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 Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.

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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: Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.   Sat Aug 28, 2010 11:18 am

Tehran’he stood on the edge of one of the temples dedicated to the Lost, looking at the ancient structure and wondering what had happened to them, still blissfully unaware of the true reason behind their demise. She had found it yesterday, and had immediately contacted Pan with its coordinates, and requested a little spar here.

She didn’t think she could win – she never had – but the scene of the light snow and the ruined temple seemed to be extremely pleasing to the eye, and calming to the mind. And with the stress of having entered her first major war weighing down on her, she found herself needing this sight, and perhaps the mindless release that came with a quick and easy fight.

She hadn’t brought any fighting equipment with her, as she hadn’t assumed she’d need or want it. The changeling did, however power up as she waited for Pan. The heat of her now light blue aura melted a ring of snow around her, revealing the permafrost beneath. She sighed. If she closed her mind to the obvious differences like the palace if Nemesis and the near endless Sai Ruk idiots that roamed the planet, searching for something to do besides wait for their next mission, it was almost like back at home on Frieza.

Almost.

Pan was silent as she gazed at the sky above her. It was cold on Rath, and she had no clue why she was not bothered by it. She had been forcing herself to train in different weathers. But the snow she had been neglecting. She was able to train in weather over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. That was quite a feat for her. She narrowed her eyes before finally her gaze fell on the Changeling that had called her to the temple of the Lost.

She folded her arms across her chest. Her brown furry tail swished behind her. Still she was neglecting to remove it once again from her body. Oh well... at least she knew how to fight with it still attached. She curled it around her waist protectively. She knew why she was called there, but she was not sure she liked the backdrop that Tehran'he had chosen.

"You seem to be missing some clothes," she said. She chuckled softly before shifting her body, her black armor clinking together. She shifted her sword slightly against her hip.

"Why are we here? At this temple? In the snow?" she asked. "I hate the snow..." she grumbled to herself.

She shifted into her fighting stance, grinning a little bit.

"Well let's get this over with while I still have time to spare," she said.

Tehran’he shrugged. “I’m a changeling,” she said blankly. “What did you expect?” For a long moment, she attempted to keep a straight face, but finally gave up, and a wry smile broke her lips. Pan asked about her choice in location, and she replied “I just find the place peaceful, is all.”

Nodding her head as Pan slowly entered a, of all things, defensive stance, Tehran’he began to move forward, but stopped. She had the sudden urge to impress the Saiyan woman in front of her, so she quickly entered her Third Form, allowing her aura to cover her as always. The light blue shade of her Ki made it seem as though she were being covered by little ice crystals, and was being frozen inside.

Through experience, she was getting more used to activating her transformation and thus could achieve it much quicker than before. But still, the change was the same. Her muscle mass increased, and her bones were broken and healed repeatedly. The pain was unbelievable, but unbelievably quick. Within a few seconds, she had already broken the cocoon, showing off her highest possible power.

Rushing at Pan, she felt her body begin to shimmer, before almost entirely becoming invisible using the factors of the light downfall and her more than doubled speed. Reaching Pan, Tehran’he immediately leaped into the air and, using the momentum of the jump, threw out both her arms and lay horizontal in a Superman pose, attempting to slam her under the chin with both fists.

Right after, she darted to the side, and tried to trip her with a quick leg sweep, that was followed up almost immediately after with her longer and thicker tail. Tehran’he then spun on her heel and tried to bolt a safe distance away. What she’d done was all fine and dandy, but going toe to toe with Pan, no matter how fast she was, was beyond idiotic. It was near suicidal.

Pan cocked her head to one side then laughed a little bit.

"Yes... you are indeed a Changeling. I'm definitely not disputing that," she said. "And I'm a Saiyan. Are we done speaking the obvious?"

She snorted a little bit as she gazed at the destroyed temple nearby. She was reminded of the Saiyan temple she herself had destroyed after Tara had been murdered. The power of the Super Saiyan form was something she had not been used to at all. It was downright terrifying, knowing how strong she could become if she let her emotions out.

As Pan stood there, she kept her gaze firm on her opponent. The moment she felt Tehran'he's power spike, she knew that she had to be ready. Her eyes slipped closed for a split second as she focused on Tehran'he's mind. It was easy enough to break through into the Changeling's thought process.

Oh really? she thought to herself when she learned what Tehran'he was up to.

She darted easily to the side, looking almost bored as Tehran'he shot past the female Saiyan. Her body spun around and she hopped easily over the leg meant to trip her up. She then shot her hand up and grabbed at the Changeling's tail.

Ki sparked around her other hand before she sent her fist to Tehran'he's ribcage.

Tehran’he felt a sharp pain near her tail, and felt herself yanked back towards the Saiyan. A punch slammed straight at her heart caused her to involuntarily gasp, and she fell to the ground. Firing a crystalline beam of Ki from her mouth, plasma was strewn in all areas surrounding and at Pan, before doing a quick twist and back flipping away.

The changeling took a deep breath, attempting to calm her now fluttering heart. Just as she had expected, her mind was clearing, and exhilaration and adrenaline began pumping through her veins. This was just what she needed to revitalize herself.

A compact beam of energy, near invisible to any, was shot out both of her index fingers, aimed at the center of Pan’s eyes. Running at the now hopefully blinded Saiyan, Tehran’he jumped as high as she could, held both her hands over her head, and slammed them both down where she expected Pan’s head to be.

For added measure, she let her aura flare slightly, letting it flash against the surrounding snow and ice and watched as it melted. For a few, crucial seconds it was raining, giving her hopefully the edge she needed. Tehran’he disappeared, headed for the top of the temple dedicated to the Lost and their teachings. A shiver crossed her mind as she neared it. For some reason, she had a feeling that what was inside it held some sort of special meaning to her, though what, she was unable to discern at that moment.

Pan laughed a little bit as she felt the ki hit her straight on. It was exhilarating really. It did not hurt as much as some attacks she had been hit with, which she was okay with. It still caused the feral side of her to snarl and snap at the ki. The Saiyan doubled over, her fingers digging into her stomach as she tried to get more pain. But she realized her armor would not allow it.

With a smirk, she grabbed at her sword. She jerked it out of its scabbard and as luck would have it the ki attack that was supposed to hit her eyes instead bounced off of her sword. She then straightened to her feet, her gaze falling on the flat of her blade. She took note of the small burn mark and scoffed softly.

She glanced up in time to catch sight of the Changeling above her. She smiled before holding her hand up. Her fingers curled in a clawing motion as she fired a blast of ki at Tehran'he's stomach before ducking underneath the Changeling to dodge the hammerblow.

She spun her sword in her hand before flying up after the Changeling. As she floated in the sky, she brought her sword around and sliced at her own arm. She then turned the blade over and soaked the other side in her own blood. Once both sides were inundated with Pan's blood, she smirked.

"Blade be true this day," she murmured. She disappeared in a blue sheen, then disappeared. The woman reappeared behind Tehran'he and she sent her sword to the Changeling's spine.

The changeling kept her eyes firmly locked on Pan as she watched her cut herself. Tehran’he had never seen anyone willingly hurt themselves in battle without a purpose, so she immediately tensed, waiting for the maelstrom to come. She let the blood from her veins flow onto all edges of her sword blade, and held it out in front, before doing something that looked like a prayer.

