A Voice in the Forest

[Archer]

An emerald glow floated dreamily through the Larletan rainforests; an air of tranquillity floating through the night. The canopy shadowed what little light their was, creating a veil of darkness through the trees, as a soft wind ruffled their leaves, and sent some falling drearily down towards the forest floor. As usual in Larleta, a faint drizzle poured continuously upon the roof of trees, most of it blocked but the occasional drops dripping through to the world beneath.

A figure stood, in a clearing in the forest. His eyes were locked shut. His dark skin was occasionally stained by a raindrop, and the wind blew his short blonde hair. He stood in solitude, his fingers clasping the hilt of a sword, the blade reaching up to his nose. His emerald Gi swayed slowly in the wind, but did nothing else. The soil and roots and earth weaved between his naked toes, as he stood, silent, in the forest.

A sound, in the distance. He could hear screaming, shouting, cries for help. He heard the fire of Ki, and the footsteps of people. But they weren’t Dragonians; he could tell that instantly. This was something else…

Having had this forest as a home for so long, he no longer heard much of the outside world. He had been feeling some disturbance for some time; something not right with the world, but he thought nothing of it, until now. He listened intently now, trying to find some key to what was happening. He could hear muffled screams, and muffled orders. He must be closer to a tribe than he’d thought.

But when he heard one distinct voice, it all changed.
“Help me, someone help me! Son, wherever you are, help me!”
“HELP ME DALIAN!”

His eyes shot open in a flash, a new green light filling the scene. He lowered his sword to one hand, secured his shield tightly across his back, and ran, ran as fast as his legs would carry him through the forest.

”I’m coming, Father.”

[Archer]

((Should’ve said earlier; this is set before the majority of Larleta is captured, just as a background thing for Dalian.))
((Oh yeah, and -unidentified admin-, feel free to jump in and control these Saiyans if you've got nothing to do, until then I'll do it ^_^))

Triad Amero lifted a gargantuan arm, wiping the sweat off his brow. He had been working in the mines all day, the fruits of his labour slung over his shoulder in a thin sack. Shaking the sweat off his hand, he walked slowly through the Tribe back to his hut, for a well deserved nights rest.

It wasn’t until he placed a hand on his door handle that he saw them; A squad of warriors, about 20 strong, approaching the Tribe. A young Larletan woman approached them eagerly, ready to welcome the strangers to their village. Triad could not hear anything clearly from the door of his hut, but he could see what happened perfectly.

The woman approached the group, of varied sizes and sexes, and extended a hand in welcome. The group leader (so it seemed), a relatively tall, stocky man, took her hand in return. Everything seemed normal for a few moments, until a malicious look crossed his face. His hand clenched quickly into a fist, and the woman screamed; the sound of it rushing through the trees in all directions. Releasing her, and revealing her crushed and bleeding hand, he started forwards again.

Triad had started running almost before the event, heading straight for the general of the group. The other warriors all dispersed in their respective directions, Ki blasts firing in all directions; destroying houses, stores, everything and anything. As Triad approached, the Saiyan cocked his head upwards.

“This land is now property of General Turgor of the Saiyan Army. Surrender or Perish!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, Bub!” came Triad’s response, as he swung his giant fist towards the Saiyans face. With no sign of fear or surprise on his face, the Saiyan spoke again; “Ahh, but you see, that’s the thing,” he caught Traid’s fist mid flight, but an inch from his face.
“You don’t.”

The Saiyan flicked his wrist around, causing Triad’s arm to bend back on itself, and forcing him to turn around to relieve the pain. Stubborn as always, Triad gave no audible response, simply struggled to break the grasp. The Saiyan lifted his free hand, grabbing Triad but the scruff of the neck as he released his arm, and lifted him off the floor; he had a good few inches on Triad, and it made all the difference now. His hand poised, palm facing the back of Triad’s head, as a small blue sphere began to form in his palm.

Triad’s next cry rang out through the forest; a mixture of desperation and hope for an answer.
“Help me, someone help me! Son, wherever you are, help me!”
“HELP ME DALIAN!”

“Your cry’s wont help you now, Dragonian scum,” the Saiyan said, spitting on the muddy ground after the word ‘Dragonian’.
Boy, was he wrong.

