Zolan Lands Invasion; Sly of the Hand

[Ryan - Loki]

The Zolan Lands were created as a separate country simple because the people of Dragonia didn’t wish to waste the enormous space that the desert took up upon the continent next to Parmecia, the nation's border extending only until the end of the desert, from which it forms Western Parmecia. The Zolan Lands are mountainous and very rocky, and sandstorms are a constant event. Deserts stretch as far as the eye, both unaided and aided, can see, as the only forms of life other than moss and lichen to be seen are poisonous reptiles, and carnivorous birds. There are no permanent lakes, rivers, or springs of any kind in the country; the lakes, which have not been dried by the blistering sun, are located near the Justian Ocean and the Pyrite Sea. The horizon is covered with mountainous sand dunes, the few plants that can survive under the sun, and a small patches of cities now and again. However, the day is considered more merciful than the night; the heat quickly dissipates, and a cold wind chills the very souls of the people.

Yet again another furious sandstorm had kicked up across the Zolan Lands, nothing out of the ordinary for the countries yearly weather conditions, but what was seen as an ordinary day upon Dragonia would soon turn out to be a turning point in the planets very history; a sandstorm gave unnatural cover for someone who didn’t want to be noticed, perhaps not in a singular sense either.



“Get away from me creature!” a man’s muffled shouts rang out, barely over the blowing wind of the sandstorm. A beast, or creature if you will, was roughly a meter or so away from him barking out toward him in a rather aggressive manor. Even with his goggles to protect his eyes from the blasting sand he still could not see the collar around the creatures neck; someone’s pet. “Get away from me!”
“It’s alright, that’s me dog,” another voice rang out faintly, a figure emerging from amidst the sand. “He wouldn’t ‘urt a fly.”
“That’s a dog!? ” he said with a certain amount of surprise visible within his voice. “Your insane Mr!” he finished before circling around the creature and its owner, well clear from biting distance, before vanishing into the storm.
“Some people…” he muttered to himself. “C’mon boy,” a weary and slightly muffled voice shouted through the whooshing of the wind. “We better get ‘ome and outta this crazy weather.” he continued to shot, a muffled bark from his dog in reply as it ran up along side him.

Ironically Bob, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve decided to call him Bob, loved this weather more than any other type of weather, as insane as this may seem, as he had lived within the deserts of the Zolan Lands his entire life; it’s why he’d never attempted to leave, like the rest of his friends and family had done. Despite the thief’s, the danger both caused by people and the environment, and the government Bob remained, always, a true patriot. But how far would even the most true of patriots be willing to go for their country, Especially if their country happened to be the Zolan Lands.

Walking with his ‘dog’ Bob continued through the storm as if it wasn’t even there, trotting along with what seemed to be without a single care in the world; it’s funny how things can suddenly change, wouldn’t you agree? Over the noise of the beating wind flapping against his clothes a faint whooshing noise, quite similar to the wind at first, began to pick up, seemingly from all directions. Stopping in his tracks Bob looked up toward the sky, toward the noise, but it was a lost attempt to identify what the noise actually was as the storm was far too thick for even one with advanced senses to penetrate. The longer he waited, staring off into the air, the louder the sound became until it suddenly vanished, as quickly as it had appeared. “…What the hell is that?” Bob softly muttered to himself.

Silence had fallen, all except that of the blowing wind of the storm, but this lasted not more than a few seconds from Bob actually speaking. Just then a thunderous noise came rushing, almost quite literally, straight past his head and slamming directly into the sand just ahead of him, the pressure forcing Bob flying backwards off of his feet. Not even a second later a following crash happened not more than fifty meters east of Bob, then another some distance away in a north-west direction, then south-east, south-west; it was happening everywhere. Bob, understandably, was extremely scared and that’s why he’d crawled up into the smallest ball he could manage and not moved, in fear of being killed by one of these falling things. He had lived in this desert his entire life and had never even heard of anything like this.

