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Description
Commission by /u/dreb_28. Please give this man more work to do, he was excellent!

"Reply of the Kokozarene Saiyans"

Obviously taken from the classic artwork of Ilya Repin, Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks.

In the context here, this depicts a bunch of male and female Yabans from Kokozar, an extremely martial and Titanistic nation on Planet Kollidor, penning an extraordinarily crude letter to the king of a rival nation, presumably a Jinkai warlord.

If you're coming here without the proper context, this is part of the Yabanverse

... a worldbuilding project of mine about a subspecies of Saiyans known as "Yabans." The "Jinkai" are essentially the Tsufruians of Kollidor, except they have not been exterminated, and instead serve more to help make Kollidor feel more like a brutal fantasy world. As of right now, the actual narrative part of the Yabanverse is just getting started with the slice-of-life story known as Little Miss Savage which certainly is not a primeval fantasy story in the slightest (instead being more of a shmaltzy 90s-nostalgia-pandering reverse-isekai-into-the-real-world story), but eventually it'll grow into a full verse showcase.

However, I deliberately commissioned it to be vague enough to be useful in a more Dragon Ball context, because when I saw the final product, the first thing I thought of was "imagine a bunch of Saiyans penning a rebellious letter to Freeza-sama."
I'd love to hear someone remake the original letter in that context too.

