians.
“Ah, Bardock. You’ll forgive me for beginning without you.” There was the slightest hint of sarcasm, characteristic of the changeling race, in his tone.
Bardock nodded slightly as he took his seat at the far end of the great table, “Not at all, my Lord Frost, I thank you for the invitation.” Exotic dishes of foods Bardock had never seen before covered the massive table. Silver trays piled high with the charred skin of beasts unknown to the Saiyan warrior, the meat still steaming from the cooking fires.
“I have heard tales of a Saiyan’s appetite. Please, help yourself.” Frost inclined, shoveling a fork piled with a bizarre translucent pink substance into his mouth.
Bardock inclined his head as he reached for a plate, and noticed that a third chair and silverware had been set out, yet remained empty.
“Ah, yes." Frost offered, following the Saiyan's gaze to the open seat. "We are still awaiting a third guest. They should be joining us shortly.” The changeling lord explained, behind a mouth full of food. “Are you too cold? I had the fires lit, but I must admit I always preferred the cold—”
A silent, and cold, whisper of a voice spoke over him as a third figure entered the room. “Apologies for my tardiness, my Lord Frost.” Kotaro, the master of Lord Frost’s dreaded Order of Assassins, said as he slipped quietly into the room. “I was just, tying up loose ends, my lord.”
Frost acknowledged the interruption with a half wave of his pale arm, “Very well, sit down, sit down.” He gestured absently at the only other empty chair. His attention turned back to Bardock, “Please, Saiyan, eat.” He gestured at the many trays piled with foods
Bardock had never before seen. “I have arranged for quite a spread this evening.” He finished with a smirk.
Servants in sheer robes of white that clung suggestively to their female forms kept a steady supply of food piled trays coming from a private kitchen hidden from view from the large dining chamber. Masks of silver and mirror shined bronze, frozen in grotesque expressions of ecstasy and torture covered their alien faces as they moved silently, meant to be seen and not heard. Another subtle, yet clear, display of the dominance of the Planet Trade Organization.
“Do Saiyans not keep slaves?” Kotaro asked. His gaze following Bardocks.
Bardock grunted as he pressed a mug of wine that had been spiced beyond his liking to his lips, draining it contents before replying. “I do not keep slaves. Assassin”
Kotaro smirked, “And yet, I am told that for every Saiyan, there are at least forty slaves on planet Vegeta. Not to mention the unknown millions enslaved on Valhalla.”
Bardock put the empty mug down. “I was not aware that you had taken such an interest in our Saiyan culture.”
Kotaro gave a soft chuckle, “I believe that it is important to know one’s enemy. Any insight might uncover a weakness to be exploited.”
The Saiyan's brow darkened, “Fighting without honor is the sign of a true …” His words trailed off as his vision began to fade at the edges, as if stepping into some half-remembered dream that his memory could not quite form. “What…” he stammered, looking at the mug of spiced wine now empty before him. “What have you done?”
This time, it was Frost’s turn to chuckle. “As I told you, Saiyan, the time for your final test is upon us. The concoction of drugs that are now coursing through your body are meant to dull your senses and strip you of your Saiyan combat abilities.” He gestured, and four warriors in robes and armor of polished black stepped from shadows. Their faces were hidden behind eyeless masks of bronze, but there was no mistaking who and what they were. Elite warriors of Frost’s Order of Assassins.
Somehow, Bardock had not seen them before now, nor had he sensed them upon his arrival. ‘How could you have been so careless, you fool?’ He chastised himself for the mistake. “Had they been standing there this entire time?’ His mind raced trying to make sense of the situation, but he struggled to form coherent thoughts.
Frost’s voice brought the Saiyan back to the present. “You have proven yourself a powerful warrior in your own right, but your code of honor is a weakness that is too easily exploited. Combat is chaos controlled, channeled. War is madness. If you hold yourself to a code that your enemy does not, then you lose all hope of victory before the first attack.” The changeling lord rose from his seat. “If they resist, break them. If they harbor indifference, rain down upon them unchecked destruction and death with such force as to ensure that none will rise to challenge your rule, ever.”
He walked gracefully towards the Saiyan, “I have stripped you of all that you were, Saiyan. And these men…” he gestured to the warriors surrounding them, “Are some of my best assassins.” The changeling lord’s cold eyes held the Saiyan’s foggy gaze. “They will kill you, here, now. Unless you can find a way to kill them first.” A cold, lifeless smile crept across Frost’s face as he cocked his head to the side, addressing his assassins. “Begin.”
Post by Mirai Trunks on Oct 13, 2020 22:27:55 GMT -5
Bardock closed his eyes, searching for the energy that had only moments ago coursed through him like the currents of a mighty river. He reached, and found nothing. He braced his hands against the edge of the heavy table, shoving himself back as hard as he could. The chair under him tilted and he crashed to the floor with a grunt as a silver, razor edged blade sailed through the space where his throat had been only moments before.
The cocktail of drugs he had been given had cut him off from the power of his ki, and dulled his senses, rendering him vulnerable and exposed to the attack of the assassins. They leapt upon him in a coordinated strike. Thin bladed daggers were drawn from sheaths at their thighs and they plunged the poison tipped blades towards the Saiyan’s unarmored flesh.
He rolled wildly to his left and grabbed a leg of his tipped over chair and sung it blindly in a wide arch to keep his attackers at bay. His vision swam as everything around him happened in slow motion, as if they fought submerged beneath an ocean of water. There was a satisfying grunt as the heavy wooden chair smashed upon one assassin who had been too eager in his attack. The chair splintered, leaving Bardock with a splintered chair leg that he used to parry a second attacker's strike. The attack missed him by a hair’s breath as he attempted to stabilize his footing in anticipation of additional attacks.
