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 The Plight of Tehran'he

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PowerLevel : 7,084,250
Ki : 7,084,250
Transformations : Second Form; Third Form; Final Form; Final Form 100%
Tehniques : Bakuhatsuha, Big Bang Attack, Double Big Bang Attack, Nuclear Shockwave, Dyne Power Up, Zanzoken, Galick Gun, Super Dodonpa, Final Flash, Kiai, Deflect, Multi Form(2 or 3), Two Fingered Blast, Ion Beam, Beam Ball, Fusion Ball, Fusion Beam, Masenko, Blazing Lightning Strike, Diamond Beam Cannon, Fusion Dance, Solar Flare, After Image, Instant Transmission, Super Final Big Bang Kamehameha, Kiaoken, Super Mega Death Ball, Super Slither Slasher Basher, Revenge Death Ball, Violent Thunder
Battle Points : 335
Zeni : 11,250
Items : Z-Sword, Ultimate Sensu Bean, Prince's Scouter, Tree of Might Fruit x42(used), King's Armor, Super Saibaman Grade 2(30 Seeds)
Posts : 31
Join date : 2010-08-26
Age : 24

PostSubject: The Plight of Tehran'he   Sat Aug 28, 2010 6:05 am

Shaking. Shivering. An endless cold that threatened to sweep away all else. Despite her very best efforts, the changeling was fast falling into a withdrawal from not having the heat of Helios’ shield near her; this in turn had her spiraling fast into a depression as they neared Frieza. It was the latest and the worst of a series of tragedies and dramas that had suddenly hit her.

Staring listlessly at the ceiling, her thoughts invariably returned to a topic that she attempted to avoid at all costs, but simply couldn’t now: her parents. She knew they had died early in her life, and that they had protected her by putting her under the surveillance of the neighborhood of Denor. But she also well remembered the failure that was, and remembered with relish the day she finally managed to escape the town and started living on her own.

Her first idea had been to attempt to find them, but her trail had ran cold at the PTO’s official spaceport. They had recorded that the changeling’s parents had rented a fighter ship headed to Earth after having been briefed about a growing threat there. But after that, nothing. The ship was never returned, and whatever threat had been determined had either been destroyed, or faded into the shadows.

Dragging herself from the thoughts violently, she forced herself to sit up in the bed. Tehran’he, eyes dimmed of the confident glow they once obtained, was suddenly filled with a gnawing urge to find whatever destroyed her mother and father, for indeed she knew in her heart they were long gone. And to find out the information she needed, there was only one person who could help her, and she wasn’t sure if he would.

This thought, though it didn’t cheer her, at least gave her the determination to want to get up; she had been in voluntary solitude for the past 36 hours. Stepping out from the room somewhat forebodingly, she walked towards the control center, and immediately strolled up to her second in command, an alien known as Portraeon. “When shall we dock?” she asked.

The man glanced at some flashing lights on the computer and said, “Hold on there, Captain. We seem to be getting an incoming transmission.” A moment later, the face of an extremely agitated changeling popped into view. “Lord Frost,” he said smoothly, lowering his head slightly. But the changeling in the screen ignored Portraeon completely and glanced at his vassal, Tehran’he.

“When will you be arriving on Frieza? I have an assignment for you.”

Tehran’he gave a sidelong glance at her, well, if not a friend, then something nearing friendship. He immediately glanced down. “Three hours until we enter the PTO’s airspace.”

“Excellent. When you arrive, immediately come here. That is an order. I expect you in four hours.” Tehran’he nodded, but she mightn’t have bothered; he had already logged off.


Tehran’he boldly strode through the wide double doors that led to the throne room of Lord Frost. Bowing slightly, she murmured, “Master…”

“Please, you need not bow to me. Come closer.”

She did.

“As you know, I cannot control all of Frieza all of the time. Therefore, I have governors of certain sectors: deputies, of a sort.” A nod. “Well, the governor of this very sector has had three assassination attempts on him this past few days. I sent some of my Honor Guard to help, but they were not only ineffective against the threat, but were all killed in the struggle.”

Tehran’he listened attentively. She had an idea what she was to do, but still asked, “How does this concern me, sensei?”

“I need you to find out who they are working for, why they want to kill him, and lead them to a location where you and I together can defeat them.” He hesitated. “If you succeed, I will have deemed you a full graduate of my teachings and give you rank of general in our army, allowing you a personal task force of three hundred of our finest soldiers.”

Tehran’he stood, stunned. What he offered had been a dream for her for years: to command her own legion of elite soldiers with the sole purpose of going to other worlds and using their various skills to help sustain her and her men. “That…” she struggled to keep emotion out of her voice as she continued, “Sounds fair, considering the amount of danger you are putting me in.”

“May I take that as an assent?”

“You may.”

“Good. You can have your usual room. The Head of Security will debrief you at dawn tomorrow.” Tehran’he turned to leave the room, but was stopped by Frost’s final words: “Where is your shield?”

There was the slightest moment when she didn’t move, but it was almost imperceptible. She continued out the solid gold doors. Without turning around, she answered, voice growing fainter by the second: “It was expendable.” The words killed her to say, but she had to convince herself that it indeed was. The only way to do that would be to pretend long enough that it became a reality.

Moving to the residential complex within the castle, she contemplated on something. The last time she had seen Hyperion, her true master, was through a dimensional rift found here in this very palace. But Tehran’he had no way of contacting the Titan Lord. If he wished to speak with her, he would.

As if on cue, a blast of heat washed from the walls, so powerful that the air itself shimmered with power. Tehran’he stood her ground, but only just. Strong though she may be in the art of fire bending, for that was the official name of her refined control over the element, she was but a newborn compared to the sheer knowledge and wisdom from her master.

A column of flames leapt from the ground up two feet from Tehran’he, which quickly faded away. Standing in front of her was a humanoid of about six feet tall, slightly tanned, with golden locks that fell about to the ears. Muscles were seen slightly larger than average around the biceps and calves, though nothing too outrageous. His eyes were a cool blue color, with a lime green core.

He wore solid gold chain mail, with armor covering it of a slightly darker shade of yellow. Across the chest plate was a phoenix, one of the most majestic beings in existence, not to mention immortal. And in his left hand, he held a helm that seemed to be made from some living metal that matched all the colors of his attire synonymously. Student

For a moment, there was silence. Finally, the alien opened his mouth and spoke. “discipulus meus erat quam ista?”Despite him speaking in his native tongue, she somehow understood perfectly what Hyperion had asked.

“I am fine.” Even to Tehran’he, the words sounded hollow. To change the subject, she asked, “What are you doing in war gear? Has something happened?”

“nunc dei bella.”

*How are you, my pupil?
**Today, the gods wage war.

The changeling wasn’t sure what to say. After a moment, she tried to get an explanation out of him. “Why are the gods fighting? Who has brought war between you?” The alien stayed silent for a long moment, face expressionless. Finally, he sighed.

“semper deus bellum.” This was a true enough statement, to be sure. Since the dawn of their existence, any known articles of the gods involved two or more factions fighting, generally using the human race as intermediates in its earlier days. Now, however, it was more prudent for the gods to duel on unmarked planets; it was much more satisfying and there was little to no chance of detection.

“But enough of such things,” he abruptly said. It took a moment for her to realize he had reverted back to English. Perhaps he had been distracted at first and was now starting to focus on his surroundings. “I merely came to inform you… I may begin to ask favors of you over the coming months. I cannot tell you what they are, yet, but I need your solemn oath that you would help if asked.”

“Of course,” she replied instantly. “I would be honored. But what shall I swear by?”

Hyperion looked uncomfortable at this. “Swear upon the River Styx.”

The changeling instantly understood, and a bit of foreboding crept into her. If a mortal broke an oath sworn on the River Styx, they would not only die, but spend the rest of their afterlife in horrible agony. Whatever he needed her to do was serious. “I swear upon the River Styx, that I will aid you, Hyperion, in all that you may ask of me, to the best of my ability.” A low rumbling sound echoed across the halls.

“Is that all?” The changeling was pleased to see the Titan of Light, but he was acting odd; she wasn’t sure if he was right in the head at that moment, and figured she should steer clear of him until otherwise. But at the same time, this war between the gods may have been more complicated than he made it out to be.

“Yes… I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t one of them.”

“One of who?” Hyperion appeared not to have heard. With a quick nod, he disappeared in the same column of fire he had appeared in. Tehran’he stood for a moment, trying to digest the ambiguous clues he left her. It sounded as though she had just been enlisted into Hyperion’s forces against the threat of rebel gods. But who were they? And what were they trying to accomplish? Unable to answer these questions, she continued on to her room, lost in thought.

*The gods are always at war.

The changeling awoke shortly before dawn, yawning slightly. It had been an eventful evening, what with Lord Frost’s proclamation. But seeing that she had an hour or two before she would officially be given her assignment, she stepped out of her room, deciding to do some pre-dawn practice. Leaving the residential complex as quietly as she could, she walked out of the palace grounds.

After a moment’s consideration, she flew off towards the commons area, a pit made of snow condensed so heavily so as to feel like rock; the fact of its density meant that it never melted, so even on the rare occasion of a warm day; it was still as good a place as any to fight. There, she had met Frieza and sparred with him for a brief few minutes, before speaking to him about his troubling thoughts concerning a certain Nemesis and her Legion of Syn.

Answering honestly enough his questions, she took leave of him and headed back to the palace, just in time to be ambushed by the Head of Security, who had been on his way to her room anyway. Because of this, he chose to simply fill her in at the door, so as to save time. “One guard survived the third onslaught when the assassin came calling. Seeing as none others lived, and the one who was spared wasn’t anything special, we assume this as well was purposeful.”

Tehran’he nodded. It made sense. Leave the one guard alive, and leave a message, whether verbal, or otherwise, by doing so. “Are we going to speak with him, or are you just going to tell me what he knew?” The Head looked confused by her question.

“Both, of course,” he replied, tone still revealing slight surprise. “He can’t speak at the moment, however; he’s suffering from intense trauma.”

“Then how do we even know what happened?”

“It wasn’t easy,” the man admitted. “We had to hire a Keliouxian Elder to come out here and read what was on his mind so we could understand it. Even then, we had trouble; as I said before, he’s a bit fractured, so what we got out of him wasn’t as crystal clear as it could have been. I will, because of this, only tell you what we’re sure of.”

Tehran’he nodded, to show she was listening. After a moment of silent scrutinizing, the Head continued. “One thing for sure we know is that the three assassin attempts were performed by three separate entities that appear to be working together.” Tehran’he pulled a sour face. "I already know that," she whined.

In an apologetic tone, he said, “Gotta start somewhere. Anyway, we also learned that these three beings do not call themselves the Kindly Ones. They instead call themselves the Furies, and claim to be working under the orders of a super powerful alien named Hades.”

Tehran’he blanched. And with her already pale skin, this was a difficult feat to perform. The Head of Frost’s Security was an excellent reader of emotions, and could hardly fail to notice this. “Does that name mean something to you?” he asked.

She hesitated, before saying, “You could say that. I don’t know him personally, but I know of him. He calls himself Lord of the Dead.” This was clearly news to Frost’s ‘Police Chief.’ Running his hands several times across his forehead, he licked his lips nervously.

“Is he good on that title?” Tehran’he’s silence spoke volumes.

“Shit.” Completely forgetting to fill her in on the remaining news, he zoomed off, headed for the throne room. Not that Tehran’he needed any more information for today’s job. She would simply be observing the governor’s home, searching for clues, while at the same time asking the governor himself some questions about the actual attacks: what he could recall was said or done, where the assassins came from, etc.

Turning away, she aimed for the home of the local governor; she needed to navigational instructions to find it. Next to Frost’s palace, it was easily the largest and most resplendent home available for miles in any direction. Indeed, not even thirty seconds had passed before the monster of a mansion was located. Within another minute, she had reached the home.

Made with some sort of baby blue colored material, it spanned across perhaps a two thousand meter radius, taking up plenty of ‘prime’ property in its wake. The castle itself was three stories, with an east and west spiral tower, and behind the actual building, what appeared to be an archer’s vantage point to take out invading armies. Supposedly, this building had been around since before the Cold family somewhat united Frieza, so there may be merit to her theory.

Landing lightly on the snow, she stepped forward, headed directly for the double-wide gates made from the rarest and most purified platinum available; it was also fortified with certain qualities that supposedly made it more powerful than even a Kassack’s skin, which in itself was rumored to be able to take more power than titanium steel from Planet Earth.

Tehran’he went up to the gate and pushed the small, metallic button that sat on the right edge of the gate, signifying her presence. There was a crackle of static, before a rough, bass voice responded. “Do you have an appointment?”

Smirking slightly, the changeling said, “As a matter of fact-”

“That’s what I thought. The governor is a very busy man, so if you could please come back at a later date. Thank you.” Sounding weary by the end of it, he cut off communications between the gate and the control center inside the mansion. Tehran’he tried to keep her cool. She could just bust over the edge of the gates and fly inside the house unannounced, but was trying, for once, to take the diplomatic approach.

Look where that got her.

She decided to try one more time. She used her index finger and firmly pressed in the small silvery button that served as her way to get buzzed in. After a moment of silence, a testy voice responded. “I already told you, we are indisposed at the moment due to an emergency issue involving the governor; now leave.”

Tehran’he responded smoothly with, “So you’ve caught the Furies, then?”


“What do you know about them?” he asked hesitantly, almost embarrassedly.

