Now That's a Tan!

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It had been couple standard weeks in constant search for Treses to find any others of power level value. The natives of the world, his fellow Namekians, were notoriously weak in all castes except the warrior caste and some of this new Mazoku he had heard so much about, so the fact he could find any from such small clusters of warriors was a miracle in and of itself. It was through this search that Treses had found himself wandering the First Scar, named after the damage done to the planet during the conflicts long ago... Though when he first wandered these plains as a child, this land was not desolate. Green jungles and forests would have stretched for acres. Now, lava plumed from under the surface, and a gigantic black disc found itself settled in the land, a new holy site by the warrior and mazoku. A shame, and the festering wound of their beautiful homeworld. Even moreso was his distaste for the area's name in general. HE was the Scar, the one the Namekians should remember. His existence was the tear in Namekian cloth books that was removed for sensitivity's sake. The stories of his tyranny should have been kept in the stories, but he was left to be forgotten. His own title, one imposed by tens of thousands of generations of sages and elders was co-opted for use on a stretch of land to describe it's injury from civil war. He would make sure his first act as Tsar when he took this realm was to rename this guru-forsaken location to 'The Rip' or 'The Bleed'. Something less confusing.

As Treses wandered this stretch of land, his mind wandering from scanning for nearby strong life in favor of expelling all of his energy now so it wouldn't be pent-up later, his ki would flow like water from a faucet into the nearby desolation. The strong, wrought-like energy absorbing into the local breeze and spreading his vile, archaic pressure. His barely controlled seemingly endless stream of primordial aura giving him away for miles. Fortunately enough for Treses, he spotted the miscolored objects of the lawn chairs only a couple meters away from himself pretty much immediately. His vision spotting the foreign beings first, right as his eyes settled on the smaller, seemingly weaker Namekian. The vision was... odd, not something Tres was expecting to come across here of all places, but any fellow brother of the planet is someone who he could get along with. Even if the man had a power level that rivaled some of the local fish and wildlife.

"Hello." Treses would come to the beings and offer his welcome. "I was not expecting to find anyone this far into the Scar. Much of this land is either empty or filled with corrupted souls. What brings you here... With odd chairs no less?" He would ask calmly, his voice toned to that of someone inquisitive, yet not forceful. "Those... Those are some really odd looking chairs. Are they from one of the trade planets?"

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Shroom and Lebu both could sense the oncoming Namekian and not far behind him another, both around the same strength and formidable. As the first landed the group paid little attention but suddenly they had no choice. The pressure surrounding the first Namekian was unlike any Shroom had felt, even in his many years of life on Namek. Lebu and Ricu both felt the same, their other world experiences almost paled in comparison to the feeling this individual gave off.

Lebu was first to stand, Shroom continued to soak in the rays of the bleak sky with his reflector and Ricu was fighting, falling asleep amongst the intense weird Namekian’s aura. The giant demon stepped heavily against the dark crust of the earth with his hooves.

“You stand before the Lord Shroom himself, name yourself before you bask in his presence, strange one.”
Lebu’s large demonic wings flapped outward and stretched to show his menacing size, his voice deep and demonic as if a thousand souls were cast into the flames each time he uttered a word.

As the second Namekian landed Shroom raised an eyebrow and caught a glimpse of the developing scene with over the top of his sunglasses. Lebu faced the two of the Namekians, one with an ever growing wicked intensity and the other who seemed to be familiar with the first. Shroom felt their power, it was a while, since his attendance to the Trials, that Shroom had felt such strength from surface Namekians.

‘Strong Namek, Strong! They may be part of the plot, Lebu! What do you think?’
Shroom spoke to Lebu through his mind as he continued to rest in the chair.

‘My Lord, I agree. They seem mighty, each in their own way… yet somehow similar in some way… all these Namekians are alike… unlike you my Lord of course…’

‘Lebu, let us engage with these two and see their worth. We know what we need now, yes?’

‘Yes my Lord.’

“You as well! I am Lebu Jax, the hand of Lord Shroom, may you understand the magnificence you stand before, Nakmekian mortals. These lands are home to our Lord, nothing else would be preferred. Now state your names, pay respects to the great.”
Lebu introduced and instructed.