A magic ritual, perhaps? A blood sacrifice for demonic powers? Either way, it didn’t matter. But when Pan disappeared, Tehran’he had had an idea where the Saiyan was headed. Going as fast as she possibly could, she spun around to attack the Overlord head on, and felt a vicious gash slide all across the length of her stomach. Blood spurted out in a wide ray and Tehran’he instantly grabbed her stomach, trying to superheat her hand and close it.

Using her free hand, she did one of the most dangerous things she had ever considered. With only one hand, she attempted a Bakurikamaha, somewhat like a Kamehameha but on a much more chaotic scale. Kamehameha’s usually lasted longer, but the technique Tehran’he chose was designed for the knockout blow.

A violent outburst of the Ki, now a sea green color shot out her palm, point blank at Pan. For several seconds, she continued to fire, while healing the long scrape along her stomach. Finally, the attack ended. But the attack had been too powerful for one hand alone to contain; her wrist had snapped under the pressure.

Switching to her right hand as the dominant, she used her left to finish sealing the wound, before letting it hand limply to the side. She could get it fixed later, but for right now, that pretty much screwed any chance of her even standing a chance in this fight.

Saiyan blood dribbled from Pan's arm. It splattered on the temple below the two combatants, staining it forever more. Forever would it be known that a Saiyan had fought on the temple grounds. She narrowed her eyes as she felt her adrenaline pumping harder and harder through her body. Her heart beat was going slightly faster, her blood pressure slightly elevated. This allowed for more blood to pool out of her wound.

It was dangerous to let an open wound continue to stay open. But she did not care. It could be seen in Pan's eyes. They were a dark green color instead of the usual ebony color. However, she had not fully transformed. She had grabbed a little bit of power from her Super Saiyan transformation, but had not gone fully Super Saiyan. She smirked as she stared at the Changeling across from her.

She brought her sword up above her head then sent her other hand forward. Blast after blast hit Pan's hand, extinguishing only millimeters away from her palm. She grinned widely. "Bringer of death and destruction," she whispered to herself.

"My sword will drink blood!" she called out. Once the bombardment ceased she disappeared. She appeared a few meters away from the Changeling. She thought to herself on what she would do next.

Suddenly, fire sprouted all along the bloody blade of her sword. She smirked, her eyes becoming hooded as she felt her Saiyan blood continue to pump.

In the blink of an eye, Pan shot forward though her body was practically invisible thanks to her intense speed. As she got closer, she slashed at Tehran'he's body. One went for the Changeling's chest, the other two were aimed at Tehran'he's arms.

Tehran’he watched as Pan’s eyes once more underwent the change to the green color, and once more, she wondered if it was Saiyan trick or not. But it didn’t matter, really, because using the strength of her own power, and her sword, Pan kept every single bit of her attack from hitting her, making the effort a complete failure.

Pan whispered something to the blade, that almost eagerly hummed in response. In a much louder voice, as though declaring the sword’s own demands to the world: “My sword will drink blood!” The Saiyan Overlord then disappeared from sight, and Tehran’he felt an increase in heat coming from her right, She started to turn, but that only hurt her, literally. As she spun to face pan, three white hot pains ran through her seemingly simultaneously, one in her chest and one along the length of each of her arms.

The sudden increase in pain caused her body to lock up, and Tehran’he began falling towards the ground like a rock, unable to use her own Ki to sustain herself further. Slamming into the snow heavily, she stared up Pan, eyes emotionless, unable to move her body in any way, shape or form. “Do it, then,” she muttered. “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.”

Bold words, though the changeling knew them to be false. One could only escape hell under the grounds that they hadn’t died. If she were forced, through her own demise, to reenter the land of Lucifer, she knew without a shadow of a doubt she’d never escape.

A chill that had nothing to do with the snow passed over her, as her eyes slowly darkened, trying to keep focus on Pan to see her reaction to the words, or indeed if she had even heard them. But the effort soon became too great, and she passed into the void.

"I'm not going to kill you, you fool," she said. She scoffed before slipping her sword back into its scabbard. She brushed herself off before making her way over to the Changeling. The snow crunched under Pan's boots as she walked along. She could smell burning flesh. The smell was drifting from Tehran'he's body. Pan struggled to control her gag reflex, but it was a difficult task indeed to do.

She rolled her eyes before stooping down. She grabbed Tehran'he's arm then slung the Changeling over her shoulder.

"I'm not a fool, I'm not going to kill you. I'd have people I don't need after me going after me," she muttered even though the Changeling probably could not hear her.

She shot off into the sky. She went faster than she had during their little spar. If she had gone as fast as she was going at that point, then Tehran'he would be dead.

She dropped the Changeling off at a local rejuvenation tank center, not really in the mood to try to find Tehran'he's ship. She wasn't even sure if Tehran'he had landed her ship.

"See you later, Icy," she muttered then disappeared from sight, literally.

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.

She only opened them when the composition of the air around her changed. It was much cooler and fresher; not so much as to appear like Frieza, but somewhat temperate. Opening her eyes, she saw exactly that: a temperate rainforest. She stood in a small, undisturbed patch that was about a half mile in diameter, surrounded by thick trees that pressed down on her.

The area was somewhat bright, but because of the tightness of the trees on the outer edges, it seemed shrouded in a misty shadow that caused her to shiver. Tehran’he looked around nonchalantly, pleased, but not altogether surprised, to see herself once again in the pure white uniform she had been given by Frost, now pristine and seemingly untouched. Smoothing out a crease in it, the changeling looked around.

Nobody appeared to be nearby, but she couldn’t base her thoughts on this, and so quickly powered up, though much less explosively as she normally would. The faint, pulsing aura appeared, yellow as always, but muted, the sign of her distrust in herself quite obvious.

The Serpentine Road was a long and exhausting trail, but one that Oboe was determined to get to the end of. For days he had been running and the appearance of the path was static and unchanging. He almost wished for another house like Princess Snake’s to appear on the horizon, but realized that it would merely delay him further if he were to rest. So he kept pressing on, regardless of his exhaustion.

Suddenly, a soft glow emanated from his pants pocket. He came to a stop and pulled out a green gemstone that fit almost perfectly in his palm. It pulsed with light, changing between dimmer and brighter. Suddenly it flashed and he found himself standing in an exotic forested area. Small creatures ran about in the treetops, leaping from branch to branch and swinging on their tails. For one reason or another, they reminded him of Saiyans.

Oboe grabbed hold of a sturdy branch and climbed up on top of it, then jumped to another branch, then another, trying to get a clear vantage point. When he was around halfway up one of the trees, a fierce yellow flash could be seen in the distance.

That must be the person I’m supposed to fight, he thought. It’s been a while since I’ve gone up against someone who’s probably stronger than me. I can’t to see how much I’ve improved since I died.

He leapt down from the tree and landed at the feet of a being unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It had smooth white skin and many reptilian characteristics, as well as a yellow pulsing aura around it, a physical symbol of how strong they were.

The Namekian stepped back a bit and smiled slightly, then assumed a wide stance, his hands out in front of his face, ready to guard any incoming attacks.