This bombardment continued on for several minutes, but in fact it could have been far longer or shorter as Bob was far too frightened to pay close attention to the time, until the slamming of whatever it was crashing into the sand of the mainly uninhabited desert began to fade off into the distance; Bob slowly came out from his ball and stood to his feet, looking off at the nearest crater in wonder. “Curiosity killed the Bob…” he muttered to himself as he shook his head and turned around, he would go back the way he came. Barking insanely toward the crater Bob’s dog was fighting his owner’s pull on his lead to stay and investigate. “C’mon boy, lets go!” Bob shouted, but his dog just wouldn’t listen. “Stubborn mutt…” he muttered to himself as he turned back toward the crater and moved toward it once more.

However before he could reach the mound of sand that had been forced up around the crater another hissing noise, this one much quieter than the thunderous ones that had created the craters, happened from within the crater before silence fell sharply again; a silhouette of a figure then emerged from over the mound of sand, followed by several hundreds from all around. At first Bob hadn’t quite realised how many of these figures had appeared, or where they had appeared from although he had assumed one had at least appeared from the crater. “Who’s there?” Bob shouted over the wind.
“Looks like we’ve got company boys…” a rather gruff voice rang out over the sand, quite understandable. “Lets show this scum what we do to an unwanted guest.” he continued. Slowly but surly the silhouettes all looked off toward each other, mostly, and soon began to slowly move in, from all directions, toward Bob.
“Guest? But I live here,” Bob exclaimed. “What do you want with me?” he continued to ask. “I-I don’t want any trouble! No, no! What are you doing?! Get away from me! HELP!!!”

[Ryan - Loki]

With a thud the battered, bruised, bloody and lifeless body of Bob fell against the sand the sandstorm quickly beginning to cover his body, many of the surrounding Saiyan’s chuckling to themselves and conversing about what they had just done as if it was something of great pride and amusement. It was sad to think that Bob, a man who loved his country to the point of him living their despite all of his friends and family having left, would never again look upon the sun rising over the hills of sand that the desert had to offer, that he would never again fight through one of its deadly sandstorms to reach the place that he called home, that he would never again play with his beloved dog, or that he would never again even breath in the musty air of these lands. He had loved his home, and as life would have it he had died for his home too.

Barging through the several small groups of Saiyan’s who had come together to share stories of what they had done, who they had killed, their journey down onto the planet, etc. the man who had called the killing of Bob stood atop a mound of sand. “You, worms,” he shouted, pointing down between the two nearest groups. “I want you to gather together as many men as you need and take them to the desired positions, then start operation sandstorm. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir!” they all replied in unison. It had been a rhetorical question on the most part but they all knew they still needed to reply, it was either that or the sergeant would have their balls on a plate.
“And you’s!” he pointed off toward a single group of Saiyans. “I want you to go ahead and scout the area,” he continued, before raising his hand high above and motioning to all of them. “As for the rest of you scum, I want base camp set up and completed within twenty-four hours or there’ll be hell to pay!” he exclaimed. Instantly the different sets of Soldiers, who had all been given separate orders, all broke off into separate directions and began the jobs that they had all been set, whether it had been to set up base camp, scout ahead or put operation sandstorm into effect. Despite having their faults these Saiyans had every intension of going about their jobs, no matter how big or small, with the utmost profession and intensity; you couldn’t fault them on that. Watching all of this happen the sergeant turned and walked back toward his ship, which happened to be within the crater that the mound resided over.

