[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

Arrancar for the most part have lost the very things that have made them human. It found Tiran hard to sympathize with the man that doesn't understand, say for the fact he aspires one thing Tiran also wants. Knowledge. Knowledge was the key to understanding, at least what Tiran believed. The unknown was always an open door, and adventure filled with risk… and sometimes reward. Already his adventures led him to an unexpected Tiger friend, and a new source of power.. and a set of limbs he thought he might never see or feel again. He found sympathetic feelings towards this Vincent fellow. Despite how fearsome he made himself out to be.
It wasn't loyalty, it wasn't lending of his power, it was knowledge he was after… and he didn't use brute force to ask for it. Tiran was surprised when he was approached by the man, smaller in height and possibly weight than he.. but surprised because… he was different than Aragon. A power-hungry little stooge, was his first impression of Aragon. The Vincent fellow, seemed more complex than that, and Tiran thoroughly enjoyed it. He stood back a bit and watched in curiosity and silence for a moment, as Vincent did a most peculiar and unexpected thing with the gift.. reanimated a corpse.. and added his own touches to it. Even gave it a name.
"WAH-HAH!"
He'd exclaim, pulling his head forward and looking at the subject, 'Mi'ojo' momentarily before seeing the man look back at him and ask him a favor. Tiran blinked, yes.. it really impressed the T-Rex Arrancar that this man was more than capable of being rational rather than spewing death balls all over the place constantly.
"Well… since you're a man of… good stature, and I too have a fondness of obtaining knowledge, I would be happy to oblige… however… ehn.. my good and powerful sir.."
How could he say it in a way that he would understand? His wild power blasts and blows against the sand has obliterated most of the wilderness that once resided in Hueco, say for few stragglers in the forest that managed to find cover from… Vincent's spirit bombing.
"The power you exude is quite… hmm.. let's say it's quite the Extinction tool on an already cradled world, i guess i could say. Erm, in other words, with every blast from yourself, food, and potential future minions end up dying."
He would say, already a victim of these blasts, twice.
"i'm not… saying to be rude, but, i've found it best to keep the weak alive, let them get strong… they not only make heftier meals, but… you'll also find jewels among the gravel, if you know what I mean.."
In other words, I find these Hollows for you, stop launching nukes on the ground floor and make my job a little easier, Sheesh! Tiran thought, as he tugged this "My-yoyo" thing.
He felt as if it was a bad idea, but maybe he should go looking for that Vasto Lorde that challenged Vincent earlier.. he still had his predatory-like eyes. He turned, headed back out towards the forest, to see if he could find anything there. Maybe he could get stabby and bitey to stop fighting and go out in other directions?
"I'm Tiran, Tiran Basilio.. that… old human movie with the giant dinosaur thing and the men yelling gojirra gojirra? Yeah. I inspired that. First bit of Knowledge for ya. Sure. You're civil. I like that. Keep that meat head Aragon off me and let me get knowledge about anything, i'll do whatever ya want. Don't count it as Loyalty though. Count it as mutual benefit, a scenario in nature that both parties or species gain something… me protection, you knowledge. A partnership."
He agreed to take this thing into the desert and surrounding areas in search of other hollows.
"wonder if this thing comes in pocket size…"
He'd say, tugging Mi'oyo along

 

[BSD]

