disclaimer: this is AN A/U!! and kinda complicated in the beginning so bear with me. i don't own DBZ or any affiliate characters.
A/N: _..._ is set for italics, usually when a character is thinking but also to emphasise important words or phrases.
~....~ is a dream sequence, probably not many, but there is at least one. =P
*~*~*~ are breaks in the story and switch of character roles
If anyone has problems with the accents in the first parts of the story let me know and i'll dumb them down a bit.
Warning: There is possible Yaoi between Vegeta and Radditz. but it will be later on, so if you're like me and want to read some yaoi and want it RIGHTNOW, you'll hafta wait. -.-
A clang of crashing metal upon metal echoed repeatedly through the sticky air. Two squadrons of armored men charged and clashed together, trying to run each other through with swords, others in a physical struggle. Dead bodies lay at their feet as they ran through streams of blood, sweat and shit. All were male, boys mostly, too young to know what they were fighting over or know any way to resolve a fight than to shred their enemies into a pile of refuse.
A man came charging through the crowd, sword held at his hip and pointed at his next victim. His dark hair was in mats of blood and mud around in head in a thick mane, the lengths of it touching the backs of his knees and running across the dented and soiled armor across his shoulders and chest. A battle cry ripped from his throat forming into a cacophony of screaming vocal chords that soon echoed their leaders initial cry. He drove the sword deep, sluing through hard armor and soft flesh. Putting a foot to the startled enemy, he pushed the body from his blade and turned for another blow.
Hours had passed that felt like days, the man turned slowly, stumbling over his own feet, to see the fallen troops behind him and trodden into the earth. Both sides had fallen, leaving soft sighs of pain and whispered last words, he was the last man standing. A lone figure stepped through the trees in front of him, a royal crest embossed on glistening chest armor. The bloodied warrior made a fist and placed it over his heart, bowing his head in respect before he fell unconscious.
Days later the field had been cleaned up. Before the families of the victims could remove their loved ones, D.S. had entered and gathered armor and weaponry. D.S. stood for Detritus Supplicants, but the peasants and commoners had taken to saying it meant Death Scavengers. D.S. had been imposed by he government to salvage any reusable armor and weapons, but they had taken their authority to a new level and helped themselves to personal items and heirlooms. Rarely, but known to happen, a soldiers' clothes would be removed to be sold on the street, usually back to the deceased's family.
The bodies still sat where they had fallen, families entering through the forest to find their children or husbands. Both sides of the battle were there, families from either side giving their condolences to the other as though there were no war between them. A small family entered the field, a massive man with head shaven bald and thick black mustache, his wife walking carefully beside him and a small, wiry boy gripping his mother's hand. Husband and wife walked to the first body, rolling him over slowly to reveal half of the flesh of his face torn away to the bone. Maggots crawled along the sinew and ligaments, feasting on the semi-decayed flesh. The woman placed a hand over her mouth to keep from retching, the young boy led her to a line of trees and handed her his canteen. The bald man watched them go before moving to another body, and then another.
He had spent several minutes moving along the seemingly endless field of dead, looking forlornly at the body at his feet he rolled the man over and heard a faint grunt. Shocked, he knelt beside and placed a hand over the man's chest. A slight rise and fall under his fingers and small sigh through the lips of the "dead" man and he rose to his feet. "Bite! Over 'ere' boy! Quickly!" A deep baritone with a thick accent boomed across the field. The young boy in the trees came to with a start and raced toward his father, leaping across bodies before finally coming to a rest. "Thees ones alive." Bite looked at his father in surprise before carefully checking the vital signs of the "dead" man.
He set the man's head gently into his small lap and pressed a canteen to his cracked lips. "Drink." Bite tipped the canteen slowly and watched as a small trickle went down his cheek, leaving a small stream of clean tanned skin in its wake. "Meestar, you must drink." A light fluttering of the man's eyelids and Bite pressed the flagon to his lips again. The man drank.
"Bite, you stay 'ere with these man, I'll find your brother." The bald man walked carefully away, checking faces as he went. He sat a while, watching the man's chest rise and fall, seeing him fight with consciousness as his muscles twitched and he grunted. His mother sat down beside him.
"He's alive." Bite looked up at his mother with large round eyes. She nodded and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket.