His movements were slow, too slow. A third strike came in from his left, nicking his should and leaving behind a neatly thin slice no more than an inch in length.
In an instant the wound burned and the skin around it bubbled as the Saiyan's flesh reacted to the poisons that tipped the assassin's blade. Bardock grunted as pain shot down his arm and he stumbled back trying to distance himself from his attackers. Holding his free hand to the festering wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. ‘Even superficial strikes from their blades might kill me.’ He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. They moved in a tight half circle, growling lowly as the closed upon him like a pack of wolves the color of shadowed smoke.
Two figures darted in, their blades glinting in the dancing light of the fires, there faces covered in black cloth that hid all features but their eyes.
Bardock pushed forward, passing inside the guard of the assassin on his left. The surprise of the Saiyan’s counter attack caused a moment of hesitation.
It was all that the he needed.
Grabbing the first assassin’s out stretched wrist, he swung the black armored warrior in a tight arch, using the momentum of the assassin locked in his grasp to deflect the strike of the second assassin.
Still grasping the dark clad assassin's wrist, he twisted hard. Until he was greeted with the telltale sound of snapping bone and the tearing of tendons. The assassin’s hand went limp and the blade he had tightly clutched dropped to the stone floors. Bardock kicked it away, using his open palm to smash the wounded assassin hard in the throat, destroying his windpipe, and dropping the lifeless form to the stone floor.
The second assassin recovered quickly, swinging with a back handed fist so as not to allow Bardock the chance to launch an attack.
The wild blow landed flush and sent stars of bright light dancing across the Saiyan’s blurred vision. He rolled with the strike, blood pooling in his ruined jaw. He stumbled off balance on legs that were already unstable.
Bardock fell once more.
Reaching out blindly with one arm, his hand felt the hot wrought iron edge of a smouldering brazier. He grasped it tightly using it to stabilize himself as he rose on unsteady legs.
He heard the shuffling of feet behind him and he heaved the brazier into his grasp with both hands turning and flinging coals of glowing red-hot embers into the oncoming assassin's face. The Saiyan's hands blistered as he clutched the iron, but the pain was dull compared to the poison that burned down his arm from the small cut on his shoulder and he welcomed it as a sign that he was still among the living.
The fires leapt onto the assassin’s black leather armor and he screamed as the cloth of it melted to his flesh. ‘That’s two.’ he tallied silently as the remaining two changed their position to ensure the Saiyan remained trapped between them.
They slipped passed their fallen brethren as if they did not exist. One fainted forward as if to strike with his slim, out stretched, dagger as the other assassin circled in to flank the Saiyan. Bardock flung the now empty brazier at one of the assassins, but the Saiyan’s movements were slow and the black clad figure avoided the obstacle with little effort as the pair attempted to close in for a killing strike.
Bardock moved in step with them as they advanced, trying to maintain the distance between his attackers and himself as he sought some other advantage that might extend the breath of his life. He shifted right, angling himself towards the table were the dinner cutlery had been laid out for their evening meal, but the second assassin had caught onto Bardock's intent and moved to intercept the Saiyan warrior before he could reach any weapons.
‘Thank you.’ Bardock thought as he shifted his movement and dove for the discarded dagger that he had kicked away from the first attacker. His hand closed tightly, pinching the razor edged blade between two fingers. He rolled, sitting up and centering his line of sight on the assassin nearest him. They flung their daggers at one another.
Bardock felt white-hot pain shoot through his shoulder as the assassin’s dagger cut through muscle and tendon. He coughed up blood and peered at his target through tear-filled eyes as the world began to spin and he fought to stay upright. He absently noted the hilt that now sprouted from the assassin’s chest as the figure dropped noiselessly to his knees clutching at the weapon that would kill him.
Bardock had no time to celebrate the accuracy of his throw as the fourth assassin lounged upon him. The two rolled, entangled with one another as the fought. Technique did not matter here; they flailed at one another using every part of their body to strike wherever they might land a blow.
An elbow smashed into Bardock’s already broken jaw, sending fresh waves of pain that shot through his body. His vision faded from grey to black, and then back again. The assassin had dropped his own dagger in the struggle, but his hand found the hilt of the weapon still lodged in Bardock’s shoulder. He grabbed the blade and twisted.
The pain was too much, and the Saiyan screamed in agony as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. His left arm flailed wildly. The tips of his fingers felt something solid and he grasped at it. The assassin pulled the dagger free of the Saiyans shoulder and then stabbed down wildly. Bardock clutched a shard of the broken chair’s leg and brought it up; stabbing it into the assassin’s throat with a sickening crunch of flesh as the splintered wood was slammed home, killing the last assassin.
Bardock tried to roll the lifeless form off him, but his arms refused to obey. He tried once more to move under the dead weight. His eyes came briefly into focus. The assassin's dagger had found its mark. The hilt sticking from the Saiyan’s chest.
A tired smile split his sharply angled features. as he stared at the weapon lodged in him. He felt nothing.
Kotaro watched silently at Lord Frost’s side as the unconscious Saiyan floated in the vat of healing fluids of the rejuvenation tank. “You should have let me kill him.”
The changeling lord smirked. “Perhaps.”
“The Saiyans are too great a risk. We should crush them before they are strong enough to truly challenge us.”
“Us?” Frost repeated questioningly. A hint of amusement in his voice.
Kotaro eyed the changeling sideways, “You, my lord.”
Frost was silent a moment. “The future is uncertain.” He whispered, almost as if to himself. “… and while the Saiyans will never be an ally we can trust, there are forces beyond our own we must consider.” He smirked, “The enemy of my enemy, may be my friend.” He turned to leave, “For now, we will keep them alive. If they prove to be beyond control I will destroy their monkey race myself.”