Having long faded from the sight and presumably, the minds of the King, and his subjects, Helliodoro continues his journey into the skies, his destination unclear to even him. Since the very moment he had retreated, he shot upward, above the ruins of Las Noches, his path shifting here and there. Despite his haste, regardless of how long he has been travelling, the moon and starless sky seem never to move from their place, only the clouds shift endlessly. And certainly now, he wouldn’t close the distance if it were even possible, suddenly, he comes to a halt, freezing in place. But why?
His body still suffers the wound delivered to him personally by Vincent. The minor lacerations that previously littered his form, had long been healed over, yet, there remains two wounds. A single horizontal gash that crosses along the Hollow’s mask, and, the single arm that had been torn from his form. Still, these wounds are not what stops him in his tracks… Coursing through his veins, piercing into his flesh and rattling his very essence… Something within begins to reveal itself and swell at an impossible rate. Something foul, leaving a pungent taste in its wake. Foreign, yet, familiar. For a while, the hollow struggles, just what was this sensation!?
Eventually, something clicks, and he remembers, Fear.
How long had it been since the Vasto Lorde had been left in such a state? Fleeing with nothing but fear filling his vessel? Perhaps too long. Having become complacent with his long self-proclaimed reign, has he grown weaker? Unacceptable, absolutely and utterly impossible… There is no ego, this loss; nothing but a streak of bad luck, this is the truth and reality of the situation. Or so he continues telling himself. Slowly, the fear becomes twisted and defiled, acting as fuel for a great inferno that begins to boil within as he deceives himself.
”Me!? Afraid!? NO! The little freak… He just got lucky!”
Rage consumes the Vasto Lorde now, and with that, his senses become clouded once more, ignorant of the surroundings. Nearing closer and closer, he seems to begin to fall into a self-induced trance of fury. Muscles tightening, his breath quickening and becoming completely erratic. Only to be snapped back to reality, his delirious anger remaining but his focus being robbed in an instant.
Even hundreds of miles above, the monstrous Reiatsu of Aragon manages to catch Helliodoro’s attention. In his fascination with Vincent, he had ignored the other Arrancar and Hollow that were within the vicinity. From this brief and limited display that this time, is not ignored, it is made clear that Aragon stands above a majority of Hueco Mundo. The limits of the primera seeming boundless. However, beyond even that, stands the king. Perhaps this one truly is limitless. NO. It couldn’t be, Helliodoro continually refuses to accept what is placed before him. In his head, there are none that can stand before him and yet, down below, two Arrancar continually put on displays of obscene power. One after the other their power rises. Howls of spiritual energy expanding into the vast unknowns of Hueco Mundo, beyond their own sight.
Once again, his breath quickens, becoming sporadic… His heartbeat intensifying and becoming clearly audible to the lone Hollow. With moments passing, his body begins to increase in temperature dramatically, corresponding with the emotions that now exude from his form.
”GO AWAYYY!!!” A scream that was soon followed by the Vasto Lorde’s roar.
As the heat rises, his body begins to glow. From a dull yellow, to orange, to white. His Reiryoku seeming to be contained within his vessel successfully, if only for a brief second or two before becoming a living star once more. Expanding outward from his body, a radiant blinding white light is emitted, the same that previously littered these same skies. The endless night, turned to a false day. The moon becoming blotted out by the hollow’s energy. And then there was a sudden, pulse. That same incandescence becoming brighter still, at an astonishing rate, the energy that illuminates the sky, begins to consume the sky. Bit by bit, everything becomes white. Stark blinding white. Depraving the sight of those who dare gaze up at it.
Simultaneously to the ever expanding light, the heat that emanates from Helliodoro and accompanies the radiance is subject to that same escalation. Growing beyond his previous displays by leaps and bounds. Within the core of the star, Helliodoro is exposed to his own wrath. His own anger and spiritual energy in the process of incinerating the source of all of this.
Craaaaaaack
The sound of his Hierro shattering. The heat proving too much for even the hollow himself. Following the crack, there was sizzling? The skin, the muscles and everything beneath washing away with the heat. From flesh to dust and dust to nothing. Even with the torturous pain bearing down on the Hollow, his rage fueling him beyond rhyme or reason. But how long could that body possibly hold out?
Layer by layer he disappears… Five seconds, ten, twenty… Nearing the thirty second mark. Total black out. The light fades. From below, a faint white glow, the only remnant of the star. Plummeting toward the dull sands of Hueco Mundo. A tail of pitch black smoke trailing behind.
A minute passing, then two, three, until finally, a considerable distance from the ruins of Las Noches, a pillar of sand is shot into the heavens. The fate of the Hollow remaining unknown.

 

[BSD]