A Dragonian figure burst through the final line of trees at the side of the Tribe. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked on at the destruction of the village. Many were in chains; Ki Handcuffs that surrounded their wrists, buildings were being ravaged in search of useful material. But what caught Dalian’s eye most was the bulky Saiyan chief, in a clearing of fire and smog, with a Larletan man in his grasp.

His father.

Triad tilted his head sideways as he sensed his son’s approach, and spoke his final words.
“Do me proud, boy…”

With a grin that was almost a snarl; the Saiyan released the Ki blast from his palm. The energy cut through the back of Triad’s head like a hot knife through butter, leaving a lifeless body in his hands. The Saiyan threw the body down on the floor beside him, and turned away.

A river of tears flooded down Dalian’s cheeks, his teeth gritted together in disbelief. His sword dropped down by his side, and he fell to his knees, face in his hands. His father; the one person he’d come to rely on all these years, killed in such an undignified way. Murdered. By a Saiyan.

Dalian’s head thrust back, as if a bolt of energy had pierced through the centre of his brain. He began to stand, as his aura flared up around him, not in it’s usual emerald brilliance, but in a shower of Silver light. His eyes had become a soft blue, and his usually short and spiky hair began to stand up on end; now a greyish silver.

Dalian had unlocked the potential of Dragon Scar.

The Saiyan cocked his head back over his shoulder; sensing the immense power increase almost immediately. When the level did not cap off, he was forced to turn around and witness the creature from which the energy was being emitted. What he saw was a Dragonian boy; barely passed his teens, and with a concentrated look of hatred on his features. His sword remained on the ground, where his Shield had now joined it.

“What is your name, Saiyan.” Commanded Dalian, his voice stern and hard.

”Why should I tell you, Dragonian,” spat the Saiyan in response.

”I want to know what to write on your grave.”

[Archer]

The Saiyan was in a humouring mood. He gave a quiet chuckle, and shook his head downwards at the Dragonian’s words. Looking back up at him, he spoke;
“Alright, I’ll bite. I’m Captain Leros. Whatcha’ gonna do now, scum.”

Dalian had hardly moved a muscle since his last words, and there was some pause before the Saiyan spoke. He had simply been waiting for the opportune moment, which had, this moment, just arrived.
”Whatcha’ gonna do now, scum.”
For a moment, Dalian’s face almost showed a grin, as the Saiyan finished his words.
”This.”

Dalian, in an instant, seemingly vanished from the spot. Leros was not surprised; he’d been expecting some sort of theatrics such as this, textbook manoeuvre. Try to confuse your opponent, catch them off guard. As Dalian reappeared behind him, a fist immediately turn to meet the Dragonian warrior, the Saiyan’s punch lodging itself in Dalian’s gut. However, what happened next did catch Leros completely by surprise.

His fist had indeed sunk into Dalian’s gut. But it didn’t stop. His fist was now past where Dalian’s spine should be, enclosed within what had moments ago been the flesh of Dalian Amero. Dalian’s body had curved backwards, a fist-shaped lump now protruding from his back. With his fast directly in Leros’s, he sneered.

”Surprised?” came Dalian’s voice, as his fist sunk into Leros’s face. A shocked and astonished Saiyan was sent flying across the village, crimson blood pouring from his broken nose. Dalian’s body quickly reverted back to its original shape, with no sign of damage except a slight tear in his Gi. That could easily be replaced…

Dalian looked on as the Saiyan captain pulled himself slowly out of the broken trunk of a large tree, shaking bits of debris of his shoulders. A loud crack resounded through the tribe as he pushed on his nose with his thumb, the bone snapping back into line. He spat a wad of congealed blood from his mouth, and licked his teeth to clear most of the damage, before turning his attention back to Dalian.

”Very good, young Dragonian… but not good enough.” he said, his voice wavering slightly, ruining the effect of the entire statement.
”We’ll see about that.” replied Dalian simply, as the pair launched themselves at each other, a path of leaves blown up by the air around them.

The fighters battled on, trading blows almost in turn. It was Leros who seemed to take the most damage; although not necessarily the most hits. Every now and again, one would be sent flying across the village, only to flip up again in seconds and launch back into the fray.