"I 'eard your father…is he well?" She poured some of the cool water from the canteen onto the cloth in her hand and began blotting the muck from the man's face.
Bite shrugged his skinny shoulders and nodded his head towards his father. His mother looked and saw the hefty man heave a familiar looking bulk onto his broad shoulders. Her eyes teamed as she turned away, concentrating on cleaning the man's face in front of her. As she bent down the eyes snapped open and a strong hand nearly crushed her dainty one as it hovered over his face.
"Eet's okay, meestar…you're among friends." Bite looked down at the man's face, whose eyes had shifted from his mother to Bite himself. The crushing hand relaxed and Bite saw his mother shrink away slightly before cautiously continuing her task.
"He is awake?" A deep voice called from across the field.
"Aye…for now." The woman's voice was small and was nearly lost in the space between her husband and herself. She hooked a finger around a lock of hair on the man's cheek and began to push it away when it caught violently and he sat upright and hissed air through his teeth. "Oh my…" The man brought a hand to his cheek and pulled it away again, a fresh flow of blood had covered his palm. Hooking his own finger through the clump of hair he yanked the ends out of the wound where they had been caught in the thick scab forming.
The quick flow of blood to his brain made his head spin, he set his forehead into his hand and placed a hand flat on the gooey ground beside him. A large shadow washed over him and he looked up slowly at the mammoth of a man with the body of a young boy over one shoulder. "Can you walk?" The man struggled for a moment, but stood on his own feet, although shakily. He took a step and began falling towards the ground when a strong hand grasped his arm and hauled him back to his feet again. He looked up at the bald man who was grinning, "Guess not, eh? 'Sokay, tha's why you have Nappa express." Managing a small crooked smile, the man winced as his lips cracked open and began to seep.
Nappa slouched slightly and bent a knee, heaved the man over his other shoulder and stood. The man's stomach was pressed tightly into Nappa's shoulder and as Nappa took the first steps out of the field he felt broken ribs screaming. His head reeled as he bounced on that thick shoulder.
"Wha's your name, soldier? Unless you'd prefer we call you the undead?" Bite walked behind his father and looked up at the man's face where it bobbed.
As his mind began to shut down and the shock started to fade from his ribs he looked at Bite and grinned, "Radditz."
A/N: _..._ is set for italics, usually when a character is thinking but also to emphasise important words or phrases.
~....~ is a dream sequence, probably not many, but there is at least one. =P
*~*~*~ are breaks in the story and switch of character roles
If anyone has problems with the accents in the first parts of the story let me know and i'll dumb them down a bit.
Warning: There is possible Yaoi between Vegeta and Radditz. but it will be later on, so if you're like me and want to read some yaoi and want it RIGHTNOW, you'll hafta wait. -.-
A clang of crashing metal upon metal echoed repeatedly through the sticky air. Two squadrons of armored men charged and clashed together, trying to run each other through with swords, others in a physical struggle. Dead bodies lay at their feet as they ran through streams of blood, sweat and shit. All were male, boys mostly, too young to know what they were fighting over or know any way to resolve a fight than to shred their enemies into a pile of refuse.
A man came charging through the crowd, sword held at his hip and pointed at his next victim. His dark hair was in mats of blood and mud around in head in a thick mane, the lengths of it touching the backs of his knees and running across the dented and soiled armor across his shoulders and chest. A battle cry ripped from his throat forming into a cacophony of screaming vocal chords that soon echoed their leaders initial cry. He drove the sword deep, sluing through hard armor and soft flesh. Putting a foot to the startled enemy, he pushed the body from his blade and turned for another blow.
Hours had passed that felt like days, the man turned slowly, stumbling over his own feet, to see the fallen troops behind him and trodden into the earth. Both sides had fallen, leaving soft sighs of pain and whispered last words, he was the last man standing. A lone figure stepped through the trees in front of him, a royal crest embossed on glistening chest armor. The bloodied warrior made a fist and placed it over his heart, bowing his head in respect before he fell unconscious.
Days later the field had been cleaned up. Before the families of the victims could remove their loved ones, D.S. had entered and gathered armor and weaponry. D.S. stood for Detritus Supplicants, but the peasants and commoners had taken to saying it meant Death Scavengers. D.S. had been imposed by he government to salvage any reusable armor and weapons, but they had taken their authority to a new level and helped themselves to personal items and heirlooms. Rarely, but known to happen, a soldiers' clothes would be removed to be sold on the street, usually back to the deceased's family.