Aragon whips around, attention now pulled away from the scene of his attack to an unharmed Marcos, fully intact. As the entire upper dome is illuminated from the detonation of the Gran Rey Cero, Aragon — encased in its glow….smirks.
The Primera casually waves his hand, his zanpakuto still embedded in the upper dome detonates into flames of pink, rocketing from its resting place into the hands of its master. Like Aragon, the blade has grown noticeably taller, longer in length. Adorned with many jewels, the blade from its size and length appeared to be one that demanded two hands at all times to properly wield; Aragon proved otherwise, casually handling it with but a single hand. He faces the purple haired Arrancar with...a smile? Yes, a smile, one that seemed genuine to boot.
”LOOK AT IT GO! WOWZA!!”
Marcos exclaims, earning a chuckle from the established espada. Aragon waltzes over to stand with Marcos, and together...the two gaze into the sky as the final embers of the Gran Rey Cero dies out. It is only after the attack has completely subsided does Aragon leave the Arrancar’s side, standing up straight, posture immaculate. He stares at the inscrutable Marcos, giving him a once over, briefly drifting into thought.
”Did….Did you get TALLER?!”
Marcos exclaims in genuine shock, taken aback by the growth spurt. From one shrinking to one growing. While eyes shimmer with pride filled tears he not so casually checks himself, curious if his own height has changed in any way.
”Marcos-”
Aragon calls out, pulling the Arrancar from his self inspection.
”You are formidable, more so than any I have come in contact with in a long time. To say your abilities perplex me wouldn’t be a reach. Hollow are amazing creatures. I would be willing to bet you can displace different parts of your body. Paired with High Speed regeneration. You’re fantastic.”
Half of what Aragon says escapes the arrancar as he becomes lost in the praise and flattery. A warm flush covers his face, pressing his fingers together as he turns his face away awkwardly.
”Oh shucks...I bet you say that to all the Hollows…”
Marcos exclaims, waving his hand casually at the espada as he in turns spins and twirls his zanpakuto, slashing it at the side. The gathered pink flames scatter in accordance to the swing. Aragon raises his left hand allowing Marcos to gaze at the number emblazoned on the back; the number 1.
”Whatever your goals are, even if it is just to have as much chaotic fun as you can. Swear these tricks and powers of yours to the God King, I’ll step down as Primera Espada. No other has yet to be even slightly worth of this. If the god King will have you, I am not one to impede his judgement. I can vouch for your unique powers myself, Though I have seen to few of them. Do not assume we stop here.”
Marcos’s eyes slowly light up, growing larger as they widen. Dismissing the offered and he instead moves to embrace the espada in a tight heartfelt hug.
”Oh thank you...THANK YOU! Its just what I always wanted! I promise, I’ll take good care of it! I’ll feed it, and walk it and everything!”
His words slightly choked from his tears. And it is then, that a voice disturbs the moment between the two.
”A meal? Looks like you could both use a break.”
Drawing the attention of Marcos who stares at the green haired male making his way towards him. Marcos blinks several times as if trying to remember something.
”Heeey. Aren’t you th-”
His hug on Aragon loosens as his focus is drawn back, allowing the espada to pull from his embrace, kicking back to draw five feet of distance between them. Gripping his sword, Aragon swings his blade, signaling to Marcos that their game was resumed. As the elongated blade swings through the air, the left arm of Marcos is drawn down. From the tips of his sharpened nails, five jagged arcs of fluorescent pink soar through the air. Dwarfing Aragon in height they cleave through the air effortlessly with speeds rivaling those of a bala — they soar like the namesake of their counterpart; a bullet.
The jagged bladed edges gyrate at rates imperceptible to even the keenest eyes. They collide with the mid-swung blade of Aragon’s, and himself as well should the espada choose to brace the attack..or prove otherwise incapable of avoiding it. While facing this frontal assault a glow of similar color and intensity illuminates the world behind Aragon, and it is perhaps only now that Marcos who had been before him not even an instant ago, is placed behind him, the distance separating remaining the same...five feet.
Five towering jagged arcs striking at him from the front vertically while five arcs of equal size, strength, speed and ferocity race horizontally at the man from the rear.
The space between them, near negligible ensures that Aragon is forced to face the full brunt of the attacks on both fronts — all before the completion of that swingle, searing swing of his blade. While these “claws” may rival the bala that are faster than a Cero while lacking in power, Aragon would undoubtedly discover, if instinct did not inform him already...that these claws share no such weakness.
What threat did these attacks pose to Aragon, an Arrancar who already possessed considerable strength and endurance, was now free of many of his restrictions after entering his Ressureccion? Attacking him in such an up front manner, regardless of how fast seemed a fool’s errand…
The cheshire grinning Arrancar hops and skips back and around the upper dome turned battlefield. From his actions and expression he appears ignorant of not only the seriousness of this match, but the fact that the God King stood in silent observation of the clash between Aragon and himself. Not once appearing desperate, not once showing concern, actions that all spoke of a certain amount of arrogance, from a man who exudes no such pride.
One could only wonder, if this strange Arrancar was truly mad...or perhaps, it was all but a simple charade, Perhaps the man called Marcos, was not the fool he appeared to be..
Then again, perhaps he was.

 

[BSD]

