Side Story 7: A Fathers Plea! Can I really do this?

A voice cut through his peace like a hot knife through butter. Practiced effort ensured his facial features would not contort into the annoyance he felt in his heart. With a heavy internal sight, Oboe would sit up and turn to regard the voice from behind him. What he saw caught him off guard as the very clear figure of an Arcosian greeted him. Of course, instantly he was worried. Was this – like Kraktus – yet another World Trade Fleetmen here to cause trouble? Near instantly upon the thought, Oboe chastised himself for such racist ideas. Nothing indicated – outside his uniform – that this man was with the Fleet, let alone here to do harm.

Hale would be ashamed of me…

Oboe recalled his Arcosian friend and simply shook clear the thoughts of suspicion. The figure asked if he’d known where to find Guru – and the way he’d stated it sounded desperate, pained. Something was wrong here; this man didn’t come to fight, and Oboe could tell that much by the fact that he wasn’t powering up to one of the Alien Race’s strange other forms. Reaching out with his senses, he could tell that there was pain in this ‘Mans’ form – a pain that Oboe could not identify simply by stating nothing.

Should he simply explain that he was Guru from the start? No. That had already caused him so much misery – a thought that caused his hands to shake uncontrollably, absently. As he took control, Oboe realized that he was holding something, a Piece of paper? With a grandiose motion, the Namekian stood on his two feet and brushed the sand off his clothing. The sense of desperation was palpable, so – without keeping his own fears in mind – Oboe would address the question;

“Why, Yes! I do happen to know where Guru happens to live. I even happen to know where he is right now – though I must ask, offworlder, what could be so important that you travel from the sea of stars to find him? I can tell from your adornment that you’re not with the Saiyan Kingdom, nor are you neutral in the state of things.” Taking the man’s appearance in fully, he’d continue.

“You’ll have to excuse my skepticism of your intent – one with your type of clothing, baring the emblem of the WTF, nary comes to Namek to simply “Ask” for anything – as I’ve personally witnessed by the one known as Kraktus. With representatives such as he to speak for those whom have allied themselves with such others, you’d be hard pressed to blame me for being cautious…”

Oboe was concerned he was coming off a bit too harshly. He didn’t mean to sound irritated or suspicious, yet the others wearing similar armor in the past had seemed so content with causing an anarchist rule over Planet Namek that one such resident questioning intent was to be expected. While most of his people would’ve kindly just led the being off on a wild goose chase (Mostly to protect their leader) Oboe simply stood his ground and asked the hard-hitting questions that needed to be. With a warm smile, he inclined his head and finished;

“If you can tell me, first, what your purpose is with Guru, I’ll be happy to tell you where to find him. Is that satisfactory good sir….? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Maybe we should start there! I am known as Oboe – what, preytell, should I call you?”

The Namekian was shrewd to say the least. So far, if the Arcosian had been met with friendly misinformation and the runaround, this very blunt – very stern Namekian would’ve been an unusual change. Perhaps his near death experiences had hardened his heart a bit more to the idea of the Other Races and their travel to his world…perhaps he’d begun to lose the motivation of his dream…but for now? That wasn’t important. What was important was ensuring that this creature did not wish harm upon him. If he did? Well…Having sensed the energy radiating off of the figure – short of him hiding his power, yet still aware of the Arcosian talent of transformation – Oboe didn’t seem too concerned. As it became very clear that he was in control. After all, he had the information – the other did not.

The introduction had been a bit more than he’d anticipated. Though he assumed that – like Kraktus – the title “Lord” was just a misnomer granted to each member of the fleet, he had to admit that the very regal aspects of this Arcosian were enough to make him question that thought. His dismissal of Kraktus itself, finding understanding with his own incredulity to trust? It was uncommon and off-putting in some ways. Was this man truly with the World Trade Fleet? As the creature walked into the shade, taking a seat beneath an Ajisa tree, He motioned for the Namekian to approach.