“I’m the one Lord Frost sent to find out about it and take them down.”

“You?” There was a short bark of laughter that startled the changeling. “Frost must be losing his touch. Then again, I must be losing my mind, because for some reason, I believe you.” And with that, the gates slid open, creaking slightly as they did so. Tehran’he, however, assumed this was less likely due to technological issues, and more so to make the mansion appear that much more medieval and whimsical. It certainly worked to intimidation tactics.

Without any hesitation, the changeling walked through the gates, straight-backed and proud. But, of course, since there was a good mile separating her from the entrance and the actual building, she simply took to the skies. Her blindingly gold aura burst around her; however, for some strange reason, it was also tinged with a dark blood red that outlined and defined itself by having the edges a black so dark as to appear midnight blue.

It was an unusual shade, to be sure, and made for a nice color scheme as she sped up, blurring her aura slightly. When she landed at the door, it automatically swung open, seemingly of its own accord. Tehran’he glanced around to see if anyone had opened it from a distance, perhaps with some sort of mental power or something, but it was futile.

The door had simply opened.

After a moment, she entered the room and called out, “Hello?”

“Yes,” called a voice from above. Tehran’he looked up; the governor was hovering about fifteen feet up in the air where a semicircular window stood. “I had been watching you approach,” he said by way of explanation. Tehran’he slipped over to him, keeping her multicolored aura roped in for the time being.

“As I’m sure you already guessed, I have some questions for you,” she began. The changeling simply nodded and gestured she continue. “Could you tell me what you remember about the appearance of your attacker?”

“Attackers,” he quickly corrected. “They all appeared during the final attack. And they did show themselves to me, yes.” Here, he hesitated, probably gathering his thoughts. After a moment, he continued, gazing out blankly into space. “They wore dark cloaks that seemed to flow even without them moving. Their eyes were the color of onyx and seemed to shine brighter than even a blue-eyed being.”

“They were pale, exceedingly so, almost like pale moonlight on a starry night. And their fingers were long and slender, but wrinkled from the clearly many years they have lived through.” He sighed for a moment. “They sounded…” A shudder passed through the governor’s body. “Excuse me,” he apologized. “I can best describe it as when I was a child, and my mother caught me doing something wrong. Their voices made me feel like an insolent youth again, one who needed a punishment.”

A shadow crossed the changeling’s face at the word ‘mother,’ but she let it pass unchallenged. “Anything else?” she asked curtly. “What race were they, do you know?”

“I do not.”

“Hm. They called themselves the Furies, I believe?”

“Aye, that they did.”

“What were they after? Was it really your life?”

The governor hesitated, deep in thought. Opening his mouth slowly, he began, sounding as though he were weighing the words precisely before saying them. “They clearly wanted my life, oh yes. There was nothing I could offer them. But as for if they wanted to end it… I do not think so. I think I was the bait. I think they used me to get to someone else, but I couldn't tell you who.”

At this, Tehran’he blinked. After a moment, however, she composed herself and the governor seemingly had not noticed. “Well, what did they want to do to you, then? Capture you as ransom? Beat you senseless as an example of their might? Torture you for information on Frost?”

“None of these, I am sure,” he immediately responded. “They would have, at most, kept me hostage in this home. I am sure of it, though my bodyguards disagree.”

“Interesting. Thank you for your time.”

“Please, the pleasure was all mine.” As Tehran’he began to float back to the ground, he called, “And would you please give these so called "Furies," whatever it is they want? I rather liked leaving my home every now and again.”

The changeling didn’t answer, but her silence was more than enough information. She had something, something they wanted. But even Tehran’he wasn’t yet sure of what it was. Touching down on the ground, she remembered she had no idea of the layout of the house. She turned to ask where the security room was, but the governor was gone. He was pretty fast, she decided. Good to know there were other powerful changelings afoot.

Tehran’he began wandering the halls of the mansion, looking for the security guard she had spoken to upon her entrance. It was as good a place as any to begin the search of the grounds. After a while, she ran into a thick necked changeling holding a vicious looking double edged axe. “What do you want?” he asked, slightly more aggressive then was necessary.

“I’m here to find out any information about the recent assassination attempt on the governor. Do you have any clues or something that could be used to trace them?” She knew there was little hope of a positive answer, and wasn’t surprised when he replied in a negative tone.

“Don’t you think if there was some sort of clue, we’d have already searched up on it? Just get out of here. You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, so just run back to Lord Frost and practice your breathing exercises like a good little minion.”

A small beam of Ki appeared at the tip of the guard’s finger and he pointed it menacingly at Tehran’he, letting his power level fly to a whopping – in his eyes, anyway – 3200. “I said leave,” he repeated. The changeling just stared at him. “Fine. Have it your way then!” The beam of energy flew forward, aimed directly at Tehran’he’s chest. Her speed being nearly eight times the guard’s, he didn’t even see her deflect it. It just appeared as if it flew off in another direction for no reason at all.

Raising a hand, a ball of energy formed in Tehran’he’s palm, swirling slowly. “I suggest you not attack me again,” she said slowly, deliberately. “It has serious health ramifications. Now, unless you have information you could give me, I suggest you just walk away, or a new Head Guard will be needed shortly.”

The changeling hesitated and swallowed visbily before nodding in acceptance. “They didn’t leave anything behind.” Tehran’he lowered her hand, and the orb disappeared. Turning on her heel, she left for the front door. That had been a pretty big waste of time. But considering what she had learned, there was probably a clue, but only one she could find. The trick would be to spot it. And as she left the governor’s home and shot into the sky, she saw it.

Three monstrous images were drawn into the ice surrounding the home. One was the face of herself. The other two were completely unfamiliar to her, but she still stared at them long enough to keep them in her own personal memory stores. The one on the left of her was a changeling male that appeared around her age, perhaps a shade older. He didn't seem to have any other distinguishing qualities, so she changed her attention to the one on the right.

The other reminded her somewhat of Chaos. It was a hybrid of a humanoid and a changeling, though from the look of the face, he didn’t appear to be a half Saiyan. In fact, he almost looked like a human. But the look in his eyes did remind her of the monkeys; confident to the point of arrogance, and a well of self-indulgence that probably never ran dry.

After she felt sure she would recognize the faces when she saw them, the changeling flew off into the distance, headed back to Frost’s palace to inform him of what she had learned, and possibly ask Hyperion of his take on the attack. He did seem to act as though it was expected, almost as though the attempt had triggered his own personal war.

“What have you found so far?”

There were two humanoid beings standing alone inside a wide, exquisite room. Marble floors lay in square tiles all across the perfectly symmetrical area. Columns made of sapphire rose up from the ground straight up to the ceiling, nearly 100 meters up. Other than that, the room was practically empty; a quite intimidating sight for someone who had not seen it before.

But this throne room, for that was what it was, was not a new experience to be in for either of the two currently inside. One stood kneeling, head bowed in deference to the second. This was obvious proper, for the second sat in a solid gold chair riddled with rare gemstones, directly opposite wide double doors, made of the same fashion. Foreign glyphs covered the structure, supposedly from the time of the Lost, though whether the Lost wrote in hieroglyphs or not was highly debatable.

Lord Frost, the man sitting in the seat of power and honor, stared down at his finest student, and soon to be top general in the Planet Trade Organization. Her name? Tehran’he. Glancing up at him, she replied, tone cautiously devoid of any emotion. “I have found a clue left by the assassin. We assume it was purposeful.” Rising to her feet, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper, handing it to Frost.

It read as follows.


We know you hunt for us. But if you wish to find us, I would suggest you meet us in the Southwest corner of your palace. Bring only one other person with you. If you do not come within three weeks, we shall assume that you give us free rein, and the governor will die. And be warned – if there is any trickery planned from this, you will sorely regret it.

-The Kindly Ones

The changeling master read it through several times, trying to make sure he understood it completely. But before he could gather his thoughts, a knock came from across the throne room. “Enter!” Frost commanded.

A creaking sound, followed by a small, twitchy changeling entered their sphere of vision, was the response. Rushing forward, he thrust yet another note in His Majesty’s face.

“It is a letter from the leader of the Legion of Syn, an extremely powerful empire, Your Highness.”

“What the- why, that’s preposterous. There is no such thing!” But yet Frost still took the paper and read it out loud.

“Lord Frost, master of the changeling empire, my name is Nemesis, and I am leader of a fighting force known as the Legion of Syn. Currently, we are at war with two other factions: the United Alliance, and the Valkyrie, for control of the galaxy.” At this, he let out a slight snort, and continued reading.

“I understand the importance the changeling race puts in their fighting, and for them not to participate in such grand doings is an insult to their very existence. But, if you joined us, we would be guaranteed to gain control over the galaxy. And in exchange for your aid, I would not only give your Planet Vegeta, to do with it as you wish, but also King Vegeta himself, alive, so that you may kill him personally in the most violent way possible.”

Frost’s tone became more thoughtful, and less condescending. “And I assure you, that despite what it sounds like, I do not require your aid to win this war. We are quite capable on our own. But, under the Flag of Truce, I would ask you to bring your finest general and five hundred elites from your army. In doing so, I will then explain to you exactly what my aims are, and how I plan to achieve them, so you could understand what you would gain as well. However, if you choose at any time to cross me, I will declare war upon you as well. And you do not want me as your enemy.”

“However,” it concluded, “I doubt you will want to. Our power is great and our influence far-reaching. I look forward to meeting you on Planet Rath.”

Frost slowly folded up the little piece of paper, staying absolutely quiet. After a long silence, he remarked, “An opportunity like this to destroy the Saiyan Empire has not come in many a decade. I will not deny, I am tempted…” A long silence followed. He suddenly jerked his head up and looked at his liege. “Tehran’he, I value your opinion. Tell me, do you think she can back up what she has to say?” The female changeling looked up at him thoughtfully. In fact, she had been considering it herself for some time and already had an answer, but had stayed quiet so as not to appear impertinent.

“I think…” she began in a mock hesitant tone, “that this is a win-win situation for us. On the one hand, if we go to her, and she does have the power to back up these bold statements of galactic conquest, then it would be infinitely more beneficial to us then staying independent, as we always have been.”

“However,” she continued, “if it turns out that she was bluffing and needed our help much more than she implied, then we could leave freely. Being stretched thin by two war fronts, alongside the fact our men are the most powerful and tactical in the galaxy, would spell certain defeat for her if she wished revenge. And she may even weaken the Saiyan Empire for us before she is obliterated, leaving our path to victory that much easier.”

Frost nodded slowly. “Wise words, from one so young. Perhaps… yes.” He seemed to decide upon something that had been bothering him for some time. “General,” he barked. “Gather the elites necessary and head off on your ship to Planet Rath immediately.” For a moment, both the messenger and Tehran’he looked around, expecting to see someone from the military nearby. Finally, it caught on.

“Me?” the changeling asked incredulously. “But…” her voice trailed off. Frost was offering her up as the finest general in the changeling army, putting her in charge of five hundred of the most powerful soldiers in the universe. And she didn’t feel worthy.

Frost’s face softened. “Do not worry; you will do fine.” The female changeling nodded once, and stood straight up, back level with her feet. Inclining her head slightly at her leader, she murmured, “I shall not let you down.” With that, she spun on her heel, headed for the military barracks.

--- Later That Day ---

“What do you mean, promoted?” Tehran’he calmly stared into the face of Ex-Army General Keltra, who seemed to be foaming out from the mouth; instead, it was spittle hanging from his lips after being told the news. Tehran’he shrugged, not in the mood to explain herself. She had been promoted and had taken his job; that was the end of it.

“Well, these soldiers are highly trained and hand-selected for the most dangerous missions possible. I doubt you have what it takes to lead them.” So here it was, in the open: a challenge to her authority. After a moment where she didn’t react, she took a slight step toward him, and lowered the sound of her voice considerably as she responded.

“Unless you are implying you would wish to duel me for control of these men, I suggest you take up your reservations with Lord Frost. Otherwise, I have my orders and can easily have you executed for keeping me from them.”

As she spoke, she slowly raised her Power Level. She tended to keep it around 500 or so to not appear so uppity around those who can’t reach her own personal level of skill, but at that moment, she topped off at her regular 30,000 PL, plenty enough to take down Keltra, who was a mere 7,000. His eyes flickered slightly; Keltra was wavering.

Finally, he said, in a horrible attempt to sound casual, “I didn’t care anyway. I just wanted to make sure you had proper clearance, and since you do…” He mumbled something about the Blizzard Division, and Tehran’he stalked off, letting him wallow in his own self-pity. She had better things to do.

Upon finding the Blizzard Division’s sector, she simply set her scouter to the frequency that they answered to and spoke. “Hello. This is your new Army General Tehran’he speaking. All members of the Blizzard Division are to report to the nearest space port, packed and ready for a maximum two-month trip, by dawn. Food and drink will be provided to you. War is not expected, but come prepared nonetheless.”

She paused.

“Finally, no matter what happens in the coming weeks, remember your heritage. You are members of the changeling race, the mightiest species ever to exist. Do not let anything convince you otherwise, or cloud your mind to your pride in this land, these people, and this world.”

“That is all.” Closing the frequency, she shot off into the sky, for some much-needed rest. The day had been stressful, and Frost laying on her the responsibility of the entire changeling army was already weighing down on her. It meant she was now the third most powerful person in the military, next to Fleet Admiral Aden and the Commander In Chief himself, Lord Frost.