Tiran didn't have time to mess with Aragon and Marcos' tomfoolery. He found it best not to keep people waiting, mutual benefit or not. It was not loyalty. The King did ask him nicely, very civil, might as well do it. He began by making his trek back out toward the deserts, it seemed as though Marcos noticed his arrival but was quickly attacked by Aragon again before Tiran could say hello. Tiran blinked, and turned his head to move onward. They'd have time to get acquainted later.
Already Vincent would probably be able to see what Tiran was up to, with the Mijojo thing following him around. The man could probably see the extensive damage his attacks brought not only to Hueco mundo but to the desert, and the forest of Menos as well. The ground littered with fresh bodies, as well as bone ones. the further Tiran ventured, other hollows that survived the blasts started coming out of the woodworks, some small enough to have found cover quite easily, one quite at home.in the sands and using it as cover. They all hid however, when an odd flash of light occured in the skies above them all. It was a bright light, enough to blind everyone for a split second as it passed. Tiran stopped Miojo temporarily and the both of them watched this… object fall after lighting the sky. It crashed in the sands, creating a huge column of smoke and sand rise in the air. This pressure he sensed as it passed, was it that Vasto Lorde Vincent fought prior?
He hesitated for a moment… thinking it not wise to approach empty handed… literally. He turned and snapped a stick off a dead tree, before approaching. He sunk low to the ground to hide in the sands, pushing Miojo down too to keep it hidden, but as he raised his own head to pop up and look over the dune at the sand-smoke cloud Heliodoro made, he lifted Miojo's head just a bit so it could look over the sand dune as well. Then, Tiran could be seen entering Vincent's vision with his stick, just his head as he bent over, smiled and waved in the camera like vision like a dork.
He then took his stick, and started poking around in the sand and smoke, like hell was he going to poke his head or arms in there!
"Hello? Twinkle Twinkle little star? Cockadoodle doo? You better not come out of that smoke and scare the hell outta me, I have a stick and I'm not afraid to use it!"
He said, waving it around for a second, before holding it forward.
"I come in peace… after all that I certainly hope you do."
He sniffed the air, being a predatory hunter that also scavenged, he could smell burnt flesh when he smelt it. He lowered himself before tossing the stick in the smokey sand pile with a nyeh! then dashing back away from it, slipping on the sand, and going back into pseudo hiding again. As he hid, a little lizard hollow came up from the sands. He nabbed it, the thing squirmed, up until Tiran bit it's head off like one would the pin of a grenade. He tossed the lizard body in there next, whatever it was maybe it'd chew on that for a few seconds while Tiran buries himself in the sand. Of course he was afraid. This thing was unknown to him. He had to be ready and ambush it if it tried attacking him… well hell… does fighting how they used to fight still even work? Tiran blinked in confusion and looked into a direction facing the audience, if there even was one.
"wait a minute how do i fight in this form…."
He felt his side. It was a Katana, though he could see it he felt it, and somehow he felt a bit safer, though he hadn't had the hands to use one of those in centuries.

 

[BSD]

Aragon's flaming blade, now nearly upon his opponent, Marcos would react with the first forward attack Aragon has made note of. The strike Marcos sent at Aragon was fierce and fast, nearly faster than his own Bala. Aragon's instinct was to clash attacks and enter a struggle of power, sure he would overwhelm Marcos. However, in Resureccion Aragon had a focused mind, he was calm. Aragon's Pesquisa immediately giving away Marcos' fighting style to Aragon now. The Cat was now behind the Dragon. With another attack flying towards him to boot. A snicker came from Aragon's mouth as he would suddenly drop his guard, allowing his blade to hang at his side. Not only is his Pesquisa good, he has evolved this ability furthering his predatory nature.
Sentidos Primarios; His senses immediately kicked into overdrive. No doubt Marcos would see Aragon get slashed in the chest by his first attack, and then again in the back, however instead of recoiling in pain. It fades away, the two attacks clashing against each other. Where was Aragon? A spike of Reiatsu would suddenly pop up from Marcos' right, and then his left. No, below? Aragon was all around Marcos! How?! What was happening? Aragon was using his ability Echo, By oscillating the pulses of reiatsu that he sends out, he can essentially create a feedback of spiritual energy for miles in any direction. For most abilities, such as the Arrancar Pesquisa and the Shinigami spiritual sense, this technique creates an impenetrable zone of ‘noise’; it is as if the spiritual reverberations lose their individuality and become a tangled mess of nonsense. The tangible spiritual pressure within the range of the Eco does not get affected, however, so if an individual is powerful enough to emit colored Reiatsu, it is clearly visible within the field. Any damage that would be done by the pressure is also unaffected. Unfortunately, the Eco is an all-or-nothing ability. Aragon is incapable of distinguishing allies from enemies, so anyone nearby finds themselves suddenly without the use of their spiritual senses. For this reason, the Eco is an ability only used in an emergency, when setting up an ambush for his allies, or in some other tactical plan.
Where was he then? These pulses would cover the true intentions of Aragon's Sonido. With his own trick, Aragon was now hanging upside down above Marcos. Nearly two feet above him, Aragon would open his mouth and emit a huge black flame from his throat. The Cero in which instantly expanded into a cone consuming Marcos would fan and flick, not ball up and condense. This would make it extremely difficult to dodge, as the black and pink flames licked the entire top of the dome surrounding Marcos. Aragon would continue forcing out the dragon fire until he saw the remnants of the dome melt completely. Aragon's Dragoon Cero Luz-Negra expanding out continuously to match the depths of his vast well of Reiatsu.