Tehran’he looked to the right, hearing the quiet swishing of a tree, and saw several small, furry creatures scamper off into the distance, alongside a large green man with antennae, a type of creature she’d met only once before: a Namekian. She snorted softly as the Namek slammed the ground and quickly assumed a defensive fighting stance.

“My name’s Tehran’he,” she said, noticing the Namekian’s confusion at her appearance. “I’m a changeling, one of a proud race of fighters. And you are a Namek, are you not.” It was a statement, rather than a question. “What’s your name?” That, however, was a question.

After a while, she started to get the feeling something was off about his appearance, and suddenly noticed a small, golden circle hovering over his head. Thinking it was some sort of Ki technique, she fired a quick beam of energy at it that was quickly repelled by the power in the ring and shot off into the distance. A screech was heard, and the smell of cooked meat soon followed.

“What… what is it?” she asked, pointing in the direction of the halo. Taking a couple steps forward as the Namekian replied, she focused on small details, like the determination in his eyes, and the way he held himself, as though he had incredible stamina and toughness. It could simply be the water weight, but Tehran’he wasn’t one to take chances. This fight clearly needed to be quick, by the looks of it.

“My name’s Tehran’he,” the creature, or rather person, said. It took a moment for it to click in his mind, but he recognized the voice to be similar in pitch to the way he knew “women” usually spoke. Though he didn’t know what it meant other than a way of addressing people, Tehran’he was apparently what humans would a woman.

“I’m a changeling, one of a proud race of fighters. And you are a Namek, are you not,” she continued.

A proud race of fighters… The words ran through his head. It was reminiscent of the way Saiyans thought of themselves, and one of the reasons he despised most of them. Still, there wasn’t anything about Tehran’he that made him feel like she was acting particularly superior. He relaxed somewhat, though still kept a close eye on her.

“Yeah, I am,” Oboe replied.

Tehran’he’s eyes suddenly shifted to the halo floating above his head. She pointed a finger at it and fast beam of Ki shot out of the tip. The ray of light phased through the halo and continued off into the distance.

“What… what is it?” she asked, pointing at the golden ring.

Oboe pointed at it as well. “This?” he replied. “It’s a halo. You get one when you die.”

He resumed his previous stance and pulled his arm back, then suddenly brought it forward. The limb shot out like a rubber band, the hand curled into a fist, ready to make contact with the young woman. It retracted rather quickly and he flipped back into a more upright position, poised to strike.

Tehran’he noticed the Namekian’s arm extend towards her at an alarming rate of speed, flying towards her face. Using her forearm at a slight angle, she slapped the fist away off to the right, and flickered slightly, before a bright yellow aura encased her, shining an iridescent sunny shade. When the light faded, the changeling was gone. She was now behind the Namekian, where she threw a swift, light punch at the back of his head.

Dodging to the left, she ducked around the obvious return counterstrike and turned to face the Namekian head on. “That was rude,” she began calmly. “You never even said your name.” Smirking, she leapt into the air, using a small beam from each of her index fingers to quicken her speed, without using Bukujutsu. Once she got to a certain height, she stopped the flow of energy.

Falling to the ground, Tehran’he angled her body accordingly and held both her hands over her head, before attempting to slam them down on the Namekian’s head upon landing. Finally, she took a moment to pause and take a quick breath. “How did you die?” she asked, backing up a tad. “And why… how… do you still exist? Or were you like me?” she continued, almost eager to hear the account, but at the same time, fearful.

“Were you forced into Hell? Or…” she hesitated, looking at the halo. “Heav…en? Or did you actually die?” The thought made her grin for some reason, but she still shuddered despite herself. She herself never planned on dying. In fact, if she never returned to hell, it would be too soon.

After she stopped talking, she noticed with some bemusement that her hammerhead strike had hit the halo as well and her hands were slightly burned from the impact. Her excitement and nervousness had hidden the pain from her, and even now it didn’t really hurt; it was more of a dull aching pain. She was used to burns. It didn’t bother her. Play with fire, and you have to expect burns every now and again.

Tehran’he knocked his arm aside with quick flip of her arm. She started to glow like a bright flame, and then suddenly the aura vanished along with the rest of her. Before Oboe could respond, he took a punch to the back of the head. He immediately responded by spinning around with a kick, but Tehran’he merely ducked below it.

“That was rude. You never even said your name,” she responded with a smirk. The Changeling leapt into the air. Two beams shot out of each of her hands, making Tehran’he rise with great speed. She came down with her fists clasped together, striking Oboe on the head with them. He winced in pain and grabbed his skull with one hand.

“How did you die?” she asked while moving backward. “And why… how… do you still exist? Or were you like me?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘like me,’” Oboe replied. He took his head out of his hand and looked directly at her as he finished speaking. “But I was killed by a Saiyan on Vegeta. There was a note signed by someone named Frieza left in my hand before I did. I’d like to get back and read it, but I’m kinda dead. As for why I still exist, I’ve got a bit of a deal going on with Earth’s god. He let me keep my body for some reason after I died.”

“Were you forced into Hell? Or…” she paused for a moment and looked at his halo. “Heav…en? Or did you actually die?”

“Yeah, I really died,” Oboe continued. “It’s not exactly pleasant. I passed up the opportunity to go to heaven. I’m going to train this god named Kaio for as long as I’m dead. I was running on a path that’s supposed to be 1 million kilometers long before I ended up here.”

Oboe reached behind himself and pulled a red colored staff out of the satchel on his back. It glowed a bright red as it suddenly extended, more than tripling in length. He tried to slam it down on his opponent’s head. After the assault, it resumed its usual length and he moved quickly to the side, vanishing as he did. He reappeared behind the Changeling, attempting another strike with his Nyoi-bo.

The changeling stared blankly. “Earth has no god,” she said, bluntly, almost viciously. Her head suddenly began to pound, and she tried to block out the things from her childhood. “If earth has any celestial body, it is that of the demon.” Flashes, rapid images, scurrying across her sight, changing the scene before her very eyes.

It was suddenly an icy landscape, with dark images swirling, people half seen but not. It was the last ages she had of her parents, not that one could tell by the lack of clarity and color. Finally, with an enormous effort of will, she forced all these things back inside her mind, and once more, the temperate rainforest was seen. It was impossible to see if the green man had even sensed a change in the realm, or if that had been a personal thing.

“I was forced into Hell,” she finally said, to reply to his first question. “Dragged in by a terrible demon, one cunning and powerful and devious. I barely escaped with my life.” A sudden slam on her head brought her back to reality. Or, the sparring realm. Whichever.

“Hey!” Rubbing the back of her head, she stared at the Namekian across from her, before firing a quick compact beam of energy his way, following up with a couple spheres of blue energy. As she did, he disappeared, and the changeling spun, not at all surprised to see the Namekian there. Holding her arm out, she deflected the blow of the staff, before muttering, “Why do they always go for the back?”

Looking at the Namek head on, she said, completely seriously, “Never do such an obvious thing if you plan on being a true fighter.” Leaping back, she charged up a beam of Ki from her finger, before letting it fade as she landed. After a moment, she smiled, deciding to take her own advice. And she lowered her hands, taking a completely non aggressive approach. She didn’t even consider attacking.

Tehran’he looked out with a blank expression, almost as if she had lost touch with reality. “Earth has no god,” she said coldly. “If earth has any celestial body, it is that of the demon.”