The battle seemed to last for hours, although only a matter of minutes had passed. Dalian landed an uppercut on Leros’s chin, his neck lashing backwards with the force. But this blow was quickly matched by the Saiyan’s counterattack, a sharp knee to the ribs. Both warriors were forced to their knees for a moment to recover, but not for long.

“That’s it,” Dalian said sternly, ”This ends now.”
”Indeed it does.” came Leros’s response, as his hand began to glow violently blue. Dalian was on his feet again in a second, grabbing the Saiyan by the neck and picking him up off the floor. The Ki was still growing in his hands, but Dalian ignored it. Pulling his fist back, it seemed to shrink, as Dalian willed all the molecules to contract together; his hand becoming harder than Diamond.

“Now, you’re going to know how it feels.” growled Dalian, as a look began to swirl in the Saiyan’s eyes for the first time.
The Saiyan saw fear.

Dalian’s punch hit Leros straight between the eyes, the condensed fist punching through the Saiyan’s features effortlessly. A bodiless, lifeless Saiyan was tossed aside, as Dalian’s hand returned to its normal size, and his hair and eyes did likewise as he dropped out of Dragon Scar.

He stood for a moment in the silence of the destruction around him, before his memory appeared to snap back into place, and he turned, dashing for the body of his fallen father. He knelt by his side, as tears began to flood his face once again. His fingers wrapped around the shard of emerald on his neck, as he remembered those happy days on the mountains in the forest.

He looked up at the tribe he called home for his early years, and saw the destruction the Saiyans were causing. But he could sense this wasn’t the worst of it…

The scene froze. The Saiyan’s causing the destruction froze, the fire froze in its path. Even time itself froze. The only thing left was Dalian, panting quietly in the scene, as two figures stepped out of his form.

His conscious was about to have one of its fights…

[Archer]

As soon as the two figures had left Dalian, he too froze with the scene. The people who had emerged from him were identical to him in every way; the only possible difference being that the colours in one were all a lighter shade, the other darker. These ‘people’ were his conscience; like the devil and the angel you used to see in old cartoons, but much more real. It was very rare for The Conscience to argue about things as simple as good and evil, right or wrong. Most of the time, it was having to take sides on a difficult decision, and find out the right thing to do. Now was one of these times.

The darker side walked further into the clearing, taking the frozen destruction in as if it was a fine oil painting. In most of these moral fights, the darker side would take the more concentrated problem; where as the lighter side took on the view of the greater good. Dark turned again, but not a full turn, merely a twist of the hips to see Light over his shoulder.
”We can’t let these Saiyans do this.” he said, turning back to the scene, ”They’re destroying our home town!
“That’s all well and good,” replied Light, walking after Black, ”But you know as well as I do this isn’t a controlled event. We are needed elsewhere.”

As usual, Dark became more violent, taking the aggressive side of the argument. He turned, flinging his arm towards the burning town in its static horror, ”They can wait! We are needed here first!” he walked over to the headless body of Leros, ”Let him be an example to the rest of them; they can’t mess with Dalian Amero and live!”
”You’re right,” Light began, once again following Dark’s path, ”but lets do it on the grander scale. Why destroy 20 when you destroy 20000!”

Dark’s face became wracked with anger. His stubbornness wouldn’t fade, as he dashed back into the centre of the tribe.
”They’re killing our people! Our people! We cannot let them do this!” However violent they became, Light and Dark never physically attacked each other. After all, they were part of the same thing.

This time, Light did not move. He barely even moved and arm; it was not needed.
”What’s more important? Our people or Our Race, or Our Planet?”

Dark’s features reverted to what they once were. The fight was won. Both walking over to the Dragonian by his father, hand in hand, Dark and Light walked back into Dalian’s being.

As soon as they were gone, the scene began to melt back into life; the flames licked high from the buildings, and the sound of Ki tearing through flesh and stone alike rang through the Larletan forests. His mind made up, Dalian hoisted the figure of Triad onto his shoulders, picked up his sword and replaced his shield, and took off towards the Mainland.

He was needed at Lavertia.