Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Feb 28, 2018 6:00:35 GMT -6
Bits of space pod dot the landscape. Twenty miles south of Central City, these pieces of debris act as a trail of breadcrumbs leading to the crash site, to the cavity in the face of the Earth.
At the epicenter of the crater is the bulk of the spacecraft, leaking fuel and cheap medical fluid in equal abundance. Within is another visitor to the Earth, a Heran - not that many would know what that even means, not anymore. It means warrior, in case you were wondering. It means growing stronger in the face of defeat, no matter how humiliating. The pod's hatch jolts halfway open, its hydraulics failing before it can fully release its occupant. It matters not, for the hatch ceases to be moments later, courtesy of a blast of crimson ki; Creus of Aether stumbles out into the glow of daylight once more, shielding his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun. His wounds, once fatal, have been eased by the bootleg medical fluid. He is in a critical, yet stable, condition for the moment. He takes a few uncertain steps forward, his royal armour creaking and cracking under duress, a gaping aperture in his tattered cape and back plates. He teeters back and forth for a moment before finally falling onto his knees, catching himself before he gets a face full of dirt. Gathering his thoughts, he reasons that he ought to sense out his surrounds. Shutting his eyes to aid his concentration - a trick he hadn't needed since he was a child, but necessary now due to fatigue - he reaches out, feeling for energy. He is taken aback by what he senses, this overwhelming... weakness. The last thing he had heard before passing out was the flight computer plotting a course for Earth, a planet he knew little about. Are its inhabitants really this defenseless? Just like Aeaea...
No, there is something. Distantly, he can feel strong powers, stronger than his. Much stronger. And sinister ones, too. Yet counteracted by good...? Who knows. He can hardly make sense of anything right now - hell, he can hardly stand on his own two feet. The Heran rolls over onto his back, electing to remain in this crater until he has gathered some semblance of strength - or until others arrive. He would learn soon enough how hospitable Earthlings were to aliens such as he. For better or for worse.
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Post by Vegia on Feb 28, 2018 15:37:24 GMT -6
Vegia was starting to loose faith, when she saw the pod come down. The streaking transport cut a swathe across the sky that was quite visible from her position, and she immediately gave chase. Even with her increased speed, it was still quite a race – she didn’t envy whoever was in that pod, because the safety had clearly given out. She remembered her own desperate flight through the Earth’s atmosphere, the burning heat, and the terror and pain of impact…
She sped her flight.
When she got closer, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t, in fact, another Saiyan. She didn’t immediately recognise the species, but it was clear the alien was injured. Another refugee from Vegeta? There were many different alien visitors, it stood to reason that it wouldn’t just be the Saiyans that had escaped the planet’s conquest.
Little did she know that it was, unlikely, her presence was going to make the Heran feel any more reassured about his destination.
He didn’t need to wait for long before the young Saiyan teenager touched down at the edge of the crater. Compared to her, he was enormous; but she didn’t seem concerned. The bright red and gold uniform she wore was far more elaborate than the average Saiyan’s, and her tail remained wrapped around her waist tight; a sign of the Elite, if the Heran knew enough about the workings of Saiyan culture to know such things.
“Well, you look like you’re in better condition than I was.” She muttered to herself, as she descended into the crater. The young woman gave him quite a critical look as she descended, trying to ascertain how bad his condition actually was. He was breathing, and he’d clearly been moving around, both of which were good signs.
“Are you strong enough to stand?” She asked, reaching out to offer her hand in greeting. “My name is Vegia, of the Line of Karo. I can get you to a man who can heal-.”
And then, she paused. The cut of his armour was … familiar. This close up, there was only one comparison. Her blood ran cold.
“Are you with the World Trade Fleet?” She asked, her voice suddenly deadly quiet. Her heart was pounding in her chest. This man was injured, near death; she couldn’t just, kill him, could she? That would be … dishonourable. But his armour was so familiar, and if he was a prelude to their arrival on the planet…
But, why would his pod have crashed like this if it wasn’t attacked? Some sort of malfunction?
Could she afford to take the risk? What if he was a scout, and he reported her position as soon as he could? How could she trust him?
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Feb 28, 2018 16:18:23 GMT -6
And just as Creus remarked on the weakness of this species, he senses a power closing in quickly. Strong, very strong - even on his best days, he'd be punching far above his weight to fight someone like this. Which begs the question; what kind of freak of nature was this? Certainly, there were anomalies among every species in the universe, but this... thing... radiated a far different energy than what little he had felt from the Earthlings. It was deep within, yes, but he felt it. Rage, raw, primal. If he didn't know any better, it felt like a...
