[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

⦿Las Noches 一 Las Noches (虚夜宮 (ラス・ノーチェス), Rasu Nōchesu; Spanish for "The Nights", Japanese for "Hollow Night Palace") is the fortress located in Hueco Mundo and the base of operations for the Arrancar and Espada. The Espada reside here with their army of Arrancar complete with medical facilities and detention wings. Las Noches is a massive fortress which can be seen for miles. It consists of a main building with a domed center surrounded by several large towers and smaller buildings. Atop the dome are five smaller towers, which appear to contain areas such as The Lord's throne rooms and the Espada meeting hall. Like everything else in Hueco Mundo, the main building is colored white.
⦿Forest of Menos 一 The Forest of Menos (メノスの森, Menosu no Mori) is an area below the surface of Hueco Mundo's desert where the average Hollow hide from the Arrancar. The forest is filled with large trees made of a silvery quartz substance. These trees extend to the surface and dot the landscape of the desert in Hueco Mundo. Countless Gillian class Hollow live here and follow the commands of the Guardian of the Forest of Menos and his followers.

 

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The sound of a yawn broke the silence of the Forest of Menos. Blinking twice, the newly awakened Nicolas Presagio turned his head from side to side, scanning the dark horizon before him. It was always dark down here. He wondered if that was the reason why everything around him was such a drag. Darkness here, the evil there. Please. Give it a break. Running his calloused fingers through the locks of mint atop his head, his rustic eyes moved with every step.
What was he exactly here for?
The rustling of movement around him was nonstop, but it only grew louder with every next step. He wasn’t looking for trouble, but it seemed as if trouble wanted to find him. He supposed that difficulties came with his rank, but he didn’t think that it’d be so consistent. Wasn’t an Espada supposed to strike fear into the hearts of their underlings? How annoying. Looking down at himself, Nicolas could only grimace.
He wasn’t exactly toned, his body lean and thin. If he were honest, the wind could blow him away. The boy wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either, standing at 5’10”. Pulling at the collar of his jacket, Nicolas continued to pick at his own appearance. Last he checked, he didn’t give off any killing aura whatsoever, but he figured that was a good thing. However, any chance he steps outside of his abode, a challenger makes an appearance and he has one of two options: run, or get rid of them. Choosing the latter, Nicolas proves to be quite merciless. Hardly considering the match a win in any terms if they didn’t prove a challenge in the first place.
Rubbing at his jaw, he stopped within a few meters shy of a large boulder in front of him. How conveniently placed. Pulling at his blade, the few lights that towered above him shone down on his unsheathing blade and the light gleamed ever so nicely on the smooth mirror-like surface. Putting both hands around the handle of his zanpakūto, he raised the shining blade above his head and stared ahead at the massive rock before him. Then with a swift swing forth and down the middle, it was over with. The quick motion sounded as if a whip had just snapped in the outing.
"That should be enough to draw them out.”
He remembered why he was here now. Creaking rubble began to sound off and apart came the boulder that loomed over his miniature person, crashing opposite of one another against the ground that caved in from the pressure. Even several meters out, the skyscraping silvery-quartz tree stalks had succumbed to the silent kill, shattering and splitting apart. Crashing echoed through the forest. A guardian would be here soon enough, maybe even with a few friends behind. If there was more than one, good. Nearly salivating, Nicolas swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth and squatted on the ground.
He was hungry.

 

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The endless veil of dark and shadow was the cloud to a never-ending storm in the bowels of Hueco Mundo. The realm that forced the hollows deemed weak and inadequate to squabble for scraps while hiding in the depths of their own filth and squalor. The “trees” encompassing the forest were naturally a line of defense, a shield to cower behind.
Split!
Or at least, until now. The hum of metal ringing echoed throughout the barren landscape as well as the reverberant crash of a severed boulder. Following this was a mass of trees bound to the same fate, the entire sequence acting as a dinner bell for a bloodcurdling group. The boulder cleaved in twain would pale in comparison to the tremulous steps to follow, causing the very ground to shake against a visitor’s feet. Gleaming red eyes peered outward from a distant darkness, multiplying by the twos in each passing second, seemingly hovering at least one hundred feet from the bleak surface of the forest floor. The steps hadn’t lapsed, but instead increased, surrounding the white-shrouded individual in a circle, completely enclosing him in a one-hundred-and-fifty-yard diameter.
A flash of crimson in a circular arc was the final image that would be seen before an array of ruby-colored cero’ traveled violently toward the male, an attempt to instantly decimate his person. The disturber’s wellbeing was not important to these lesser, hunger driven hollows that accumulated at the will of a hive mind. The flashes of red revealed close to twenty Gillian-Class hollows, each of the incinerating blasts bellowing from the depths of their core.

In the background, lurking in a nameless sludge was the one responsible for this preemptive strike. Shades of porcelain began peaking from the mud-like substance in a cesspool just a small distance away. Emerging from its underbelly was a massive, aquatically inclined Adjuchas. A rather putrid squelching noise would hide in the undertone of the whirring blasts, the same swampy substance of his hiding place expanding out in a flood through the trees, soon to create a puddle beneath the feet of the teal-haired walking breakfast, had he not be completely eviscerated by the minions.
RUUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Despite his intelligence his cry tolled loudly, sharp and rattling, literally piercing the ears of its receptors. Large, webbed fingers hugged a nearby tree, offering a front-row seat to the show he had conducted. The same liquid substance began to secrete from his palms, trailing down the ivory quartz-like bark of the tree. Years ago they wouldn’t dare attack one cloaked in white, but times were ever changing. The lack of order in Hueco Mundo caused only the strong to survive and rule; anyone who remotely posed a threat to that hierarchy would face elimination. Lumps of an unknown substance began to ferment in the base of his throat, the golden glow of his eyes masked behind his towering soldiers. Nothing below the sand fell under a blind eye; the very trees themselves supported his gaze. Down here, he was king of all.

