Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Requiem in Blue ❯ Chapter Six: Shyai'gen ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“You can see quite plainly from these photos that the machine was damaged in the explosion. We’re not sure what caused it, Lady Bulma. But our technicians are working currently to repair it so we can continue with production.”
Bulma examined the photographs that the Mizuka-jin Iriyon Tsiki had handed her. Clearly, it hadn’t been sabotage, but she was not altogether sure how else there could have been such a glitch in the machinery.  She sighed and glared closely at the pictures, the area around the charred machine and the way the fire had eaten away at its sides. Finally, she stretched out her arm and handed the pictures back to Iriyon. The fish-nosed man accepted. Bulma groaned softly in irritation.
“This will set production back a good three months. It’s going to take more time than you think to repair that machine…you do realize that?” Bulma felt her dreams of quick reprieve fade slowly as the scientist gazed at her with distinct, forlorn admission.
“Yes, of course, Shal’ba Bulma...”
“Oh, honestly!” She scolded in his native tongue, “Stop speaking that mindless barbaric language. It’s quite bad enough that I have to listen to it from these monkeys every day. I won’t listen to it from your lips.”
Iriyon nodded slowly.
“Of course, Shaji Bulma.”
Bulma nodded and smiled.
“Forgive me, Iriyon, it’s been…” she sighed quietly, “quite a long afternoon.”
Irritation had begun to set in when she realized just how much advantage the Monkey Prince had taken from her. She would rectify that in time. And besides, when the machine was finished Bulma would have no use for her sexual prowess any longer. Perhaps she could finally gain some respect for herself.
“Lady Bulma, allow me to show you details on the production rate.” Iriyon redirected her attention, and she briefly forgot about the Saiya-jin Prince. “Despite today’s explosion, the items that encapsulate each weapon are being produced at a massive rate. I’d say, perhaps fifty every hour. If production continues in this way, perhaps our setback may even prove to be beneficial.”
Bulma thought on this. The technique of encapsulation weapons and equipment was a sure reproduction of her late father’s work. His genius mind had created and fertilized one of the richest companies in Japan: on the entire world of Chikyuu. Bulma had managed to salvage knowledge of the formulas and quantitative reasoning that had been required if she were to reproduce her father’s capsules. She’d drawn up plans nearly one year after learning how the Mizuka-jin possessed a propensity for technological learning that far exceeded the warrior race of the Saiya-jin. The only thing that now ragged on Bulma’s mind was how fast the Saiya-jin were acquiring a tech-base. It was partially her own fault, but nothing truly could have been done once Brolli had found her making that plasma rifle on the day he’d set her free.
“Yes,” She said finally, letting her mind roam with thoughts of the Kassha’hal. How very sad he had looked in the arena that day. Bulma smirked.
“Yes perhaps you’re right, Iriyon. The more time we have for producing weapons capsules then the more we have at our disposal.”  She paused and glanced out the glass window of the observation room.  “You’ll have to excuse me for now though. I’m afraid if I’m gone much longer I’ll be missed.  You must keep up this good work, Iriyon.  I will not forget all your people have done for me.”
Iriyon nodded and smiled through the gill-like structure of his mouth.  How very kind and resourceful his people were; quite the opposite of the Saiya-jin, who were cruel and destructive no matter their destination.  Bulma had formed the resistance group nearly ten months ago. Word had it that Furiza and the Aisu-jin were interested in allying with them, but she was unsure if Emperor Furiza had shared any information with the Saiya-jin. Since the Aash’an Raditsu was the last Saiya-jin to confer with the slick and sly Aisu-jin, she intended on finding out as soon as possible.
“Yes, Lady Bulma. Please, do be careful.”
Bulma nodded, smiling despite the pain she kept skillfully hidden behind it.
“I will, Iriyon. Keep a low profile…  Even here on Ten’rili, there are eyes. Everywhere.”


Brolli sat, reclined, on Bulma’s expansive bed inside her private chambers.  He’d gifted these to her after her citizenship ceremony, and he would never forget the look in her sparkling eyes when he’d first opened the doors to show her.  They’d been as bright as the sea, those gems of hers.  And her smile… Yes, he’d always remember that smile.  It was the one genuine thing he had ever seen etched into that beautiful face, carved like a sculpture by the loving hand of a practiced artist.  She had thrown her arms around his neck then, laughed, and let him rut her brainless – many times, he recalled – on that very bed.
