Prologue:
As of Age 761, The Planet Trade Organization (PTO) continues to grow, spreading its influence across the universe. The tyrants in charge continue to send waves of scouts and warriors to find and destroy planets, provided they refuse to submit to their rule and serve them. Planets not destroyed, whose inhabitants have either been wiped out or enslaved are colonized, sold or farmed for resources. The soldier’s numbers have become practically uncountable.
Within the larger whole are sections; each under the rule of one of three. First, there is King Cold. He is a powerful tyrant who commands respect over the entirety of the forces, though he has a select few elite warriors under his personal command. Next, is his eldest son, Cooler, who reigns over his legion, albeit he does not seem to branch out much further than is necessary to remain in the good graces of his father. Finally, there is Frieza. Although he is the younger of the two brother’s he is the most widely known. He is a tyrant feared by all. His Faction of the PTO is seen as the most ruthless and prone to conflict. He rules his faction with an iron fist, the group far more widely known than it’s parent organization as the Galactic Frieza Army.
The army itself seems to dwarf the other factions in size, though a majority of it is comprised of lower class warriors. Still above those groups lie the Elite. And if the Elite are not enough, Frieza may call about the Ginyu Force. And yet, the focus of this story is not the Ginyu, the elite, or Frieza himself. This story focuses on what are considered low class warriors. And so it begins on a far off planet, not yet aware of the fate that awaits them.
As the pods opened within craters they had formed in the otherwise green plains of the surface they’d plummeted into. A hand, somewhat tanned, clutched the frame of the opening. A man standing at roughly 5’10” with a fair, but lightly tanned skin complexion, stepped out. He used his free hand to form a visor and shield his eyes from the rays of the bright sun.
“One sun.” He spoke aloud, though it was mostly into the communicator of the scouter that adorned his face. The red lense, positioned before one of his black eyes, gave him a brief reading of the area; nothing nearby, but there were power signatures a few miles east of the location. They were weak. Another docile planet to add to the list. In other words; a bore.
“Hopefully this planet has more to offer than this.” Arkos said as he left his capsule and prepared to move out onto this unsuspecting world. He stepped out to stretch his legs before the rest of the squad accompanying him. He rolled his head around and cracked his knuckles. He wore black, sleeveless full-body jumpsuit. The sleeves extended just past his shoulders, armor clutching his body. It was black, to match his jumpsuit with an off-white trim and a red midsection. His gloves were black and fingerless connecting to black and red wrist guards with a banded pattern reach part way up his forearm. Adorning his feet with white, red tipped boots, typical of the Frieza, but more importantly the Saiyan, battle attire.
The Saiyan began to climb up out of his crater, his sharp eyes surveying the area. There was little more than a quiet intensity to his gaze. He gave off little emotion, as was expected of a warrior when conquering a planet. His tail, brown in color as was typical of the saiyan race remained wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair maintained a spiky, in not utterly unkempt, appearance. It was black all over, save for four red bangs hanging just over the minor widow’s peak he sported just in front of his face. “How should we handle this?” He asked.
“Well, we could try to find the capitol and confront the leader of this world.”
“That’s boring. We should just blow up a couple places and let the authorities come to us.”
“Intelligence gathering would be the ideal course of action.”
“Of course you would say that.”
Squabbling among three of the other four members of the team dispatched rang out in Arkos’s ear. He sighed. He didn’t want to join this pointless squabble. But they had to decide. Preferably, they could learn more about the world and whether it was one in need of such violent tactics. He was always interested in a battle and a powerful opponent, but needlessly pummeling the weak wasn’t his ideal choice of entertainment. Not like other Saiyans or members of Frieza’s Forces. “Decisions, decisions,” he said with a small chuckle and sigh, poking fun as the arguing trio.
As of Age 761, The Planet Trade Organization (PTO) continues to grow, spreading its influence across the universe. The tyrants in charge continue to send waves of scouts and warriors to find and destroy planets, provided they refuse to submit to their rule and serve them. Planets not destroyed, whose inhabitants have either been wiped out or enslaved are colonized, sold or farmed for resources. The soldier’s numbers have become practically uncountable.
Within the larger whole are sections; each under the rule of one of three. First, there is King Cold. He is a powerful tyrant who commands respect over the entirety of the forces, though he has a select few elite warriors under his personal command. Next, is his eldest son, Cooler, who reigns over his legion, albeit he does not seem to branch out much further than is necessary to remain in the good graces of his father. Finally, there is Frieza. Although he is the younger of the two brother’s he is the most widely known. He is a tyrant feared by all. His Faction of the PTO is seen as the most ruthless and prone to conflict. He rules his faction with an iron fist, the group far more widely known than it’s parent organization as the Galactic Frieza Army.
The army itself seems to dwarf the other factions in size, though a majority of it is comprised of lower class warriors. Still above those groups lie the Elite. And if the Elite are not enough, Frieza may call about the Ginyu Force. And yet, the focus of this story is not the Ginyu, the elite, or Frieza himself. This story focuses on what are considered low class warriors. And so it begins on a far off planet, not yet aware of the fate that awaits them.
As the pods opened within craters they had formed in the otherwise green plains of the surface they’d plummeted into. A hand, somewhat tanned, clutched the frame of the opening. A man standing at roughly 5’10” with a fair, but lightly tanned skin complexion, stepped out. He used his free hand to form a visor and shield his eyes from the rays of the bright sun.
“One sun.” He spoke aloud, though it was mostly into the communicator of the scouter that adorned his face. The red lense, positioned before one of his black eyes, gave him a brief reading of the area; nothing nearby, but there were power signatures a few miles east of the location. They were weak. Another docile planet to add to the list. In other words; a bore.
“Hopefully this planet has more to offer than this.” Arkos said as he left his capsule and prepared to move out onto this unsuspecting world. He stepped out to stretch his legs before the rest of the squad accompanying him. He rolled his head around and cracked his knuckles. He wore black, sleeveless full-body jumpsuit. The sleeves extended just past his shoulders, armor clutching his body. It was black, to match his jumpsuit with an off-white trim and a red midsection. His gloves were black and fingerless connecting to black and red wrist guards with a banded pattern reach part way up his forearm. Adorning his feet with white, red tipped boots, typical of the Frieza, but more importantly the Saiyan, battle attire.
The Saiyan began to climb up out of his crater, his sharp eyes surveying the area. There was little more than a quiet intensity to his gaze. He gave off little emotion, as was expected of a warrior when conquering a planet. His tail, brown in color as was typical of the saiyan race remained wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair maintained a spiky, in not utterly unkempt, appearance. It was black all over, save for four red bangs hanging just over the minor widow’s peak he sported just in front of his face. “How should we handle this?” He asked.
“Well, we could try to find the capitol and confront the leader of this world.”
“That’s boring. We should just blow up a couple places and let the authorities come to us.”
“Intelligence gathering would be the ideal course of action.”
“Of course you would say that.”
Squabbling among three of the other four members of the team dispatched rang out in Arkos’s ear. He sighed. He didn’t want to join this pointless squabble. But they had to decide. Preferably, they could learn more about the world and whether it was one in need of such violent tactics. He was always interested in a battle and a powerful opponent, but needlessly pummeling the weak wasn’t his ideal choice of entertainment. Not like other Saiyans or members of Frieza’s Forces. “Decisions, decisions,” he said with a small chuckle and sigh, poking fun as the arguing trio.