Reaching his ship he bent down and sat on the edge of the opening that he had climbed free from just hours beforehand before leaning inside and reaching for a com. Unit. “Luna base, Luna base, this is desert striker to Luna base, please receive.” he said while holding in a button on the side, crackling interference was all that he received. “Damn storm…I knew this would happen…” he muttered to himself, pulling a cloth from around his neck and from in front of his mouth free. A sigh escaping his lips he slowly lent back within the pod to place the unit back down when the crackling picked up and a voice broke through.
“Desert striker this is Luna base, glad to have you back on coms. Demos.”
Sighing in relief, “Thank God…” Demos grabbed a hold of the unit once more and brought it forward to his mouth. “Luna base, its good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to be heard Demos,” a voice over the com. unit exclaimed. “I trust everything is going according to plan?”
“Yes,” Demos replied. “Everything’s going perfectly to plan, although we had to dispose of a Dragonian scum upon arrival.” he said with a slight snigger.
“Negative Demos. That’s a negative on killing, harming or even threatening Zolan Land civilians, is that clear?”
“Yes sir, crystal sir.”
“Good, good…” the voice replied. “What is the status of Operation Sandstorm, what phase is it currently in?”
“Currently in stage one sir, the troops have been sent to the required positions across the span of the country, and as soon as they reach those destinations they had all been ordered to bring Operation sandstorm into stage two…the expulsion of Ki into the storm.”
“Excellent…and while we invade other countries upon the globe no one will know we’ve landed here in the Zolan Lands…no one other than Kelljah Radiuju that is.”
“Indeed sir, with one hand we’ll take over a few countries and with the other hand…well, you know what we’ll be doing sir.”
“Yes…yes I do Demos, keep up the good work; I’m sure Lord Turgor will be most pleased with your efforts. Over and out.”

[Ryan - Loki]

Across the span of the Zolan Lands, mainly around the outskirts of the country, several small groups, well small in the wider scale of things, of Saiyan soldiers slowly moved into strategically set positions to finally get Operation Sandstorm underway. The natural weather of this country was still something that the less said the better in all retrospect’s, the sandstorm itself still beating down upon the land below without letting up in the slightest, but of course that’s exactly what the Saiyan’s had been hopping on; it drew even less suspicion to their presence here.

“Group seven to Desert Strike, I repeat this is group seven to Desert Strike, over.” a soldier shouted into his com. unit, the rest of his men moving quickly into position to throw the operation into action when the order was given.
“This is Desert Strike to group seven, I read you loud and clear. What’s your current status?” Demos’ voice rung through, along with a mixture of static interference from the storm.
“We’ve just reached area seven,” the soldier reported, turning his head briefly away from the unit as a rather large gust of wind blew slightly more sand than usual in his direction. “I’ve just received word from groups one through thirty-seven that they’re also all in position and awaiting the final order sir, what say you?”
After a moment of complete and utter silence, where it seemed that Demos had either fallen asleep or lost his nerve, his voice boomed back through the unit into the soldier’s ear. “That’s a positive to go forward with Operation Sandstorm, I repeat that’s all systems go for Operation Sandstorm. Kick into gear boys.” Demos replied, his words being received by all thirty-seven groups.
“Roger that sir, over and out!” the soldier finished, excitement within his voice. Turning back toward his team the soldier nodded and moved into his own position, within the circle that the team had now moved to stand in. With a sudden scream, in unison, from the entire team a glowing blue aura erupted out from all of them and quickly dispersed out within the sandstorm that surrounded them; they continued this process onward.