Creus' eyes flutter open. It takes but a moment for them to readjust to the light of day, and a moment more to make out the figure marching his way. A woman in an offensively red gi with gold trim - extravagant indeed. And around her waist, a tail.
A monkey's tail.
The wrapping of the tail around one's waist is a sure mark of the Saiyan elite - deadly warriors who could control their Oozaru forms flawlessly. Such apes were far above Creus' pay grade; stupid and belligerent, yes, that's how he liked his monkeys. Creus' gaze shifts from the Saiyan to the cloudless blue sky, as if searching for Planet Archida again. Delightful - his pod had lead him from the grasp of one Saiyan into the hands of another, far worse one. He shuts his eyes again, waiting to be judged. He is surprised - pleasantly, of course - to hear that the first words out of the Saiyan's mouths aren't the name of an energy attack, but instead an offer of help. That is, until the words are ripped from her mouth. Even with eyes shut, Creus can feel it. Feel the stillness in the air.
"Are you with the World Trade Fleet?"
The Fleet - his armour, a relic from his father. The thing he had worn for protection all these years might just get him killed. His eyes shoot up, darting towards Vegia again. The weariness them has dissolved, replaced now by carefully disguised fear. He looks her straight in the eye, almost raising himself but deciding against any further movement.
"No... it's just armour."
He sounds wary - understandably so, given the quite sudden change in atmosphere.
"I'm a mer-mercenary..." sputters the Heran, coughing up green blood onto his own chin. "I'm not... not in the business of conquering planets... I liberate th-e-e-m-m..."
The tail end of his sentence is interspersed with more violent coughing. It was the truth; yes, he had occasionally accepted work on behalf of the WTF, but only in domestic conflicts. He had never joined any of their conquests, partly out of principle, partly out a desire to preserve his own hide.
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Post by Vegia on Mar 1, 2018 1:38:03 GMT -6
He was well enough to talk, so technically, he was doing a lot better than she was when she landed. Still, though, even with her limited medical knowledge she could tell that he was in a very bad way. The injured warrior looked like he was about two steps away from death’s door, and if he didn’t get some help soon…
Damnit.
She didn’t trust him, not one bit, but she couldn’t just let him bleed out, either. There was only one option. She was going to have to wash her uniform so thoroughly after this guy had bled all over it. Green blood was so difficult to get out of red fabric. Ugh!
“If you’re lying to me, you’re going to regret it.”
The teenager’s words were very hard as she knelt down and carefully slid both arms underneath the far larger man. It was an awkward position to carry him in, but he clearly couldn’t move under his own power, and she needed to get him to help quickly if he was going to survive.
She took it slower as she lifted into the air, regardless. The last thing she wanted was to strain his body too much and accidentally cause even more harm. Just moving him was dangerous, she knew that, but she didn’t see an alternative unless she wanted to double the time by bringing the healer to him, and that seemed like too great a risk.
Now she just needed to remember exactly where the healer’s hut had actually been. It was in this region somewhere, she was sure…
“Try to stay conscious.” She said, as she started towards the eastern region. “What’s your name? Do you remember why you came to Earth?”
Basic questions, but she had heard that this sort of thing was important when someone was in critical condition. If he lapsed into sleep, he might never wake up again, she had to try and keep him with her until she could get him to Stils.
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Mar 1, 2018 7:18:07 GMT -6
Creus was not typically the prideful sort, but being hoisted into the air by a teen many times his greater was a somewhat humiliating experience. Nonetheless, it was either that or bleed out, and the latter choice did not appeal to the heir of the House of Aether. Grateful just to not be obliterated on the spot, he swallows his pride for the moment.
"If you're lying to me, you're going to regret it." Remarked the Saiyan, as she quite effortlessly scooped him up. Humiliation upon humiliation.
"I'm already at your mercy."
He chuckles faintly. Perhaps a bad move; he wasn't a comedian, nor had he ever pretended to be. But right now, humour was all console himself.
Consciousness was of no concern, not for the moment. Sleep does not come easy when you had a gaping wound in your back, save perhaps that special variety of sleep, sleep of the eternal kind. If he were to die here, he would be awake and in pain until his last breath. Herans never died peacefully.
"I'm Creus... Creus of A-Aether..."