Shroom shifted in his chair to get a better reflection from some lightning bolts that flashed above. His small Namekian toes, crusty and moldy, rubbed against one another as he relaxed. His floral trunks matched the chair in its vibrant color and the old one was at peace. He was far removed from the wicked Guru and his crew, his minions continued to be at his beck and call, and new victims had just approached.

“Shroom life good… aaahhh.”
Shroom said out loud, unaware that he was speaking out loud and let out a big sigh of relief.

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Treses nodded to his other being as he explained mentally his worries and intentions. It was around this time the first inkling of the smaller Namekian's mental hold on Treses was taking grasp. His brain easily accessed, though showing clear signs of struggle to keep itself held together as the mental connection binding him with Namorel fought with the mental attack by Shroom, ultimately losing. Shroom would have access suddenly to an uncomfortable amount of information. Despite being from a wise and powerful warrior once before, it was clear Namorel was the one who received the mental fortitude and intelligence between them.

While his memory was foggy, what was actively visible was a million years of ambitious conflict. A child Namekian born a farmer who aspired to be a warrior. A warrior who aspired to be a leader... And a nigh-psychopathic Super Namekian's chaotic struggle to end Namek's grueling clan and caste system. A unified Namekian people, fallen as the Super Namek lost his strength and will to go on. His concrete ambitions of a free Namek, one which allowed all Namekians to be equal and choose their life rather than be born into it. Something Treses was wanting since his first day he remembered, when his tiny hands grazed the tall Ajisa grass of the ancient Namekian planet and he was told, despite his immense power and seemingly endless pit of ki and magical potential, he was not worthy of a good life.

"All because of my birth..." Treses would whisper to himself as the whole affect left the easily swayed Namekian in a slight trance, his eyes glazed over from the experience while he relived his own aspirations and the memories associated with it. Each replay of his struggle of a life more consuming than the last. "All because of my birth..."

As this would go on, Treses would slowly come back to his full senses, unaware of the control on his mentality that just occurred. His will strong enough to keep it's sentience, even if he was easily able to be swayed in one way or another. The large hulking monster of a Namekian would rub his head roughly as he thought to himself about what just happened, trying to remember what it was he was even saying to the Lord Shroom.

"Oh... Ah, yes. As I was saying, I would be more than glad to see an Elder of great esteem such as yourself fighting the good fight to bring prosperity to our planet. Namorel and I share... similar sentiments on the matter. Though the matter of who should sit at the holiest of the holy seats on our world is one best left to the sages, I would say. Unless you intended on taking the Guru seat by force." Treses would grin the final response, implying he was not against the idea of a forceful takeover, though it was not his initial plan or intention. The color in his eyes darkening as his ki's emotional output became for villainous, heinous, but reserved. As if he was not exactly against returning to his roots and becoming the warlord he once was when he terrorized the planet oh so long ago. "For who is a better leader than one who can defend our honor and our faith with strength of both character, and might."

Shroom looked at Treses and grinned, he had learned so much and to Shroom, he felt he had gained a weapon. The process had begun and now Shroom just had to massage the process to make it complete, submission of this individual would be difficult, especially given his bond with the other Namorel, despite this Shroom felt confident beyond reason. His mouth drooled and a little spit bubble popped at his lips as he was lost in plotting thought. Then with some words from Namorel that jogged his memory, Shroom’s attention shifted and his mood changed.

“The Guru hate Shroom…”
A small tear fell from Shroom’s eye and he levitated towards the ground, but did not touch it.

Shroom kicked a small rock and it rolled and bounced until it fell off the edge of the plane of land and into the flowing magma stream only so many yards away from where they all stood. Ricu jumped to Shroom’s side and on his knees offered the small old Namekian a tissue for his issue. Shroom snatched it and blew his nose, snot and boogers flew and he dropped the tissue onto Ricu’s head.

“You see Namorel… the guru of Namek is a powerful, sneaky one! He moves with a clan of many outsiders, false claimers of birth! They stain the land, they change it, they call Shroom a liar, a deceiver, a manipulator! Lies!”
Shroom’s voice went from sad baby to roaring maniac.