Entering the palace while in midair, she simply flew across the hallways at breakneck speed, until she was at the beginning of the hallway where her own room was. Instantly, she pulled all the heat she had generated from her flight inward, causing the air around her to grow frigid and denser, slowing down her own self. Next, she corkscrewed her body for maximum air resistance. Finally, she shut off all Ki, meaning her forward propulsion had reached absolute minimum.

With a less than graceful stop, she landed just one door shy of her room. Walking back, she entered the three-bedroom apartment and rolled onto her bed. Lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling for a long time, not thinking of anything. Long after the sun fell, she still sat in that position, but had long since unwittingly fallen asleep. In fact, she wouldn’t even be aware she was asleep until the morning, because her rest was so deep and nourishing to her mind and body, she didn’t even dream.

--- The Next Day ---

The changeling got up, quickly, shooting out of bed as though an electrical shock had run through her. Dawn was fast approaching, and she was still nearly asleep! Rushing into her wardrobe, she grabbed the uniform that she had been given to distinguish her rank. Not bothering to look at it, she merely tried to pull it on as fast as possible, completely uninterested in anything other than not missing the deadline of being at the space port by dawn.

Once everything was on properly and she deemed herself smart enough, she quickly grabbed a small object off her dresser, reached for her staff and slung it over her, and attempted to calmly walk down the hallways until she got to the great entrance gates to the palace. She managed to do surprisingly well; the only thing that gave away the changeling’s nervousness was a slight twitch in her tail every minute or so, but that wasn’t unusual. Changelings enjoyed flicking their tails for all sorts of reasons.

However, the moment she was outside the palace gates, she quickly made it known how fearful she was of if Lord Frost would know she missed her first assignment. Taking the cap off and sticking it under her right arm, she launched into the sky, powering up simultaneously. At her unbelievable 6,100 speed, she flew across the landscape, watching the icy lands blur into a sea of white with no definable features other than the occasional streaks that she mused were small villages.

Within minutes, she had reached the space port. Touching down at the front doors, still at full speed, a wave of air shot down after her, pressing down on all in the surrounding vicinity, injuring several unlucky ones and simply forcing back the majority by a three foot radius. Slipping the formal headwear back upon her skull, she boldly walked through the doors, hand ironing her suit as she did so. Tehran’he assumed she did an okay job; it only looked a little windswept, and it didn’t take much to smooth out.

There was a small sign at the check-in location that indicated that the Blizzard Division of the military head to Hangar 17. Changing course slightly, she herself went for the said Hangar, breath even, gait restored, and swagger in full swing. With quick, wide strides, she entered and watched with satisfaction as the majority of the soldiers within stopped talking immediately and saluted their new commander. “At ease,” she called, not breaking stride. She was headed directly for the Frieza Heavy Cruiser she had been ordered, The Frostcutter.

“We leave in five minutes. Say your goodbyes, pack up, and be on. If you are not on when we leave, you will be branded a deserter.” They wouldn’t, really; the Blizzard Division members were too valuable and loyal to be kicked out. However, they were not aware of this, and so began her persuasive rule over the Division.

Within three minutes, all were on board, heading for their own personal quarters. Satisfied, the changeling headed for the Control Center. Entering it, she murmured, “Portraeon…?” For indeed the alien that had previously driven the Kraken was now seen adjusting various dials and knobs on the Cruiser.

“I’ve been promoted.” The pride was clearly etched in his tone, despite his emotionless face. “I am now your Co-Captain of the Cruiser, and a Major General in my own right.” Tehran’he smiled kindly at him. Touching his shoulder lightly, she said, “You deserve it.” They shared a small moment of kinship, before both faces turned sober.

“Are we ready for takeoff?”

“Yes, sir,” he said evenly, already back on the knobs. “In fact…” a loud whining noise filled in the rest of the sentence. This was followed by a sudden tug, and a violent upward motion as the ship flew out of their vertical hatch. Once clear of the walls, their forward propulsion kicked in and they shot off, headed for Planet Rath. After Portraeon filled in the coordinates, he put it on autopilot and turned to take in the changeling’s appearance. He then glanced down at himself.

Another look at the female changeling got her attention. “Yes?” she asked curiously.

“You don’t see it?” he asked, smirking slightly. “We’re practically wearing the same thing.” Tehran’he looked down at herself. Her suit was a pure white shade, clearly custom fit, though how they had done that she didn’t have the faintest idea. There was a single pocket over each breast area, and the jacket stopped several inches below the pants. The lower clothing had nothing special about it; same color and material as the upper body.

However, there was a small hole in the back area of the uniform, designed so the changeling could let their tail out casually and not have it compressed into their back or wrapped around their waist. The changeling slowly uncoiled her own tail and let the tip slip through the hole. It was comfortable, to say the least. Above the right jacket pocket five small, bluish snowflakes were pinned, clearly marking her rank as Army General. Glancing at Portraeon, she saw he had four. Still an impressive collection, but not quite as high up.

In her left chest pocket was the small object she’d grabbed on the way out. It had been her Gem of Telepathy; she had a feeling she would need it in the days to come. Turning to head off to her quarters, she gave Portraeon a quick wave. But he suddenly appeared to remember something. “Wait!” He fumbled underneath the machinery he had been sitting at, before pulling out a large, yellowish shield, clearly engraved along the edge with foreign runes.

In the middle was a small flame-shaped tattoo, that just matched Tehran’he’s own. “Someone came in and wanted me to give it to you,” he said, handing the shield over. “Said you’d need it.” Hardly daring to believe it, she slipped the shield over her left arm, casually rolling her shoulder to get it in the perfect maneuvering position. As if on cue, the shield instantly caught fire, glowing a warm, enticing red orange.

“I… I thought this was destroyed…” her voice trailed off. “Was there anything else?” she suddenly barked at Portraeon.

“Uh, as a matter of fact, yeah. He left a note for you. Strange fellow,” he added, offhandedly, giving Tehran’he an oddly significant look. But she didn’t take the bait. This was her business, and nobody else’s. After a moment, the general sighed and gave her the note.


In Plain English writing, it read as follows:

I found this floating in space the other day. Figured you might need it for the trip. I’ll keep in touch.



Please Note: The remainder of the clip has been purposefully corrupted by the Legion of Syn. This was done on the order of Nemesis herself due to threats of outsiders or spies obtaining valuable information and insights into their battle plans. It is therefore unreadable.

“You need to lighten up.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re pissed off and bored, just like the rest of us. But that doesn’t mean you can sit around and mope. You have responsibilities now, and sitting around, lazing about like an ass is helping nobody.”

Tehran’he gave her second-in-command a withering stare. He was one of the only beings in the entire universe that could speak to her in this way without her feeling the inclination to fight them. “I’m perfectly aware of my responsibilities, General,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “However, my responsibilities have become all but nonexistent since Nemesis hasn’t yet seen fit to give us any sort of actions other than eating and sleeping.”

Portraeon nodded his head slowly. The alien scratched his forehead, considering what should be done. “Perhaps you should inform Lord Frost of our inactivity,” he suggested. “He would want to know how little your skills are being utilized.”

Tehran’he shrugged listlessly. “I suppose I should contact him. It’s been two weeks.” Standing up, she pulled out her small communicator, and tapped into the frequency she had memorized to be Lord Frost’s personal line. After a moment, the face of the changeling ruler popped into view, looking slightly excited.

“Any news?” he asked, voice betraying his tension. Tehran’he gave a sort of grimace, and shook her head. “Nothing? What the hell does that mean?”

“Nemesis hasn’t given me any orders other than to orbit useless planets and wait around while others attempt to get the glory of war. We have already lost nearly half of our planets,” she added, eager to imply the connection between the two. Frost nodded.

“She is still on Rath?”


“Go to Rath and inform Nemesis that if she doesn’t soon give orders for the utilization of our troops, we will withdraw from the Legion of Syn.” His words echoed around in Tehran’he’s head. But she didn’t disagree with those words. If using the same people gives you continued losses, the logical choice is to find new people to lead.

“Certainly,” the changeling replied smoothly. “It isn’t exactly like we’re too bogged down to go visit her.” Frost gave her a wry smile, before signing off, saying “Keep me updated.”

Tehran’he looked over at Portraeon, who was still standing in the room. “We can be there within three hours if speed is of the essence.”

“I doubt it is. Just any time within the next twenty four hours would be perfect. I think I shall rest up a bit, actually.”

“But of course.” Portraeon gave a slight bow, ignored the changeling’s protests to such a gesture, and walked out, back ramrod straight. The changeling had respect for the alien; he was a great stickler to the rules, an amazing tactician, and also a genius with naval ships. Then again, he’d lived for several centuries when she had finally met him, so that was to be expected.

Once more, she wondered about some of the things he had been through in his life. Perhaps when this war was over with, she’d ask him about his life. But she shook that thought out of her head. Now was not the time to have such light-hearted thoughts. This was wartime, and so she must act accordingly.

But before she could take her long-due relaxation session, the changeling once more turned on her communicator, this time setting it to the frequency of her other subordinates, Fonos and Cado Angelus. This time, Cado picked up. “Hey, Master T,” he called happily. Tehran’he gave a small smile, despite herself. The name was really starting to stick to her.

“Hey, Cado. Any status report?”

“Uh, yeah. Fonos is in a bad mood, as usual, and I’m learning from the Paladins here. They think I have potential, but they said I need a sword first…”

Tehran’he considered his words. Getting the alien a sword wouldn’t be too terribly difficult, but she would want him to buy one that fit him. And, if she recalled correctly, Avalon sold Paladin swords to anyone; if Cado wanted to be a Paladin, he’d need the attire. “I’ll arrange for the payment to be made for your sword,” she assured him.

“Thanks,” he beamed. “As for anything else, no. I personally think that after I get my training, maybe me and Fonos could head over to Earth or Namek.” At the word ‘Namek,’ she recalled the Namekian she had recently met, Trumpet. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, she decided.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, voice betraying none of her thoughts.

“OK. Well, that’s really it. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” Cado hung up before Tehran’he had a chance to get another word in. After a moment of staring at the small communicator, she put it aside and crawled into bed. Depending on how slow Portraeon went, she might actually feel good when they reached Rath. Which is important. She would need to be at her top physical and mental form to do the verbal sparring that the Ex-Goddess loved to execute.


Tehran’he woke up to the intercom going off, announcing that they were in Rath’s orbit, and were requesting being allowed to land. They soon got the assent, and began to sink. The female changeling yawned, before putting on her uniform. First, she slipped on the white trousers, slipping her tail out the custom-made hole, before putting on the jacket and buttoning it up to the top. After straightening one of the five snowflakes on her chest, she placed her Gem of Telepathy into her left breast pocket.

Next, she got her staff and put it into its slot, fastening it onto her back. The changeling then placed her Shield of Helios over it. She knew the orange shield clashed horribly with her white attire, but there was no way she would let it out of her sight. Not after Arieso…

When she woke herself out of her reverie, she was surprised to find herself already halfway off the ship. She must have been walking on autopilot while contemplating the destruction of the minor empire. Entering the dock area, she began to walk, before recognizing a powerful aura. Pan.

Instantly hiding her own Power Level from view, she looked around, attempting to find the Overlord. She was unsuccessful. Thankfully, the Saiyan had apparently already left when Tehran’he got off. Shaking off the feeling of foreboding that had come with it, the changeling continued onward to Nemesis’ War Council room.

Pan glared at the mud rock in front of her ship. It had been under full control of the Legion of Syn for a couple of days, and she was still wondering what kind of use it even had. The entire planet was a ball of mud with no real resources. She had checked with her ship's scanners and nothing had turned up. Was it simply to have a planet under their control for later use as a strategic point of engagement? She hated being left in the dark about strategic matters. It was no way to treat a high ranking officer.

Her fingers dug into her chair before she hoisted herself to her feet. Without a word she turned on her heel then made her way up the short set of steps on the bridge. She made her way into the turbolift where she gave the order to go to the deck her quarters were to be found.

It took no time at all for the grumpy former Overlord to get to her quarters. If the doors were like the doors back home, she would have slammed the one leading to her quarters. She was getting more and more prone to random mood swings that more often than not caused damage to herself, her ship, or to those under her command. The only people she lashed out at however were the only people who actually cared about her state of mind which included Elaine, Taranis, Celran, and Zukov. The others couldn't care less even though they were loyal to their dying breath to their commanding officer. So long as she did not get them killed they were fine.

Pan jumped literally seven feet in the air and hit her head on the ceiling of her room as she caught sight of Elaine sitting on her bed. She had definitely not been expecting that whatsoever.

"What are you doing here?" Pan demanded.

"We have to talk, Seta," Elaine said.

"No, we really don't," Pan answered, pulling off her Saiyan armor chestplate. She tossed it into a corner where it clunked but there was no damage done to either armor or wall.

"Yes, we do. You're shaken up, and you have been this way since you returned from taking over Atageet. Something has you fidgeting and I intend to figure out what," Elaine said firmly.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Elaine? I didn't ask for a therapist nor did I ask to be coddled! I'm handling it just fine!" Pan snapped.

"I hope you are," Elaine said.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, what you're doing... joining the Legion. It's an irrational decision made while still smarting over humiliation brought to bear on you by the King of all Saiyans. You utterly destroyed the throne room on Atageet, Seta! And I believe for no damn good reason other than you were pissed. You can't operate that way Seta," Elaine said. Just like Tara, it seemed that Elaine could get away with telling Pan just what was what.

"Oh yeah? And why the hell not? You're not my mother, quit trying to be one," Pan said, wishing Elaine would get off of Pan's bed.