“Well, I guess he kinda looks like a demon,” Oboe said in a failed attempt to break the ice. “Then again, all Namekians sorta like ‘em. I used to think I was a Mazoku myself.”

She suddenly became even more distance from reality as she said. “I was forced into Hell. Dragged in by a terrible demon, one cunning and powerful and devious. I barely escaped with my life.”

Oboe took advantage of the moment and his staff extended as he struck the Changeling on the head with it. She suddenly snapped back to the fight with a cry of “Hey!” She rubbed her head and used the spar arm to shoot several blasts of Ki at him. His staff retracted and he twirled it around quickly. The blasts struck the staff and dissipated.

Oboe dashed off and vanished, reappearing behind Tehran’he and trying to strike with the Nyoi-bô yet again. However, she anticipated his attack and blocked it with one arm.

Oboe stepped back as she muttered, “Why do they always go for the back?” She looked him in the eye and continued, “Never do such an obvious thing if you plan on being a true fighter.”

Tehran’he leapt back and charged up a beam of ki in her index finger. However, the glow faded away and she dropped her hands to her sides.

Her Namekian opponent was somewhat taken aback by this. “You don’t want to fight?” he said with an unsure tone.

She raised an eyebrow at Oboe. “No, actually, I don’t,” she replied. “I want you to fight me. You are, after all, a Mazoku…” whatever the hell that is, she finished in her mind. Tehran’he noticed the Namek still had indecision, and so she took the next couple of steps. She powered back down to her regular walking around power, about ten thousand less power level than she was a moment ago.

Tehran’he then suppressed the remaining power herself; she was still just as strong, but only in the physical sense. Her Ki attacks wouldn’t be used for now. Next, she spoke directly to the green man as she continued her change, forcing her DNA to forget what it knew and bend to her will, believing what she was mentally telling it, that she had more than two arms. “This technique,” she began, sweat pouring down her forehead as she spoke, “was taught to me by the Turtle: Roshi.”

Six rips had appeared in her back, and blood along with other bodily fluids dripped out, while slimy arms slipped through the holes and sealed up behind them, steaming. Within thirty seconds, she had eight arms, and there was nothing about her to indicate that she hadn’t been born that way at all, besides the lopsided appearance she suddenly had, that said her body wasn’t designed to hold eight arms. “It’s called Hassuken,” she said, by way of explanation.

“But enough of that. Quit dawdling, and attempt to hurt me. I’m in a good mood, so I might help you get better.” She smiled faintly, remembering a previous Namekian, who had been less powerful, but much more tactical. For no other reason than that, she wished to help this one.

But before the Namekian could reply, the changeling felt a tug from reality. Not having a chance to react, she fell out of the astral realm, and back into Atageet, seemingly without any reason for it to have happened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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. Swirling in a patchwork quilt of darkness, she eventually materialized in the sparring realm, to see that it had been somehow split down the middle morally. There was one side, that was pitch black, with no way to see anything inside it.

The other side was so bright and clear that it blinded anyone who looked upon it. There was a patch between them where she lay, and this was a thing, gray line. It stretched for miles, but it was only about ten yards in width. She realized that it could pose a problem, but was still too weak from her “calling” the alien to do anything about it; she couldn’t even leave in her current state. She merely lay on the ground, panting and trying not to open her eyes, hoping the pain would go away.

Tapion frowned. Before him was a letter from his personal ship, the Selenis. The only person who could have sent it was Erasia. Slowly, he reached forward and opened the letter. His eyes flowed along the lines, taking in the meaning of each word as it was combined with others. When he came to the end, Tapion placed it back down next to the golden mask he wore as Kona.

Erasia, what are you planning? Why have you gone to Arlia? Tapion asked, mostly to himself. He knew that eventually he would have to go back to his ship and deal with the woman. For now, though, he would continue his own mission. Stretching back, the ashen warrior yawned, tired from the all night work he had just done to get ready for his next battle on Iaon. Setting up plans within plans was certainly a tedious, but necessary, part of war.

Suddenly, Tapion felt a mental presence crudely try to pull his own. He pulled back his own mind to strike at the presence before the feel of it revealed who it was.

Tehran'he?! What could she possibly want of me? Well, may as well go and ask, he thought, a small smile coming onto his face. Talking with the other warriors in the galaxy was proving to be his sole relief from the fear he felt about his own fate. Madness was in the future, unless he found a way to save himself from it. So far, the best lead was looking to be a changeling named Chill, and that was one path Tapion hoped to avoid at all costs.

Reaching forward, the ashen warrior grasped his gem. He went in and then out, soon finding himself standing once again in the Astral Realm. That is, the energies swirling around them was still that of that mental world, but the land was far different. For Tapion, he found himself standing within the darkness, the faint aura that always surrounded him the only light in the shadows. Before him, a blinding light-filled world stretched for eternity, separated from the shadows by a thin band of twilight. It was there that he saw the changeling woman on the ground, obviously on pain.

Rushing forward, Tapion came to kneel by Tehran'he. He lay two fingers upon her each of her temples and focused his will. Using his own telepathic powers, the ashen warrior attempted to heal the mental damage the changeling had caused herself in calling him. He was done after a brief moment.

"Next time you want to call me, use a phone," Tapion said to her, a wry grin on his face as he slowly stood up. The ashen warrior extended one hand to help Tehran'he to her own feet, that grin sliding into an easy smile. Helping people, that was what he should have been doing. Instead he was adding to the list of killed in the thrice-damned war, all because he was afraid.

She could feel the pain easing in her mind, slowly, but with much more clarity over time. Eventually, it faded entirely, and she sighed in relief. "Next time you want to call me, use a phone.” She looked up to see that she was being helped up by Tapion, the person she thought hadn’t heard her call. Something clicked in her, and she felt better, somehow.

She gave him a look, before speaking. “Why?” She waited a while before elaborating. “Why are you who you are? What makes you want to try and help the fools, the weaklings, the liars, and the murderers?” She didn’t get the purpose of her talk, but she was about to wage a war; she wasn’t exactly there to fight. It was a first, but it was.

“I don’t understand why you ally yourselves with those that claim to be heroes. They are all stupid and arrogant and just as harmful and dangerous as any others in existence.” She began to power up, her aura, for the moment, nonexistent. She felt no emotions, just an intense seriousness, so it had no color to take. Therefore, it had taken a clear, windy shade that was invisible in their current environment.

“Why are you, for lack of a better word, a hero?” She could feel her body building to something, but was trying to bottle it in. The alien might take it negatively if she suddenly let out all her pent up energy in a single blast, but all of a sudden she was overcome with an unbelievable exasperation at him for his idiocy, his folly. He could have anything, and chose to have nothing. He chose to be nobody.

Tapion was taken aback by the changeling female's response to his help. His face fell into the wide-eyed expression of complete surprise. Slowly, though, it faded away and a serene feeling came over him.

"I guess you wouldn't understand why I do this. Why I am what I am," he responded, a soft, kindly smile on his face, "Tehran'he, I rarely look at what my deeds do. In fact, I usually find myself in a horrible situation, fix it, and leave before anyone is able to thank me. Two times, though, I returned to see what my deeds had done for a world. This is what greeted me."