The bodies still sat where they had fallen, families entering through the forest to find their children or husbands. Both sides of the battle were there, families from either side giving their condolences to the other as though there were no war between them. A small family entered the field, a massive man with head shaven bald and thick black mustache, his wife walking carefully beside him and a small, wiry boy gripping his mother's hand. Husband and wife walked to the first body, rolling him over slowly to reveal half of the flesh of his face torn away to the bone. Maggots crawled along the sinew and ligaments, feasting on the semi-decayed flesh. The woman placed a hand over her mouth to keep from retching, the young boy led her to a line of trees and handed her his canteen. The bald man watched them go before moving to another body, and then another.
He had spent several minutes moving along the seemingly endless field of dead, looking forlornly at the body at his feet he rolled the man over and heard a faint grunt. Shocked, he knelt beside and placed a hand over the man's chest. A slight rise and fall under his fingers and small sigh through the lips of the "dead" man and he rose to his feet. "Bite! Over 'ere' boy! Quickly!" A deep baritone with a thick accent boomed across the field. The young boy in the trees came to with a start and raced toward his father, leaping across bodies before finally coming to a rest. "Thees ones alive." Bite looked at his father in surprise before carefully checking the vital signs of the "dead" man.
He set the man's head gently into his small lap and pressed a canteen to his cracked lips. "Drink." Bite tipped the canteen slowly and watched as a small trickle went down his cheek, leaving a small stream of clean tanned skin in its wake. "Meestar, you must drink." A light fluttering of the man's eyelids and Bite pressed the flagon to his lips again. The man drank.
"Bite, you stay 'ere with these man, I'll find your brother." The bald man walked carefully away, checking faces as he went. He sat a while, watching the man's chest rise and fall, seeing him fight with consciousness as his muscles twitched and he grunted. His mother sat down beside him.
"He's alive." Bite looked up at his mother with large round eyes. She nodded and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket.
"I 'eard your father…is he well?" She poured some of the cool water from the canteen onto the cloth in her hand and began blotting the muck from the man's face.
Bite shrugged his skinny shoulders and nodded his head towards his father. His mother looked and saw the hefty man heave a familiar looking bulk onto his broad shoulders. Her eyes teamed as she turned away, concentrating on cleaning the man's face in front of her. As she bent down the eyes snapped open and a strong hand nearly crushed her dainty one as it hovered over his face.
"Eet's okay, meestar…you're among friends." Bite looked down at the man's face, whose eyes had shifted from his mother to Bite himself. The crushing hand relaxed and Bite saw his mother shrink away slightly before cautiously continuing her task.
"He is awake?" A deep voice called from across the field.
"Aye…for now." The woman's voice was small and was nearly lost in the space between her husband and herself. She hooked a finger around a lock of hair on the man's cheek and began to push it away when it caught violently and he sat upright and hissed air through his teeth. "Oh my…" The man brought a hand to his cheek and pulled it away again, a fresh flow of blood had covered his palm. Hooking his own finger through the clump of hair he yanked the ends out of the wound where they had been caught in the thick scab forming.
The quick flow of blood to his brain made his head spin, he set his forehead into his hand and placed a hand flat on the gooey ground beside him. A large shadow washed over him and he looked up slowly at the mammoth of a man with the body of a young boy over one shoulder. "Can you walk?" The man struggled for a moment, but stood on his own feet, although shakily. He took a step and began falling towards the ground when a strong hand grasped his arm and hauled him back to his feet again. He looked up at the bald man who was grinning, "Guess not, eh? 'Sokay, tha's why you have Nappa express." Managing a small crooked smile, the man winced as his lips cracked open and began to seep.
Nappa slouched slightly and bent a knee, heaved the man over his other shoulder and stood. The man's stomach was pressed tightly into Nappa's shoulder and as Nappa took the first steps out of the field he felt broken ribs screaming. His head reeled as he bounced on that thick shoulder.
"Wha's your name, soldier? Unless you'd prefer we call you the undead?" Bite walked behind his father and looked up at the man's face where it bobbed.
As his mind began to shut down and the shock started to fade from his ribs he looked at Bite and grinned, "Radditz."