"I'm not trying to be anything but a friend, Seta. I owe you my life, and I'm trying to save yours. Do you really believe fighting against the Saiyan Empire is going to make King Vegeta welcome you back? What kind of twisted logic is that?!" Elaine said.

"Shut up, Elaine!" Pan said, her aura slowly fading into existence around her body.

"You know I speak the truth, Seta. What is it going to take for you to see that I am? You can't accomplish anything fighting against the man who is your only ticket back to your old rank and back in the good graces of the army," Elaine said.

"Look, I have my reasons for being on the Legion's side. It has nothing to do with fighting against the Empire. I wouldn't even be looking to fight them if it weren't for the fact that the bumbling fool of an idiot Nappa is a part of the United Alliance and has apparently stolen my fucking rank. He's the only one I want to fight and he's the only one I will fight with no objections," Pan said.

"So you have a plan. A big ol' plan you can't inform anyone working for you about. Don't you think that's a little fucked up, Seta?" Elaine said.

"Elaine, I've got this covered, okay? Just... leave it be. If I need to I will tell you what is going on," Pan said, trying to keep a patient tone to her voice.

"Fine," Elaine said. She got up from Pan's bed then crossed the room to the door.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Elaine said over her shoulder. She then walked out.

Pan collapsed at her desk and groaned. She then keyed in a command into her console.

"Celran," Pan said.

"Aye, sir?" Celran replied.

"Is there anything I should know about? Anything to do with heading back to Rath? I'm sick of orbiting this mud ball," Pan said.

"Uhm... well. Not really an order to return but I suppose Nemesis would like you to return sometime in the near future now that the job is done and the planet is secure with delegates from the Legion," Celran answered.

"Hmph... very well. Set a course for Rath," Pan said.

"What warp factor?" Celran asked.

"Eh... let's not get there too quickly. Warp factor 3," Pan said.

"Aye sir," Celran said. She cut the connection to relay the order to Taranis.


"We're now in orbit around Rath, sir," Taranis' voice rang out from his spot at the helm. Pan opened her eyes once the goateed man's voice entered her ears.

"Oh goodie..." she mumbled. It was not so much that she dreaded being back on Rath, rather she dreaded what new assignment she would be sent on. Her skills were not being put to full use, which was becoming a theme with the people she worked for. She wondered idly if she should talk to Zukov about the mercenary life. But then again, she would probably be taken for granted as a mercenary too.

"Well... I suppose let's get out of orbit and land. But have the other ships stay in orbit. No telling whether we'll be instantly sent back out once we meet with Nemesis," Pan said.

"Aye sir," Taranis said before punching in the correct sequence to drop the ship out of orbit and enter the atmosphere of Rath.

Once landed, Pan pulled her armor on along with her cloak. She headed off to hunt down Nemesis, assuming she would be in the same ship she had been not to mention that she would have returned. Her scouter informed her of a familiar power level but she ignored it for the time being.

Seta shoved irritably at a few unlucky midshipmen who were apparently guarding the entrance to the building that Nemesis called home.

"You weren't called, Saiyan! You can't go in there," one of the 'guards' said.

"Oh don't you bloody tell me what I can and cannot do. You blockheads get out of my way before I separate your skull from your spinal cord!" she hissed out. The Saiyan was in no mood to deal with them, or anyone who wanted to stand in her way.

She admitted she had gotten turned around thanks to feeling Tehran'he nearby and had double-backed just to prevent having to catch sight of the Changeling. Looking at the member of the species of alien that was basically the Saiyans' mortal enemy would probably not be the best of ideas.

"General Seta... we can't let you go in there. Besides, the Goddess Nemesis is already about to deal with one of her subordinates," the other guard said. They were both humans decked out in armor that belonged in a different time period. She could probably kill them if she thought hard enough about it. But, she decided it would not do well to kill them and make Nemesis mad.

"Are you perhaps referring to a certain Changeling I felt on my way here?" Seta inquired, even though there was no way they could know what or who she had felt.

"Y-yes... a changeling," the first guard stammered, almost relieved that Seta had changed subjects... sort of.

"Well that's all well and good. But you know what, I think I outrank an audience with Nemesis over a lone pyromaniac Changeling, don't you?" Seta asked. Her hand reached out to grab at the cuirass the first guard wore. She jerked him to her height so her nose nearly touched his.

"Don't you?" she repeated, her words grinding out. Her ebony eyes stared into his wide moss green eyes. His entire body began to shake, as if having a seizure. A wicked grin spread across her face as the shaking became worse and he collapsed to the ground. The second guard jumped in surprise and stepped away. Seta had used her ability to control the flow of her victim's blood to form a clot in the dural venous sinuses of the unfortunate guard, triggering a seizure.

"You really should answer me promptly," she said. She took half a step away from the convulsing body of the guard. The second one seemed ready to piss his pants.

"Do you care to answer my little question?" Seta inquired of the sweating, upright guard. The seizing guard eventually stopped his twitching and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Y-yes, ma'am," the guard said. "Y-you outrank the ch-ch-ch-changeling."

"I thought so. Now do you want me to go in?" she asked, gazing dangerously at the guard.

"P-p-please go in," he said, unable to control the stuttering out of fear of the Saiyan.

"Good boy," she said. She mussed his hair, which made him flinch as if afraid she was going to cause him to have a seizure too.

Smirking, the self-assured Saiyan marched through the double-door entrance. She then made her way to the war room, though she took her time, not quite wanting to be there at the exact same time as Tehran'he.

Tehran’he stalked past the majority of people who were walking around Rath; the planet was nearly uninhabited by sentient species’, so anyone she saw was most likely connected to the Legion of Syn and therefore almost certainly her subordinates. But as she neared the War Council, she noticed a significant increase in security from the last time she had been there.

The changeling smirked. Obviously Nemesis was beginning to feel the heat from the war. The United Alliance owned several planets now that Tehran’he had gone past on her way to Rath from Frieza. However, as she had been going at super-light speeds, she hadn’t been confronted. The changeling doubted she had even been detected, considering the lengths to which the changeling race goes to being unnoticed until they want to be.

As she got to the actual palace gates, there were two guards apparently keeping out trespassers. They appeared to be regular humans, and so she dismissed them mentally. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” one of them said as she attempted to walk past them. “Name, clearance, and reason for entering.”

The changeling glanced from one to the other, and sighed. “My name is Tehran’he, and I am the Army General of the changeling military. I have been chosen as one of the leaders of Nemesis’ attack force, and my reason for entering is entirely classified.” Once more she tried to step past. Once more, they stopped her. The second man pulled out a communicator and entered some sort of frequency wave before speaking.

“Nemesis? … Yeah, we got a changeling here. … Uh the name is… Teh-ra-n-he. She claims you know her, and requests an audience. Shall we dispose of her the usual way?” Tehran’he grinned openly. Dispose of her? Laughable. “Oh, really? You sure? … OK, I guess.” He put it away and looked back, face burning with embarrassment. “Please, General. Be my guest.”

“And make sure nobody else enters,” she called over her shoulder as she walked past. They both nodded, before going back to standing upright, lasering the nearby people with their eyes, trying to spot potential intruders. Shaking her head, she continued on in the palace, going through an intricate circle of passages that Nemesis had designed herself to avoid capture. The War Council Room, which doubled as her ‘throne room’ was actually near the front of the palace, but she had designed it so the only way to get to it would be to make an entire circuit around the palace.

It was a genius move in that no matter who was entering, she was guaranteed to know of their presence before they knew her location. And every advantage helps in war.

As she was circling around the corridors, she finally turned into the last hallway. There was only one door, and it was at the other side. Between them, unless Nemesis allowed the person to walk unharmed, there were deadly rays covering every square inch of the area, alongside cameras posted invisibly all across it. Also, at the door, there was an unbreakable code needed to enter. The reason it was unbreakable was because it changed three times a minute, and it was a fifteen digit code.

But she had none of these dangers surrounding her, so Tehran’he continued on her way unconcernedly, walking fast and with purpose. When she got to the door, she knocked firmly on the door, even though she knew full well the cameras were still operational; Nemesis knew she was there waiting.

And yet, nobody came to the door. After a moment or two, she knocked again, this time a little louder. Still nobody answered. Tehran’he sighed, and started to knock again when she felt a flash of power. Spinning on her heels, she saw the Saiyan Pan was on the other side of the corridor. Cursing under her breath, the changeling was forced now to watch her walk all the way down the hall, so as to not appear fearful.

“Pan. A pleasure, as always.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but she doubted the Saiyan would even notice. An aura of darkness surrounded her that seemed similar to that of which she cherished just a few short months ago. How quickly one’s priorities change.

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PowerLevel : 7,084,250
Ki : 7,084,250
Transformations : Second Form; Third Form; Final Form; Final Form 100%
Tehniques : Bakuhatsuha, Big Bang Attack, Double Big Bang Attack, Nuclear Shockwave, Dyne Power Up, Zanzoken, Galick Gun, Super Dodonpa, Final Flash, Kiai, Deflect, Multi Form(2 or 3), Two Fingered Blast, Ion Beam, Beam Ball, Fusion Ball, Fusion Beam, Masenko, Blazing Lightning Strike, Diamond Beam Cannon, Fusion Dance, Solar Flare, After Image, Instant Transmission, Super Final Big Bang Kamehameha, Kiaoken, Super Mega Death Ball, Super Slither Slasher Basher, Revenge Death Ball, Violent Thunder
Battle Points : 335
Zeni : 11,250
Items : Z-Sword, Ultimate Sensu Bean, Prince's Scouter, Tree of Might Fruit x42(used), King's Armor, Super Saibaman Grade 2(30 Seeds)
Posts : 31
Join date : 2010-08-26
Age : 24

PostSubject: Re: The Plight of Tehran'he   Sat Aug 28, 2010 6:07 am

Seta glowered ahead of her as she walked along. Something felt off, but she could not figure out what. Her mouth thinned out the closer she got to the power levels that denoted Nemesis and Tehran'he. The Saiyan wandered down the corridor, her boots tapping on the floor. She still wore her Saiyan armor, for the time being. Her cloak whipped about her ankles. Her gaze fell upon the Changeling situated at the very end of the hall, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She paused a foot or so away from Tehran'he.

"Is it really, Tehran'he?" she remarked, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice. "What's the matter, not allowed entrance?" she smirked. She flicked her hair out of her eyes, revealing the fact that she was not wearing her headband for the time being. She figured it would look unprofessional regardless of the symbolism. Her gaze swung to the door as it hissed open, but not long enough to grant either one entrance. Rather, a woman matching Seta's height exited the room holding a data pad.


The changeling scowled at the saiyan's words. She opened her mouth in a snarl to say something that would most likely have resulted in her death, when the door finally hissed open. Smirking, she simply said, "Perhaps instead you will be denied entrance." Turning to the door, she saw a woman step out holding what appeared to be a mini computer. "So, shall I go in, alone?" She put just the slightest bit of emphasis on the word, so little it was almost undetectable, but yet was. The human, looking extremely harassed, glanced at the pair of other women.

"I'm sorry, but Nemesis has just found something that has taken her full attention. She apologizes and says that she'll reschedule appointments with you as soon as possible, but until then to do whatever you want." She spoke at an extremely fast rate of speed, and it took Tehran'he a moment to register that they were indeed being dismissed.

"What? I was just allowed entrance not five minutes ago!" Angered, she began to push past the puny human, but when she made contact, a cold chill swept over her and she became light-headed.

"Remember who you're dealing with," the secretary said coolly, before she began walking away, tapping away at the data pad. As she did, the door clicked shut. Tehran'he stood open-mouthed, torn between killing the human and breaking down the door by force. In the end, she decided to let the Saiyan decide. Monkeys weren't the brightest of the bunch, but they at least usually picked the best choice of action in warfare. Or, the most devastating. To them, the words were interchangeable, so it made no difference.


Seta offered the changeling a smirk in a 'that's what you think' way. "We shall see soon enough," she replied. Her gaze fell upon the human. Her own mouth dropped at the aide's words. She took a mere second to compose herself as she had been taught. Her feet shifted as an aura appeared around her hand. She sent her fist forward, but it barely left her side before she dropped it down. Not the proper course of action at all. However, she could feel a little voice inside of her head, different from Vega's. The fury swept over her and she was sure she would ascend into her Super Saiyan form.

She watched as Tehran'he seemed to have the bright idea to try to push past the aide, only to be stopped by what seemed to Seta to be an invisible force. The aura around her hand faded away, though her eyes stayed on the spot that the woman had been just moments before. Slowly, she brought a hand up. Three fingers, from the index to the ring, were spread out while her thumb and pinkie were slightly bent.


The changeling felt the wave of roiling energy come off of Pan in waves. Through the corner of her eye, she watched as some sort of smog fell over her eyes and she grew distant. As though being controlled by some outside force, her hand suddenly shot up, pointed at the woman’s temple. A small bulge appeared in the center of her forehead, and her eyes opened wide as though she were suffering from one of the worst traumas in history. Suddenly, her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she fell, dead.

“Classy,” the changeling muttered under her breath. With a flick of her wrist, she set the woman on fire and watched the flames quickly cook her flesh as she listened to Pan’s words. At the mention of the attack being used on her, she raised an eyebrow. From what she could tell, all Pan had done was some sort of mental attack, and the changeling was confidant in that respect that she could challenge Pan long enough to, if not win, at least prove her right to existence.