But now, as he sat here waiting for her to return from wherever she had disappeared to, he wondered.  He wondered if her freedom hadn’t been the one thing he had given her that might lead her away from him instead of drawing her closer.  That was the problem with slaves, he thought with bitter doubt.  You never could tell just how much liberty to give them without making them feel too…  Confident.  Independent.  Vengeful.
Brolli heard her coming before he could smell her.  With some relief, he noted that she was not concealing her steps or even attempting to enter her rooms surreptitiously.  He fiddled with the tassel on a pillow absently as the ornate doors slid open, at the request of the comPanel.
She saw him instantly of course, and when she pressed her back against the doors to look at him he noted with a measure of dismay that her body was a taught line of apprehension.  There was a gentle sheen of perspiration near her hair line.  Absurdly, he felt the sudden desire to touch it.
“You’ve been gone for quite a while, lovely.”  He said then.  His voice was heavy, softened by the carved walls and furniture in the room.  “Any reason?”
He wondered then, what emotion it was that flicked across her gaze.  Bulma raised an eyebrow.
“My reasons are my own.” She replied, the usual vigor of her scathing humor gone.
Brolli’s jaw tightened with the change in her demeanor. He sat up on the bed and crossed his legs, then chuckled softly.  Already he could smell him on her:  Prince Vejiita.  Something inside of him had not broken yet, though, at this obvious display of her defiance.  Brolli looked at her then, really looked until she shifted in position against the door and stiffened her chin.
“Yes, I suppose they are,” he said, his voice teetering on the edge of seduction. He had not planned on it, but the wave of that scent coming from her body infuriated him. And although he would not admit it fully, it fueled a new kind of desire for her:  the possessive, wholly domineering kind. Curious as to how she would react, Brolli stretched out his palm and patted the bed space next to him.
He watched Bulma’s face for a moment, suddenly amused by the way it contorted into confusion and slight relaxation.  He had sat here for a while now, trying to come up with the little flame’s weakness; anything that could possibly bring her down the way she brought him down. She exploited his weaknesses, why couldn’t he? And after analyzing all that had occurred in the past few days, and seeing the look on her face at this moment, he suddenly knew her weakness through and through.
“I’m in no mood to play your lurid games, Shakan.  I’m quite tired and would like to nap before dinner.” Her response was what he had expected, but her retort lacked the usual potency and poison that came with it. Brolli grinned happily.
“Tired?  Shall I put my hands to good use and ease the tiredness from your limbs?”
He saw her watch him carefully, taking in every movement with the precision of a cat. She was no fool, but he only needed a few more moments…
“I’d rather bathe first, Shakan.  If you’ll forgive me. Perhaps I can take you up on your offer later.”
Brolli nearly sighed aloud in satisfaction. There was the first brick of her impenetrable wall, now for the next. He frowned rather pitifully, going against his better principles.
“Have you forgotten, Lady Bulma?  The King has called a meeting of state, and I am to attend. No doubt, it will go on for hours. I don’t think I’m willing to wait so long.”
Bulma became indignant, and her face flashed a brilliant shade of red.
“Honestly, Brolli!  Is that all you monkeys do is mate?”
With those words, the edge of Brolli’s patience was all but gone.  But he did not allow it to show, knowing she would possibly derive more delight from that than all the physical pleasure he could ever give her. He took a deep breath and leaned back on his powerful arms.
“Bulma…” He said, with great effort. Her face seemed to tighten at the sound of her name on his lips.  “Your insolence used to be attractive, but now all it does is annoy me.”
Bulma’s eyebrows arched clear off of her forehead, and she stifled a laugh.  She then covered the outburst of it with her mouth. Brolli clenched his jaw muscles tightly, and when she had gained control of herself, she said,
“Insolence?” She said through gasps of air.  “Gods, Brolli!  You have such a keen sense of humor. Since when does a free woman have to watch her insolence, hmm?”
Brolli had tried long enough, he decided, and he dematerialized. Bulma stopped laughing when he appeared in front of her. His ki was flaring a deep shade of blue, mirroring the blaze of her hair. Brolli stepped forward and leaned into her face.  Her body shuddered visibly.
“I think sometimes, Lady Bulma, that you fail to remember just who I am.  Gods…  I could rip out your pretty throat if I really wanted to, do you know that? Or have you forgotten? I could stop your heart with a flick of my wrist!”
