Saving Namek

There was a warm and deep hum. The Namekian air buzzed and shimmered. A large 10 foot by 5 foot silver capsule materialized and the front panel slide open to reveal an interior larger than the exterior. Cyril stepped out wearing a long coat and a scarf. Ever since Makoto had razed part of Namek it had grown cold in other parts of the world. Cyril floated a couple hundred feet above the planet. Namekians buzzed about below him trying to conduct the refugees to other villages where they would be inducted into the family and where they would resume life there. Other, more powerful, Namekians stood about the destruction created by Makoto and talked quietly about reconstruction and the effect it was having on Namek’s ecosystem. Cyril watched them as they all stopped talking and shook their heads dejectedly. The group of important Namekians disbanded with hopeless looks and joined the throng of other Namekians who were aiding the refugees. Cyril saw one of the more powerful Namekians stop what he was doing and look up. He had sensed Cyril. The Namekian was familiar to us, he was the leader of the band of rogues who had been in possession of Piccolo’s cape and turban. He was now, supposed Cyril, also the leader of the village who Makoto had literally devoured. The Namekian looked up with hollow eyes and gave a small shake of his head. Cyril knew what that meant for he had seen that reaction many times over the years. It was the condemnation of a planet. Namek would soon become unstable and their entire way of life would be destroyed. The Namekian looked back down and began consoling a grieving family of displaced Namekians.
The cold wind ripped at Cyril high above the native’s heads. He bore a look of great concentration and his aura of white ki whipped into existence around him. Cyril’s ki thickened and grew darker. The wind howled around him as his ki ripped elements from the space around him. His now bright and multicolored ki dug underneath his clothes and Cyril himself disappeared from view. The wind howled but it couldn’t be heard for the transformation happening hundreds of feet above the Namekian refugees’ heads. Cyril’s ki settled slowly and became white again. Cyril was, for the moment, no longer the pale skinned human. He was now a tall, but gentle, Namekian. Cyril entered the space ship and examined the control panel carefully. “Computer,” Cyril was surprised by his new voice and he stopped. “Computer,” He began again, “is the creation of the terraform desk complete?” The ship hummed and a large, sturdy, metal desk began glowing from the corner of the room. Cyril crossed the room silently and picked up the heavy desk. Cyril, with desk in tow, flew down to the center of the destruction and the crowd of Namekians grew silent. This day in history would be known forever as the Great Restoration. It would be said that a tall Namekian dropped from the sky and with a great sigh the ground beneath him was refurbished and it grew tall with hills once more. It would be said that a mountain rose under his touch and that rivers flowed once more because of the tears he shed for the lives lost. And then the Namekian flew into the sky and disappeared forever. No one mention the weird silver table he carried, nor the fact the it had seemed to fix everything, not him. That wouldn’t make a very good story would it?
Cyril returned to his ship and turned back into his normal form. A faint outline of wings could be seen if one was looking. But no one was.


Word Count: 622 (This was for Savior trans)

https://newhoap.rpg-board.net/t46-original-topic-name-iv#251
https://newhoap.rpg-board.net/t109p80-descent-open-to-all
https://newhoap.rpg-board.net/t161p20-the-first-summoning#999
https://newhoap.rpg-board.net/t213p20-s1-earth#1727
https://newhoap.rpg-board.net/t215-s1-silver-palace#1609

Savior gained.