![Newbie Guide](https://i.imgur.com/Uy7hIlu.png")
Post by Axion on Jun 20, 2022 20:37:56 GMT -5
Namek, a calm green jewel. Even when engulfed in tumultuous times and uncertain struggles, it is ultimately home to the kindest of souls. Healers, mystics, farmers. The Namekians are good people even if they, like all species, have a few bad apples. Olin, a humble farmer, stepped out of his house nice and early to till the fields. It was simple, repetitive work that gave him pride. The farmland was quaint and scenic. It was a nice to place to be and the work was meaningful. It provided for him and his family, it nurtured the planet.
He wiped his forehead, placing his farming instrument down for a brief break. He took a gourd from his belt and began to drink, refreshing himself for the manual labour that filled the rest of his day. When he placed the gourd back at his waist though, he noticed something odd. In the distance, a bizarre figure. Seemingly humanoid yet covered head to toe in strange armour. Of course, it wasn't Olin's fault that he didn't recognise it. Who could possibly tell that it was armour from a long dead kingdom?
The figure was dragging its feet, tightly clutching sword and shield. It was strange. It clearly had no intent to attack anything, yet it refused to stow its weapons. It continued hobbling towards the crops. Suddenly, the armour-clad figure dropped to its knees and collapsed amidst the field, ruining the fine work and disturbing the plants.
Olin rushed to the side of Axion, dragging him by his arms out the patch of farmland, streaking mud. He clasped at the fluted helm and struggled to pull it off, hoping to get a look at the person and their wounds. The helm came free with a sickening crack and... there was no head. An ominous purple mist rose from the neck of the armour but there was no sign of a person. A groan came from the helmet and the Namekian swiftly dropped it, the visor falling open to reveal the dead face beneath it. The farmer yelled out and ran.
The body got up of its own accord and picked up the severed head, reseating it atop the neck. The undead bioandroid pulled the helmet off with ease, not taking his head with it this time. He shook his blue hair and touched his light blue, pale face. So all of this was still happening. He walked towards a green lake a small walk from the crops and stared at his reflection. Sunken skin, ready to flake off at any moment. Not a single sign of life in his cheeks. His eyes were still a magnificent blue, shining back at him.
"Why...? Why am I still alive..."
The helmet was equipped, hoping to hide the undead face. When the knight turned back to face where he came from, a horde of Namekians had gathered with various farming tools and other makeshift weapons.
"Beast! Foul demon! Begone from our home, now!" Olin lead the mob, his fear turned rage upon seeing the dead body rise after alerting the rest of his neighbours. Why had they come to anger so quickly? He was a stranger, yes. But he had done nothing wrong, was his very existence so offensive to the living? They stunk of fear and desperation. The dark energies holding his crumbling body together ebbed and flowed, a pain tugging at his heart. He dragged his sword in the grass as he slowly walked towards the crowd that had gathered. One of them quickly rushed forward and swung the hoe for his head. It hit the helmet and made a resounding metal ringing. But his head didn't leave his shoulders as easily as it did earlier. He was growing more and more accepting of the fact he was alive, his cursed alien cells working overtime to heal and regenerate him.
He raised his sword and the villager who had swung at him fell to his rear, quickly backing away after the unsuccessful blow. Could Axion really bring himself to kill scared civilians? He was unsure. His arm hesitated. These people hadn't killed him. But why should he care about morality anymore? He WAS a demon, a foul creature. Those Saiyans had given in to their primal urges when they razed his home... so he should as well.
The sword cut through the air and stabbed into the ground in front of his assailant. It hadn't harmed him but the Namekian yelled out in fear and quickly scrambled to his feet and back to the horde of ill-equipped farmers. This was becoming a much bigger commotion than he had hoped. He was still unaccustomed to this freakish body that defied nature.
He wiped his forehead, placing his farming instrument down for a brief break. He took a gourd from his belt and began to drink, refreshing himself for the manual labour that filled the rest of his day. When he placed the gourd back at his waist though, he noticed something odd. In the distance, a bizarre figure. Seemingly humanoid yet covered head to toe in strange armour. Of course, it wasn't Olin's fault that he didn't recognise it. Who could possibly tell that it was armour from a long dead kingdom?
The figure was dragging its feet, tightly clutching sword and shield. It was strange. It clearly had no intent to attack anything, yet it refused to stow its weapons. It continued hobbling towards the crops. Suddenly, the armour-clad figure dropped to its knees and collapsed amidst the field, ruining the fine work and disturbing the plants.
Olin rushed to the side of Axion, dragging him by his arms out the patch of farmland, streaking mud. He clasped at the fluted helm and struggled to pull it off, hoping to get a look at the person and their wounds. The helm came free with a sickening crack and... there was no head. An ominous purple mist rose from the neck of the armour but there was no sign of a person. A groan came from the helmet and the Namekian swiftly dropped it, the visor falling open to reveal the dead face beneath it. The farmer yelled out and ran.
The body got up of its own accord and picked up the severed head, reseating it atop the neck. The undead bioandroid pulled the helmet off with ease, not taking his head with it this time. He shook his blue hair and touched his light blue, pale face. So all of this was still happening. He walked towards a green lake a small walk from the crops and stared at his reflection. Sunken skin, ready to flake off at any moment. Not a single sign of life in his cheeks. His eyes were still a magnificent blue, shining back at him.
"Why...? Why am I still alive..."
The helmet was equipped, hoping to hide the undead face. When the knight turned back to face where he came from, a horde of Namekians had gathered with various farming tools and other makeshift weapons.
"Beast! Foul demon! Begone from our home, now!" Olin lead the mob, his fear turned rage upon seeing the dead body rise after alerting the rest of his neighbours. Why had they come to anger so quickly? He was a stranger, yes. But he had done nothing wrong, was his very existence so offensive to the living? They stunk of fear and desperation. The dark energies holding his crumbling body together ebbed and flowed, a pain tugging at his heart. He dragged his sword in the grass as he slowly walked towards the crowd that had gathered. One of them quickly rushed forward and swung the hoe for his head. It hit the helmet and made a resounding metal ringing. But his head didn't leave his shoulders as easily as it did earlier. He was growing more and more accepting of the fact he was alive, his cursed alien cells working overtime to heal and regenerate him.
He raised his sword and the villager who had swung at him fell to his rear, quickly backing away after the unsuccessful blow. Could Axion really bring himself to kill scared civilians? He was unsure. His arm hesitated. These people hadn't killed him. But why should he care about morality anymore? He WAS a demon, a foul creature. Those Saiyans had given in to their primal urges when they razed his home... so he should as well.
The sword cut through the air and stabbed into the ground in front of his assailant. It hadn't harmed him but the Namekian yelled out in fear and quickly scrambled to his feet and back to the horde of ill-equipped farmers. This was becoming a much bigger commotion than he had hoped. He was still unaccustomed to this freakish body that defied nature.
PL: 8,000
Antisense - Off