Recalls the soldier, stumbling over his words slightly. Perhaps Vegia had heard of him; perhaps not. In open space, Creus had a reputation as a mercenary specialising in rogue Saiyans, those who had defected from the Kingdom in search of personal glory. His services were most often in demand by the downtrodden of the galaxy, those driven from their homes by Saiyan war parties. As a whole, these were almost entirely low-to-mid class warriors, and so gave Creus little trouble. Now and then he had been contracted by the Saiyan Kingdom to dispose of the rowdy heirs of some of the elite class, who more often than not had let their birthrights get to their heads. Elite by class, not by ability, they were also but fodder to the Heran. Otherwise, he tended to avoid the upper echelons of the Kingdom.
As to why he came to Earth? Well, he could hardly lie to his saviour. Better instead to tell a misleading truth.
"Picked a fight I couldn't... couldn't win... had to get away quick, any coordinates I could bang in... feel like shi-"
As if on cue, the Heran hacks up green blood onto his rescuer's hand.
"By Zeus... how far are we from the healer...?"
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Post by Vegia on Mar 1, 2018 12:40:23 GMT -6
This wasn’t good. Right then and there, in that moment, Vegia didn’t really care who he was; she cared what he was. He was a living being, dying in her arms. It was sentimental, it was the kind of thought that her father would have derided as weak and unworthy of a true Elite, but all she wanted to do was make sure that he survived. She had seen too much death in the past few weeks of her short life, she couldn’t deal with any more.
“Not far.”
It was a lie, and she was a bad liar, but she dug deep into herself and yearned to make it true. Bright power flared about her as she dared to risk it. He was already barely holding on. So what if she made things a little worse, if it was the only way to make him all the way better it was something she had to do!
She streaked across the sky as a sapphire comet, and in just a few moments, she was there, standing outside Stils’ house. The old man looked up from his laundry, eyes wide and staring as the young woman he had saved a few weeks ago suddenly reappeared at his doorstep in a gout of blue fire.
“Vegia? What in the blazes- who is that?!”
She strode forwards, “He’s a man in need of help, please, he’s, bad.”
Stils was already by the door, and ushering Vegia inside. The healer’s hut smelled of herbs and medicine; a cramped and crowded space with bandages and home made remedies taking up every inch of wall space, and barely any room for the rudiments of day to day living.
“Hang on, Creus of Aether.” Vegia murmured to the badly-injured Heran. “This man is one of the greatest healers I have ever seen. You’ll be ready to end those who shame the Kingdom soon enough.”
So, she did know who he was… by reputation, at least. It was difficult to avoid that kind of gossip in the Royal Court. She was pleased that he hadn’t been lying, at least. It would have been embarrassing to save him only to kill him.
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Mar 1, 2018 13:28:20 GMT -6
"Not far."
A lie, of course, but one intended to comfort. That meant something to the dying man, at least. The reality of his situation sinks in; he may well die here, today, on this foreign planet. Fear takes him in a way that had never taken him before, blanketing him. Whenever he had imagined his death, it was quick, instant, always vaporised in a energy wave or decapitated in a poorly chosen fight. Not like this, not waiting an age just to cash in his chips. It's in this moment that the Heran realises the sad cruelty of it all; to spend one's life hunting Saiyans, to be mortally wounded by Saiyans, to die in the arms of an Elite. It just wasn't right. It wasn't his time - Father - he still had things to do, still had to fulfill his duty. Still had to bring back the glory of the Herans.
Suddenly, the pair burst forward in a blaze of sapphire energy. The sharp acceleration throws him; his guts in particular feel like an excitable dog's chew toy. His vision blurs, whether from their speed or his rapidly draining life force, he doesn't know. He starts to speak, but just can't seem to find the strength. He's low on energy - he just needs rest. That's all. Yes, that's the problem. His eyelids grow heavy, his heartbeat wanes; just a few minutes of sleep...
Their sudden deceleration is far worse than the acceleration; just like that, Creus is jolted back from the brink of death. He raises his head enough to see identify his healer; a decrepit looking man indeed. Dying though he may be, Creus was just grateful not to look like that.
The healthy pair drag the Heran into the hut, where the scent of... herbs hits him? Herbs? He had been under the impression he was going to be seen to by a medical facility, or a Majin mystic, or... well, anything but a crackpot herbalist. Certainly, such a thing wouldn't work... would it? Creus has seen stranger in his travels. As he's lowered onto a cot, the Saiyan addresses him once more, assuring him of the healer's qualifications. If he could laugh, he would.
