[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

The message was already sent meaning the beast that found himself lurking beneath the surface was far too late to the party to even be of relevance. However if it felt so inclined to burst onto the scene Hibiki was going to be more than happy to oblige as he hadn’t truly gotten his fill either way. He knew there were far more pressing matters occurring on the surface. Rumblings of a battle forged in hellfire soon to come as the stench of hell seeped out from the gate mentioned in his message. Just as the same as his message was delivered came the bursting forth of the beast that dwells below. Yet it was clear that Hibiki in his haste was well aware of its approach regardless of how it hoped to hide itself. This wasn’t from his innate ability as a shinigami to sensing on the most basic level, but the fact that the beast stopped to greet its departing compatriots. His lips grew into an almost chaotic grin, toothy almost cartoonish by design as the sand below became disturbed and Hibiki’s form went straight in the air. One last momentary slip into his delusion with his zanpakuto spirit right there next to him almost tangible. Its form bestial garbed in the flesh of a beast as if a caveman. Hibiki’s body leaping into the air as if propelled by a spring board with haste to boot meaning this beast was in for quite the rude awakening upon its arrival. Nothing about its arrival was subtle let alone its departure, the result? Hibiki, still on the move yet alert with the message already delivered. Had things gone frame by frame one could find underneath that boar head Hibiki uttering the same words his zanpakuto spirit soon came to utter in his ear.

”Feast Inoshihi…”
”Feast Inoshihi…”
The beast jaw would’ve snapped upward and no sooner found itself clamping down upon Hibiki. However the end result was going to be far more devastating than the beast hoped for. Its massive maw coming for a snack would’ve been met with Hibiki being perfectly nestled within. However not in the sense that he would end up defenseless, but instead standing nearly upright. Had one taken a close look during the frame by frame moment they would find that Hibiki’s zanpakuto was no longer a single object but two. This beast was going to have neither the bite force or the strength to merely devour Hibiki and as a result was going to likely end up paying the price. Its maw would come down only to be met with abrupt and brutal riposte, Kagamibiraki. However this was a slightly altered form of the technique as a whole as Hibiki was the very embodiment of strength, speed, and Hakuda as a whole. One of the things that made him stand out however was the level footwork he possessed when he slipped into his delusion as the best boxer in the seireitei. His feet slammed down into the lower jaw of the beast while his fist slammed into the upper section of the jaw, while his legs rushed downward with the help of his skill in shunpo. This would result in the beast being met with the unadulterated well of strength that resided within Hibiki’s legs as a boxer. His legs was easily one of the most physically capable portions along with his upper body. They received the most training right alongside his fist. They were sides of the same coin working hand in hand to create a deadly weapon.
One might find themselves asking what made this technique more devastating than the normal technique and it was the fact that what made contact first was Hibiki’s shikai. The blade formerly known as Eikou had revealed its true name to its master as they functioned in unison in these moments. They had come to better terms with one another in their brief time in hueco mundo which resulted in the eye opening confrontation of using one's weapon as an extension of themselves. While Hibiki and Eikou functioned well together prior to this trip to Hueco Mundo they had grown closer. Hibiki’s delusion was fading and becoming something far more primal as a result this was the evolution of Hibiki. His weapon no longer merely a pair of brass knuckles, but instead a pair of trench knives seemingly clad in bandages like his blade before. The knuckles themselves raised and the blade of the weapons jagged like stones at the bottom of a rushing waterfall. His weapon could in turn be found lodged knuckle first into the roof of this beast mouth just the same as his feet would be slamming into its jaw. If Hibiki had anything to say about it this was beyond the most optimal situation. A near perfect counter blow had his opponent not been capable of retracting their attempt at devouring Hibiki whole they would find so much more lying in wait for them. In fact in the event the beast tried to resist Hibiki would release a pulse of his own serrated reiatsu right down the beast throat expanding outward from his form with haste. It was merely going to be a test of brute strength and skill, the latter of which the beast clearly lacked given its poorly timed attack.