Read Little Miss Savage here!
LMS 1: Little Miss Savage! Part 1,"Bang!"Down went the baboon. Its brother stood over with a forked branch, ready to deliver another blow. The human crowd above held their breath and aimed their cameras. One human squeezed the handle of a navy blue duffle bag.Vicente Xaxalpa looked towards the primate enclosure with a smirk. He stood clad in a green zoot suit and matching panama hat. Heavy and distorted, a woman’s voice spoke to the whooping crowd: "They're known to be violent. One of the most violent primates after humans and chimpanzees.""Why are they fighting?" a passerby sporting frosted tips asked.Vicente twisted and lifted the brim of his hat. The answer, "Nacho pushed Kosha into the pond," earned a nasty laugh.Then he added, “Then again, monkeys love fighting. They don't need a reason.”THWACK!!The crowd hollered again: down below, Kosha ripped the branch out of Nacho's hands and smacked him with it until he learned a primal lesson. The monkey made a new move against its prowling brother: strength in numbers. Other baboons crowded around, several taking on defensive postures. Each new motion and individual doubled the tension.Vicente spoke again, "I'd like to imagine that if they had sapience, they'd prove once and for all to us humans that we are not as degenerate as we think we are.” He clutched his duffle bag so tight that the polyester nearly fused with his palm. “There’s always going to be more insane creatures out there.”,Vicente adjusted his glasses with a nudge and walked on, handling the duffle bag with greater care until the man threw his arm under the bottom to lift it to a more comfortable level. Doing so brought him nearly to his knees with a yell, and a passerby attempted to catch him.“I’m okay,” he said, “I’m okay! Heh heh! Wasn’t paying attention, is all.”Yet he did not attempt to meet his helper’s gaze, instead looking to see if the bag had torn or opened. Satisfied to see it still intact, he rebalanced himself and rushed onwards before the person could speak.This bright sunshine, the happy crowds, the mellow air and green trees, it filled Vicente with a passion for life and a love for living. As if nothing had happened, he strode down a stone tile path, keeping the duffle bag close over his shoulder. That bag swayed him about, and with effort, he kept himself steady. The bag slung over his shoulder turned the heads of multiple passersby who had to convince themselves it was real. However, Vicente did not struggle with its weight— only its form and having to navigate such a cumbersome size in a tight crowd.Soon he came upon a map, but he passed it without examining it deeply. Onwards he went 'round the curved walkways, over streams and through dark tunnels, passing by patrons of all sorts. Schoolchildren on a field trip, young lovebirds clad in baggy clothes eager to see the exotic animals, families off from whatever obligations, kids ignoring the real creatures for Pokémon cards, whatever they did for whatever reason, he felt good vibes towards them all. Beneath the junipers and magnolias, the sun broke through in large and small shining dapples against the ground, striking azaleas and mossy rocks as if feeding them. It was a good day, clear and cool. He passed a stand, built like the old ones, where they sold tickets. People wanted to see the animals. So did he. Everyone and everything was a part of it— the sun, the trees, the people, the animals both free and caged. Above all, there was a feeling of something good, something like peace or maybe a rest, the kind you only get when you walk in triumph.Vicente never felt this good. Then again he stumbled as if the duffle bag pulled him down. Winded, he gasped and checked again to see if the bag ripped. Vicente kept close the duffle bag, its weight significant and fluid. From behind came another passerby, and again, Vicente tried to hurry off. Yet this time, he paused. "Vicente, what the devil do you have in there? A piece of the moon?" The man’s voice was light, teasing, but his eyes betrayed a keen interest. Vicente turned around, chuckling."Just the usual, just some new trouble," Vicente replied, his smile a tight line. "Caught something new recently, though."“Is that right?” the man asked. The sun glinted off of his name tag, “Dr. DuBarry.” His rotund figure was a fine brace for Vicente, helping him to stand upright. Yet as he pulled his friend to his feet, Dr. DuBarry’s face soured. “Did you trip?” The floor offered no hint of any kind of trouble.Furthering his confusion, Vicente replied to him, “No, just the bag got me.”“Why is it so big? Whatchu you got in there, son? It feels weightless.” Vicente answered with a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, and nodded towards the distant veterinarian office beyond the gate of the bird exhibits. “Like I said, just a new problem. I figured you’d want to see it, so I raced here as fast as I could.” Gasping off the last of the shock stumble, Vicente pat the bag harder than necessary. “Carrying it in open daylight, eh? And you say it's a new problem!” Dr. DuBarry scoffed and walked ahead. “Alright, alright, I’ve been waiting for a new specimen. If you’re proud of this catch of yours, we can head in now.” All at once, the volume of the air increased as a crowd cheered and jeered. Vicente and the doctor looked back to the baboons. Kosha sprung and chased Nacho across the enclosure with ear-tearing screeches and squeals. Then came the clapping and whoops from the humans when Nacho slipped on a patch of mud straight into the cold waters. To celebrate, Kosha watched his brother for several seconds more and then knuckle-walked to a clearing where he fed on illegal audience-tossed fruits and nachos. The crowd of baboons did nothing. The two men liked to think they were giving him the old 'Stop fighting and don't ever do that again (but that was totally cool)' treatment. And the other primates, the humans, kept their hollers loud til a fade-out. They began their brisk walk away from the primates, and Vicente turned to Dr. DuBarry and said, "People love watching monkeys fight.”"Oh I'm very aware. I remember working in Tanzania a few years back in ‘95— I've told you this, right?""A few times but different things each time."With a terse grin, he nodded and said, "Well, the point is, I'm aware of the life cycle of primates. The howling, the prowling, the swinging. The mating. The screaming, the eating, the fighting. And every step of the way, there's the humans desperately watching as if it's the first time they've ever seen anything in their lives. "The life of a simian's always going to have the certain impulses and streams of action," he went on.As they walked, Dr. DuBarry’s eyes kept falling upon the young man’s peculiar duffle bag. The handle would've snapped if tugged any harder. A chance glance brought his eyes to Vicente's hand— the strain on those muscles! His friend’s olive skin seemed to darken to a pained ruddiness, and his fingers tore into his palm to the point that any more pressure would've broken the skin.This didn't beguile the doctor anywhere near as much as the matter of why. Nothing was in the duffle bag— nothing. For all of Vicente's tenseness, he did not struggle against its weight anymore. It floated and flopped about with every bit of motion. Nothing seemed to settle upon the bottom, nor did anything within, if there was anything tangible within, press against the sides. Whatever Vicente carried did not warrant such a conspicuous display. Yet that display suggested a respect to whatever he carried. “Do you have a bleeding nuclear bomb in there—”As Vicente tried to reply, he staggered. Blue and brown uniform, walkie talkie, segway, and 1970s mustache = zoo security. What grip he had on the handle tightened once again to near fusion."Pleasant afternoon, officer." The other eyes shifted back, forth, and down. "Hey there. Just wanted to check the bag, is all.""If you must, though I ought to warn you..." He lifted the bag higher with a twitch and swung it around. "You won't find much in here."Dr. DuBarry smiled and said, "It's alright, Mr. Vance. My friend here is trustworthy enough. Unlike some more suspicious faces." He aimed his body forward, and Vance looked over his shoulder.Vicente saw a sketchy man clad head to toe in white, lording over two enraptured goth girls. He scowled and looked back to Vance. One last glance at the duffle bag convinced Vance of something, though of what Vicente could not know. Only that he pardoned himself and rolled towards the man in white.The exhale that erupted from Vicente's lips turned several heads. Dr. DuBarry frowned. Vicente bowed slightly and turned back to the doctor as they descended upon a curved incline towards a door meant only for staff and disappeared into the halls. “I promise, what I have in here will be worth your time.”Dr. DuBarry followed, his eyes squinting as the sun's light blackened the room ahead till he strolled in.

Or here:
Little Miss Savage on RoyalRoad (most recommended!)
Little Miss Savage on FanFiction.Net
Little Miss Savage on Wattpad
Little Miss Savage on Archive of Our Own

Eventually I'll get around to opening a Patreon, where donations could help me pay to commission a regular webcomic version of the story.

