Storytelling of Ravens
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A/N: ::cringe:: Yes, I know, I have more stories that need updating. But I simply can't get this one out of my head. Deal with it.
Disclaimer: Yeah. Right. Akira Toriyama owns it, not I.
***
"My word!" The middle-aged matriarch pointed one fat finger at the object of her disbelief. "What in the sixth heliosol is that?!"
Her friend, a large woman, very similar in appearence to herself, craned her neck and squinted, causing her already beady eyes to shrink even more. She said, "My dear, I believe it's an Earthan."
"A what?"
"An Earthan," the friend said, popping a small, bluish fruit in her mouth, "That's their official name. But they seem to prefer to call themselves "humans.""
"Ohh." The matron said, then pursed her thin lips in thought. "But what's it doing here?"
"Oh, they're the latest vogue."
"Really? Whatever happened to the Nouffleties?"
"Oh, they're old hat. Besides, what did they ever do but sit around and look cute?"
The first woman raised her eyebrows in a questioning look. "So, does that mean to say that Earthans actually do something?"
"Oh yes!" The second woman leaned forward, comfortable in her area of expertise: gossip. "Just last week, I was at the bonezeron when no one but Madame Rosemary strolled right in, and a little female Earthan was following her! I tell you, all the rest of us had our jawps dangling to the floor at the sight of it. After all, who takes their slaves with them to get all made up?" The first lady nodded her in encouragement. "Nobody! That's the thing of it! But if you think that's something, you should hear this!" The speaker leaned near her friend. "Portabelle, that Earthan was holding Rosemary's whelp!"
Portabelle, for that was name of the first woman, gasped in shock. "So....these Earthans are nursemaids!"
The second woman nodded vigorously. "The females, at least."
Poratbelle furrowed her brows. "But why an Earthan? Why not use a Saiyaness?"
The second woman spoke in a tone that hinted of something almost scandalous. "Well, do you remember back when the planet was first captured?"
Portabelle nodded. "By General Kakarotto, almost twenty-two years ago."
"Mm-hm. Do you remember, though, how many Earthans there were, originally?"
"No, Kalla, I don't."
"Take a guess." Kalla, as the second woman was named, said, smiling smugly.
"Ohh...seven hundred or eight hundred million, I suppose."
Kalla shook her head. "Nope...try eight billion, my dear."
Portabelle's eyes flew open in shock. "Eight billion! My word!...I can see why'd they'd have to be excellent nursemaids, to care for such a load of whelps." She pursed her lips again. "But then, why are they only in such fashion now? Why not when the planet was first captured? Lord knows I could've used an Earthan girl back when I was young and whelping."
"Because the conquest sent them back down to only two billion." Kalla explained. "And then all the hands they had were used to set up the new regime. Only a handful were ever exported; samples of the new conquest and trophies for particular high-ranking individuals."
"Yes, I remember that." Portabelle said. "Because there was so much useful land on Earth, they were going to terraform it a little to make it a wholly agrarian place. Plus, the Earthans had already engineered some of the species there to make some very productive food animals."
Kalla nodded. "Apparently, the population only recently reached the stage where they can be exported in any commercial way. And even then, they are quite expensive."
Just then, their conversation was interrupted by a commotion in the streets. The two matriarchs, surprised, leaned out their second-story window to see what was going on.
The lower-caste Saiyans were scattering before a procession, made of a grand palanquin and some ornamental escorts. The palanquin was made of a rich black fabric, with strands of gold thread woven in. There were several openngs amist the draperies, that allowed anyone with superior Saiyan vision to identify the person within.
He was male, tall, with fine, delicate features in the manner of any attractive Saiyan male. His eyes looked bored, and the experienced could see it wasn't merely aristocratic lack of interest but honest-to-goodness detachment. His skin was unusually pale, more a sort of a golden tone than the normal Saiyan's dark olive. The clothing he wore now was fashionable; very loose pants of coarser material than the average gi. The shirt was a simple piece of flowing satin, leaving the front open, to expose his faintly-tanned chest in very sharp contrast with all the darkness he shrouded himself in.
"And that," Portabelle said, curling her lip and lifting her chin in the utmost contempt, "Is the other use of Earthans."
Kalla nodded, similarly disdainful, and closed the blinds.