Moving to stand beside the changeling, Tapion waved his hand, altering a small portion of the realm into a kind of floating window. It looked upon a suburban hospital, somewhere outside of West City. Zooming in to one of the windows, the portal show a woman holding her newly born child, her face filled with a radiant joy. Next to her, the father beamed down at his child, nearly brought to tears by the happiness he felt.

"This is from eight months ago. I saved her when she was seven months pregnant by preventing Cold from gaining the dragon balls. I saved her by dying myself, and thus I saved her child and her husband," Tapion said, watching the scene with that same soft smile. Slowly, it changed, coming to show a different scene.

The new image was of a small village of people, tilling their fields in the calm, tranquil method that only farmers could accomplish. Young children ran among the buildings of the village proper, playing a game of tag throughout the entire land. They were of a different race than the first scene, they were Keliouxian.

"This is from not too long ago. I protected those children from death when I decided it was better to sacrifice my safety than to allow a woman to die at the hands of her former master. I killed the master and left the woman, though she has found me again," said the ashen warrior, watching the children play with a kind of hollow amusement. The window changed once again, displaying the source of why his mirth was empty.

Before them both was a scene that could easily have been taken from the bowels of Hell. It depicted a ruined world, scarred by what must have been a truly destructive force. Crouching atop a pillar of corpses in various levels of decay was a black figure. Beautiful onyx wings stretched out from his back, curved around so the tips nearly touched in front of him. His body would have been described as naked, save that a metallic black material covered him entirely. Last of all, blue fire burned within the eyes of the demonic angel as he looked upon his handiwork.

Slowly, the fallen angel looked up, as if he could see the ones watching him through the window. He stood to full height and gathered himself before launching into the sky, flying off into the night to end an entire galaxy. As the angel left, Tapion closed the window, although he stared at the spot it had been, as if he still saw that last scene before him.

"Those first scenes were from Earth and Kelioux, respectively. I saved lives and made people happy. The last scene though," Tapion stopped, his hand coming to rest by his side, "The last one was of my own past. That dark angel used to be me." He stopped again and turned to the changeling woman next to him.

"Tehran'he, would you believe me if I told you that I became what I am out of guilt? Would you believe me if I also said that my guilt has faded away, being eclipsed by a burning need to help others, even at my own expense?" Tapion asked, something in his eyes almost begging the woman to understand. Quickly, he looked away.

"Well, even if you do not, that is how I feel. The best way I can describe it is that I cannot not use my powers for others. For every spark of evil out there, I try to do a good deed to balance it out. Recently, I've been starting to feel the pressure of my responsibility," Tapion said, growing quieter as he spoke until he ended at a mere whisper. His arms came up, as if he was holding himself against something larger, much larger and far more frightening than any villain he had ever encountered.

There was a lot of things she could have said that Tapion would have expected. That wasn’t one of them. For a long moment, he just stared at her in shock that she dared say anything related to it. Finally, he spoke, in a soft, humored tone, as though he found it amusing that she was interested at all. "I guess you wouldn't understand why I do this. Why I am what I am."

"Tehran'he, I rarely look at what my deeds do. In fact, I usually find myself in a horrible situation, fix it, and leave before anyone is able to thank me. Two times, though, I returned to see what my deeds had done for a world. This is what greeted me." He waved his arms almost nonchalantly to the side, and the something of a gateway through time appeared.

Within this small box was his memory. It was of an average hospital from Earth. But it quickly zoomed in to one specific room, where a man and woman were, nearly beside themselves with pleasure at the bundle of life between them: their newborn child. Tehran’he looked away quickly, and tried to block out his next few words, taking slow, even breaths. She wouldn’t allow him to see her like this – in her state of weakness.

Nor could anyone understand why this bothered her so. She had never told anyone this personal secret of her own, her own cross to bear. A distant laugh, and the sound of a child struggling to finish her game before dinner.

This irked her; she had kept these emotions bottled up successfully for months on end. Why now, do they come back to haunt her? It had done the same in her spar with Oboe, but much more intensive. She had altered the very state of the astral realm in her grief. But at least now, she kept it personal.

"This is from not too long ago.” She looked up to see that he had changed the image within the window, and was now staring at a pleasurable farming village. The people there appeared humanoid, but were different. They were much taller, with deep blue hair that rolled down past their shoulders, and fiery eyes that seemed to glow with an unbelievable clarity.

“I protected those children from death when I decided it was better to sacrifice my safety than to allow a woman to die at the hands of her former master. I killed the master and left the woman, though she has found me again." The changeling almost asked what he meant by it, before the image changed once more.

What she saw in the final screen was that of a desolate, ruined landscape. A single being stood watch over all, an aura of arrogance and pride circling his being. The shape of him reminded her of her own officer somewhat, Fonos. The dark, nonchalant appearance, thought not quite as extreme as this being, and the wings, the dark wings. “Who is he?” As if he heard the words himself, the dark angel looked up and stared her in the eyes.

A chill shook her, and she looked away. When she glanced back, he was flying off in the distance, and the image was slowly winking out. "Those first scenes were from Earth and Kelioux, respectively. I saved lives and made people happy. The last scene though… the last one was of my own past. That dark angel used to be me." She looked up sharply at the alien, in sudden awe and fear of the man before her.

"Tehran'he, would you believe me if I told you that I became what I am out of guilt? Would you believe me if I also said that my guilt has faded away, being eclipsed by a burning need to help others, even at my own expense?" She heard his plea, his hunger for her to understand, his wish that he wasn’t alone in this mindset. She almost understood how he felt, but wouldn’t admit it. She stared, hopefully, impassively at him and he quickly averted his eyes.

"Well, even if you do not, that is how I feel. The best way I can describe it is that I cannot not use my powers for others. For every spark of evil out there, I try to do a good deed to balance it out. Recently, I've been starting to feel the pressure of my responsibility." Where his voice had started strong and eager, excited and nervous, it ended at a mere whisper, a shade of its former self. It was as if he was talking to himself more than to her by the end of it.

“I…” Tehran’he tried to find the words to comfort him, but there were none. So she went with honesty in her own form, brutal and point blank. “Heroes will always come to ruin. That is a fact of life. There is too much evil in the universe. Either they will die before their time, or live long enough to watch themselves become the very evil they sought to destroy.”

She paused for a moment, before continuing. “I do not consider myself ‘evil.’ I am ridding the galaxy of filth that do not deserve to live, whatever or whoever they claim to be. We will never achieve our true potential with the deadweight of society pulling us down. Humanity, a wise man once said, is simply the acceptance of failure. I intend to fix that, by any means necessary.” She stared up at him fiercely, daring him to contradict her.

Tapion looked out into the shadows, seeing things he never told others about. He saw all that was happening, was both cursed and blessed to see everything, to be drawn to the evil in the universe. His arms slowly came into a more relaxed position as he heard Tehran'he's voice beside him, drawing him away from the shadows.

"There is truth in what you say, but I have to ask you one thing," Tapion said in response, before turning to look at the changeling, "What happens when a hero has already fallen? What happens after their ruin?"

The ashen warrior began to walk up the grey line, his hands held out as if reaching to caress both the shadows and the light. His movement was graceful, almost as if he was on the verge of dancing. He brought both hands back in after a couple of steps and looked over his shoulder at Tehran'he. His smile had become a grin.