Description
Commission by /u/dreb_28. Please give this man more work to do, he was excellent!

"Reply of the Kokozarene Saiyans"

Obviously taken from the classic artwork of Ilya Repin, Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks.

In the context here, this depicts a bunch of male and female Yabans from Kokozar, an extremely martial and Titanistic nation on Planet Kollidor, penning an extraordinarily crude letter to the king of a rival nation, presumably a Jinkai warlord.

If you're coming here without the proper context, this is part of the Yabanverse

... a worldbuilding project of mine about a subspecies of Saiyans known as "Yabans." The "Jinkai" are essentially the Tsufruians of Kollidor, except they have not been exterminated, and instead serve more to help make Kollidor feel more like a brutal fantasy world. As of right now, the actual narrative part of the Yabanverse is just getting started with the slice-of-life story known as Little Miss Savage which certainly is not a primeval fantasy story in the slightest (instead being more of a shmaltzy 90s-nostalgia-pandering reverse-isekai-into-the-real-world story), but eventually it'll grow into a full verse showcase.

However, I deliberately commissioned it to be vague enough to be useful in a more Dragon Ball context, because when I saw the final product, the first thing I thought of was "imagine a bunch of Saiyans penning a rebellious letter to Freeza-sama."
I'd love to hear someone remake the original letter in that context too.