Her eyes were wide with horrified anger now, all traces of cynicism and laughter gone from her sea-blue gems. She was shaking, and the sheen of sweat on her neck was elevating the scent of the Prince on her skin.  It tingled inside his already heightened sense of smell. He snarled softly, running a burning finger down the curve of her neck. She gasped angrily.
“How dare you!” She snapped, but he noted that she did not brush his finger away.  “You wouldn’t touch me to kill me, not even if I spoke out as your sworn enemy, Brolli.  And you know it!”
Her words caused a rush of livid desire to course through his heated veins. Brolli cursed his libido and let his eyes flash a brilliant shade of turquoise, just to remind her again.
“Are you sure about that, lovely?” His hand fell down to the soft curve of her heaving breasts, and he traced the outline of her nipple. Bulma let out a snarl of her own and stepped away from him. Anger had clouded his reason, and he gripped her arm, twisting it behind her back. She growled aloud this time and struggled in his grip. Brolli lowered his mouth to her neck. She stopped struggling when he began to speak.
“Do you think I can’t smell him all over you?  Do you think I can’t smell the Prince on your skin?”
Bulma’s chest heaved with the force of her breathing, and she trembled under his probing free hand. It drew lazy circles on her abdomen.
“I am not your slave, Brolli!” She hissed. “And besides,” she gasped for air as his hand snaked lower against her thigh.  “Believe whatever you want!  If you smell him on me it’s only because he cornered me. Much as you would like to place the blame on me, I was not the pursuer.”
Brolli chuckled again, his voice rumbling against her skin, and Bulma shuddered once more.
“I’m not concerned with that, Lady Bulma.”  Brolli’s voice husked in her ear, “But, perhaps you should be aware; you may not be my slave now, but I could easily, and would gladly make you one again. I could keep you chained to my bed day and night, larushinta… I’d have you squirming and screaming for me to touch you every fucking night! And you wouldn’t have a word to say about it--would you?”
Bulma’s lips twitched, and just a trace of fear flashed through her face when he looked at her again.  Those dangerous, plump petals curled around her teeth daintily as she smiled.
“I suppose not, Kassha’hal.”  She replied, her voice thick with loathing. He could feel that hatred all the way down to his bones. “So?” She said, “Make me your slave again, Brolli! Do it!  Then you can use me just like any other whore. Is that what you want, Kassha’hal? To see your precious blue goddess waste away, chained to the foot of your furniture?”
To his own surprise, Brolli’s grip on her arm tightened, and he leaned forward to lick her neck.  Just before he lost sight of them, he saw that her eyes had turned a shade of dark blue and that they were wide with shock.
“If it would calm that tongue of yours, Lady Bulma, perhaps I would.”
Bulma’s muscles tensed against him as he took both sides of her face in his hands.  At first contact, she struggled against his kiss.  But there was a kind of sweet acceptance in her mouth once she realized she was fighting a losing battle by struggling from his hold. His hands firmly gripped her backside and shoved her against him.
Before she could change her mind, he had her pushed up against the wall, her legs encircling his powerful waist. Brolli’s obvious, hot arousal pressed into her warm center but he paused, hovering over her as though he were unsure of his next action. She gazed longingly down into his lustful gaze, and then suddenly the tenor in his chest changed.  He felt angry and possessive, wholly commanding as he gripped her waist again.  She whimpered against the pain it surely caused.
“Everything you are belongs to me, Blue Goddess,” he whispered cruelly.  Her lips trembled as she gasped against his mouth.  “Don’t forget, you are nothing without me.”
Bulma continued to stare at him in outrage and confusion until he pushed his painfully hard cock into her quickly and forcefully.  When she squealed, and threw her head against the door, he knew he had gone too far.  Dammit, he’d wanted to do it slowly…  Love her, caress her, adore her...  That was her weakness, he’d learned.  That was what she truly wanted, and never allowed.
But as she dug her fingernails into his magnificent back, full of anger and passion, he was already too far gone.  He pumped himself into her so hard, so fast now that she was already keening against his shoulder and tugging at the hair on the back of his neck.  Her sweat-slicked thighs clutched at his hips, and she begged – no – ordered him for release.  The gods damn her!  Damn her to a thousand afterlives of torment!  He bit the soft lobe of her ear and hissed into it.