Trepidatiously he approached, cautious and ready for just about any deception (as he’d been since the day he nearly died). The object he’d handed him was a photograph of what appeared to be a loving family. A wife, brown hair and beautiful eyes wearing a red sweater with brown fur around the neckline. The one on the far right, the man before him. Lord Algere. In the center, a gorgeous looking little girl with dirty blonde hair and the eyes of her mother – twin horns jutting out of her forehead representing some familial tie with the one beside her.

As he examined the photo his eyes widened. Algere explained that the photo was of his family, a killed wife and a sickly daughter whom – for all intents and purposes – didn’t look so ill in the photo. The sudden shift to sadness for such an empathic person like Oboe nearly brought the Namekian Sage to tears himself. A feeling that he sealed off as he turned to lock eyes with the Arcosian. It was then that the man from beyond the stars expressed his desires of Guru. There was nothing greedy about his request, no searching for orbs of magical power or land to live upon. No…this man’s needs were far more personal.

“I - I don’t know what to say…You...have a beautiful family.”

Oboe was indeed flabbergasted. Though he’d been propositioned for assistance in Healing before, never had he met someone whose desires were not for himself. A father’s love for his daughter was a powerful thing, and it was clear that his desire to help her was the only thing this Alien wanted out of life. The Namekian was moved, spiritually, by the plight of the other and while he made mention of his plan, he placed a reassuring green hand on the other shoulder. It was a weak comfort, but one he offered nonetheless.

“I…can see why you’ve searched Guru out. It’s very clear that your desire is pure. While I cannot promise anything, as far as helping your daughter, I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to help you. Y’see..”

Oboe would smile warmly at the man, his guard finally down for the first time since their interactions had started. Nodding kindly, he admitted the secret that an informed or inquisitive person may have already guessed. “I’m actually the one you see. My name is Oboe – Guru of Planet Namek and Sage of Clan Oros. If you’ll permit me, I’d love to see your daughter.”

Though he’d hoped his day would be quiet and without much incident, in desperate need of his own relaxation, Oboe couldn’t quite turn his back on such a predicament. He held his own feelings about the plight of children and their unfortunate mix-up in the wars that have come and wars that will be. With the many newly orphaned hatchlings on his old world desperate for justice – he knew clearly that such things were not racially exclusive. Standing and offering a hand to assist the older of the two, Guru would nod.

“If you bring her to my Village, we may speak more there. It’s only a 45-minute flight north of here. You might miss us though; our protective location helps more than anything in keeping us outside of conflict. You’re looking for a Horseshoe shaped Plateau and our Village will be in the center of the curve. Take her to the very rear of the village and you'll find my Vessel. We must'nt dawdle. I do not know how helpful I will be, but if we're to try time is not on our side. Im sure you've discovered we have many members of the Saiyan Kingdom here...and I'd hate for them to bring you or your daughter harm simply due to allegiances. Make Haste, Algere of Clans Cold and Frigid.."

Without another word, after the man would join to his feet, Oboe would float into the air and explode forth with speed peculiar to his power rating. He wasn't kidding when he said it'd be a race against the clock. He could only hope that his allies - Steno and Bass - would understand his need to help this man.

Oboe had entered his ship before the Other, preparing space at the very top of his vessel where the cargo room and audience chamber resided. In this, the most massive and open room of his ship, the Arcosian had brought a pod – specially designed to contain what looked like the body of a young child, the same from the photo. It was, indeed, quite remarkable as she’d barely aged a day! Though, that also led to the sadness he realized the father must’ve felt for all these years; having to watch his daughter through a glass – separated from her touch and her voice, it was most likely devastating.

