Souls Oct 7, 2018 19:32:49 GMT -6
Post by Vocado on Oct 7, 2018 19:32:49 GMT -6
Thread Power Level: 60,000
Tensions were still high in Vocado’s mind. After the heart-breaking confrontation with his trusted advisor, Nashua, he wasn’t sure what to do. The Dragon Balls were about as easy to attain now as a paper tiger in a storm. It rocked his mental state like an earthquake; just thinking about what might happen to the people he swore to return home if Boreal got his wish was harrowing. Try as the beast might to sound noble, Vocado knew a politician when he saw one. There was a scheme in that Lizard’s head, and next time they met he’d reveal it... That is, if he didn’t perish on the spot.
In the meanwhile, the King needed solitude. Time to think. Failure after failure had not only been reported, but experienced firsthand in the last few days. If they didn’t get a win soon, even a minuscule, insignificant victory, it was likely that they never would again.
So, the Saiyan King floated aimlessly among the crags and valleys of the Outer Plait. Had he been born some two-hundred years ago, his being here would be tantamount to suicide. The Mazoku that once were forced to call these lands their home had been mighty, and that strength very nearly led to the Saiyan race’s death. Sometimes though, Vocado had to wonder if they were better off as an empire. They certainly never lost as much back then. Would it be so wrong? To send out babes to test their mettle on foreign planets, raze their enemies cities and sell the planets for profit? Surely it was. The Empire was strong, yes, but its strongest had embraced peace. Turning the gears of progress backward would be foolish... Right?
Suddenly, Vocado found himself face fo face with a massive stone pillar. Narrowly avoiding it, he first thought it had risen from the earth thanks to some wizard, but realized quickly he had just been too far into a daydream to notice it. What was he imagining, anyways? It was hard to pin down, but he could remember embers in the sky. Either way, he pushed the thought from his mind, and floated to its base, noticing pluming smoke. Who might be living out here? A scorned Mazoku, perhaps?
The King touched down, his boots clacking against the hard stone. Looking around, he raised his brow curiously. There was a large bonfire outside a tent, and without his scouter on, he’d nary a clue about the livelihood of the people here. There could be dozens of warriors lying in wait to ambush him, and he’d be clueless to it. Learning to sense energy was a long process, but he was getting there.
”Hello?” he shouted warily, his muscles tensed. ”The name is Vocado. King of the Saiyans. I presume whoever might be living near here is friendly? I’d hate to have to fight right now.”