Tehran’he opened her mouth slowly. Why was she a part of the Legion? It intrigued her that the only reason she could think of was to prove she knew how to handle a war situation to Lord Frost. She could have proved that by battling a Saiyan frigate. But no matter. She was in it now.

“I think I agree,” she said slowly. “If we’re to be dismissed whenever Nemesis deems fit, we will certainly have to explain to her why that has bad financial and health ramifications, among other things.” Giving a faint smile, she looked down. The fire had all but died, leaving nothing but ashes.

Kicking them to the side, she added, “And try not to be so conspicuous. If I weren’t here to clean up your mess, you’d have had the entire Legion on your tail. Figuratively, of course.” She paused to give a faint chuckle. “But honestly, even you cannot withstand two armies simultaneously. Stealth is most likely our best bet at this point.”

With that, she began to walk forward, calling over her shoulder, “Incidentally, what did you have in mind?”


She smiled a little bit. "Yes... well... not my best work," she said. "It was sloppy. I need to get practice in. But I can't exactly practice on my own troops," she replied. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of cooked flesh. She struggled to control her gag reflex as she spun on her heel. "Indeed..." she replied. "I cannot withstand multiple armies on my own. You are correct in that aspect," she smiled. She walked after the Changeling.

"We need to come up with what will happen if one of us gets stuck somewhere. No, I don't particularly like the idea of working with you. But I have to, I know that. Just like I had to work with Frost and his army during the Second Damaskian War," she said. She caught up to the Changeling's longer strides than Seta's. "Now the thing is, how? How do we plan on being able to help the other. Not to mention, how do we know the other will be true to their word?" she mused aloud.

She hated how the place was set up. She felt dizzy as they wandered through the corridors. "I trust you have a proper battle ready ship," she added.


Tehran’he considered Pan’s words. She had been thinking them herself, but hadn’t wanted to say it out loud and seem fearful of betrayal. Nodding slowly, she said, “I did consider that. The fact is we won’t know. But I don’t see that as too much of a problem because of what you just said. We need each other right now. After that… well, I plan to be far away from you when that day comes.” She gave a wry smile after speaking.

“As to how we plan on helping one another, that would really come down to us… communicating.” She hesitated a bit; communication was never her strong suit. But for an alliance as shaky as this, it would need all possible plots and subplots so it wouldn’t fail. “I can give you my ship’s frequency later, and we can communicate either through that, or mentally through our Gems.”

Pan asked her next question and Tehran’he gave her a sideways glance. “I just said I had a ship. Why would I not bring a battle-ready one during a war?” Shaking her head at Pan’s obvious ignorance, she pushed open the double doors; while they had been talking, they had walked all along the length of the passageways and back to the front of the palace. “Confusing, no?” she asked casually. “I find it as a sign she’s growing paranoid. Nemesis is beginning to feel the pressure of-”

She stopped, seeing a guard in front of her. But it wasn’t the guard that surprised her; it was what he was doing. He was dragging off the body of the man who had originally let her in. In the center of his temple was a small bulge. She sighed and glanced at Pan, before turning back front. It wasn’t even worth it.


She perked an eyebrow as the Changeling hesitated on the word 'communicating'. Seta was not a big fan of communicating, as was witnessed by her use of her powers when she got mad. "I don't know, perhaps thinking you'd be provided one when you got here? My ship when I first became Overlord and before I got the Oozaru Class Battle Cruiser was not at all battle ready. Not really," she said.

"All leaders are paranoid of being knocked off in their sleep, even outside of war. Hell, I've frightened King Vegeta by appearing with my Instant Transmission even when he's been expecting me," she said. She put her arms behind her head as she walked. She followed the Changeling out of the doors. She smirked as she caught sight of the guard dragging off his unconscious friend.

"He's not dead before you say anything," she said. "I just knocked him out. My anger caused me to kill the aide," she said. She sighed before thinking to herself. Her gaze went up into the sky.

"Alright. Well, I've got a small fleet, I'm sure you saw the ships in orbit around the planet when you got here," she said. "You only have the one ship, yes? I imagine it would have been prudent of Nemesis to place a few ships into your... capable... hands," she hesitated on the word 'capable'. It felt wrong on her lips. Complimenting someone, especially a Changeling? Unthinkable. But perhaps it wasn't a real compliment. "Alright, so... I don't usually have my gem on my person at all times," she said. She paused then glanced over at Tehran'he.

"What type of ship did Frost give you?" she asked.


Tehran’he was now growing confused. Up until this point, all she had seen of Pan was Saiyan blood. Now she was seeing someone much like herself: someone thrust into positions of leadership because of powers they couldn’t quite control yet. She wondered if Pan noticed the connection, but shrugged off the thought. To the Saiyan, Tehran’he wouldn’t have all that much power, really.

Tehran’he chuckled at King Vegeta being frightened, before growing sober. It had been many months since she had seen him. It felt wrong, somehow to ignore him for so long when he graduated her, a changeling, faster than the majority of Saiyans who went under his rank. She supposed now she had some freedom, she could visit him under the flag of truce. Without first thinking of how the Overlord would take it, she mumbled, “Tell King Vegeta I may visit him sometime soon.”

“And I did see the ships, yes…” her face clouded over. “I have been given one ship by Lord Frost, but I also have two other personal ships: one my subordinates own, and another being my own personal cruise vehicle for getting from Point A to Point B without making a scene.” But she blinked at Pan’s words. Instantly, she put her hand up to her chest pocket where she had been keeping her Gem. “Ah. Of course not. I don’t, either. That would be foolish.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt extremely stupid for carrying it around. It wasn't like she always sparred people. Once every couple of days or so, sure, but not certainly enough to carry it like a badge as she had.

“He gave me a Frieza Heavy Cruiser,” she said, answering her final question. “I named it ‘Frostcutter’ in honor of him, and inside it I have the men of the Blizzard Division.” She knew Pan wouldn’t know who the Blizzard Division was. The only people in a position to know of them were either part of the changeling army, or they were dead. “They are something like Elite Saiyans, only…” she smirked, before finishing with “…more effective.”

Tehran’he sat, glowering at the mountains in front of her. For about five minutes she stood, motionless, attempting to do the impossible and stare down an inanimate object. But eventually, she yielded, realizing that the feat could not be done. So instead, she simply held out both her arms. Her aura flashed twice: once, a scarlet shade and the second, a deep violet.

Several thousand kinetic bullets ranging between those two hues attacked the mountain before her, defacing it, but not destroying it by any means. Not that she wanted to. She was just bored out of her mind. Why anyone thought Atageet of all places would be attacked, she had no idea. In fact, if she ever met the man who’d found the ‘intel’ for this planet’s invasion, she’s throttle him. There was no purpose to Atageet besides it being there.

And yet Nemesis was losing planets at a faster rate than ought to be possible, and was clearly being gripped by paranoia’s firm clutches. And besides, at least she was doing something, rather than orbiting small asteroids, waiting for the action to come to her side of the galaxy. She thought back to the almost casual way she had been treated shortly after being dismissed from the castle.

“Set a course for Frieza. We’re going home.”

“But, sir-”

“No excuses. If she can’t find it in her to speak to one of her highest ranked officers…” the changeling attempted to find the words to fit, but gave up. “Just get us to the damn planet. I can’t believe I ever signed up for this.”

“Yes, General.” Portraeon backed out of the room and the chrome door hissed shut behind him. A few minutes later, the alien’s voice came on the ship’s comm. “Alright everyone. We should arrive at Frieza in 27 hours. I formally apologize for sending you all out here for no reason at all. But your commanding officer, Tehran’he, was under the impression that a woman known as Nemesis would acknowledge you all for what you are: the greatest assembled fighting force known to any in the galaxy.”

“Seeing as she did not, we will be pulling out of this warfront, and will be operating entirely against the Ex-Goddess, as she calls herself.” Portraeon paused a moment to scoff and chuckling was heard even through Tehran’he’s doors. “Pack your bags, and get some good rest, because you’ll be sent into active duty almost immediately after getting debriefed on what planet of hers to attack first.”

“Thank you.”

The message clip ended. Tehran’he sighed contentedly. Portraeon may not be the most eloquent of speakers, but he explained in layman’s terms, as if he was a layman himself, what was happening and how to fix it. And he easily gained respect from that. In fact, it was no wonder, really, that some had started referring to Portraeon as equal in rank to the changeling. She hadn’t minded, but the alien insisted upon being inferior, and would even go so far as to - ironically – pull rank in order to keep them in check.

Tehran’he started to get up, but almost on cue, her personal communicator went off. She clicked it, sitting back down onto the bed in her cabin, and was almost – not really – surprised to see Nemesis on the other end of the call. It was almost as if the ship were bugged. Then again, for all she knew, it was.

“General Tehran’he,” she began formally, “I have a job for you now.”

“Oh you do? Should I jump for joy, or rush over and praise your holy name now?” The spite that clung to her each and every syllable couldn’t have been lost on the fallen Goddess, but it was as if she didn’t register it.

“That isn’t necessary right now. The job is entirely classified, but of the utmost importance. I need you there in three hours.”


“Atageet.” Tehran’he didn’t recognize the name, and it must have shown on her face, because Nemesis continued. “It is one of our last bastion, a well-kept secret. I wouldn’t expect you to recognize it. It is near our own orbit at any rate. I will send you the coordinates now.” There was movement coming from the other side and then a small ping came from the small disc shape in the changeling’s hands.

“Thank you. And what’s the purpose of my going there, if it’s so well fortified?”

“There aren’t many beings under my command who can sustain the harsh environment of Atageet. The water from that planet exists mostly underground, due to its almost entirely mountainous surface. We have managed to pipe some of it, but the vast majority cannot be moved for fear of collapsing the entire planetary surface and killing every living being we have there.”

“So… send some water?”

“No. We need soldiers there. We have information on Atageet. Information that cannot be in the wrong hands. And recent intel suggests that these hands may be coming sooner than I had planned.” But she was clearly growing frustrated. “Just get there and keep it from being captured. If you manage it-” Tehran’he cut the conversation short, not in the mood to hear the threats and promises from the leader of the Legion.

For a few minutes, Tehran’he thought to herself about this new mission. But eventually, she forgot that nobody knew but her. “Shit,” she cursed quietly. Getting to her feet, she went to go find Portraeon. She’s probably never live this one down. Even as Tehran’he left her room, she could already hear the smug grin on Portraeon’s face.

“Uh, General?” One of the changelings from Blizzard division called to her uncertainly, so reluctantly, she pulled her gaze from the gaping holes she had left in the monster of a hilltop.

“Yes?” she asked, concealing her irritation as best she could.

“We’ve gotten word that the enemy is headed this way.”

“How many ships is it?”

“Too far away; we can’t tell. But if I had to guess, I would say probably three.”

“And how do we know it’s the enemy again?”

“We have no messages from anyone in Syn about any incoming help. So by default, they must not like us.”

“OK. Ready the troops, but don’t look obvious about it. And get your personal commanding officer over here, stat.”

“Of course.” He then shot into the sky in search of the Commander of Blizzard Division, a young changeling in his early forties by the name of Siber. In the meantime, Tehran’he flew off to the Frostcutter, so she could change into her formal military garb.

"Tell me, General," her soft lips parted, ushering the room to an utter silence. They were the only two present in the room, but the silence was still unwelcome; unexpected. "Do you believe in destiny?" she continued, a quick lick of the tongue round the lips to keep them moist, glistening, "that we're the true sculptors to our own lives, or that they are already set in stone for us to play out our own part." Liquea let slip a gentle chuckle to herself, before returning her gaze to Frieza who was stood beside her.

Together they were alone in the captain's quarters. Well, in all honesty, it didn't look like a captain's quarters at all. The room itself was monstrous, at least the size of the throne room itself on Planet Valkria. At the far side of the room, opposite the doorway, the entire wall was made of a strong glass, forming a large window into the universe. Beyond its protective hull twinkled the gaseous stars, burning out their hearts at millions of degrees, shining at such a distance that they look like someone had thrown a jar of glitter over a blank, black canvas. Each insignificant, yet all so important to the life of the galaxy.

"You pose an interesting question, Canoness," Frieza finally replied, his own watchful glare concentrated on one particular spot of light. The window itself appeared seamless, unbroken by any spans or beams. It was an entire single are of reinforced plastic or glass, whichever it was. The changeling much preferred the design; he'd ensure his own ship was outfitted with a similar concept when this war was over.

"And what is your opinion? You seem to me like someone who takes control of their own life, Frieza. Is that what you truly believe?"

"If you were to ask me," his eyes broke the stare and lulled over towards Liquea, "before a certain battle I had been involved in, I would have told you yes. 'My life is my own'." A reminiscent sigh tore through his lips, quite forcefully. The woman’s face turned into gradual frown, processing through her mind what she already knew about the Prince. To her memory he had never mentioned anything life changing. To record he was a changeling Royal who had a great deal of influence over the galaxy, and that was all.

“What happened in this battle that changed your opinion so?”

“A saw it,” he hushed, eyes thinning, looking through Liquea and back to the memory in question. Before him, against a clear black canvas sat a large, stone tablet. It was annoyingly tall. The tablet was in fact, part of a temple, forming a part of the wall there. The images on the piece seemed blurry at first but as Frieza approached closer, in the realm of his own mind, they began to take shape.

“Saw what?” she demanded, voice straining a little. Watching someone zone out on you as you try to draw information is not the most pleasing of situations. Her aggravation broke the trance, Frieza shaking his head clear.

