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Post by Quinoxis on Feb 13, 2024 22:35:30 GMT -5
Cold.
It was so, so very cold.
As was the norm for this time of year on the home world that housed the relatively peaceful people of the Sugarians. Unlike most other planets, the Sugarians' home world took much longer to exit its winter months than other more well-known planets in the Northern Galaxy did, with snow still covering the many rooftops of their heavily urbanized society like frosting on a freshly made cake. While this made the planet a popular getaway spot for those still wanting to hold tightly onto that remaining sense of winter cheer, this day in particular also marked the anniversary of their people's pilgrimage to the planet itself.
It had been nearly a whole century since their ancestors bought the planet off of some nameless Saiyan mercenaries after their ruthless hazing of the populace that lived there prior, and considering the Sugarians were not the type to cry over spilled milk, much of the present-day population remained unaware of their planet's blood drenched history.
There did, however, remain one person who knew all too well of the sold-off land they lived so ignorantly upon.
Hidden deep underneath the planet's most heavily populated city ran a system of corridors and caverns that spanned almost the entirety of the metropolis that now laid bustling just above it. From what the Sugarian government could tell from limited exploration of the tunnels themselves, those who were permitted to explore them believed the underpasses to be something leftover from the lost practices of the planet's former inhabitants, the Cerealians- but exactly for what purpose, they weren't all too sure. They believed it potentially to be some sort of labyrinth-like catacomb, made with the purpose of housing some of their various dead- seeing as many of the passageways were littered with traces of Cerealian remains- but as to why they decided to put them specifically under such an urbanized plot of land was still unknown to them, and likely a question they would never have an answer to.
With this in mind, it wasn't particularly something the Sugarians thought necessary to divert any further time or resources into. They had more important matters to attend to than to waste time with desecrating some ancient peoples' burial ground. So, sealing up the entrances that were known to them, the Sugarian government closed the case with naught so much as a batting of the proverbial eye.
Unfortunately for them, a potentially cataclysmic catastrophe was starting to brew in the uncharted areas they failed to recognize down within their main city's darkened depths, directly beneath their feet. Deep within the very center of the catacomb system, a singular room held the last vestige of the once surging Cerealian race. A last-ditch effort made to try and preserve their ill-starred society.
While it was far too late to try and turn the tide of fate for the already fallen people, the creators of this freakish failsafe made it so that their magnum opus would outlive whatever threat that came to claim their peoples' name. The pod that the living experiment was kept in was meant to run for at the very least another fifty years following their termination, and if necessary, potentially indefinitely given the right circumstances surrounding it. With a premade, albeit primitive line of AI programming ensuring that their work would continue to its assured completion.
And so, simultaneously occurring on the one-hundred-year anniversary of the Sugarians' purchase of the once proud planet of Cereal, the program that was left with the objective of ensuring bloom of this most horrifically beautiful flower of Cerealian fury saw its one, singular mission finally fulfilled. A loud set of alarms blaring all throughout the catacombs as the AI worked to awaken the last remaining Cerealian in all of the Northern quadrant.
Soon, the medical machine that contained the pinnacle of Cerealian ingenuity finally began to unbolt itself- hissing filling the immediate area around the pod as the pressure maintained over decades of careful cultivation dispelled into the air surrounding the machine. The quiet dripping of liquid off of the cavern walls being the only noise to be heard for a few seconds before a singular, pale hand grabbed onto one of the edges of the healing machine.
Pulling his body upwards from the bath of healing juices that swirled beneath him, the end goal of Project Quinoxis, Barleus, hauled himself up from his former resting place. His cold, unemotive gaze scanning his surroundings with an almost tired expression on his face as he stepped down onto the rocky ground beside his pod. Breathing in the cool, earthy air, Barleus ran a hand through his still somewhat damp, green-colored hair, a frown forming onto his features as he allowed a singular, shaky breath to leave his trembling lips.
"... It's cold."
Wrapping both arms around himself in a child-like manner, Barleus slowly began to make his way outside of the room, blowing the doors off of their hinges with nothing but a focused glare as he stumbled directly into the corridor just outside, unbeknownst of the newly changed world that had formed all around him during his slumber.