Bursts of ki shot up from the floor of the lava river sending magma into the air and raining all around them. Again and again these bursts of energy shot around them all from Shroom’s anger and temporary loss of control. His power level would flash greatly and show his true ability. Shroom’s eyes would follow Namorel’s frame, up and down, as his mind penetrated his.

‘Talk to Shroom… tell me more…Trust…’
Shroom’s voice would echo to both the Namekians, a pressure of influence would be felt increasingly and it would feel welcome if accepted.

“Shroom none of these things… Shroom only want best for Namek. Shroom is best Namek… Shroom will show all of his clan… all of his.. Pets…”
Shroom spoke out loud, more so to himself than to anyone else, his fists clenched and shook with anger.

“Because our Lord knows what IS best for Namek. All Hail.”
Lebu bowed towards Lord Shroom.

“All hail baby.. Woo! Wooo! Woo!”
Ricu shouted from afar as he was now floating atop a magic bubble in the lava river as he continued his tan.

The sky cracked with thunder and lightning and an aura of power began to glow around the small old Namekian. Lebu stood still and ready, Ricu continued his carefree nature upon his lava float. The ground around Shroom cracked from his ki’s pressure and his little feline Schnookums scurried away behind Lebu to play with his tail. Shroom’s eyes remained closed, his mind pulsating and pushing out from within his ever expanding skull.

‘I feel you… Shroom know you know Shroom… Shroom know you and know you well, show Shroom you strength, show Shroom how you fight for Namek… fight Namorel NOW!’
Shroom would speak to Treses commanding his will.

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"(FIGHT. ME. WHELP.)" Treses' horrible form would demand as he watched Namorel take the strike from him with grace, his power rising to match that of the mind manipulated Great Namek. Treses had had enough of the basic complaints or trying to convince people, as far as his brain could think, now was the time for force. Namorel, the Namorel of old, would understand the hard way what happens to those who try and stop a prodigy from world domination. "(NAMEK WILL BE MINE, LONG LIVE TSAR TRESES. THE CAPAX SHALL RISE SUPREME OVER THE WEAK)" His roar would continue as he went in for another uniform set of open palm strikes, his huge hands slamming down on Namorel's location attempting to crush him with his open palms like a giant to an ant. Each slam downward expelling jet streams of compressed air from the crashing offensive strike into the immediate area. The peanut gallery getting the main blunt force of the suppressive condensed air. As he struck down, he would attempt to grab at Namorel, hoping to thrash him into the ground and nearby bluffs in an attempt to continue his damaging fight by obliterating the immediate area by using his body as a weapon to crush the stone and obsidian plates. His violent outbursts and intent to kill growing and growing into further intense layers of hatred, even if he didn't know who he was fighting or trying to kill.

"I am Ajisa incarnate, the freer of the Namekian people. All attempts to stop my end to the subjugation of our people will end with the most brutal of violence." His common language speech would boisterously echo in the Scar while he would finish his newest assault on Namorel, hoping this one would beat back the other powerful Namekian. Clenching his fist hard enough to draw his own blood from the muscled grooves lining his palm, the purple liquid dripping to the ground as his body hissed with empowered demands of combat. Each further movement of his body expelling more and more steam-like black mist to the surrounding area as he funneled his enemy into where he wanted him to be. "And do not mistake my giving you a chance was any hint of mercy. You WILL die at my hands Namorel of Pashta. Your ancestors will cry from the great tree beyond at the loss of another mistaken child to the clan-less demon". With this, Treses' massive body would begin to cackle horribly evil laughter, the massive canine teeth in his mouth visible, like stalagmites and stalactites in a large green cave. "(All will die to Tsar)".

Treses could only see himself still in that forest, his large palms attempting to crush his childhood friend. The ground quaking in his mental nightmare as his palm strikes destroyed the landscape in their great and violent battle against each other. Despite the manipulation by Lord Shroom, Treses wasn't even aware of the Lord's direct communication to him or Namorel. He was letting out an anger that had swelled for millennia and needed to be vented. Someone was either going to die today, or he was going to be incapacitated. Every attempt by Lord Shroom to speak to Treses would only come off as the god of his religion, the planet itself and it's herald the Ajisa commanding the Namekian to guard his planet from whatever the Namekian perceived as the true evil. As corrupted or oddly thought that enemy may be. He was on a crusade, one he did not intend to lose.