Post by Piyano on Feb 24, 2017 4:22:39 GMT -5
Worry... worry and sorrow, no two words could better describe the emotions etched across the features of the Guru of New Namek as he flew over the northern border of Shell. Guru Piyano felt a dread in his bones that could only be matched by the dreary clouds floating overhead, laden with the deep rumbles of thunder and torrents of rain that would soon burst forth to drench the soil of Namek in a ferocious storm. A storm that Piyano feared foretold a mysterious, yet troubling time for his people. Nature was perfectly reflecting Piyano's mood and fears as his flight path brought him over the southern border of Nagiga Island, a place deeply entrenched in the northern continent. Nagiga island was home to the High Rock, the ruined remains of the lookout belonging too the great Guru of legend.
The farther north Piyano flew the deeper he entered into darkness. Not some metaphysical shroud of evil as many would expect, but an actually, physical gloom. The impending storm had been brewing in the far north for some time, its thick black and grey clouds filled the sky and edged out substantial quantities of light from Namek's three suns. The raw power and size of the storm front brought the first true bit of darkness to Namek in hundreds of years, the planet did not possess a night cycle and Piyano knew the growing blackness of the shadows was bringing fear to many younger members of his people. Despite the dangers of the mighty storm however Piyano continued his flight north, driven onward by a greater threat.
Mere hours ago Piyano had been visiting with a council of village elders to discuss political matters between villages, as well as announce his ideas for how to guide Namek into the future. It had been a dry meeting filled with much internal strife between certain individuals, as well as support and joy from others; it had been that way until an attendant had rushed into the meeting with the purest terror Piyano had ever seen splashed across his face. At the attendants persistent insistence Piyano had excused himself from the meeting to walk outside the front door of his home, only to be greeted to the most nightmarish sight of Piyano's life. Four bodies awaited him, two Namekian, one human, and one even appeared to be a Saiyan. The poor souls had met a grisly fate at the ends of their lives as all four were piked vertically through their torsos on massive wooden stakes, than posted into the earth as if they were nothing more than a gruesome array of scarecrows. Wounds marred the poor foursome, clear evidence of torture before the comfort of death carved into their remains. Upon the chest of each two words had been chiseled into their flesh; HIGH ROCK.
The revolting memory of the heinous murders rattled Piyano to his core as he traveled north. Piyano knew of killing, he knew of evil; but whether it had been assassins, monsters, criminals or even undead constructs that he had faced in his past, Piyano had never encountered a evil quite like this. Before he had left for High Rock Piyano had examined the bodies, he didn't know the victims. Whoever they were they had been used to send a vile message, random killings meant to instill terror into all whom saw them. The village chiefs were seeing to putting those victims bodies to rest even now, a responsibility that Piyano was forced to entrust to them as he felt a visit to High Rock could not wait.
That had all been nearly two hours ago, and now Piyano could see High Rock in the distance. The great spire of weathered stone had once been the highest place of honor to Piyano's people, not it stood as a haunted reminder of what unchecked evil could do to the world. It was no coincidence that the Mazoku clans had built their empire around the northern reaches of Namek, just as Piyano was sure it was no coincidence that he had encountered no resistance in his northern flight. It was all a prelude, a warning of peril yet to come. The dark clouds, growing darkness, and howling winds hinting at what Piyano would find upon his arrival, a requiem of peril.
Changing his angle of flight Piyano landed upon the plateau, it's dried sandy top was rough and hard to the touch, a piece of land that would never see life grow in it's tightly packed soil ever again. A single domed home rested upon the deserted spire, a large hole had been blasted through the top of the structure, and no effort had been made to render repairs. Gusts howled along the high place as Piyano walked toward the home, other than a sense of sorrow upon glancing at the one time place of honor Piyano saw and felt nothing of relevance as he searched for some sign as to why he had been called to the High Rock. The Guru couldn't even sense any ki readings within the region, neither low or high levels of power, it felt... empty. Stepping inside the home Piyano entered a single grand room, as if the entire home was simply this one area. A massive spiked throne sat towards the center of the place, sized as if for a Great Namek was meant to sit upon the throne and never leave.
Off to the side of the throne Piyano soon found a large table, and to his grief it was not all he had found. A Namekian lay strapped to the table at his ankles and wrists, pulled taunt into an inescapable spread eagle. The Namekian's lifeless eye stared right into Piyano's soul as the Guru approached his slaughtered brother, eyes growing wide as Piyano perceived the vertical slash that had split this man from hip to collarbone. The dead Namek's heart had been ripped free of his chest, purple blood littering the table and floor in droves, and no matter how hard Piyano searched the poor man's heart could not be found. All the Guru could find was a note, written in blood along the side of the first Guru's throne:
Scrawled in a dead Namekian's blood Piyano was sure he was witnessing the inner ravings of a madman, yet the words were scribbed in a soft flowing script, perfect Namekian language. Few people knew how to write the Namekian language, even among Namekian's themselves their language was rarely put to paper. Whoever had written this message was old, powerful, and intelligent and to make matters worse, Piyano had no idea who they were.
