12-24-2006, 03:05 PM
The bitter silence was unappreciated by the saiya-jin warrior whose maliciousness had conquered over all emotions. He was rendered into this bizarre scenario; compelled to patiently flock throughout the region without the speculation of war anytime soon. All of his weaknesses had been decimated due to this overpowering darkness surfacing from within. He almost longed for the satisfaction of being in the tomb of rubble once again; swelling with fierce rage at the sheer thought of the Outcast forces. After deliberation, he had been enlightened with the fact that they had succeeded or at least that was the belief in his mind. They had outsmarted the dominant unit of Dante apparently and had done unto them as Vejita I had proclaimed Dante would do unto them. They had scarred the group with wounds that would never be healed again and they were forced to suffice with the outcome of it all. An astounding amount of Dante soldiers had been butchered with the bomb forged by Outcast soldier. Unfortunately, with Vejita's monstrous self gradually fading into the shadows once again, his guilt was spawning similar doubt that had been shared by Broli.
It was almost as if the king had wielded that bomb and thrust its great strength into the horde of his brothers to spiral them into the realm of hell itself. King Cold, Pigero, Reijin, and Akane had all apparently been thrown into a single error in his commands. The souls of these men and women, as well as unnamed faces, were placed with great weight upon his conscience. With his injuries endured from the battle, he debated on which was more agonizing: his battered flesh or his heart crumbling with the thoughts of his soldiers being executed solely for his poor decisions. The mayhem out-stretched at unfathomed distances with a river of blood the only saturation for the war ravaged land. No one dared socialize during this event; only guided by the thoughts of the deceased on the battlefield. The bothersome buzz of flies stalking their prey, otherwise known as the Dante and Outcast forces, could be heard through the scene.
King Vejita crouched to a knee, the only limb of his body that seemed capable of possessing any excess strength. Blood spewed forth from the injured with every attempt the medical soldiers tried to stabilize them. Their screams haunted the saiya-jin commander while they were forced to view their fellow soldiers being launched into pits that were apparently "burials" to the masses. This was the only option in properly displaying respect to those who had been infected with death on the Dante side; but this was unsatisfactory. The Dante commander could only gulp the trauma down his throat and rekindle a period that this devastation was shown regularly to him, but he couldn't trigger it. This was as devastating as ever; even during the numerous battles he had lead his people into. He gazed down below into the reflection in the blood, noting of his facial expression. It had reverted once again into the Vejita of before, untainted by this world, and actually compassionate for his army. The hatred that was consuming him throughout the battle had dimmed once again.
The king remained in his stance with this scene imprinting itself into his memories with the most vivid of detail. With his emotions intact, he was still unwilling to confront this creature inside of him. Not out of trepidation of its power, but out of sheer belief of its power. He had embraced this power inside of him altogether. He shifted himself upon his feet, scrambling in the direction for the rubble that was buried a top of the soldiers. The commander paused momentarily with a sigh, and resumed his actions with the stones of the fortress being cast over his shoulder behind him. Whether he approved of his actions during the Hyperton battle or not, his soldiers were in dire need of his assistance.
OOC: Shitty RP, but felt like posting something.
It was almost as if the king had wielded that bomb and thrust its great strength into the horde of his brothers to spiral them into the realm of hell itself. King Cold, Pigero, Reijin, and Akane had all apparently been thrown into a single error in his commands. The souls of these men and women, as well as unnamed faces, were placed with great weight upon his conscience. With his injuries endured from the battle, he debated on which was more agonizing: his battered flesh or his heart crumbling with the thoughts of his soldiers being executed solely for his poor decisions. The mayhem out-stretched at unfathomed distances with a river of blood the only saturation for the war ravaged land. No one dared socialize during this event; only guided by the thoughts of the deceased on the battlefield. The bothersome buzz of flies stalking their prey, otherwise known as the Dante and Outcast forces, could be heard through the scene.
King Vejita crouched to a knee, the only limb of his body that seemed capable of possessing any excess strength. Blood spewed forth from the injured with every attempt the medical soldiers tried to stabilize them. Their screams haunted the saiya-jin commander while they were forced to view their fellow soldiers being launched into pits that were apparently "burials" to the masses. This was the only option in properly displaying respect to those who had been infected with death on the Dante side; but this was unsatisfactory. The Dante commander could only gulp the trauma down his throat and rekindle a period that this devastation was shown regularly to him, but he couldn't trigger it. This was as devastating as ever; even during the numerous battles he had lead his people into. He gazed down below into the reflection in the blood, noting of his facial expression. It had reverted once again into the Vejita of before, untainted by this world, and actually compassionate for his army. The hatred that was consuming him throughout the battle had dimmed once again.
The king remained in his stance with this scene imprinting itself into his memories with the most vivid of detail. With his emotions intact, he was still unwilling to confront this creature inside of him. Not out of trepidation of its power, but out of sheer belief of its power. He had embraced this power inside of him altogether. He shifted himself upon his feet, scrambling in the direction for the rubble that was buried a top of the soldiers. The commander paused momentarily with a sigh, and resumed his actions with the stones of the fortress being cast over his shoulder behind him. Whether he approved of his actions during the Hyperton battle or not, his soldiers were in dire need of his assistance.
OOC: Shitty RP, but felt like posting something.