“I was led to a temple on a Planet called Earth by a group of monks,” he paused, “I assume they were monks at least. In the temple, they explained, was a large block of stone and it told you… what I saw.”

Liquea leaned in closer, the suspense rotting her mind.

“I saw my destiny, clear and cut on that very tablet. I’d read through the first few images, and each of one were as true as the fact that I’m here with you now.” Frieza felt a tight squeeze grip his shoulder. The Canoness may as well have been frothing at the mouth; she appeared rabid.

“Did you read anything about the war? Can I find this tablet –”

“No.” he interrupted, blunt and to the point.

“Why not?!” It was clear she was ready to fly off the handle or, more specifically, throw a chair through that aforementioned window. Unfortunately, though she tried to do so, the window returned the chair in an equally violent fashion. Liquea was not pleased.

In any situation such as this, Frieza knew he’d find himself angry or scared at the woman but he felt calm, serene and at one with himself. The feelings inside him were unusual, at least to Frieza, though not unheard of. In fact, the only other occasion where he felt in such a similar way was when he found himself in the presence of those monks, at the temple itself.

“The temple is destroyed now,” he continued, unphased by the woman’s ranting and raving. “I’m afraid I didn’t look at the whole tablet, and I missed out a majority of my own destiny, Canoness.” He turned to face her, his eyes flashing back to his usual, hateful self. “I didn’t see anything about the war, I’m afraid. I only read one event in my future that I have to look forward to, and I can feel it will be quite satisfying indeed.”

The Canoness looked set to explode, her cheeks flushing a plum tomato colour, her eyes near enough bulging from their sockets. She thrust a now crumpled ball of paper in Frieza’s direction and stormed off. Frieza could only guess as to why she left her own quarters.


Present Day


Frieza had returned to his own ship, the Kraken. He was slowly becoming irritated by the pristine metallic structure of the Valkyrian ships. His own vessel was much more comforting. He sat in his chair, relishing each moment of comfort, that was until he remembered the piece of paper he had been handed and the message in entailed.

Our grasp of the galaxy is expanding, my dear Prince. You have been assigned to Planet Atageet, currently under control of the Legion. It may interest you to know that the assigned officer commanding the Legion on Atageet is another changeling, according to one of our infiltration teams.

Frieza’s head throbbed. What if it were Tehran’he? Could he really battle against his closest ally and, as much as it pained him to admit, friend? The woman was headstrong and an intelligent warrior, so this battle was set to be something of a spectacle. Regardless, the Prince wouldn’t dare back down. Tehran’he would feel the force of his full power and the strategies he could set into place.

“Krayve,” he barked, twisting his neck towards her, “I want you to send a message to Planet Atageet. Scan the mud ball for any established bases of significant military activity. It’s time to let them know just who we are, and what I intend to do…”

Two Valkyrian cruisers rolled through the dead silence, following Frieza’s leading ship and, within, the men were soon mobilized, for Atageet loomed into view, the changeling staring at the sullen beauty that was the planet itself.


Tehran’he sat at a table, looking at her colleagues. It had had been a hassle to pick a table for them to meet at. A regular council table was all that was needed, really, but the she decided to be cordial and treat them all equally. Tehran’he herself was superior to the others in rank. A round table wouldn’t have worked, because there were only three other members. A rectangular also would have been bad as there would have been two heads, and two inferiors.

Therefore, she had chosen a square, and had each member stand at a corner of it. She looked directly across from her and saw the president of Atageet, Lianthol. Next, she turned to her immediate right where, dependably, Portraeon had deemed fit to sit. On her left lay an energetic changeling not much older than herself: Siber. One of the most dangerous changelings in existence, it was rumored that he had once survived a fight with King Vegeta.

However, Tehran’he knew this to be entirely false. She herself had met King Vegeta, and if a man of Siber’s strength had challenged the King of all Saiyans, there would not have been enough of him to recognize. Straightening the pure white suit she now wore, Tehran’he initiated the meeting by standing.

The others stood as well, and she waved her hand to have them sit. When they did, she spoke. “It seems Atageet is indeed being attacked by enemy forces. I have had my men working nonstop to identify the ship or ships that claim right to invade this world, and they claim to now know.”

Waving a hand, she called forward a techie for the Blizzard Division. He called himself Permafrost, since he was always around and always under ‘The Frost.’ Nobody was aware of his true name, but it didn’t matter. Permafrost was a catchy name, and so had stuck.

“Our research indicated the distinct make of two Valkyran ships flanking a… a well known ship.” He glanced up at Tehran’he awkwardly, and the changeling suddenly wished she had asked for the intel before calling the meeting to order.

“Well? What is it!?” barked Siber. The techie gulped and nervously glanced down at his papers.

“It is a Keliouxian ship, made by the members of the planet Cauldron. It is a Behemoth-Class Cruiser by the name of the Kraken.” Tehran’he cocked her head to the side. Was he perhaps messing with her? When she had left, Tehran’he had given leave of her ship to Frieza. Nobody could have liberated it from him!

But, after a moment of thought, it hit her. He had come to her asking which faction to join in the war. She thought she had dissuaded him from entering at all, but it seemed her words were not enough. Tehran’he’s senses were suddenly on high alert. Her heartbeat quickened to an uncontrollable pace, and seemed to grow nearly three times as loud as it normally was. She could feel with distinct tenderness the sudden scratchiness of the custom-fit suit she had been given by Lord Frost.

Her tongue felt too big in her mouth. Her eyes saw things too sharply, and the detail hurt her enough to close the lids until the pain subsided. Finally, she reentered the plain of reality, to realize that the President was shouting at her. “…we going to do about this, Gen’ral? You said you could defend us from any and all incoming attacks, and yet you cower in fear! Grow a backbone, would y-?”

The rest of a question was forcibly removed from the president’s thoughts by a swift slap that sent him tumbling to the ground. Portraeon stood over him, angrily shouting, “How dare you? Do you have ANY idea what this even means? Fool!” Stalking away, he turned once at the door to look at the Changeling Army General.

“Stay safe. And kick his ass.” With that, he threw open the door, and slammed it shut, heading off for his own cabin in the Frostcutter.

There was a moment of stunned silence, before Tehran’he ungraciously murmured, “I apologize for my friend’s actions. They were uncalled for.” She too turned and started to leave as well.

Without turning to face the remaining two, she ordered Siber to "Gather the troops in readiness of attack, and have them ready on the Central Citadel in three standard hours." Since that was the capital of the planet, it was the logical place to wage the defense of it. To the President, she said, “If your planet has warriors of any kind, bring them, and have them gather outside the Citadel. They would temporarily be under control of Siber, but only for the duration of the battle.”

Before the president could agree or disagree, the door’s resounding boom echoed across the council room. Adjusting the five snowflakes of hers, she grasped the Gem of Telepathy she wore all the time now, and entered into the mental consciousness of the astral realm, without totally losing focus of her surroundings.

Suddenly, her eyes were opened as wide as entire planets, and she could easily see the Kraken, with Frieza at the helm, appearing somewhat stricken. Hopefully before he registered her presence, she pulled out of the telepathic link she had established with him, eyes dimmed. This would be a long day.

Taking a deep breath, she continued on her chosen path, wondering idly if she could get her ship back somehow during the battle, because she doubted Frieza would relinquish it to her after this. It would be most likely kept as a battle token, despite the fact they hadn’t been enemies at the time.

"Of course, my lady," he nodded, her very form forcing him onto his knees. "My relay system appears to be working in order, so expect our signal in due course," Frieza added, rising from his kneel and cutting off the video broadcast. Whatever it was about that woman it gave the Prince the chills.

"Sire..." questioned one minion, approaching with an element of caution. Frieza nodded, but failed to turn to his direction. "What is it you'll have the troops do?" The entire bridge quietened, albeit only slightly, as to hear what the given plans were. A engines lulled the changeling into a trance-like state as he began to stare at his thumbs in thought, meticulously running through each possibly scenario.

"I'll drop down by myself," he finally declared, returning back to his chair, tail flopping gently behind him down each step. At last he made himself comfortable once more in his lavish chair. He couldn't help but stroke the arm rests before adding "alone".

"Lord Frieza, sire, you can't invade an entire planet by yourself! The Legion has heavily integrated themselves into the planet now, and their society. It's not as simple as attacking an army; the whole planet will be against you."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that... If you'd let me finish," his voice echoed throughout the bridge, trailing from his position at the helm all the way to wherever that grunt was mumbling. "I will drop down by myself and converse with their leader. If it truly is Tehran'he, then some sort of agreement may be arranged. Her surrender would be fantastic and, even better, her defection."

"Would the Canoness approve?"

"Of course. That fool, Kurogane has gone off the map and I know just how reliable Tehran'he is, as a soldier and as a general. I'd rather right with her than against her, my little officer. However, if she's as stubborn as her commanding officer, a fight will settle it." Frieza coughed, clearing his drying throat. Again his head drove into a dull throbbing, the pain mild but still quite irritating. The changeling brought up his hands, flexing his fingers over his forehead and continuing his plan.

"Should a battle ensue, I'll call for all mobilized troops to drop down onto the planet. According to our scans, there is a large structure near the centre of the planetary capital. It is there where our spies have reported some military activity. In all honesty I'm quite surprised those Valkyrian weren't even caught; clumsy bastards."

It's true, for the Valkyra, though masters of technology, were not the most dextrous of races when it came to espionage. Perhaps the peoples of Atageet, and the Syn, were to busy with themselves worrying about a possible invasion that they had carelessly overlooked the fact of infiltration, despite the fact that it is such an obvious measure employed by most races before such an attack of military scale.


Frieza marched himself out of the bridge, having confirmed the plans with Krayve, his second in command. Should any rough and tumbles ensue between a few guards, Frieza brought along his other personal officers, Mila and Ratheeza.

Mila was a slender woman with ivory hair, usually wearing black leather clothing for the sheer stark contrast it gave her. Her chest, shoulders and arms, however, were free of the one-piece leather combination, donned with thick chittenous armour, running into spirals and intricately detailed engravings of the sort. They made good reading when you were cramped into a one person drop pod with three people; a changeling, a witch and a giant stone warrior.

Ratheeza, the stone warrior, was overly large. If he were in the drop pod alone he would probably have found it uncomfortable. In fact, it's many a wonder just how all three managed to squeeze in. Strictly speaking, the warrior of topic wasn't purely made of stone. However, much of his skin, armour and weaponry were. Strangely enough his bottom half, below the abdomen, was entirely synthetic. Not synthesised to look anything like his original self, though. It was evidently robotic. The joints in his knees and ankles were free for the world to see how simple yet amazing they really were. In the depths of his hollow skull, Ratheeza's eyes hummed a mellow green, patiently awaiting the drop.

It was lucky Frieza had already requested a landing space for the drop pod before they left. He would have most certainly been unable to speak in his current situation. Flattened against the glass port view, the changeling might as well have been locked in a passionate embrace with said window, his lips near enough wrapped around it. Ratheeza kept his tongue, whilst Mila blurted the odd complaint about 'taking too long' or 'your tail's in my face'. If Frieza could, he probably would have hit the witch, though he was content with aggravating her with his tail, until she bit him of course.

At long last Frieza could make out a few structures in the distance as the drop pod shot through the atmosphere like a silent bullet. It was perfectly on course for the drop pod landing area, though the changeling prayed it would accommodate his 'custom luxury' craft. It wasn't the usual 'Saiyan' branded model (even though it was Frieza himself who designed the vessels). This particular craft was designed for the safe, luxurious transportation for any royal or stuck up arrogant bastard who thought the world of himself; so it was Frieza's ship. This upgrade meant the craft itself was a lot more bulbous than the standard model however, as the craft finally hit ground, it seemed to fare well upon impact.

The door finally opened after a century of waiting. Frieza tumbled out, Mila wobbled and Ratheeza simply marched. There was no red carpet, nor any special entourage. Just a number of people gathered and ready to attack should the occasion call for it.

"Where is she?" coughed the tyrant, straightening himself out. "Where is Tehran'he?"

Tehran’he took a deep breath while sitting in the bunker, waiting for the other changelings to get into their gear. She wore Avalanian Armor underneath her uniform, so as to provide some form of cover against her opposition. She would need it, if she were to battle Frieza, which indeed she was.

Feeling the stiffness of her joints made the changeling realize that she needed some form of quick sparring to be battle ready for what would surely be a long and intense battle, lasting long hours or perhaps even days. But the order for them to march was expected to go at any instant, so that was out of the question.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a small, multicolored stone, polished smooth and clear enough to reflect its differing hues against sunlight and create mini rainbows that were never the same twice. Taking a tight fist with it sitting comfortably in her palm, she imagined herself dissolving from the world of Atageet and reappearing in the astral realm, where any and all things are possible, as long as one has the cunning, nerve, and power.


Tehran’he felt her body rematerialize on Atageet, her gaze pointed downward in resolution. It was hard to concentrate on anything besides the fact that she would soon be going to her first major battlefield of war, and against none other than Prince Frieza, the leader of the Conclave of Arbitrators, and the only changeling besides Frost that she felt any feeling of vassal-like subservience around.

The changeling knew she shouldn’t fight the Prince, but also knew that not only would Frost consider that a defect from her army and she would lose her rank and soldiers, and on top of that, since Frost and the Colds aren’t exactly chummy, it might even incite him to consider her an enemy to the state and declare open season on her. She could defend against most of his enemies, but even so, it would kill her to be banished from her home world.