"You'll be ready to end those who shame the Kingdom soon enough."
If anything were to bring the Heran back to lucidity, this would be it. Supposedly, he was a boogeyman amongst the children of the Elite; clearly this was one such child. He grabs the woman's arm, clinging to it as he clings to life. With great effort, he begs;
"Lady Vegia... stay..."
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Post by Vegia on Mar 1, 2018 13:57:29 GMT -6
“Place him on the table, girl, on his front.”
The old man gave directions calmly, and she doesn’t even care that he’s calling her ‘girl’. She did as she was told, laying Creus down and laying her hand over his own.
“I’m here.” She reassured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”
With his back exposed, the old man was free to inspect the wound. He tutted heavily, shaking his head, “My, my, young man, you are lucky to have been wearing that armour. No doubt this would have killed you if you hadn’t been. We’ll be lucky if you don’t have a nice, big scar when we’re through.”
There is nothing in his voice which implies he is lying, or holding back the truth; the healer is calm and methodical in the face of such grievous wounds. He moves with practiced ease to take off the backplate of the garment, to expose the flesh beneath.
Vegia’s eyes stayed locked on the Heran’s. Her expression was grim, and serious, but her presence remained firmly there, her hand on his, willing him to hold on. She had utter faith in Stils; the old man was the only reason she was alive, and her recovery had been remarkably swift. She knew what it was like to be so close to death, to be resigned to the end. In his eyes, though, she saw fire, where she was sure that before she lapsed into unconsciousness, she had been ready for an end to the duties that life demands.
“I’m afraid you’ve chosen a bad place to retreat.” She said, softly. “This planet is likely to be a warzone soon enough. The World Trade Fleet have struck, and are likely to follow us here. But, if you’re serious about fighting to liberate worlds…”
She had no doubt whatsoever that the World Trade Fleet would try to add Earth to their baubles. But, all of that no doubt seems like a very distant thing, as the poor Herans wound was suddenly bathed with a thick, green salve which burned like fire.
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Mar 1, 2018 14:43:52 GMT -6
How strange, to go from interrogator to bedside attendee. Yet Creus did not mind it; perhaps it was just on account of him being on what may be his deathbed, but the Heran soldier was comforted by her presence. He allows his sacred armour to be removed, something he would otherwise be vehemently against, even with his condition. He was sentimental about few things, but his father's armour was one such object - as he had always said, if he were to die, he would die in this armour. Yet, urged on to live by this complete stranger, he is compelled to follow the herbalist's orders.
Stils talks confidently, speaking of a potential scar. He says so in a stern, almost punishing voice, yet Creus interprets it with hope; it suggests that he may well survive this. As the salve is applied, he grips Vegia's hand ever tighter, baring his teeth as the fiery medicine spreads over his wound.
"Burns..."
He murmurs through clenched teeth. It did burn. Felt as if the Phlegethon itself ran across his back and soaked itself in his wound. Yet, he could already sense his strength returning, if only in minuscule measure to begin with. Throughout the application of the ointment, his head is bowed, his stare boring into the table upon which he lay. As he is spoken to, his intense gaze is focused back on Vegia, his eyes meeting hers; it's all he can do to distract himself from the pain. He makes a sound which sounds somewhat between a laugh and a cry.
"This is 'bout the Fleet, then... told myself I'd - shit, old man - not get involved..."
The intensity of his gaze dwindles, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Because despite his desire to avoid crossing the Arcosians at any cost, he owed this girl his life - and yet, the reason he was in the Karo descendent's debt was because of a wound inflicted by her own kind. A sense of racial belonging was missing from Creus, having known only one other Heran in his life; was she responsible for the ways of her wayward brothers? A pointless question; he knew the answer already, even if he wished to deny it.
"Well, not exactly in any shape to take back Vegeta for you, if that's what you mean. But you saved me, Vegia of Line Karo."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. He had long lived the life of a sellsword; it was true, he had liberated many a people from the tyranny of warlords. Yet, he had only employed his talents in exchange for coin. What kind of a life was that? What kind of warrior, who lifted a finger only at the sound of zeni? No longer could he live this way.
"I'm yours, if you'll have me. I want to fight for you."