Slowly Demos placed down the communications unit back within his space pod before standing up once more and looking out into the sandstorm. It wasn’t something that the normal eye would notice, and it only lasted for the first initial seconds of the Operation, but a slight blue tint was noticeable within the air of the sandstorm, before it quickly faded away leaving only a blurred sum of energy within the storm making it now impossible to sense within the Zolan Lands. Demos sniggered. “Heh…so it begins, perfect.” Reaching back within his pod Demos quickly grabbed hold of the unit and raised it to his mouth, quickly using his free hand to press another button within the pod. This is Desert Striker to Luna base, Luna base come in please.”
“This is Luna base, we read you Desert Striker. What news do you have to report?” a familiar crackling voice rung through the speakers.
“Operation Sandstorm is in full flow as of now, seeking confirmation to move into stage two of Zolan Lands chapter?” Demos requested professionally.
“Do we have acknowledgement from the scouts yet, had they returned?”
“No, that’s a negative on the scouts having returned, that’s a negati-” at just that moment Demos noticed a small group of figures moving into vision from within the sandstorm, the scouts. “Err one moment Luna base, we have return from the scouts.” Quickly moving away from the pod and over toward the group Demos stopped in front of them. “Report in boys.” he ordered.
“We’ve scouted ahead and Radiuju City is only a few miles North of our current position-”
“But what about Kelljah Radiuju though, did you receive the sign?” Demos asked, slightly excited of the news he was now able to give Luna base.
The soldier nodded. “Yes, the sign was received and all areas are go for interception.”
A huge smirk crept across Demos’ face as he heard this news, although his mouth was covered well by cloth. “Great work men, now pan out and help setting up base camp.” Demos ordered, saluting. With a quick salute from all of them they all broke up and moved into the rest of the army, allowing Demos to move back toward his pod and pick up the unit once more. “Luna base this is Desert Striker, we have go on interception; the sign was received, I repeat, the sign WAS received.”
“Great work Demos, intercept A.S.A.P. and report back to me as soon as your job is complete, do you copy?”
“Yes sir, I copy loud and clear; over and out.”



The palace was deep within the capital city of the Zolan Lands and due to the storm the city was empty, everyone safe within their homes, and silence had once again fallen upon the city. Kelljah Radiuju was sat upon his throne within the palaces main courtroom, as he looked out over his balcony at the storm raging over his land outside; a blue tint then suddenly filled the sky. A small smirk suddenly appeared upon his face, if only for a second, before he turned his head and spoke to one of his advisors. “Boris, I would like you to take a team of our men and go the to the edge of the city, on the South side, and wait…we will be receiving a guest shortly.”

[Ryan - Loki]

It was a relatively cold night in the Zolan Lands, in comparison to the daytime temperature that is, and mainly for that reason everybody that resided within the capital city of Radiuju had moved within the safety and warmth of their own house; they wasn’t particularly used to any sort of decline in temperature, despite how minuscule. The entire population of the Zolan Lands remained blissful ignorant of the slight abnormality of the sandstorm that had fallen upon their homeland, despite the irregular length of time that it had been continuing on for; as such did Mr and Mrs Tripie, safely in their home on the south edge of the city.

“Bert, how many times have I told you to get your feet off of the table?” Mrs Tripie exclaimed, walking past his legs and forcing them down from upon the table.
“More than I care to remember Martha…” Mr Tripie replied with a sigh. “Now please, for heavens sake, shut up woman, I’m trying to watch the tele while the reception stays…blasted storm.” Bert muttered throwing a can at the television, which then caused the picture to completely vanish in replace of pure static. “God damn it!”
Martha leaned over and slapped his arm. “Burt, don’t say the Lords name in vain!” she exclaimed, quite shocked.
Bert quickly turned toward her. “Then tell him to give me my show back!” he retorted, but knowing he was about to walk into a ‘discussion’ that he would truly never win Bert turned back away from her and slouched down within his lazy-boy armchair, muttering to himself all the while.
A few seconds of blissful silence went pass, apart from the blowing of the wind on the outside of the house, before Martha spoke once more. “You know…” she slowly began.
“Oh here it comes,”
“As you’ve got nothing to do now the TV’s not working properly, you COULD take out the rubbish for me Bert.” Martha softly said, in the most seductive voice she could manage while leaning in toward him slightly. The only problem being that Bert and Martha had been married a good long twenty-five years now, and the romance had faded somewhat.
“How did I know that was coming?” he asked, looking over toward her. “Have you seen what its like outside? I’m all skin and bone love, I’ll get blow away.” he exclaimed, sitting up within his chair. She just continued to look on at him, twiddling her hair in-between her fingers. Sighing Bert stood up. “Fine, fine, fucking fine…” he muttered as he moved off toward the kitchen to collect the rubbish.