The choice was obvious, but it still killed her to make. A tap on her shoulder turned Tehran’he around. In front of her stood Portraeon, wearing his armor he had gained after serving in one of his earlier wars. In his right hand he held a blade, crimson and slightly curved at the tip, designed more for delicacy than for any special skill. “It is time,” he said. “The ships have stopped in orbit. We expect them to initiate the attack any minute now.”

Tehran’he slowly got to her feet and touched the ancient alien on the shoulder, feeling his confidence seep into her being. “I will see you soon, old friend,” she told him. Turning her back on him, the General called to her forces. “It is time.” A great cheer rose up, causing dust particles to fall from the ceiling and fall on the heads of some of the changelings present. Lianthol hadn’t brought any of his troops, but the changeling didn’t bother with it.

From what she had understood, he was only recently inducted as leader of the planet and so needed time to reestablish the armies of the world, get the people to swear loyalty to him. Besides, from what she could tell, he wasn’t exactly awe-inspiring. His attitude made her want to throttle him, actually. But she quickly shook away thoughts of the Atageetian and spoke to her personal troops. “Today, I am sorry to say, we will be fighting one of the most powerful foes imaginable. Prince Frieza, heir to the Cold Empire itself, plans to attack us.”

There was a murmur across the room and several of those present exchanged uneasy looks. Tehran’he continued, undeterred. “Even so, he has challenged the might of Lord Frost indirectly, and you Blizzard Division, quite directly. He has only brought three ships with him, and one is a luxury ship. Clearly, the Prince expects no opposition. Does this constitute respect? That he can look at the most powerful branch of the changeling military, and think he can sweep them aside with a flick of his wrist?”

“NO!” The shout was fast and sudden, and supercharged with emotion.

“Are we going to stand by while he takes this world for his own, and we as his slaves?!”


“Then let’s go prove to him why the Blizzard Division is the greatest fighting force in the entire galaxy!”

“YEAH!” The changelings rushed out, fueled with new passion and rigor, racing across the rocky grounds to get to the Central Citadel. The bunkers were only a few short miles nearby, so nobody felt the need to fly. Running would get the blood pumping as well. Tehran’he waited a single instant longer than the rest, to put on a pure white helm, perfectly fit for the female changeling and no other.

She leaped into the sky and flew above them at a leisurely pace. Normally, she had run with her soldiers, but she had just finished a spar and she was already primed for war. Anything else after this point would merely begin to wear her down. And she knew she would need all of her energy if she was to stop the Prince.

"Where is she? Where is Tehran'he?" The Prince of changelings looked up into the faces of five hundred of his kinsmen. Not one showed anything but contempt. The smoking hull of the space pod behind him revealed two others. These were shown with the same noncompliance. Behind the changelings were thirty five hundred strong grunts from the alien race Nemesis had bred, known as the Sai Ruk.

Nearing the front were Familiars, to relay messages back and forth across the lines, and were already passing along the information that Frieza had crash landed on Atageet, and was searching for their leader, Tehran’he. Up at the very front, almost level with the changelings, were the Brutes. These beings were extremely powerful, and usually hovered with a Power Level above Tehran’he’s own.

After a tense silence broken up only by the Familiars explaining the situation, a changeling stepped forward, and looked down on Frieza emotionlessly. He wore a pure white suit that stood out against the Blizzard Division, who wore their uniforms in baby blue. There was a hole in the back of it designed so the tail could breathe easily and still be used to help in battles. Five silver snowflakes lay across the right breast pocket, signifying that person as the General of the Changeling Army during wartimes.

He opened his mouth and said, “Right here.” From the feminine tone of voice, it was suddenly revealed that the man in question was in fact a woman, and it was solidified when she took off her helm and held it under her armpit. “Why have you come here?” she whispered, her voice in, what she hoped, controlled tones. “Do you plan to kill me, Prince?”

She showed no fear despite his obvious superiority in power. Not only did she have an army protecting her, but she could tell by the single drop ship holding only three passengers, Frieza was only acting as speaker at the moment; it was a temporary truce that he was asking for.

Tehran’he slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying in a small, fluid filled tank, alone, with a breathing attachment to her face so she didn’t drown. The changeling wondered idly why she was there, trying to remember what she last could before somehow waking up here. When she finally remembered, she was hit with such a jolt that the entire tank shook.

A single crack appeared, that spider webbed its way across the glass coating. The tank wasn’t broken yet, but it would be soon. Not that Tehran’he cared. She was too busy remembering with horrid clarity the fight she’d just had with Pan.


“Do it, then. Go ahead and kill your only ally in this thrice damned war. As if I care. I’ve escaped Hell before; I can do it again.” The vision darkened around her, and the thought of dying, despite her words, shook her. The changeling blinked, but it did nothing to increase her eyesight. A single shudder passed over her, and a second, less noticeable, but still there, followed as an aftershock.

"I'm not going to kill you, you fool." The changeling tried to look up to see if Pan had actually been the one to say that, but her body was almost completely locked up by the time she had said that. As always, the effect shock had on its victims was astoundingly quick and extremely potent. She had only managed to move her head enough to the right so that she could guarantee herself a neck cramp when she woke up, and still could not see the Overlord.

"I'm not a fool, I'm not going to kill you,” she repeated, almost to herself. It was as if she were convincing herself rather than Tehran’he.

It wasn’t reassuring.

“I'd have people I don't need…” She felt, with a strange sense of detachment, her body rise from the snow and get slammed on top of Pan’s shoulder plates, before feeling the exhilaration of unbelievable speed. Everything became soft buzzing and her sense of sight left altogether. But still there was the sensation, the feeling, of flying endlessly. Or was she perhaps falling instead? Falling unconscious?


Oddly enough, she didn’t feel any hard feelings after the fight. Pan could have left her to die and yet – hidden motives or not – she instead chose to save a member of the one race Pan’s kind hated above all others.

Wading forward, the feeling of perpetual evening pervading her conscious due to the bluish liquid that surrounded her, she lifted her fist at an agonizingly slow rate of speed. Finally, it became level with her chest and she kept it there, frozen in that last moment, before time would speed to, if not normal time, then whatever it was she was used to.

A small sphere of light blue energy formed, nearly invisible against its background. But, whether it could be seen or not, it served its purpose; flicking it at the glass, Tehran’he watched as it broke into a million splinters and the healing liquids flew off in all different directions. Tearing off the breathing mask, the changeling walked boldly out of the building.

After leaving, she jumped into the sky, flying thousands of feet in the air so as to get a better bearing of her location. Eventually, she found the ship dock that the Frostcutter resided. Angling herself to compensate this change, she flew off in the direction of the Temple of the Lost. She had remembered the feeling it had given her when she got there; that invisible tug, the almost imperceptible call that only she could feel.

Within minutes, she stopped at the ancient ruins and touched down, kicking up snow in all directions and giving a momentary glittering quality to the surroundings. Smiling a bit, she walked to the entrance. Curiosity may have killed the cat, yes, but it said nothing about changelings getting hurt because of it.

The temple was made of what seemed to be white marble, though it was covered in mold from misuse and disrepair. The front doors lay on the ground in piles of rubble, clearly broken down long ago and looted for whatever had been inside. But still the gnawing urge to enter stayed, and so she crossed the threshold and looked inside.

Tehran’he spun on her toes in a quick twist, taking in everything. Despite the outward appearance, the temple inside looked pristine, as though it had only just been finished. The tile floors gleamed, depicting images of beings, most likely the Lost.

The changeling assumed they were all famous in some way, due to the captions beneath the pictures. However she couldn’t prove or disprove that opinion because the language the Lost had written in was entirely unintelligible to her. Looking up, she suddenly noticed the sheer size of the temple she was in. Once more, the outer area had been misleading. She was standing at the edge of what appeared to be a massive indoor theater.

It had appeared much smaller from the outside due to the fact that the surface was the top level of the thing. It sunk down nearly fifteen levels, each level being about ten yards apart, and the diameter of which looking to be perhaps a quarter mile at the bottom depth.

Which suddenly caused her to notice another feature. As it sunk lower, the rows got bigger, rather than smaller. Inspecting the nearest seating booth, she saw that there was some kind of strap holding you in place, so that those at the highest levels didn’t fall on those below and crush them.

Whistling quietly, Tehran’he tore her eyes away from the amphitheater to look at the actual surface level walls, and saw that instead of images of other people, it was covered in ancient writings. Nearing the edge, she saw that the walls only looked like they were covered by writings; in fact, tablets clung to the walls that could be picked up and replaced at will.

It was a library, of sorts.

Grabbing the first tablet she reached, Tehran’he saw, at the top, an image of an alien with a burning aura. The image was striking and well-portrayed. It almost appeared to have been a digital image. Considering the Lost, sticking digital photography onto stone probably wasn't hard.

Below the image was a word in bold, even lettering. It wasn't in a language she was familiar with, but the line directly underneath it was. These words appeared to have been scrawled on much more recently, and in hasty lettering, as though whoever had done it had done so while on the run. But it was in English, so the words were understandable. Barely.


It immediately caught her eye and made her attempt to read more. But whoever had attempted to explain the words' meaning hadn't manage to complete it before running, and so it was incomplete. But what she could read was read as follows:






It cut off there.

On the far side of Atageet, there was a special location, unknown by the vast majority of Atageetians to have existed, and by those that did, its existence was firmly denied. Back up until their monarchy was destroyed quite recently, there was a well-hidden fortress. There, the odd layer of rock and shale that covered the planet had somehow kept a niche where a small ocean existed on a crater-like surface. It was suspected an asteroid of some sort had cracked through the planet’s crust and formed it, but there were other suspicions.

Whatever the reason, this ocean had a flattened artificial island in the center of it, surrounded by exceptional technology that had been developed by some of the more ingenious members of their society. This technology kept the island invisible to all who may cause harm to the people living there. It had once been home to the rebellion. Now, it the home of foreigners who had come to reclaim Atageet for the inhabitants from the dark force known as the Valkyra.

The force field, at the moment, was lowered, and it was seen that this island held perhaps two thousand beings. About five hundred of them were tall, lizard-like creatures that all wore the same baby blue outfit that distinguished them as a unique fighting unit. The other fifteen hundred consisted of large, aggressive aliens that were grotesque in appearance, and their height, weight, and intelligence level widely varied from one another, making it seem as though there were different classes within them.

The changelings and the Sai Ruk, as these beings were called, were all led by a single general, one who had been easily defeated due to brutal trickery by one she had once called a friend. While she had been speaking of peace to Frieza, a legion of the Valkyra attacked from the rear and slaughtered the forces of Syn. What remained of them fled and, with instructions from the remaining loyal Atageetians, had found this sanctuary, where they now planned their next move.

It was rumored that the changeling Prince had since left the planet, and that now they were bringing another to simply keep the planet under their control. The general, Tehran’he, walked out of a barracks, wearing her uniform. As anyone could see by its appearance, she considered herself a total failure. The jacket was torn at the sleeves, and smudged up in several spots by dirt and mud, easily noticeable by the pure snow white outfit.

She looked down at herself. The army had all been outside, waiting, and fell silent at their leader’s obvious distress. They had been waiting there for nearly forty eight hours without any kind of order from the female changeling. But they soon got one. In one swift, violent action, she grabbed at her jacket and ripped off its tattered threads. She also tossed aside her pants, also easily ripped apart by the strength of her anger.

“We’ve lost,” a voice called into the dim area. Inside the crater-like surroundings, the man’s voice echoed gloomily, seeming to intensify every emotion in every syllable of his speech, invigorating it, and giving them all an intimate sense one one-ness with their environment. Tehran’he looked up, and saw her second in command, Portraeon, staring her dead in the eyes.

She had no idea how he’d gotten there, but it was unimportant, as he continued to talk directly to her. “The fate of the planet was in our hands, all of our hands. Yet this is where we find ourselves. Beaten. Alone. Outcast.” A ghost wind filled the area, and the sound of two thousand soldiers shuddering at the cold emptiness in his words made the ocean shiver in anticipation for what he would say next.

“You didn’t ask for this responsibility. You still have no idea why you were chosen to lead us.” He started to continue, but closed his mouth. After a moment, he tried again. “You’ve made mistakes, General. We all have.” The demon took a step forward, forcing Tehran’he to look at him, to react to him, to reply to him. With the force born of centuries of experience in war, he finished, “My question to you is, are you able to see past them? Or will it end here?”

The entire compound was silent, and everyone had their eyes on one person: Tehran’he. She didn’t move for the longest time, choosing instead to stare at the hard packed earth in front of her. Finally, Portraeon turned in disgust, and started to walk away. As he neared the door, hand on the knob, she spoke.

“No. We aren’t done. Not by a long shot.” He turned around, to be met with a dimly pulsating aura, not the bright yellow of which he’d been accustomed, but something different. It seemed subdued, as though she wouldn’t allow herself to feel too positive about herself. But it was something. With the shadow of a smile flitting across his face, he continued inside, choosing not to reply.

Word Count: 9,701
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Join date : 2010-08-26
Age : 24

PostSubject: Re: The Plight of Tehran'he   Sat Aug 28, 2010 6:08 am

Back at planet Valkyra, Tambourine had been received so greatly better than previous times that it almost scared him. Ever since his accidental crashing on the planet he had been treated as a terrorist and a criminal, tossed into jail at least thrice. It was only because of his manipulation of the opportunities that presented themselves that he emerged as a general... sorta.

