Post by Bazantar on Sept 28, 2012 6:08:03 GMT -5
The mist continued it's inexorable creeping, sweeping down across the deep, green, fresh-water ocean. Within the foggy depths of this blackened vapour, a dark presence lurked, the likes of which namek has not seen in hundreds of years.
Mighty tyrants such as Touketsuki may have come as foreign emissaries of conquest and exploitation, but the Porunkal were infinitely darker, their only goal to reap a crop of death and destruction, a terrible vengeance upon their ancient enemies. They would not be bargained with, they would not be reasoned with, and unless stopped they would raze the villages of the namekian people to the ground.
The cloud reached a small island, and paused. Dark figures once more taking on corporeal form. Many of them turned back towards the vast moutain range which rested at their backs, across the waves but still very much visible.
Free at last. For Bazantar the sight of nameks pristine mountains was a somewhat emotional reunion… a deep hate-fill loathing welling from within. He had been a great many years since he had bared witness to these peaks, and as he looked on them now he could see just how different they were to his memories.
“Look Kontra, the sky…” he mumbled, leaning over ever so slightly towards his guardian to the left as his head and eyes tilt upward, looking passed his guardians into the green sky above. It was a sight it had not seen in hundreds of years, his eyes straining to remember how to even comprehend such vast, bright nothingness.
Some of his kin looked up at the sky also, nervously. For many the claustrophobic tomb of the demonic caves had been all they knew, and left as they were now to their own devices this unfamiliar sight was causing mild concern and discomfort. Even so, these were twisted, battle hardened warriors, and thus not the type to let such concerns get the best of them, especially when the tribe leader motioned for their attention.
“My brothers!” Skripka cried charismatically, floating into the air and bracing both arms out from his sides, fists clenched, his muscular, scarred upper body rippling. His voice booms over them all, and the group falls silent, their attentions draw immediately to their leader.
“Todaaaay… -” He yells the word, allowing his voice to trail off into echoes before continuing, ensuring that all eyes were at last entirely focused upon him.
“- we step Forward… BACK, into the world of old!” a small chorus sounds in response, mingling with the echo of the open air. The island is filled with Demon warriors, their red skin glistening under the light of the clouded sky and their feverish, beady eyes aglow.
“Todaaay… we walk FREEEE… From the caverns that so long remained as both our Prison, AND. OUR. TOMB.” His yelling voice places emphasis on each word, practically spitting them in contempt. Skripka was nothing if not in-touch with his people. In many ways he was the most typical tribesmen Bazantar knew, only his strength distinguishing him as anything more, yet this also allowed him to reach out to his men. It was all but assured that an twisted desire he sought to achieve would already be shared by his kin, their minds practically as one.
“They thought they could lock us away forever, BUT THEY WERE WRONG.” An energy ball springs forward from the leaders hand, and in an emphasising burst it flares brightly, it’s glow casting out over the surrounding area.
“And None Other, shall taste OUR freedom.” His hand was vibrating slightly as the energy in this ball pulsed angrily. The Porunkal all knew of whom he spoke, and their spiteful joy was expressed through wicked leers and jeers as their leader gave his speech.
Bazantar on the other hand watched Impassively, secretly unimpressed by the clan leader’s theatrics. Skripka was youthful and ambitious, a veteran of many skirmishes and named successor of their last leader who died in a brutal siege. There was no doubt he was charismatic, and a powerful warrior, but Bazantar had always remained somewhat aloof around him.
”You all BEHELD, as I Crushed the Entrance! And I know that I speak for us All, when I say: May the Rival Clans ROT! “ There was hatred in his voice, the mazoku continuing to yell his proclamations. He launched the gathered ball of energy with a vicious throw, out across the ocean towards an unoffending island, the water parting neatly in a flowing wave as it’s harsh red glow retreated out over the rippling surface. He turned back towards his clansmen, speaking quieter now.
“As for those that thought so long ago that they could be rid of us…” In a brilliant explosion the earlier energy ball finally reached land, impacting across the distant shore, striking a large stone outcropping on the jagged cliff-shores and obliterating it completely in a sustained red glow.
“We shall spill their blood for the carrion beasts and tear their lands asunder-“ , as he spoke these last works he pumped his fist into the air
“-VEGENCE, for the PORUNKAL!” The entire clan responded, a vast cheer ringing out, and even Bazantar gave a half-hearted acknowledgement at this call to action. As the jeers, hollers and hooting continued, Skripka admiring his motivational handiwork, the demon elder wordlessly raised his arms; hands held out claw-like, fingers wriggling in gentle, circular motions. As the spell was cast the mist began to grow once more, cloudy fingers seem to reach down and pluck up the tribesmen, the scene growing more and more obscured as the haze grew, and began once more in it’s writhing, creeping march towards the continents which the Guru's Namekian's called home...