Family, was something the Namekians understood clearly. Placing a reassuring hand on the elder Arcosians shoulder, he smiled and said – “Lets see what we can do about waking her up for you…”

Stepping back, Oboe moved towards the massive coral-stone chair centered in the room – its intimidating dragon motifs set to look equal parts Porunga and equal parts the Dragon of his clan – Ouros. Sitting in the piece of furniture, Oboe slotted his staff – its massive orange stone headpiece moving into position as a handrest – began to hum and glow. Looking towards the Arcosian, realizing time was of the essence, Oboe would nod towards him and say; “Open it.”

As the capsule sphere would open its lid, Oboe’s body began to radiate golden light. His body began to channel the magic of the Dragon Caste, its golden luminescence casting the room in brilliance. Breathing calmly, patiently, Oboe would raise his left hand – his right still gripping the stone – and release a brilliant golden ray towards the sphere itself; into the body of the child. Potent magical force streamed from him as Oboe concentrated intently on his task. The magic of the Dragon filling the orb with glowing warmth as the stasis freeze slowly faded away.

Gigun: Kanzen Ryu I (Righteous Force: Perfect Dragon Art of Healing)

As Guru, ancient Namekian magical force channeled through his body on a constant. Focusing on such a task as healing the wounded or even restoring one sickened by illness was part of an everyday lesson for the Dragon Caste at the temple; Having mastered the Healing Arts long ago, It was not unknown to the Sage how to accomplish the task – yet he wondered in mid action if this was his own experience or one of the many other Guru’s whom he’d synchronized with when he’d taken the mantle.

With a powerful exertion of kinetic force, Oboe’s arm was thrown backwards as the Ritual completed. Smoke would pour from the pod, but there would be no damage to its structure. Curious himself if the ritual worked, Oboe would weakly stand before trying to move forward. Unfortunately, he’d weakened himself greatly and fell to his knees in mid stride. It seemed that by channeling the energy required to help the little girl, he’d caused himself tremendous strain and drain on his energy reserves.

“S-Sir…Please..is she awake? Was I successful?”



KP 0/3 Mystic Signature: Kanzen Ryu I used to Heal the child

Oboe was shocked at how weakened he’d become; his magical prowess being completely drained into the child, more than he’d actually intended! Curious. As if the youth was thirsty for the energy, he felt the burden of such a task completely. Still, as he gazed up at the father – eyes filled with concern and hope – could he truly let such a man down? His suggestion however did cause the Guru of Namek concerned.

The child’s genetic makeup? She could…ingest DNA in some manner? That seemed extremely against the Dragon Priests normal idea of “normal”. Still as he placed gaze upon the childs features – he truly couldn’t think of the words. Looking at the Arcosian, he nodded towards the chair. “Sit her…there. Make sure her hands are gripping the orange stone on the right armrest. I will…try it your way.”

There was trepidation in the voice of Guru. He wasn’t quite so sure about this manner of healing; though by the look on the father’s face he truly believed such a thing would help. If Steno or Bass were here, maybe they could’ve assisted. With no other options and no other choices in play – Oboe struggled to his feet, ready to help. As the father positioned the child, Oboe would approach the ornament. Staring at the Arcosian, he nods. “Wish me luck…”

Hands reaching out, Oboe gripped the orange stone with his two hands – a burning sensation overtaking his body as flames engulfed his form. Through magical means the Sage used the medium as a way to transfer some of his blood into the childs outstretched form. She herself would feel no pain, but the ritual would pass a portion of his essence into her – beyond just the normal healing methods he normally used. Such a ritual was normally reserved for his brothers, yet even still – he gave it his all.

With a powerful expulsion of power, the Namekian was once again thrown backwards, his body slamming into the bulkhead of the vessel’s metallic walls. Groaning, pained, the Guru lay there nearly unmoving for the moment. Of course, he’d be happy if the child was helped, and if the father was pleased, but such a sacrifice took more and more out of him by the moment. Whatever was happening, the Sage was finally starting to feel the strain. All the months, all the damage, all the pain and mental anguish that he’d been subjected – Oboe was finally, at peace.

“Is she…alright?” He weakly called out..