 

[BSD]

They're here.
Nicolas wiped at his mouth and scanned the surrounding area, locking onto the various beady-red orbs that strove far above the barren lands. Returning the favor back to him, off they went! Ceros, firing relentlessly one after the other. So what did he do? Run. Not exactly an activist in learning Sonido, Nicolas Presagio has dumbed himself down and basically scathed past the flurry of sure-killing blasts, just barely. While in search of a meal, he was also looking for a way to train himself. So training himself brought trouble along the way.
The Massacre had felt as if it was like yesterday. Granted, he wasn't brought to this world just yet, but it was the talk of the century. They, as demonic beings, lived in fear of the great Gotei since the genocide. The power scale flourished in disarray, and they had all practically killed each other in order to take a mantle that would be able to properly defend their home this time, however, the gatekeeper would always keep the stragglers at bay. In what world would they allow simple minds to bear the Numeros with pride?
Sitting at the bottom of the powertrip was Nicolas. The gatekeeper of Hueco Mundo, born after chaos to ensure the safety of his own well-being. The others, he never knew where they were, or who would take the next position. All he could look out for was himself, and grow. Focused. He was focused and with blade grasped tightly in his hold, his soles dug into the forest floor and he came to a halting stop. The last Cero had flown just above his shaggy mane and the debris around him scattered across the grounds, and he just managed to avoid the disgusting muck that dared to ripple beneath the bottom of his boots.
Now that they were done, it was his turn. The natural inner strength of his muscles had shifted beneath his skin amplified by the dormant reserve of reiryoku had given him the ability to launch himself in the air double the height of these towering gillians in a single bound. The hold of his blade had yet to cease in its pressure and with a frightening grin, he looked down upon the group that dared to fire at one of their own superiors, floating and then began to rotate his body in a clockwise motion as if he were ripped by a tornado.
"Time for din din."

Just as he did the boulder, Nicolas had released a wave of concentrated reiatsu that tore through the masses like a ceaseless whip as it made contact over and over against the black shrouds. Around him, his rustic shroud came to fruition and cloaked his being with wild nature, flickering and licking the skies. Quick, calculated, and wicked, Nicolas fell from his graces and landed with a gentle tap against the high ground, and the sound had signaled the end of those gillians. Apart came their bodies and the thundering crash of their figures rattled the very forest itself.
The bright glow in his irises signaled the definite use of his sensory. Pointing the tip of his blade in the direction of the conductor of this little symphony, Nicolas stared down the Adjuchas and scrapped his soles against a broken shard of rock. Annoyance was plastered on his face and he ground his teeth against one another.
"You tryin' to give me a hard time, pequeño Rey? With no intelligent beings around you, have you forgotten simple speech?"

 

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The squelching grew louder, the mud like substance pooling endlessly over the crevices of each gillian’s massive toes. The Adjuchas began to slide down the base of the tree, able to stop or seemingly increase the suction of his porous fingers at moment’s notice, shifting his posture to have an adequate view of the arrancar’s failed performance. Obviously, he had underestimated the army that had become legion here beneath the sand, and more importantly, he had completely forsaken the King’s rule, intelligence, and power. Too slow. Completely surrounded by a cascade of torrential cero blasts, someone of his stature hardly had the muscle to perform a leap proper enough to even slightly reduce the damage. The invader ran, his pace slow and unimpressive. Clearly the espada wasn’t elusive enough to find shelter behind one of the many trees. He darted left, and then right, assuming that a linear path would render him susceptible to danger; In reality, his chosen method of pathing proved to not be an improvement even by a decimal. As he made his final dash, hoping he’d escaped the crosshairs of the menos, a solid beam of red pierced directly through his back. The Gillians did not let up, but instead continued with an unrelenting continuation of their barrage.
A fragment of flesh could be seen dangling from what remained of his spine, cauterized by the cero. The blinding lights of ruby hue were the last thing the boy saw before it all seemed to fade to black. Another blast resounded like crashing thunder, tearing arm from socket, flesh from bone. His entire right arm hung by a thread, before falling limp and becoming completely untethered from its weight. A final blast made contact in the spew of many, its essence dismembering all the meat from his hips, leaving him lifeless as the swamp rose with haste around him. Each blast had more time in between it and the previous, until the shower of crimson halted completely. From the abyss of the swamp, bones, in several shapes and sizes began to float to the surface. The skeletons could be identified by a scholar to be from an assortment of spiritual races, of a large expanse of time periods. Simultaneously, while the arrancar was falling limp into the trench, the King loosened his succulent palms to slide completely down the tree. He was on his way to collect the bones, a hobby of his. The King had full intentions on adding the boy to his collection, possibly even replicating his ornately beautiful mask fragment to wear it as a trophy. This was no land for the weak, and sooner rather than later it would be understood that this was his forest. He would come here expecting a meal, and in the end, it looked as if he’d become one.