"... Seriously, it's freezing."
It was so, so very cold.
As was the norm for this time of year on the home world that housed the relatively peaceful people of the Sugarians. Unlike most other planets, the Sugarians' home world took much longer to exit its winter months than other more well-known planets in the Northern Galaxy did, with snow still covering the many rooftops of their heavily urbanized society like frosting on a freshly made cake. While this made the planet a popular getaway spot for those still wanting to hold tightly onto that remaining sense of winter cheer, this day in particular also marked the anniversary of their people's pilgrimage to the planet itself.
It had been nearly a whole century since their ancestors bought the planet off of some nameless Saiyan mercenaries after their ruthless hazing of the populace that lived there prior, and considering the Sugarians were not the type to cry over spilled milk, much of the present-day population remained unaware of their planet's blood drenched history.
There did, however, remain one person who knew all too well of the sold-off land they lived so ignorantly upon.
Hidden deep underneath the planet's most heavily populated city ran a system of corridors and caverns that spanned almost the entirety of the metropolis that now laid bustling just above it. From what the Sugarian government could tell from limited exploration of the tunnels themselves, those who were permitted to explore them believed the underpasses to be something leftover from the lost practices of the planet's former inhabitants, the Cerealians- but exactly for what purpose, they weren't all too sure. They believed it potentially to be some sort of labyrinth-like catacomb, made with the purpose of housing some of their various dead- seeing as many of the passageways were littered with traces of Cerealian remains- but as to why they decided to put them specifically under such an urbanized plot of land was still unknown to them, and likely a question they would never have an answer to.
With this in mind, it wasn't particularly something the Sugarians thought necessary to divert any further time or resources into. They had more important matters to attend to than to waste time with desecrating some ancient peoples' burial ground. So, sealing up the entrances that were known to them, the Sugarian government closed the case with naught so much as a batting of the proverbial eye.
Unfortunately for them, a potentially cataclysmic catastrophe was starting to brew in the uncharted areas they failed to recognize down within their main city's darkened depths, directly beneath their feet. Deep within the very center of the catacomb system, a singular room held the last vestige of the once surging Cerealian race. A last-ditch effort made to try and preserve their ill-starred society.
While it was far too late to try and turn the tide of fate for the already fallen people, the creators of this freakish failsafe made it so that their magnum opus would outlive whatever threat that came to claim their peoples' name. The pod that the living experiment was kept in was meant to run for at the very least another fifty years following their termination, and if necessary, potentially indefinitely given the right circumstances surrounding it. With a premade, albeit primitive line of AI programming ensuring that their work would continue to its assured completion.
And so, simultaneously occurring on the one-hundred-year anniversary of the Sugarians' purchase of the once proud planet of Cereal, the program that was left with the objective of ensuring bloom of this most horrifically beautiful flower of Cerealian fury saw its one, singular mission finally fulfilled. A loud set of alarms blaring all throughout the catacombs as the AI worked to awaken the last remaining Cerealian in all of the Northern quadrant.
Soon, the medical machine that contained the pinnacle of Cerealian ingenuity finally began to unbolt itself- hissing filling the immediate area around the pod as the pressure maintained over decades of careful cultivation dispelled into the air surrounding the machine. The quiet dripping of liquid off of the cavern walls being the only noise to be heard for a few seconds before a singular, pale hand grabbed onto one of the edges of the healing machine.
Pulling his body upwards from the bath of healing juices that swirled beneath him, the end goal of Project Quinoxis, Barleus, hauled himself up from his former resting place. His cold, unemotive gaze scanning his surroundings with an almost tired expression on his face as he stepped down onto the rocky ground beside his pod. Breathing in the cool, earthy air, Barleus ran a hand through his still somewhat damp, green-colored hair, a frown forming onto his features as he allowed a singular, shaky breath to leave his trembling lips.
"... It's cold."
Wrapping both arms around himself in a child-like manner, Barleus slowly began to make his way outside of the room, blowing the doors off of their hinges with nothing but a focused glare as he stumbled directly into the corridor just outside, unbeknownst of the newly changed world that had formed all around him during his slumber.
"... Seriously, it's freezing."
PL: 24,000 - WC: 863 - TWC: 863