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Post by Vegia on Mar 2, 2018 2:11:13 GMT -6
The old man nodded his head as he worked, “Yes, yes, it burns, that means it is working.” He said, laying a compress against the ointment and beginning to bandage the wound. The potent salve could work miracles; as the strength returning to Creus’ words seemed to show. It hurt, but it worked, and in the end, pain was a fair trade for a return to life.
Vegia looked down into Creus’ eyes as he spoke. She was conflicted. To save his life was something she’d done because it was her duty, because she felt that she had to, was it truly fair to take on a sense of obligation when she would have done it regardless?
But, at the same time, the Saiyan Kingdom couldn’t afford to turn away any warriors – let alone one as well-known and storied as Creus of Aether.
More important than her own needs, though, was the need she saw in his eyes. The burning determination to pay his debt, and she knew that no matter what she said, he would feel that debt weighing on him. There was a sense of honour in the older man which was all too familiar to her. In many ways, he reminded her of her brother.
Only, he’d survived.
She allowed herself a small smile at that, and nodded her head. Dark eyes met his own as she squeezed his hand firmly, reassuring him that, yes, she was still here, and she would stay there through the inferno now raging across his injured back.
“Then consider yourself an honorary member of the Saiyan Kingdom.” She said, “It isn’t going to be easy, but if the lizards think that we’re going to go quietly… they’re very much mistaken.”
The old man sucked his teeth, and sighed as he shook his head.
“That’s the problem with the young.” He bemoaned, “Always so eager to throw their lives away. You two should consider a quiet life. Find somewhere nobody will look for you, settle down, find a family. Life is precious and it’ll be over far too soon, even if you don’t go looking to pick fights.”
Vegia stared at Stils as though the old man had sprouted a second head. For once in her life, she was rendered completely speechless by such a ridiculous notion. These humans, they really had no idea about the pride of a warrior race.
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Mar 2, 2018 6:19:58 GMT -6
For all his misgivings, the salve really did seem to be working magic. So, it seems that the human race makes up for their lack of battle ability with their wizardry. Creus makes note of this; he preferred not to deal with Majin Mystics or Namekian Sages, the former being too troublesome and the latter too austere for his liking. The rate at which the salve performed was exponential, and Creus could feel his strength return with some haste.
It was true; the salve was not all that burned within Creus. His defeat on Archida had awakened something else. He had almost died, yes... and yet he has not had a better fight since he left his homeworld. Surrounded by Saiyans on all sides, he is reminded of his birthright - once, the Herans were a warrior race to rival the Saiyans. Post-destruction of their planet, the population had stagnated, with many dying young as pirates and plunderers. Few had any interest in continuing the legacy of their people. Creus' father had. It had been his dying wish, a wish Creus vowed to fulfill one day. He was but one man, one Heran; if he wanted to reclaim his people's birthright, he had to seize it by the hands. Earnest battle - for honour, not zeni - was the only real way forward.
In truth, Creus cared little for the Kingdom as a whole. He could never restore his people to that position, but perhaps he could show the universe one last time the power of the Herans. One final bow. The protestations of the man only serve to make Creus laugh.
"I thank you for your help, and I respect your position as elder. But, you couldn't hope to understand the ways of the warrior. You're telling a Saiyan and a Heran to back down from battle; you'd have better luck convincing the sun to stop rising in the morn, and the stars at night."
The soldier - born again as a warrior - shoots the healer a determined look. Seeing Vegia's expression only serves to validate his words. He lays himself down again, allowing Stils to continue his work.
"Tell me all that you know of the World Trade Fleet, and I shall tell you what I know in return. I regret to say that I have had... 'dealings' with them in the past, but perhaps one of us will know something the other doesn't."
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Post by Vegia on Mar 2, 2018 10:57:55 GMT -6
Vegia smiled a thin-lipped smile at Creus’ explanation. It was perfectly true, of course; battle was in her blood. The fact that she had been denied her glorious, rightful death defending the Palace was a wound from which she doubted she would ever recover. The human’s expertise in medicine had healed the body, but the damage to her warrior’s pride? That was something that no amount of bandages or semi-magical healing-goo could hope to repair.
The old man grumbled, and sighed, moving to put a kettle over his stove. “I’ll just make some tea.” He said, “You two can at least enjoy something good to drink before you go off to undo all my good work.”
Vegia bowed to Stils, “Again, thank you, Stils, for everything. I promise, though, it isn’t hopeless! And if we don’t do anything, countless people will suffer. We have a duty to try and put a stop to that. How else could we look ourselves in the eye in the morning?”