Having picked it up Bert moved off toward the front door of his house, only opening it when he had adorned himself with an old scarf that he always used to wrap around his mouth and nose when he was leaving the house while a sandstorm was in motion and a pair of protective goggles he obtained whilst in the army many years ago. He opened the door and stepped out into the storm. Instantly he began his battle against the wind in attempt to reach the dustbin, which in all fairness was only a few feet away to his left, the problem being the wind was blowing from that direction. “Bloody woman…the things I do to keep her happy…” Bert muttered to himself.

Struggling to get toward the bin, and falling over backwards a few times in the process, Bert finally reached the bin only to find out it was already filled to the brim with rubbish; Bert, of course, then just threw the rubbish in the air and stormed back towards the house. Moving inside the house Bert turned around to shut the front door, but not before noticing a group of people moving through the street; the Kings palace guards. This wasn’t something you saw everyday, especially in such weather. Bert knew well enough, due to his time spent in the countries army, that something was certainly amiss. Moving back inside the house Bert ran upstairs and into his room where Martha had slipped into something more ‘comfortable’ for him, but ran straight over toward the window to see what was happening outside.

“Berrrt,” Martha called seductively, but Bert gave no reply. “Berrrt,” she called once more, this time slightly louder in case he just hadn’t heard her the first time, but once more Bert ignored her and continued to look out of the window. “Bert! Look at me!” she screamed.
“Quiet woman, ” Bert replied sharply. “You’ll get some Bert lovin’ as soon as I figure out what’s happening down there…” he continued while never taking his eyes away from looking out of the window. The palace guards had stopped moving and waited just outside of the city bounds, just in view; an unknown figure then began to immerge from the desert.



“Hold fast men!” Boris shouted out over the storm. “Now, we wait…” he muttered to himself, looking around in all directions to see if anyone had noticed them or was following them. They had to keep this a complete secret for the time being; anyone who interfered would be dealt with. After waiting for a minute or so the silhouette of a rather large figure slowly began to immerge from deep within the desert, heading in their direction. Instantly a sense of foreboding fell over Boris and it could be felt amongst the palace guards, them all tensing up slightly more so as the figure edged toward them. Coming into full view as the towering figure stopped in front of the guards and Boris.
“Ah, a welcome party…how thoughtful of your King.” the figure commented, smirking underneath the cloth covering his mouth.
Boris nodded. “We’ve been expecting you General Demos,” Boris informed him. “Please…follow me to the palace.” he continued, turning his back toward Demos and making his way off toward the palace, Demos following on behind with the palace guards covering him on either side.

[Ryan - Loki]

The small group made their way quickly through the streets of the city, using several back streets to arrive at the palace as quickly as possible as Boris had been giving explicit instructions by the King not to be seen; they didn’t need a blind panic before anything could be forced into plan. Being discreet and stealthy without actually seeming to be, as not to insult the general, was the prime objective here; a task seemingly effortless for the advanced abilities of the Kings royal guard, and even more so for Boris.
Within no time they had reached the palace gates, had entered, and were all making their way up through the palace toward the Kings personal courtroom. Stopping outside of the door Boris turned around to the guards and nodded, all of them instantly breaking apart and departing from the area; glancing at the general quickly Boris then turned back toward the heavy doors and pushed them open, entering.

The doors opened with an echoing thud and quickly Boris moved into the room. “If you’ll follow me General Demos,” Boris said quickly, not even turning his head around to look Demos in the face as he spoke to him. Demos slowly made his way into the room, both his and Boris’ footsteps echoing considerably loudly as they walked toward the centre of the room. Other than their footsteps, and the faint sound of the wind outside, the room was in complete silence, until a booming voice broke through the air. “General,” turning to their right a rather large figure, although smaller than Demos, stood from within a throne and began moving toward them. “So glad you could make it.”
“So glad you could have me…” Demos said while smirking, moving forward and shaking hands with the King. “But we both know we have a, lets say, mutual interest.”
“Indeed…” Kelljah said softly, moving past Demos and off toward the balcony. “I want my people to be spared from the slaughter that’s about to come…and you want help in waging your war, correct?” he continued, his question obviously rhetorical. “Yes, I see how that is mutual.”
Rolling his eyes Demos took a few steps forward to follow Kelljah. “Kelljah, I’m not sure I like the tone of your voice.” Demos retorted as he continued to move toward Kelljah, who had now stopped directly in front of the balcony. At this point Boris slowly moved through the courtroom, past Demos, and over to his Kings side. “What is it that you’re insinuating exactly?”
“That the Saiyan race, a race thought to be honourable, is in fact made up of cowards.” Kelljah replied quickly, his voice emotionless.