"The answer to those questions is my life. I hit rock bottom and I have a second chance to make it all right. I still feel fear and anger and all those negative emotions, but here, in this realm, I can escape them," The ashen warrior turned fully around and watched Tehran'he closely, realizing that something just was not quite right. Walking forward, he stood before the shorter changeling and quickly put one finger to her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. Tapion's expression seemed deadly serious, as if he was searching for something in her eyes. He refrained from using telepathy to gain the information, though, for to use it so would be against his beliefs.

"Tehran'he, what bothers you? And do not try to hide it, I can feel the pain flowing off from you. Empathy is a side effect of the things I have been through," Tapion said, concern in his voice. Though this was a changeling, a member of the race that had gave birth to both Cold and Frieza, Tapion had promised himself to let prejudice go. Not all of a single race was entirely pure or entirely evil. Everyone who was not delusional knew the truth of that fact.

It seemed her emotions weren’t hidden as well as she’d have hoped, because Tapion rushed over to her and immediately placed his hand under her chin, forcing it upward and stared her in the eyes. The changeling looked up at Tapion, refraining from slapping his hand away, but only barely.

"Tehran'he, what bothers you? And do not try to hide it; I can feel the pain flowing off from you. Empathy is a side effect of the things I have been through." Her heart pounded, and she attempted to blank her mind, thinking of only the gold strip that ran along the alien’s cheek, keeping it as her sole focus. In the realm of sparring, reading one’s mind became infinitely easier.

“Thanks for the talk,” she said coolly. “It helped.” She started to back away, and reached for her Gem, but at the last second let her hand fall. Dark eyes looked up to meet the cerulean pair of Tapion’s, eyes dulled with a lifetime of hatred and not knowing how to vent. “My parents. They died on Earth, because they needed to be saved and there was nobody there to save them.”

Without reservation then, she grabbed her Gem, and as she faded, finished, “…and I intend to never let that happen to me.” With that, her body disassembled and returned to Atageet, her mind clearer now that her secret had been told, somewhat, but still nervous at how much he could figure out from that information, and if he would use it against her. Normally, she wouldn’t think so. But the image of him as the Angel of Death… it was an eye opener, to be sure.

Tapion felt Tehran'he draw back, both physically and emotionally. He had made a mistake, a big one. The changeling's words bit into Tapion, actually making him grimace. His hand fell to his side and he looked away, for he knew at that moment the source of her bitter beliefs. As she faded, those final words lingered in the air, surrounding the lone warrior within the realm.

Damn it, I came on too strong, Tapion thought, his emotions starting to rise as his aura and power matched them. His cerulean Ki roared around him, shattering the balanced world into endless shards of astral power.

Why am I so bad at helping others when I try? I can never save another through anything other than my own lethal power! Tapion's thoughts fueled his power, and the realm around him began to match his mind. People began to appear within the Astral Realm. Tapion watched with tears as every person he had failed to save passed him by, their images connected to their immortal souls. At the end of the line stood two women that had entrusted their lives to Tapion.

"Cat...Princess...I'm so sorry, but I'm so scared of it all," he whispered to the two images. The first, Catella, was a pretty enough young Kekko woman, her short silver hair fluttering around her head and her bright green eyes full of questions. Next to her was a woman Tapion had not seen in over a thousand years. She looked surprisingly similar to the Konatsu, her skin the color of soft ash and her hair the color of the burning sunrise. Slowly, the both came forward at the same time, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulders. Tapion looked up at them and the whisper of a smile graced his face, though he remained in a kneeling position.

"Heh, I guess I am not allowed to falter, to let myself be mortal. Well, if I am meant to be the role model for the galaxy, I may as well do it to the best of my abilities," Tapion said, a kind of sarcastic grin on his face. Slowly, he stood up, the rise of his body causing all the dead to blow away statues of dust in the wind. The ashen warrior looked at the spot Tehran'he had disappeared from, a decision made within his mind.

"It is time that I finish this war and leave behind the mistakes I've made so far within it. Hopefully I can fix everything," stated the ashen warrior, determination covering the emotions he felt. His mistakes, his faults, they were things he could not allow to rule him. Tapion was destined to be the light for others and he could not let himself falter in that mission, like he had done by entering this war. Quickly, he waved his hand and fixed the damaged astral energies. With that fixed, Tapion faded from the realm, feeling just a bit better, but no less full of fear what his doom was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anger boiled throughout Blackfire as she landed back on Vegeta-Sei. For some odd reason, King Vegeta found it fitting to put her on a near impossible mission commanding an entire fleet of saiyan warships and battle cruisers. It was something that the orphan had never done before. Hardly thinking straight, Blackfire found herself marching to the king's chamber, definitely something that would not turn out right in her favor. But before the girl could even make it there, the gem on her neck began to pulsate as if reacting to her anger.

Komand'r let out an angry snarl as she was transported to the realm of sparring. The first thing she noticed was the three suns that lit up the sky. The air temperature was extremely hot, possibly because of her anger. With an angry snort, Blackfire crossed her arms. She hopped that somebody would come. And soon.

As she watched the balls of energy fly downward at the Namekian and the beast, she felt the call of her Gem. She looked at it, shocked. She had never considered that someone would contact her specifically for a spar, especially not after entering that realm twice already. But the tug of it was filled with raw emotions, too powerful for her to resist, and she felt herself get pulled in.

Rematerializing, she first noticed that it was extremely hot and humid. Heat she could stand, but humidity made her feel like she was suffocating. Within moments, she was profusely covered in sweat. Looking around while wiping her brow, she saw that standing just in front of her was the Saiyan teen.

“Blackfire, how are you?” There weren’t many Saiyans she liked, but she did like Blackfire; she had spunk. It also didn’t hurt that she wasn’t a racist bastard or an egotistical power hungry fool. Yes, these factored in as well. But she quickly noticed that the teenager was in a serious rage; she was in the sparring realm to hurt, to injure, to maim.

To kill.

She decided to take full advantage of that, to see the scope of the Saiyan’s training. Every time they met, she was substantially stronger and faster. She must have had an amazing teacher. She briefly wondered if King Vegeta had taught her, but it seemed unlikely. Vegeta was more a man of brute force than that of speed and grace. The skills in those areas, she decided, had to mean that someone else was her mentor, but she hadn’t pried. Her masters were her own business.

Firing a quick ball of Ki from her hand, she rushed forward, attempting to ram the teen and slam her into the ground, all thoughts of cordiality gone in the hopes of seeing what had the potential to be true, raw power.

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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: Re: Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.   Sat Aug 28, 2010 11:19 am

It seemed like an eternity for Blackfire until the air in front of her started to shimmer and a changeling stepped out. Blackfire recognized Tehran'he. The heat had certainly taken its toll on the saiyan teen. Every time she wiped her brow free from sweat, more appeared. It was rather annoying.

“Blackfire, how are you?” the female changeling greeted her, but it was met with a stony silence. After a few seconds of glaring a hole through her opponent, Blackfire finally answered, her voice as dry as a sun scorched rock.

“I've been better,” she spat, slamming her forearm against a ball of Ki that Tehran'he had shot at her, sending it flying off into the distance. There was no wasted movements. Komand'r was so pissed, that she couldn't see straight. All she wanted to do was tear something up. The changeling in front of her was much more powerful than she though. Not to mention, Blackfire was starting to like Tehran'he.