“I promise you, larushinta…  I promise you, lover.  You will never want another man by the time I’ve finished with you. You’ll know there is only me.  Only me for the rest of your life.”

Vejiita-Zarshi pressed his back into the padded chair that sat next to his father’s empty one.  At the head of this long table, the lot of them looked daunting enough, he decided. This meeting had a simple purpose; to decide what to do about those slick-skinned Aisu-jin bastards. Just thinking of that pretentious, purple-headed freak, Furiza, made Vejiita’s blood boil. He’d seen enough of the Aisu-jin Emperor in the past year to last him twelve lifetimes.  The Aisu-jin had long been open about their distaste for the Saiya-jin Empire.  The war to win Yuki-sei had been long and bloody, from what Vejiita remembered as a young boy.  But the Aisu-jin planet was rich in valuable resources; the Saiya-jin had not given up so easily before victory.
Sadly, the time for talk had well passed for the Saiya-jin and the Aisu-jin.  Furiza had enough military power behind him now to initiate a full-scale attack, and Vejiita was convinced that Furiza had every intention of doing so if they did not respond to his requests simply and quietly.  
And the requests? Vejiita was hard-pressed to accept any one of them as heart-felt and genuine. After his most recent conversation with the Aash’an Raditsu, he had managed to convince his father that Furiza’s generosity could very well just be a ploy to mask his true intentions.
The decision to involve the Shakan Brolli in this action had been a subject of heated debate. Many, including the Prince himself, objected to Brolli’s involvement simply because he was far from expendable. The Saiya-jin Empire had yet to discover what kind of tech-base the Aisu-jin housed within their walls, and the gods only knew what kind of weaponry they had in their possession. And since Vejiita had heard about a possible Mizuka-jin resistance faction in league with Emperor Furiza from Raditsu…the risks were too great to name. Even Vejiita could admit that he had yet to achieve the kind of ascension that Brolli had been able to…though he intended to do just that.
But many agreed with the Shakan’s involvement, saying that with his strength, and the combined forces of Vejiita-Zarshi and their army of Elite warriors, a strong tech-base would mean precisely dick for the Aisu-jin in the grand scheme of things.
Vejiita had to chuckle to himself when he thought of this naïve assumption. The advisors and guards that his father kept so close to heart had grown old and ignorant, much like the King himself, and would not admit to any kind of fault or defect within the Empire. But Vejiita saw many defects…  Many indeed.
The council was quickly brought to order when the King entered, Brolli following close behind him. Vejiita noted the rather uneasy demeanor of the Kassha’hal as he shifted in his seat. He wondered, absurdly, whether or not Brolli had had the chance to smell him all over his precious Chikyuu-jin…
Every warrior and guard was now on his or her feet, and Vejiita joined them, crossing his arms indignantly across his broad chest. Once the King had taken his seat beside the Prince, each Saiya-jin followed suit and waited for him to begin the discussion. The Prince, however, was well aware that this “discussion” could quickly turn into a frenzied argument if each elder, advisor and soldier had his or her say.
Vejiita let his eyes rest upon the Kassha’hal briefly. Brolli’s eyes pinpricked every being present in the room, and Vejiita had to suppress a smirk of admiration. The man certainly had his bearings; he never left a stone unturned. After all, the Empire had not been without scandal in the forty years his father had been King. Everywhere, there were eyes.  And everywhere there were a pair waiting to stab you in the back.
Brolli’s eyes came to rest upon him, and they regarded him nearly as cautiously and virally as he had eyed the others in the room. Vejiita let a crushing and thoroughly poisonous smile creep across his mouth as the bigger warrior glared in his direction, and he narrowed his eyes.  So he had smelled him on his blue goddess.  Good… Before Vejiita had the chance to chuckle, his father stood.
“I would call upon the Shakan Brolli to begin this council,” he said, the booming tones of his voice echoing in the hall, “Kassha’hal, would you please?” Brolli’s eyes left Vejiita’s, and the Prince watched curiously as the other man stood.
“Suukah, Zarshon-kalan.”  He replied, pressing his palms together. After a few more seconds of silence, he said, “It has recently come to my attention, that there is a small resistance faction in existence among the natives of Mizukashi.