Read Little Miss Savage here!
LMS 1: Little Miss Savage! Part 1,"Bang!"Down went the baboon. Its brother stood over with a forked branch, ready to deliver another blow. The human crowd above held their breath and aimed their cameras. One human squeezed the handle of a navy blue duffle bag.Vicente Xaxalpa looked towards the primate enclosure with a smirk. He stood clad in a green zoot suit and matching panama hat. Heavy and distorted, a woman’s voice spoke to the whooping crowd: "They're known to be violent. One of the most violent primates after humans and chimpanzees.""Why are they fighting?" a passerby sporting frosted tips asked.Vicente twisted and lifted the brim of his hat. The answer, "Nacho pushed Kosha into the pond," earned a nasty laugh.Then he added, “Then again, monkeys love fighting. They don't need a reason.”THWACK!!The crowd hollered again: down below, Kosha ripped the branch out of Nacho's hands and smacked him with it until he learned a primal lesson. The monkey made a new move against its prowling brother: strength in numbers. Other baboons crowded around, several taking on defensive postures. Each new motion and individual doubled the tension.Vicente spoke again, "I'd like to imagine that if they had sapience, they'd prove once and for all to us humans that we are not as degenerate as we think we are.” He clutched his duffle bag so tight that the polyester nearly fused with his palm. “There’s always going to be more insane creatures out there.”,Vicente adjusted his glasses with a nudge and walked on, handling the duffle bag with greater care until the man threw his arm under the bottom to lift it to a more comfortable level. Doing so brought him nearly to his knees with a yell, and a passerby attempted to catch him.“I’m okay,” he said, “I’m okay! Heh heh! Wasn’t paying attention, is all.”Yet he did not attempt to meet his helper’s gaze, instead looking to see if the bag had torn or opened. Satisfied to see it still intact, he rebalanced himself and rushed onwards before the person could speak.This bright sunshine, the happy crowds, the mellow air and green trees, it filled Vicente with a passion for life and a love for living. As if nothing had happened, he strode down a stone tile path, keeping the duffle bag close over his shoulder. That bag swayed him about, and with effort, he kept himself steady. The bag slung over his shoulder turned the heads of multiple passersby who had to convince themselves it was real. However, Vicente did not struggle with its weight— only its form and having to navigate such a cumbersome size in a tight crowd.Soon he came upon a map, but he passed it without examining it deeply. Onwards he went 'round the curved walkways, over streams and through dark tunnels, passing by patrons of all sorts. Schoolchildren on a field trip, young lovebirds clad in baggy clothes eager to see the exotic animals, families off from whatever obligations, kids ignoring the real creatures for Pokémon cards, whatever they did for whatever reason, he felt good vibes towards them all. Beneath the junipers and magnolias, the sun broke through in large and small shining dapples against the ground, striking azaleas and mossy rocks as if feeding them. It was a good day, clear and cool. He passed a stand, built like the old ones, where they sold tickets. People wanted to see the animals. So did he. Everyone and everything was a part of it— the sun, the trees, the people, the animals both free and caged. Above all, there was a feeling of something good, something like peace or maybe a rest, the kind you only get when you walk in triumph.Vicente never felt this good. Then again he stumbled as if the duffle bag pulled him down. Winded, he gasped and checked again to see if the bag ripped. Vicente kept close the duffle bag, its weight significant and fluid. From behind came another passerby, and again, Vicente tried to hurry off. Yet this time, he paused. "Vicente, what the devil do you have in there? A piece of the moon?" The man’s voice was light, teasing, but his eyes betrayed a keen interest. Vicente turned around, chuckling."Just the usual, just some new trouble," Vicente replied, his smile a tight line. "Caught something new recently, though."“Is that right?” the man asked. The sun glinted off of his name tag, “Dr. DuBarry.” His rotund figure was a fine brace for Vicente, helping him to stand upright. Yet as he pulled his friend to his feet, Dr. DuBarry’s face soured. “Did you trip?” The floor offered no hint of any kind of trouble.Furthering his confusion, Vicente replied to him, “No, just the bag got me.”“Why is it so big? Whatchu you got in there, son? It feels weightless.” Vicente answered with a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, and nodded towards the distant veterinarian office beyond the gate of the bird exhibits. “Like I said, just a new problem. I figured you’d want to see it, so I raced here as fast as I could.” Gasping off the last of the shock stumble, Vicente pat the bag harder than necessary. “Carrying it in open daylight, eh? And you say it's a new problem!” Dr. DuBarry scoffed and walked ahead. “Alright, alright, I’ve been waiting for a new specimen. If you’re proud of this catch of yours, we can head in now.” All at once, the volume of the air increased as a crowd cheered and jeered. Vicente and the doctor looked back to the baboons. Kosha sprung and chased Nacho across the enclosure with ear-tearing screeches and squeals. Then came the clapping and whoops from the humans when Nacho slipped on a patch of mud straight into the cold waters. To celebrate, Kosha watched his brother for several seconds more and then knuckle-walked to a clearing where he fed on illegal audience-tossed fruits and nachos. The crowd of baboons did nothing. The two men liked to think they were giving him the old 'Stop fighting and don't ever do that again (but that was totally cool)' treatment. And the other primates, the humans, kept their hollers loud til a fade-out. They began their brisk walk away from the primates, and Vicente turned to Dr. DuBarry and said, "People love watching monkeys fight.”"Oh I'm very aware. I remember working in Tanzania a few years back in ‘95— I've told you this, right?""A few times but different things each time."With a terse grin, he nodded and said, "Well, the point is, I'm aware of the life cycle of primates. The howling, the prowling, the swinging. The mating. The screaming, the eating, the fighting. And every step of the way, there's the humans desperately watching as if it's the first time they've ever seen anything in their lives. "The life of a simian's always going to have the certain impulses and streams of action," he went on.As they walked, Dr. DuBarry’s eyes kept falling upon the young man’s peculiar duffle bag. The handle would've snapped if tugged any harder. A chance glance brought his eyes to Vicente's hand— the strain on those muscles! His friend’s olive skin seemed to darken to a pained ruddiness, and his fingers tore into his palm to the point that any more pressure would've broken the skin.This didn't beguile the doctor anywhere near as much as the matter of why. Nothing was in the duffle bag— nothing. For all of Vicente's tenseness, he did not struggle against its weight anymore. It floated and flopped about with every bit of motion. Nothing seemed to settle upon the bottom, nor did anything within, if there was anything tangible within, press against the sides. Whatever Vicente carried did not warrant such a conspicuous display. Yet that display suggested a respect to whatever he carried. “Do you have a bleeding nuclear bomb in there—”As Vicente tried to reply, he staggered. Blue and brown uniform, walkie talkie, segway, and 1970s mustache = zoo security. What grip he had on the handle tightened once again to near fusion."Pleasant afternoon, officer." The other eyes shifted back, forth, and down. "Hey there. Just wanted to check the bag, is all.""If you must, though I ought to warn you..." He lifted the bag higher with a twitch and swung it around. "You won't find much in here."Dr. DuBarry smiled and said, "It's alright, Mr. Vance. My friend here is trustworthy enough. Unlike some more suspicious faces." He aimed his body forward, and Vance looked over his shoulder.Vicente saw a sketchy man clad head to toe in white, lording over two enraptured goth girls. He scowled and looked back to Vance. One last glance at the duffle bag convinced Vance of something, though of what Vicente could not know. Only that he pardoned himself and rolled towards the man in white.The exhale that erupted from Vicente's lips turned several heads. Dr. DuBarry frowned. Vicente bowed slightly and turned back to the doctor as they descended upon a curved incline towards a door meant only for staff and disappeared into the halls. “I promise, what I have in here will be worth your time.”Dr. DuBarry followed, his eyes squinting as the sun's light blackened the room ahead till he strolled in.

Or here:
Little Miss Savage on RoyalRoad (most recommended!)
Little Miss Savage on FanFiction.Net
Little Miss Savage on Wattpad
Little Miss Savage on Archive of Our Own

Eventually I'll get around to opening a Patreon, where donations could help me pay to commission a regular webcomic version of the story.