A second or so went past and Demos still hadn’t noticed any sign of Kelljah looking to continue his sentence onward or even move to give an apology for what he had just said. Such dishonour, especially considering the position that Kelljah was in, angered Demos. Stepping forward quickly Demos raised his right fist to strike down Kelljah but his fist was stopped in mid movement and grasped within the palm of Boris, who had turned around just moments beforehand. Hearing the suddenly slapping of fist against palm Kelljah turned slowly around to look Demos in the face. Demos had a mixed expression upon his face; there was anger toward Kelljah, a certain amount of surprise most likely aimed at Boris as well as a fire of determination burning within his eyes.

“Heh…well it’s about time you lost your temper, it took more than I expected.” Kelljah slowly muttered, looking Demos in the eyes. Demos returned Kelljah’s gaze before slowly returning his fist slowly back down against his side, realising just exactly what game Kelljah was playing; Boris slowly stepping backwards.
“You play an incredibly dangerous game your highness,” Demos quietly commented, his anger lowering. “But it seems fate is on your side; I could have killed you.”
Kelljah sniggered slightly to himself and turned back around to face the balcony. “Isn’t the storm beautiful General? Especially since your little addition to it.” the king remarked, completely ignoring Demos’ last comment.
Slowly Demos moved up next to the King. “Yes, I must agree…but enough of the small talk your highness, we have more important matters to discuss and very little time to discuss them.”
“Indeed…” the King muttered softly. “Then I must ask you this General Demos, what makes you think you can defeat an entire planet? Why should I join you and not help my planet defeat your pitiful attempts of attack?”
“Because, your highness, as we speak an army of an unimaginable quantity is landing on separate countries across the planet and conquering them…and to answer your other question, you should join us because if you do not, then you will not have a country to help the rest of the world with.” Demos said bluntly, no emotion visible within his voice.
For a moment the King merely stood there before laughing to himself. “So you think you could defeat the mighty army of the Zolan Lands do you?” he asked, rhetorically of course. “Well as much as I disagree with you on that…I do believe you are a man who does not bluff…” the King replied, seemingly falling into silence as he finished.
“So are you joining forces with us or not?” Demos asked, somewhat impatiently.
“You may leave now.” the King suddenly said.
Demos was more than a little surprised by the sudden words of the King, and had to replay them over and over within his head to make sure he had heard him correctly. “Excuse you?” Demos slowly replied.
“My entire army has been put on alert and are ready for my commands,” Kelljah commented. “When your men are ready send word, and you’ll have one of the most ruthless and powerful armies on this planet at your disposal. As long as you can keep your end of the bargain.” Kelljah finished, never taking his eyes off of the sandstorm out of the balcony.
Smirking to himself Demos turned and began moving off toward the door of the courtroom, only stopping once he reached it. “So I’ll take that as a yes then.” he said, before moving out of the room and shutting the doors behind him.

Slowly Boris moved back over toward Kelljah. “Your highness…I don’t wish to sound as if I doubt your all-knowing wisdom but, was that a wise choice? The Saiyan’s are out to destroy the Dragonian race…last time I checked, that includes us too sir.”
“Yes…I know Boris, and you are a good friend; all knowing and all wise,” Kelljah commented. “But this is not a war Dragonia can win…and I wish to stay on the winning side, for my people, no matter what. The Saiyan’s may be arrogant but they are honourable…we will just have to hope.”