((Until the first thread is graded I'm not sure what I would like for this. So my thoughts were that I would edit this comment here to say either pl or zeni once I get word back.
So yeah, plot development. Here's hoping Param comes back quickly))
Mighty tyrants such as Touketsuki may have come as foreign emissaries of conquest and exploitation, but the Porunkal were infinitely darker, their only goal to reap a crop of death and destruction, a terrible vengeance upon their ancient enemies. They would not be bargained with, they would not be reasoned with, and unless stopped they would raze the villages of the namekian people to the ground.
The cloud reached a small island, and paused. Dark figures once more taking on corporeal form. Many of them turned back towards the vast moutain range which rested at their backs, across the waves but still very much visible.
Free at last. For Bazantar the sight of nameks pristine mountains was a somewhat emotional reunion… a deep hate-fill loathing welling from within. He had been a great many years since he had bared witness to these peaks, and as he looked on them now he could see just how different they were to his memories.
“Look Kontra, the sky…” he mumbled, leaning over ever so slightly towards his guardian to the left as his head and eyes tilt upward, looking passed his guardians into the green sky above. It was a sight it had not seen in hundreds of years, his eyes straining to remember how to even comprehend such vast, bright nothingness.
Some of his kin looked up at the sky also, nervously. For many the claustrophobic tomb of the demonic caves had been all they knew, and left as they were now to their own devices this unfamiliar sight was causing mild concern and discomfort. Even so, these were twisted, battle hardened warriors, and thus not the type to let such concerns get the best of them, especially when the tribe leader motioned for their attention.
“My brothers!” Skripka cried charismatically, floating into the air and bracing both arms out from his sides, fists clenched, his muscular, scarred upper body rippling. His voice booms over them all, and the group falls silent, their attentions draw immediately to their leader.
“Todaaaay… -” He yells the word, allowing his voice to trail off into echoes before continuing, ensuring that all eyes were at last entirely focused upon him.
“- we step Forward… BACK, into the world of old!” a small chorus sounds in response, mingling with the echo of the open air. The island is filled with Demon warriors, their red skin glistening under the light of the clouded sky and their feverish, beady eyes aglow.
“Todaaay… we walk FREEEE… From the caverns that so long remained as both our Prison, AND. OUR. TOMB.” His yelling voice places emphasis on each word, practically spitting them in contempt. Skripka was nothing if not in-touch with his people. In many ways he was the most typical tribesmen Bazantar knew, only his strength distinguishing him as anything more, yet this also allowed him to reach out to his men. It was all but assured that an twisted desire he sought to achieve would already be shared by his kin, their minds practically as one.
“They thought they could lock us away forever, BUT THEY WERE WRONG.” An energy ball springs forward from the leaders hand, and in an emphasising burst it flares brightly, it’s glow casting out over the surrounding area.
“And None Other, shall taste OUR freedom.” His hand was vibrating slightly as the energy in this ball pulsed angrily. The Porunkal all knew of whom he spoke, and their spiteful joy was expressed through wicked leers and jeers as their leader gave his speech.
Bazantar on the other hand watched Impassively, secretly unimpressed by the clan leader’s theatrics. Skripka was youthful and ambitious, a veteran of many skirmishes and named successor of their last leader who died in a brutal siege. There was no doubt he was charismatic, and a powerful warrior, but Bazantar had always remained somewhat aloof around him.
”You all BEHELD, as I Crushed the Entrance! And I know that I speak for us All, when I say: May the Rival Clans ROT! “ There was hatred in his voice, the mazoku continuing to yell his proclamations. He launched the gathered ball of energy with a vicious throw, out across the ocean towards an unoffending island, the water parting neatly in a flowing wave as it’s harsh red glow retreated out over the rippling surface. He turned back towards his clansmen, speaking quieter now.
“As for those that thought so long ago that they could be rid of us…” In a brilliant explosion the earlier energy ball finally reached land, impacting across the distant shore, striking a large stone outcropping on the jagged cliff-shores and obliterating it completely in a sustained red glow.
“We shall spill their blood for the carrion beasts and tear their lands asunder-“ , as he spoke these last works he pumped his fist into the air
“-VEGENCE, for the PORUNKAL!” The entire clan responded, a vast cheer ringing out, and even Bazantar gave a half-hearted acknowledgement at this call to action. As the jeers, hollers and hooting continued, Skripka admiring his motivational handiwork, the demon elder wordlessly raised his arms; hands held out claw-like, fingers wriggling in gentle, circular motions. As the spell was cast the mist began to grow once more, cloudy fingers seem to reach down and pluck up the tribesmen, the scene growing more and more obscured as the haze grew, and began once more in it’s writhing, creeping march towards the continents which the Guru's Namekian's called home...
((Until the first thread is graded I'm not sure what I would like for this. So my thoughts were that I would edit this comment here to say either pl or zeni once I get word back.
So yeah, plot development. Here's hoping Param comes back quickly))