“Word has it that they operate off world, explaining why I have had no knowledge of it until now. We are not sure yet, but they may be allied with the Emperor Furiza and the subordinate worlds to which he holds a certain sway.” Brolli paused, and tilted his head towards the Prince, more or less for effect Vejiita decided. His eyes shifted to the Raditsu.
“Aash’an, you say that when you met with the Aisu-jin, they were particularly amiable?”
Raditsu nodded, and Vejiita saw him move slightly in his chair.
“Yes, Kassha’hal,” he replied, “the Aisu-jin have never been so hospitable. They were, however, most interested in Mizukashi.  Furiza seemed anxious to increase several mineral deposit shipments at no extra cost to our credit, as long as we allowed him to begin shipment to Mizukashi.  He was insistent in this.”
“And what is the ‘penalty’ if we do not accept his offer?” The King cut in. Raditsu stretched his neck out and leaned forward.
“They made no outward threats, My King,” he replied, “but I would not overlook one just yet. The Emperor Furiza, though long a subordinate of our Empire, has several hundred source and trade routes ready to provide him with everything he needs to launch a rebellious on Vejiita-sei herself. It would be--ill-advised to underestimate them.”
“Well said, Raditsu,” the King said, then motioned back to Brolli. “Kassha’hal, you have great influence and power on Mizukashi, not to mention strong knowledge of their native habits and intelligence factors, their contacts and interests. What do you say? Is it possible that the Mizuka-jin have made a secret alliance with the Aisu-jin?”
Vejiita watched Brolli carefully, and he was slightly disappointed to see that the Shakan had come to this meeting of state fully prepared and confident in his knowledge. Vejiita had hoped for at least a partial disappointment.  It would raise his own position on the bar so to speak.
Brolli shrugged, noncommittal.
“I am unsure of the facts, Zarshon-kalan…” he said, and then, “But I am sure that there are many Mizuka-jin who are distrustful and hateful towards the Empire, Sire. Many of them adore me.  They adore your decision to make them into a sovereign world under your crown. But many of them do not. It is not implausible to say that this ‘resistance faction’ could have allied with Furiza—?”
“But you, with all your great strength, Kassha’hal,” an elite warrior chimed in, “would that not be enough to quell this little rebellion? Surely, with an army behind you, you could wipe them out in less than a day.”
Brolli smirked, and Vejiita was slightly impressed by the way it resembled his own. The Shakan replied in the way Vejiita had hoped he would.
“I appreciate your confidence, Officer.”  He replied with a smarmy grin.  “But even with the extreme power you witnessed today in the arena, I would be hard pressed to avoid plasma rifles and ultra-sonic cannons. None of the warriors here today would have a chance of surviving a direct hit by either of them. And the gods only know what other kinds of weaponry the Aisu-jin could have at their disposal.”
“What say you, my son?”  The King turned to Vejiita.  What have you learned from the natives after being here only two days?”
Vejiita lifted his elbow from the table and sat up straight. He could see the way Brolli eyed him again, eagerly awaiting his response. Vejiita cleared his throat.
“I know only this; the Mizuka-jin tech base is historically more advanced than ours. But, it is quite obvious that they lack the energy manipulating techniques and brute force that power our own army.  Before Furiza can convince them that his cause is superior to ours, I say we make a better offer.”
There was a low rumble of agreement, and Vejiita saw Brolli tilting his head to the side and nodding in reluctant agreement. The Shakan smiled a waning smile and reclaimed his seat. The king stood again.
“Very well, then.”  He concluded with a sigh.  “What say you, members of the council? Do we work with Mizukashi against Yuki-sei? Or do we agree to Furiza’s terms?
The vote was unanimous for a tech treaty with Mizukashi.  Vejiita admitted privately that it may not completely eradicate the rebellion, but could quell and subvert it back to their advantage.  After the meeting was dismissed, Vejiita waited by the door with his father until they left. After a short walk down the corridor, he leaned to his father and told him that he’d be retiring to his chambers until dinner. The King nodded and continued a particularly boring conversation with the officer beside him.
Vejiita ‘hmphed’ and made his way down the east hall of the palace towards the guest wing.  Perhaps, after a much needed soak in his tub, he could visit the Chikyuu-jin Bulma’s chambers.  He wondered if, by now, she’d already been waiting for him with a bow tied around that soft, silky neck of hers.
His ruminations were cut off directly by the materialization of the Kassha’hal Brolli. He watched as the warrior sparkled into view, and his fingers dropped from his forehead. Vejiita stared at him for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, yet curious as to why the man had interrupted his stride. Brolli stood; staring also, and then took a deep breath.