A low growl escaped her lips as her foe slammed into her, bowling off of her feet. After tumbling several times ungracefully, The teen was back on her feet, but something was... odd. Her normally straight hair was beginning to become spiky, and a yellow aura suddenly exploded around her violently. When the teen looked up, her pupils and irises were no longer there. Something had clicked.

With a roar of fury, Blackfire leaped forward, attempting to slam her knee into the changeling's face, followed by a heavy hammer blow that would send her crashing to the ground.

She slammed into the teen easily, and felt little to no resistance as she began to go flying, landing gracelessly several feet away. However, the attack had triggered an immediate change within the Saiyan. Her pupils and irises disappeared, fading away, her hair began to straighten and stick straight up in a violent fashion, and a fierce, burning gold aura surrounded her.

She appeared somewhat like Pan had in what she claimed was the Super Saiyan Form, but incomplete, somehow. As though she knew how to unlock it, but didn’t yet have the power to utilize it. Blackfire then rushed forward, roaring in pure rage and uncontrolled emotions. She attempted to slam into the changeling with her full power, but using both hands, she just barely pushed back Blackfire’s knee from crashing against her face.

However, she didn’t realize how quickly the teen would react to the block; almost as if she expected it, like it was a decoy. A powerful hammerhead sent her dropping like a deck of cards. Hitting the ground hard, Tehran’he quickly rolled, firing a beam of Ki from her index finger as she rolled, mostly for distraction.

After that, she began to power up herself, her own aura a darker shade of the gold that Blackfire herself possessed, clashing horribly as they both wildly attacked each other. Tehran’he ran forward, before jumping sidelong, arms held straight out in front in dual fists, attempting to punch her hard in the face and possibly break bones. Without waiting to see if it worked, she spun in a three hundred sixty degree twirl, letting her tail fly out in a wide arc, to catch the teen in the stomach and knock her breathless.

Doing a terrific back flip, she finished off her assault with two dual beam of energy fired from her palms at the same time, both aimed at Blackfire’s skull as she was jumping. Landing behind the teen, she tried to calm her breath. It had been a while since a fight she had been in had started to violently and chaotically, and it filled her with a rush of pleasurably adrenaline, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Too long.

Blackfire's first attack missed, but the second did not, causing a feeling of satisfaction to creep up into the enraged teen. Tehran'he was strong, but there was no doubt that her souped up power was enough to hurt the changeling.

Tehran'he was not down for the count though. If she was, Blackfire would have had no trouble with her from the beginning. She rolled away and fired a small beam of Ki that crashed into Komand'r's chest. It didn't serve much purpose except push the Saiyan back a bit, giving her changeling opponent the precious few seconds she needed to get back up to her feet.

as a blue orb of ki pulsated in Blackfire's open palm. It hovered for an instant, then immediately doubled in size as the enraged teen pumped even more power into it. She launched it at her foe's face, then only when it was almost about to land, did she release her prisoner.

Tehran'he's assault was not over, and twin beams of Ki came out of the darkness. Blackfire let out an enraged scream, and both blasts exploded against what seemed to be an invisible wall of sorts. In reality, it was Blackfire's power keeping the ki back. A pant escaped her lips as she fell to one knee, her aura suddenly shrinking. The drain on her body was taking its toll.

The changeling, for some odd reason, felt a slam in her face after she fired the beams downward from a Ki blast that had come horizontally. She thought she’d dodged Blackfire’s retaliation by leaping upward, but instead had merely sent it upward after her by the force of her own speed. She wanted to smile, but her face hurt from the blast.

Looking down and seeing the teen had effectively countered the blow, she started to go down and swoop in for another fast attack before seeing that she was clearly weakening already. She had grown much more powerful, Blackfire, but her stamina had dropped exponentially. The changeling stopped, before deciding to use the few moments there to help both of them. Tehran’he herself could use the extra power, and Blackfire clearly needed a few seconds to catch her breath.

So, she forced her Ki outwards in a blinding flash, causing a lightning bolt to fly from the skies, trying to neutralize the chaotic subatomic particles that swirled around her aura in a violent fashion. The bolt of electricity triggered her transformation, rather than using her own Ki reserves to do it. But because it wasn’t her own Ki, there was no cloud to hide the painful appearance of the actual transformation process from Blackfire; it was plain for her to see.

The changeling’s body enlarged somewhat, though not substantially so; her muscles ripped and tore in quick instants, healing simultaneously, causing small layers of steam to rise from her pores by the superheated tissue within her. Bones broke and healed almost instantly, lengthening her body to fit her new self, and creating a sound much like a rocky avalanche.

Finally, small indents appeared on the sides of her face, as though horns were starting to come out, but not as prominently as was seen in the male counterparts of her race.

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, the changeling slowly recovered from the shock of such a sudden transformation that had so little to do with her own control. She suddenly was glad that she could transform at will, rather than, like the monkeys, be forced into it through their tails and the radiation from the various moons scattered across the universe.

As she watched though, Tehran'he seemed to be changing as well though. The sickening sound of crunching bones and stretching flesh met the teen's ears. But there was no time to watch. Only time to attack, and hope that she could finish the battle before she was crippled from her own lack of power to sustain the powerful transformation that sapped her body. Twin yellow orbs of Ki lit up in the orphan's hands as she spread them wide. The power of her attack seemed to grip the realm of sparring. Rocks crumbed under the pressure and the lightning that had started her foe's transformation slammed down to the ground several yards away, setting the brush on fire.

Blackfire slapped her wrists together. There was no room for uncertainty, no room for error.

One shot.

One kill.

“FINAL FLASH!” she roared, her voice noticeably deeper from her incomplete form.

Tehran’he felt the teen below her begin to condense a powerful amount of Ki within her hands, and held them together wrist over wrist like a form of incantation. Knowing it couldn’t be good, she instantly began charging it with a powerful Ki attack of her own. Holding her right hand out, she quickly covered its wrist with her left to minimize damage from the strike. The sphere quickly grew and eventually became large enough to fire, and just in time too, according to Blackfire’s war cry:

“FINAL FLASH!”

The changeling spun in a three hundred sixty degree angle immediately after hearing it, using all possible speed available to her, as she saw the unbelievably powerful Ki attack fly towards her. She’d known it was coming, naturally, but when it was let loose, its true power was nearly double what she anticipated. Through the wind that picked up from her ballerina twirl, she managed to create a small tornado from within.

Using the massive maelstrom she had created as a sort of enhancer, Tehran’he loosened the holds on her body and felt it quickly separate into three parts of the whole, with the Tehran’he holding the beam on the far left, and the attack from Blackfire aimed at the middle one. She knew this was folly beyond belief, but she had long since decided that one’s first instincts could usually save their life in battle, and so didn’t even bother wondering what this kind of damage could do to her body when she attempting to “reassemble” herself.

The middle changeling hit the blast head on, fear seemingly kept firmly in check by the blank look on her face; there was no pain, and first, she thought the attack too weak to kill her. But she eventually realized that her body was starting to deteriorate from the force of it. Before she could attempt to heal herself in any way – not that there was a way to save herself with – she felt her consciousness die.