***
The court of Prince Vejiita was a marvelous thing to behold. It was a massive hall, full of colonades and trimmed in cheerless gold motif. The walls were high and vaulted, and painted with murals-on one side, the Prince's heroic campaign against Frieza, on the other; the rebuilding of Saiyandom, the commission of Vejiita's palace, the Lording of General Kakarotto, and the knighting of his young son for incredible bravery in the face of death and dishonor.
There were guards, also, posted behind every colonade and very obviously ceremonial, as indicatated by their plumed and silver-plated festoonery. The real guard was Vejiita himself. And if that weren't a strong enough deterrent, the two full-grown grizzly bear boars he kept attached by a collar and chain to either of the arms of his throne were enough.
Vejiita absently reached down, to scratch the ears of the one on his left side. That one was named Prince. The other was called General. Vejiita snorted. Kakarotto, who had named the bears and given them to him, was indeed a fantastic soldier, and possessed the amazing leading presence to make any man follow him through hell and back. He also possessed the wisdom to know that he was no great tactician.
What a pity he didn't also realize he was no great wit.
The bears were meant to be a gift to Vejiita "from New Vejiita to its ruler," as Kakarotto had put it. This would be why Vejiita had never gotten rid of the bears, nor ever even renamed them. As they were, they were a reminder of his exhilarating youth. When the wandering Prince of a once-great empire, fallen to ruin just within his lifetime, found his hope and resurrection so close he could almost reach out and touch it.
Nevermind that New Vejiita would never be that, and that the planet called Earth would have to wait another six years for conquest. Kakarotto had not been a General, then, when his rather awkward piece of space scrap had first contacted the flagship of Vejiita's. He had been given the title a few days later, resting on board the ship's infirmary. Then, the young new General had shown Vejiita personally the bounty of this planet, which he ever so optimistically called New Vejiita.
Not that Vejiita hadn't planned to have to delay the attack on New Vej--Earth. He was currently fully engaged with Frieza, fighting a seemingly endless hit-and-run war against the vastest empire that ever had existed. Giving any of his resources, even the most paltry, to the conquest of the planet, would have been far too much of a strain. Plus, having a home base would have been more detrimental to the cause: Frieza could blow it apart wth merely a twitch.
That had been the turning point of this little war, the arrival of General Kakarotto. And five years later, they were celebrating on their own planet, their own Old Vejiita. A feast commemorating the birth of the NeoSaiyan Empire, a feast that lasted for a month.
And now...Vejiita was the ruler of the mightiest empire that ever graced the known universe. All of Frieza's property he now owned, and without the burden of purging for him, Vejiita was free to unleash his hordes and sweep the galaxy before him, until all intelligent life recognized the Saiyans as their masters.
This position also, came with some perks--he was, without a doubt, the wealthiest person on or off planet, loved by all the people and feared by the non-Saiyans, his power was (almost) insurmountable, and oh---
There were the bells for one o'clock. Lunch time. Also, not so coincidentally, his harem's bathing time.
Vejiita smirked as he left his throne and walked the length of his vast hall, General and Prince following close behind. Life was good.
***
A/N: Well, there you go. Yes, I'm well aware everyone has one of these sorts of stories, so all stupid and degrading reviews I receive will be shown on the top notes of chapter two, (which will be written no matter what anyone says), where I may cheerfully lambast them.
Since I sincerely doubt that anyone who looked at this is unfamilar with others of my stories, here I present some exclusive information as to when these stories may be updated, if ever:
That Haunted Memory Of Honor: Pbbbbbt. This one ain't going nowhere. I may leave it up, but don't expect any updates.
Fallen Angel, Ascendant Devil: This one I AM going to work on. The first chapter will be deleted for a new, revised version. This should start to happen sometimes during mid-May.
Misery Loves Company: The next chapter will be coming. The beginning of May, hopefully.
Saiyaman Won't Save You This Time, Videl: I SWEAR IT'S COMING!!!! DON'T KILL MEEEEEEE!!!!!!
FICS OF THE DAY:
Anything by Gohan's Onna, because SHE KICKS ASS!!!!!!!!
Alo anything by Psycho-Ann, who really, really, really needs to update her stories. Now. ::rrrrrr::
And Candyland. She's awesome, too.
Or Kioko.
That's all, right now.
LAST WORDS:
"When in doubt, microwave for three minutes on HIGH."