"No... the Mazoku clans are marching to war?!" the Guru finally said aloud with bated breath as the severity of what he had read dawned upon him the realization that a great war was coming to Namek.
WC: 1,194
PL: 158,109 [Perm x15: 2,371,635]
PL Suppressed: 120,000
The farther north Piyano flew the deeper he entered into darkness. Not some metaphysical shroud of evil as many would expect, but an actually, physical gloom. The impending storm had been brewing in the far north for some time, its thick black and grey clouds filled the sky and edged out substantial quantities of light from Namek's three suns. The raw power and size of the storm front brought the first true bit of darkness to Namek in hundreds of years, the planet did not possess a night cycle and Piyano knew the growing blackness of the shadows was bringing fear to many younger members of his people. Despite the dangers of the mighty storm however Piyano continued his flight north, driven onward by a greater threat.
Mere hours ago Piyano had been visiting with a council of village elders to discuss political matters between villages, as well as announce his ideas for how to guide Namek into the future. It had been a dry meeting filled with much internal strife between certain individuals, as well as support and joy from others; it had been that way until an attendant had rushed into the meeting with the purest terror Piyano had ever seen splashed across his face. At the attendants persistent insistence Piyano had excused himself from the meeting to walk outside the front door of his home, only to be greeted to the most nightmarish sight of Piyano's life. Four bodies awaited him, two Namekian, one human, and one even appeared to be a Saiyan. The poor souls had met a grisly fate at the ends of their lives as all four were piked vertically through their torsos on massive wooden stakes, than posted into the earth as if they were nothing more than a gruesome array of scarecrows. Wounds marred the poor foursome, clear evidence of torture before the comfort of death carved into their remains. Upon the chest of each two words had been chiseled into their flesh; HIGH ROCK.
The revolting memory of the heinous murders rattled Piyano to his core as he traveled north. Piyano knew of killing, he knew of evil; but whether it had been assassins, monsters, criminals or even undead constructs that he had faced in his past, Piyano had never encountered a evil quite like this. Before he had left for High Rock Piyano had examined the bodies, he didn't know the victims. Whoever they were they had been used to send a vile message, random killings meant to instill terror into all whom saw them. The village chiefs were seeing to putting those victims bodies to rest even now, a responsibility that Piyano was forced to entrust to them as he felt a visit to High Rock could not wait.
That had all been nearly two hours ago, and now Piyano could see High Rock in the distance. The great spire of weathered stone had once been the highest place of honor to Piyano's people, not it stood as a haunted reminder of what unchecked evil could do to the world. It was no coincidence that the Mazoku clans had built their empire around the northern reaches of Namek, just as Piyano was sure it was no coincidence that he had encountered no resistance in his northern flight. It was all a prelude, a warning of peril yet to come. The dark clouds, growing darkness, and howling winds hinting at what Piyano would find upon his arrival, a requiem of peril.
Changing his angle of flight Piyano landed upon the plateau, it's dried sandy top was rough and hard to the touch, a piece of land that would never see life grow in it's tightly packed soil ever again. A single domed home rested upon the deserted spire, a large hole had been blasted through the top of the structure, and no effort had been made to render repairs. Gusts howled along the high place as Piyano walked toward the home, other than a sense of sorrow upon glancing at the one time place of honor Piyano saw and felt nothing of relevance as he searched for some sign as to why he had been called to the High Rock. The Guru couldn't even sense any ki readings within the region, neither low or high levels of power, it felt... empty. Stepping inside the home Piyano entered a single grand room, as if the entire home was simply this one area. A massive spiked throne sat towards the center of the place, sized as if for a Great Namek was meant to sit upon the throne and never leave.
Off to the side of the throne Piyano soon found a large table, and to his grief it was not all he had found. A Namekian lay strapped to the table at his ankles and wrists, pulled taunt into an inescapable spread eagle. The Namekian's lifeless eye stared right into Piyano's soul as the Guru approached his slaughtered brother, eyes growing wide as Piyano perceived the vertical slash that had split this man from hip to collarbone. The dead Namek's heart had been ripped free of his chest, purple blood littering the table and floor in droves, and no matter how hard Piyano searched the poor man's heart could not be found. All the Guru could find was a note, written in blood along the side of the first Guru's throne:
"Demons Demons monsters and devils"
"Free from light we come we come"
"Too take from you daughters and sons"
"Demons Demons monsters and devils"
"We'll kill you all before we settle"
"Prepare for fun prepare for war"
"The demons are marching to your door"
Scrawled in a dead Namekian's blood Piyano was sure he was witnessing the inner ravings of a madman, yet the words were scribbed in a soft flowing script, perfect Namekian language. Few people knew how to write the Namekian language, even among Namekian's themselves their language was rarely put to paper. Whoever had written this message was old, powerful, and intelligent and to make matters worse, Piyano had no idea who they were.
"No... the Mazoku clans are marching to war?!" the Guru finally said aloud with bated breath as the severity of what he had read dawned upon him the realization that a great war was coming to Namek.
WC: 1,194
PL: 158,109 [Perm x15: 2,371,635]
PL Suppressed: 120,000