For the first time in weeks he had spent the night in a comfortable room, and not chained up in a prison cell. His treatment from soldiers made him feel like royalty, now that he had officially been accepted as a general, having conquered two planets for the valkyrian empire.

His clothes were also changed by the army, throwing away his old, dirty and ripped set of clothes, and getting some brand new set of dressing. A blue cape that covered his whole body and wings, with a distinguishing emblem on its chest, recognizing him as one of the highest ranked military men. He was also given white pants and, for the first time in years, a shirt, which he wore underneath his cape. All in all, Tambourine was getting the trust of the valkyrans, meaning he was getting closer to freeing himself from the whole conflict.

The next day, a set of guards came knocking Tambourine's door. The demon was not sleeping at the moment, he hadn't slept the whole night. The fact that he had been aknowledged as a general would earn him some renown and some people would recognize him around the galaxy. This made him feel uncomfortable, and a bit scared. He could have gotten a better escape if he had played it the "terrorist" way from the beggining and stealing one of the valkyrans' spaceships to get away from the planet; but then again, the place was too secure to get around like nothing.

"Gene-... Sir!" said one of the guard, refraining from calling Tambourine 'general', "you've got to get moving!"

The demon opened the door slowly, revealing a ruined room. Furniture bitten, floor and walls half-burnt, and the electricity working badly.

"I'm sorry," said the serious Tambourine, "Faffy... I mean Darklore, seems to be claustrophobic... or he ate too much of those purple mushrooms, so I asked to let him go outside. Now, what did you need me to do?"

"Just get on with your duties," said the same guard, completely ignoring the bit about Faffy. He and the others lead Tambourine towards the spaceship, where Faffy was already waiting, along with a massive amount of men. It seemed the soldiers Tambourine was trusted with grew each time he was put on a spaceship. One of the guards walked towards the second-in-command soldier and said "please refrain from talking to him about the mission, I don't trust this criminal. Just take him to Atageet."

The trip was a quiet one, with Tambourine staying quiet after the first time he got ignored for asking about the mission, and injecting Faffy with a tranquilizer so he wouldn't blow up the ship from inside. Time passed, and Atageet was at sight. They landed without much conflict, with Tambourine saying just "let's go" to the thousands of soldiers under his command. They proceeded to step out of the ship, on Atageet.

Tehran’he looked out at the army that faced her. There were two thousand strong that were loyal to her, that would go to any lengths to help her regain her honor, and the people their world. And she felt inadequate. Looking down, she reached for the tattered remains of her suit, bending low so nobody could see what she was doing.

The air as still and stale as what could be found in a coffin, she fumbled over the pockets until she found the one with her Gem of Telepathy inside of it. Grasping it firmly, she closed her eyes, not wanting to look into the eyes of her subordinates as she disappeared. It would only be a moment for them, but to her, that moment would last a slow, painful infinity.

To the people watching, it appeared as if the changeling had flickered. She was there, and she reached down towards her uniform she had so emotionally torn from her body, and seemed trying to sew it back together. But then, she winked out of existence for a moment. Before anyone even had a chance to register that she had fled, she returned, looking much more powerful and in control.

“Alright!” her voice boomed out, strangely loudly, against the near silent compound. Her cheeks were flushed and her aura shined in a much wider range, and surprisingly brighter. Whatever she had done had clearly affected her own trust in herself, however meager it truly was. “It is time to retrieve that which is truly ours!”

Tehran’he began to hover, and spread her arms wide to the resounding cheer from the hundreds of beasts that looked up at her. A ball of dark energy began to form between her palms, and the yellow aura she was wielding had changed to a reddish orange, as though tainted. But, the moment faded, and the ball dissolved, leaving the cavern appearing much brighter in comparison. Almost to herself, she murmured, “Yes… this is how I shall defeat them…” A crooked smile crossed her face, and she began to relay battle orders.

There would be three units that would attack the Citadel, she told them. Each unit would be made of five hundred Sai Ruk. The final group, entirely made up of her own personal changeling force, stood assembled in front of her. They would all fly directly towards the Citadel, and would be the aerial attack force, per say. They didn’t want to use ships to alert the Valkyrans, and the Blizzard Division was the only group large enough to mount a full scale attack from the air.

Tehran’he would lead this strike, and the three leading Brutes, each with access to her by way of a scouter, would lead the other three groups and would attack three of the four sides of the Citadel from the ground, leaving only the front gates free. This, she hoped, would force them out of the city and so initiate the attack.

With this all figured out, the three groups of Sai Ruk left, all giving a quick salute to their leader before leaving. The sound of thousands of feet slamming the ground shook the earth, and caused massive rocks to fall from the surface and crash into the ocean, disturbing its otherwise pristine appearance. The changeling watched, occasionally firing weak Ki blasts if they ever came near her soldiers.

Portraeon stepped forward formally after their departure, and Tehran’he looked at him a long time before replying. “You won’t be with my group,” she finally said, and turned away. After a devastating moment of silence, she continued, “You will instead man the Behemoth and keep reinforcements from coming off world to replenish the amount of techno-nerds that are already here.”

The disappointment was still there, but it was more subdued. His job was important; for all intents and purposes, if Portraeon did his job correctly, then he may well be the deciding factor in the battle soon to come. He murmured, voice forcibly kept neutral, “As you wish, General.” He spun on his heel and started to walk, before jumping into the air and flying off himself.

The changeling turned back around as she felt the wind ripple from his exertion and noted with some surprise the eerie green color his aura took, like grass, but after it had started to die. Odd that she, a native to Frieza, would even make the comparison, but she did. Shaking her head, she turned back to the changelings who now faced her, clearly looking bored from the long wait they’d been forced to endure.

“I apologize for the wait,” she said to the group as a whole. “But we must leave last, as we are the fastest group, and the one who must appear at the perfect moment. But let us not waste any more time. Are you ready?” A murmured assent rippled through the hundreds of elites.

Without another word, her aura flared, and so did the others’. They all simultaneously pushed off, and began to shoot out of the crevice they had been hiding in, flying off for the capital of Atageet. Tehran’he kept pace with them, not wanting to flaunt her speed and lower morale. Instead, she flew just fast enough to stay at the tip of the Vulcan “V” formation they had, keeping a watch on the ground for when she and the others could spot the Citadel.

Because then she’d have to tell them the real plan.

"Where did we land?" asked Tambourine, slowly placing his feet on atageetian grounds.

"We're on Atageet's capital city," replied one of the leading soldiers, named Vouseph, "this planet is already under valkyran domain, so don't go attacking the city."

"What?" said Tambourine confused, "then we are not here to conquer another planet?"

"We're here for... the opposite," said Vouseph, turning away from Tambourine without fear, "I won't tell you anything else, freak. Just give your orders and assemble the troops."

Tambourine paid no mind to Vouseph's hostile behaviour and proceeded to follow his command. His mind was still not sure about what 'the opposite' meant, so he started by hovering up in the air to look around the planet. It was quite plain and rocky around the city, but nothing caught his attention, so he flew back to the ground, only so he could notice thousands soldiers staring at him with scorn looks on their faces, all immobile. They were probably thinking Tambourine didn't know what he was doingand were angry about it, but at the same time, most of the soldiers would not cooperate in telling their general what he was supposed to do there. The tension between the demon and his troops grew each moment.

Suddenly, much to Tambourine's relief, Faffy gave a huge roar as he was away from the troops, alerting he had seen a group of hostile beings heading their way. The demon instantly looked at the enemy aliens and panicked, immediately figuring out what Vouseph had meant by 'the opposite'. He knew he had to give some orders, but thinking about a strategy quickly was not one of his strong points.

"Quick!" said the demon as loudly as he could, "d-defend the city! Form a circle around it!"

"I guess he means a dome, as aerial attacks are quite possible," said Vouseph once again with an imposing voice, "and what do you think we've been doing this whole time while you were just flying around?"

The soldier's intentions of making Tambourine look like a useless general were starting to become apparent, as he had just humilliated him in front of half of the troops. The demon couldn't let himself become the new Galloy Helms, the useless general Tambourine stole his general rank from.

"That's what I meant, it was just a verbal mistake," said Tambourine, trying to regain some respect from the troops, "and I would have given this order earlier if this soldier hadn't refused to tell me about the mission!"

Vouseph gave a defiant stare towards his general, before he was dismissed by the latter and ordered to 'go to his position instead of wasting time trying to sound competent.' The soldier didn't respond, and quickly left to cover a random spot in the man-dome the troops were trying to form. In reality, Vouseph had decided to let Tambourine's incompetence show itself instead of doing it himself.

Tambourine called Faffy and they both flew to the top of the valkyran barrier the soldiers had formed, setting his eyes on the group of enemies coming towards the city. He pointed his finger towards them and ordered Faffy to attack, which the dragon did by firing a powerful blast from his mouth from his high position.

However, if there was more than a single group of enemies coming towards the city, Tambourine didn't think about it. On the other hand, Vouseph did.

The changeling could see the Citadel in the distance. In a few short hours, Atageet would be theirs. She motioned to the members of BD closest to her and indicated that she’d be turning off by herself for a bit. When they gave their approval, the changeling pulled out her Gem of Telepathy, attempting to focus it. For the oddest reason, there was a specific person she wished to see: the ashen alien, Tapion.

She could not explain why she had this urge, but she did. Before going out and performing her greatest, and only, military victory to date, she wished to meet with the hero, the only one she respected. Using the Gem as a sort of mental mirror, she opened her mind to that of the alien. Having fought with him in the astral realm allowed her to recognize his own mental plane fairly easily and she soon found him. She was unable to see him, however, due to the vast distances between the two.

Not to mention the fact that her eyes were filling with tears at the sharp spikes being driven into her skull at such a massive use of her still undeveloped powers. She tugged at his consciousness, attempting to force him into her own realm, force him to meet her in the fighting dimension. It quickly became weaker, however, and she couldn’t tell if he’d even noticed her. He certainly hadn’t reacted yet, but that might have just been the force of his own will resisting.

Sweat pouring down her face, she eventually became too weak and was pulled into the power of the Gem completely. For those watching, she almost immediately reappeared, sweat magically gone and corkscrewing upward, until she was within shouting distance of her men. They didn’t ask why she had nearly crashed, and she didn’t say. She merely needed to speak to them.


She angled to the left and was pleased to see out of the corner of her eye that the entire division had followed suit with little or no persuasion needed. She quickly lowered until they touched ground on the rocky plains. She waited until the other five hundred soldiers all landed and shuffled around her before she spoke.

“What I said back in the cavern wasn’t the real plan,” she admitted. A ripple of shock passed through the group, but she plowed on, not willing to be embarrassed into silence. “I had to pretend that it was, because what’s going to happen here is going to have a seriously negative impact on their world for years. But it’s the only way to rid them of the Valkyra scum.”

“What is it?” one of the soldiers called out.

“The ground forces will do exactly as they are supposed to – draw out the enemy. Our plan is to force the leader to meet me in battle, by any means necessary. We will bombard the Citadel with Ki attacks, using as much strength as we can muster. And, after we draw him or her out…” She grinned.

“Have any of you heard of the technique called ‘Electro Eclipse Bomb’?” she asked casually. A few people’s eyes widened and immediately began whispering amongst themselves. The vast majority, however, remained clueless. “I charge all of my Kinetic power into one, dense ball of energy, and I send it towards the earth. The result, I’ve been told, resembles that of a nuclear warhead from Earth in power and magnitude.”

The air was still and silent. Finally, Siber stepped forward, shaking slightly. “What of the Sai Ruk?” he asked, attempting to maintain a cool visage.

The changeling hesitated. “Many of the Sai Ruk will be unharmed… but yes, there will be major casualties from this. It is one of the reasons I asked you to fly with me. From our high altitude, we will avoid any flying shrapnel with ease.”

“But, what of-?” he began to ask, before stopping at the stern look from Tehran’he. “As you wish, general…” He backed up, head bowed slightly, and the changeling watched him, embarrassedly.

Eventually, she coughed lightly and said, “Well. Uh, yeah. Let’s go, then.”

Tehran’he watched in awe as several hundred of her troops were wiped apart by an unbelievable blast of power from some sort of lizard-like being high in the towers of the Citadel. She flew towards it, recognizing it as the true threat to her troops, ordering Blizzard Division to initiate the attack on the actual city.

As the Sai Ruk below were tearing apart the foundation of the city, the changelings above were firing beams of Ki to destroy buildings and cause mass havoc within. The metallic scent of blood and the shrill screams of the innocent rose up to meet the changeling as she flew, but she shut these things away.

War wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, so why pretend?

As she neared, she saw a Namekian standing next to the dragon, giving orders to the troops. Stopping in midair, she immediately began to pull at herself, forcing her body to separate from itself. After a few moments and a dull ache from each shoulder, she had succeeded; there were now three changelings facing the duo, each substantially weaker than the whole, but still deadly in their own way.

Simultaneously, they began to charge the dark sphere, the yellow auras of the changelings slowly changing the composition of the ball. It became a rusty color instead of its usual jet black. She didn’t spare words, because she didn’t deem the Namek she was looking at worthy of her presence. And so, the three women pushed outward, and, using the gravity of their own massive bulk, they began to spiral on towards the tower, leaving a dark trail of Kinetic debris in its wake.

Word Count: 2,994

Whew. That one was a whopper.
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Posts : 601
Join date : 2010-07-16

PostSubject: Re: The Plight of Tehran'he   Sat Aug 28, 2010 6:13 am

1,165,750 pl and ki and zeni and 200 bp
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The Plight of Tehran'he
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