The original changeling winced by the pain they felt at the loss of a third of herself. But she knew this was the only chance she’d have to catch the Saiyan teen completely off guard and so fired the beam, using every ounce of her being to keep it going, to see if Blackfire had it in her to either defend against the attack or take it head on and live.

“Bakurikamaha!” A single, deep blue beam shot from the heavens, reinforced by the shriek from the voice, aimed directly at the now-insane Saiyan woman.

The teen dully noted that the changeling had split into three as she fired the massive blast. It completely incinerated the middle image, but after the massive beam of ki was fired, Blackfire couldn't even find the strength to stand, and collapsed to her knees, her pants turning into gasps. Unable to even keep her transformation up, the yellow aura faded, and her hair returned to its neat straightness.

The Saiyan teen's eyes began to close just as her pupils returned to normal. Several explosions rocketed on and around her, but she couldn't even feel them. The unconscious teen faded from the realm before Tehran'he's attack even finished.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The arctic winds of Pefu blew through the icy desert which the planet called its surface. Nothing grew on it except for more and more layers of white, frosty snow and ice. There somewhere on that very same barren wasteland, a creature was standing in the middle of a raging blizzard, his robes flapping and dancing in the wild and ferociously raging winds. The snow and hail pelted against the creature's silver mask. Every now and then a gurgling sound could be heard, as the creature seemed to take slow and deep breaths of the cold, icy air.

There the creature stood, for nearly an hour, as it suddenly spread out its arms and roared into the night sky, for so far as its voice could rage over the noise of the storm. It turned around and started to walk towards a crack inside a rocky plateau a few minutes walking from his previous position. Inside, a warm fire was sizzling and sparkling, the flames dancing on the air that was forcefully pushed inside the narrow hiding place by the still raging blizzard.

The creature came in and kneeled down by the fire, stretching out its arms towards the fire, giving sight to two rough-skinned hands, like the hands of a hundred year old human, yet still finely manicured and taken care of, as if by a professional beauty expert. A small necklace carrying a ruby red gem dangled at the creature's neck, faintly glowing ever so often. Though suddenly, the gem started to buzz, emanating a strange, yet warm glow. The creature quickly grasped the gem with his left hand and time seemed to stop, as the creatures mind vanished to another plane of existence, the astral realm or also commonly known as the realm of sparring.

recognized as Tapion.

"Now then... hurgh... where is my... hurgh... victim... hurgh...?"

The changeling was in her ship, brooding. She didn’t get it. She’d used superior tactics, had the element of surprise on her side, had superior forces, and military skill. From what she could tell, the Valkyran soldiers had put up a virtually nonexistent defense. But yet still, she lost. In fact, thinking on it, she couldn’t remember what had gone wrong.

That caused a small worry line to appear in her forehead. She couldn’t seem to remember anything after letting the Bombs leave her hands. But yet she was sure something had happened afterward; how else did she get to the ship? And, for that matter, how did she know she’d lost if she couldn’t recall losing?

A vein appeared at the top of Tehran’he’s temple, pulsing vividly. This had to be some kind of Valkyran trickery. They probably knocked her out and forced her and her troops off world. Which, of course, added another reason as to why she would make sure to enact revenge on Frieza, someday.

But for now, her blood was coursing violently within her; she needed to attack, to hunt, to maim and injure – to kill. Grabbing her Gem of Telepathy, she held it in her palm, looking with her mind’s eye for a sparring realm in which she could find pleasurable to her. Once again, the near unbearable pain came to her, but her determination and focus was unshakable; pain only kept one alert.

Finally, she saw what she was looking for: a bloodied battlefield, full of dead warriors. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a kinship with them as well, which only added to her assuredness that she should go there. Wiping the tears from her eyes at having forced her still untrained mind to go to such extremes, she grabbed her Tyrant’s Staff, a so far faithful weapon, and her Shield, shining a dim golden and humming slightly, as if in anticipation.

With that, she let down the barriers within and sank deep into the astral realm, entering this Land of the Fallen. Upon touching ground, she immediately looked for signs of life; there weren’t many to see. Not that she needed to look hard to find it. A piercing, ragged voice cut into the gloom, eerily familiar, but yet at the same time, not.

“Now then…” a rattling cough shook, making the changeling wince in sympathy. But that was before she recognized the voice. “Where is my…” a chill ran down her spine, as she recognized the voice. Turning slowly, she was met with a living corpse. Or at least, he might as well have been. “Victim?!”

The vocal impressions, the arrogant tone, the way he carried himself, all pointed to one specific changeling. But yet this was clearly not him. This changeling was infinitely older, sadder, and – paradoxical as it may be – more powerful than whom she was thinking of. Stepping forward, she replied, “Victim? You or me?”

She started to scoff, but stopped quickly. It was disrespectful to laugh at elders. Especially strong ones. “But, if you don’t mind my asking…” she stepped forward, powering up, but at a casual rate, so as not to appear threatening, “Are you, by any chance, related to the changeling Chill?” At the name, her shield began to glow just a shade brighter, almost like a warning. But she didn’t react. It did this from time to time when her emotions rose.

The creature turned around, his eyes locked on the changeling female he knew so well. She had mocked him, taunted him so many times, yet he did not hate her, but like her, he did not either. His thin, boney hands came from under his robes, his back crackled when he rose to his full height, but his eyes stayed locked on the changeling female also known as Tehran'he. Slowly, the monstrous creature removed his robes, revealing a diamond armor, shining brightly in the red sun, his Saiyan armor beneath it bearing an almost completely scratched away crest of the Changeling royal family. The creature's hands rose and each hand seemed to grab a side of the mask.

"Some know me...hurgh...as a monster, some...hurgh...know me as a traitor, but I am commonly...hurgh...known as The Fallen."

Just as he was gasping the last time, he removed his mask. If the female changeling would've been a coward or a weak hearted person she would either scream and flee or vomit out of pure disgust. As the creature's face was revealed, she could certainly see that this was not a thing caused by normal aging. The Fallen's skin was dry like paper, ripped open at various places, the cheeks and lips were gone, like they were shredded off, he had no more eyelids and his eyes were completely black with green irises gazing at her.

The Fallen coughed and started to laugh frantically, a laugh she might have heard before, but due to his changes, so much more diabolical, so much creepier and most of all much darker. His aura burst out off him, completely black, sounding like the screams of tortured souls. The ground shook and cracked open violently, as a response to the massive amount of power being displayed.

A smile appeared on the Fallen's face, an eerie sign of things to come. Suddenly, he vanished, reappearing behind her, while his tail was lashed towards her. Softly, he whispered a single word as his tail lashed out;

"Ka-boom."

Yet he didn't end there, as he suddenly turned around, while jumping in the air, flinging his knee towards the female changeling's neck. While he landed, he clenched his hands together and tried to drive his elbow right at her lower spine. Then he took a step back, and raised his arms while again laughing like a crazed maniac.

"Long...hurgh...have I hidden, but now I shall...hurgh...show you what my time in seclusion has done...hurgh...to me, my dear Tehran'he, whaahaahaaah!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 3,155
Total Word Count: 13,085

I may continue this later, but this is the end of the topic.
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PostSubject: Re: Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.   Sat Aug 28, 2010 11:22 am

654,250 pl ki and zeni
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PostSubject: Re: Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.   

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Tehran'he battles again... and again... and again.
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