She was talking for the Heran now, but something told her that he was unlikely to mind too much; on that at least, they both seemed to be on the same page.
“The World Trade Fleet…”
She sighed, as she considered what information she had to work from. Really, it wasn’t a lot.
“All we know is that they are led by the Arcosians. Back in the old days, before the Kingdom, when Saiyans were still… monsters, essentially, we broke the back of their empire with the power of the Super Saiyan. We drove them to the very edges of the galaxy and then we left them alone, thinking that they’d never be a threat again.”
She shook her head, as though ruing the short-sightedness of those ancient Saiyans.
“As it turns out, Arcosians are extremely long lived, and they have very, very long memories. They bode their time, waited until the Kingdom had come to think of them as a legend, an old story used to frighten children… and then they struck.”
She clenched her fist, jaw tight at the memory.
“I was the weakest in my family by, a long margin, and they killed them all easily. Arcosians are terrifyingly powerful. We can’t hope to beat them on our own. We need an alliance, made from as many worlds and warriors as possible, before we strike back.”
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Creus
Newcomer
PL: 4,250
Super Heran (x4P)
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Post by Creus on Mar 2, 2018 16:27:34 GMT -6
Deeming his wound to be sufficiently healed, Creus sits up. The magical medicine drips down his back, heat tearing through him as the liquid oozes.
"Thank you, elder."
The Heran says simply. Although he believed in their cause, he was not so optimistic as Vegia. Maybe they stood a chance, with allies, but it would still be a deadly battle. Creus knew more than most that a battle against the might of the WTF may well be his - nay, all of their - last. He listens intently to what his new master has to say on the matter - the mention of the Super Saiyan seems to bring him troubled memories, but he says nothing. All that Vegia states, he knows well, being versed in the history of the Saiyan Kingdom. He runs a hand over his devastated armour, which lays next to him on the rough hardwood table. It itself had formerly belonged to the Fleet, decades ago.
"I know some of the commanders. Met a few of them, although I doubt they remember a lowly soldier-for-hire like me. Give me time, and I'll compile all I know of them. They were all powerful, though. That's one thing I remember."
He sighs, dropping his head into his palm.
"They have entirely different energies from their underlings, the Arcosians. Of course, that's not news to you - no doubt you've come across them before, so you've felt their sinister ki. And their life force... I've seen Fleet commanders take hits head on that would destroy lesser beings."
Here, Creus assumes his new master can sense energy, a talent innate in most Herans. Saiyans were a more mixed bunch; he had met several who could feel energy, but also several more who relied on scouters. No matter; surely Vegia would correct him either way.
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Post by Vegia on Mar 3, 2018 9:25:30 GMT -6
Vegia’s jaw tightened when Creus mentioned that he’d done work with the World Trade Fleet before. The teenager’s anger was clear, but she fought to swallow it – after all, he’d pledged himself to the Saiyan Kingdom, now, and that was more important than what he may have done in the past. If they were going to bring down the World Trade Fleet, they couldn’t afford to be picky about the people that they allied with.
“You… actually met them.” She says, slowly. “Just how long have they been planning this attack?”
For as long as she has been alive, the Arcosians have just been a legend; something she thought was long behind modern history, like the Super Saiyan or the days when Saiyans conquered worlds. Now, it seemed like all of that might have to come back, if they were going to avenge the devastation wrought upon their people.
“I can’t sense energy, but I know that Arcosians are on another level. The only way to beat one is with superior numbers. I don’t even know if that would be enough… I’m not sure if I’d bet on six Elites over one Arcosian, even if they had access to the Oozaru.”
She had confidence that they could turn the tide, but that was founded on optimism rather than logic. Perhaps they really were going to have to throw their lot in with this wild Dragon Ball idea if they were going to have a chance, but, that had always seemed even more ridiculous than the other stories. The Super Saiyan and the destruction of Arcose were things that they could see the result of today. Magical balls that granted wishes? That was a lot more difficult to swallow.
“Your information would be invaluable, though. When you’re feeling better, we’ll need to get a report we can give to the Prince.”
Before she could carry on, Stils came over with the promised tea – a cup each, and one for himself.
“Now, that’s enough talk of war in my house.” He said, firmly. “You young pups keep dropping out of the sky half-dead, I bet you haven’t even properly introduced yourselves, have you? Too busy looking to tomorrow to notice that you’re falling over today.”
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