“I see you have no love for the Aisu-jin, Zarshi-kalan. I had hoped that we were on the same wavelength.”
Vejiita’s eyes narrowed considerably, and he tightened his fists against his chest. What was the fool getting at anyway? He nodded curtly, but said, “I appreciate your concern, Brolli, and your loyalty.  But I don’t believe that’s why you’ve stopped me in the middle of the hallway.”
Brolli’s eyes sparked brightly with the light of confrontation. Gods, it was so Saiya-jin that it made Vejiita’s head sing with the thrill of the dothra-saahkehm:  the blood-scent, as it was known to them. Brolli lifted his chin a bit and crossed his own arms in a defensive stance.
“You have keen observation, My Prince.”  He said. Vejiita smiled, very slowly and very calmly.
“How a-propos, Kassha’hal, I was just thinking the very same thing about you. But you see, none of us can afford not to be observant—least of all me.”
Brolli nodded slowly and let his nostrils flare.
“Truly stated, Prince Vejiita.  Suukah.”
Vejiita gritted his teeth together and felt something in his blood begin to boil.
“I’m rather in a hurry, Kassha’hal.  Forgive my rudeness, but would you get directly to the point?”
Brolli tried to remain respectful, he noted, but was wavering upon the edge of insolence as he spoke.
“I see you’ve taken a liking to the Shal’ba Bulma,” he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, “or rather, I suppose I should say I smell it.”
Vejiita lifted his left eyebrow.  What a keen sense of humor Brolli had!  Surely, he was not jealous or, gods forbid, territorial in the regard of the Chikyuu-jin.
“Perhaps I have, Kassha’hal,” Vejiita admitted, his mouth quirked spastically.  “Is there something you find—displeasing about that, Brolli?”
Brolli’s lips, Vejiita saw with surprise, were twisting into a snarl.
“Do you mean to mate with her?” Brolli growled, his nostrils flaring dangerously and his aura changing colors rapidly.
Vejiita was taken aback by the informalities being thrown around as though he were a third-class soldier. Brolli was not of a low class either, what exactly was he attempting? Vejiita shifted on his feet.
“I don’t believe it’s any of your business, regardless of the fact that I’m speaking with you, Kassha’hal. The Prince of Vejiita-sei may mate with whomever he pleases.”
Brolli had the balls to chuckle heartily.
“Then you have no idea what you’re walking into, do you, Zarshi-kalan?” He asked, staring down his nose at Vejiita as though he were the Prince. Vejiita flared his jal’a suddenly, and Brolli only backed down only a few inches. He clenched his fists and brought them down from his chest.
“Guard your tongue, Kassha’hal, or I will see fit to have you confined—after I’ve blasted your reproductive organs to fuck all.”
Brolli did not fall to his knee as he should have, and Vejiita knew at that point that the Governor of Mizukashi had been too poisoned by the female to think clearly and rationally. The Kassha’hal struck his energy instead of flaring it, and Vejiita had to brace himself for the energy storm. He ground his feet into the marble surface below them. Brolli flattened his palms.
“Could you?”  He snarled, his voice morphing into the monstrous growl Vejiita had heard only yesterday in the arena.  Vejiita roared aloud and restrained himself from reaching inside the man’s chest to rip out his heart.
“How DARE you!” He bellowed. “Perhaps you should get a grip on your cock, Brolli, before it gets you killed!”
The Kassha’hal called out in rage and flashed his eyes a brilliant blue. Vejiita had to admit his slight anxiety, as he recalled with vivid memory the feeling of being pummeled to the ground by Brolli’s fists.  But he held his ground out of sheer rage.
“If you mean to claim what is mine, I have no choice--!” He paused and slapped his palms together once, then stretched out his arms wide and waited.  “You will accept my challenge, Prince Vejiita!  I call your strength to a jyuu-shallak!”
Vejiita was utterly astounded.  That a warrior such as Brolli would call an ancient challenge to claim possession of a female was unheard of!  But Vejiita, in his rage and under the shadow of his bruised ego, held out his own arms parallel to Brolli’s and flared ki spheres in between their hands.
“Then you shall have it, Kassha’hal!”  Vejiita shouted above the howling energy storm around them.  “Jyuu-shallak it shall be!”