 

[BSD]

The Shinigami showed his true colors yet again, firstly and devastatingly underestimating his opponent, and the gravity of the situation. He should have kept running. Second, upon his sword's release and use of his own skills, he had completely forgotten or didn't even realize the factor weighing in for Galia, that his body was hardened like steel, and covered, head to toe, in devastating painful spikes.
At least the creature still had fight left in him, Galia stood face to face, eye to eye with the Shinigami in his maw. He wasn't in the position to go down his gullet like he'd hoped, but being in the mouth was a good start, he thought. Until the Shinigami stabbed the roof of his mouth with two blades. Galia released a roar, capable of busting the ear drums of his victim in the jaws. However, the swords wouldn't go through his flesh. Galia was hardened, and his ability caused the swords to bounce off in opposite directions out of the maw, sparks flying off them. The Shinigami unleashed his spiritual pressure and Shikai, Galia unleashed his own spiritual pressure as well, the pressure's effect giving their surroundings a metallic sheen.
Galia might not have a Hierro yet, but thanks to his Reiatsu effect, he didn't need one. The Shinigami would find himself in danger yet again, the jaws biting down with the equivalent of 4,200 pounds per Square inch. Galia would lower his head to a forward position and shake his head about to confuse his meal and make him dizzy as the spiritual pressure skyrocketed and the jaws came down twice as hard.
Galia's throat would begin to glow an ominous bright silver as he kept his head forward. This could spell the end for Hibiki. As he kept the pressure up Hibiki would have had to lower his Zanpakuto due to the blades being unable to penetrate his skull, and either hold his top jaw up to stay alive or die. Galia had him right where he wanted the Shinigami at this point, as his silvery Cero fired, it's unique properties activated, the blade like Cero would hit Hibiki's Zanpakutos if he still had them in his arms, and send the Shinigami flying out of his mouth. The cero would keep going out close to 60 feet before it would loosen its momentum, but if Hibiki lets up the Zanpakutos if he still had them out, he'd have a gaping hole in his chest as the blade like cero would cut through him like a Cookie cutter. It would spark the Zanpakuto blades the entire length of the way.
Galia would rub the top of his maw with his tongue, feeling the scrapes the Shinigami would have left behind on it. The fight with Max, the Unicorn hollow was over… yet another fight with Galia… the Spinosaurus hollow had begun. Should Hibiki continue to fight, or flee, was up to him now.

 

[BSD]

The blade like nails strike concurrently, each nail coated in his reiryoku — its strength, its signature akin to the Primera’s cero. As the blow lands, the Gargoyle turned Arrancar’s skull is met with the force equivalent to five gyrating cero colliding with his skull in concentrated force. The impact is loud, explosive knocking the young male aside as if batting away an insect.
Like a ragdoll he tumbles along the ground, dust, dirt, sand and debris of all sorts kicked up, creating an obscuring trail. A blow from Marcos was hardly a dismissive matter, such force would behead a number of parties, both mediocre and exceptional. Onlookers may expect the end of the newest Arrancar...Marcos knew otherwise. As the attacker he felt the distinctive sturdiness, against his hand, The feeling was not that of flesh and bone, but more like cold stone. The Primera’s slitted eyes stare furiously down towards the now distant boy, his nails still bared and clawed. He knew the boy had not died.
He waits. The silence demands their attention, it dismisses the sounds of all else. It was just as he had thought...that cretin lived. Stone crumbles to the ground, giving way to bruised flesh. There is a pulse, a ripple of spiritual power that billows from the male’s smaller body, and then..he finally rises.
“What is this… Amigo you speak of?”
He speaks, and it's as if the question is meant to further antagonize the primera. Marcos’s eyes bulge as slitted pupils dilate. His breathing escapes him in heavy pants of anger.
”Oi Marcos...Juega bein (Play Nice); Mijo.”
The God King moves to command the raging feline, but true to his nature...Marcos is not so easily tamed.
“DON’T PRETEND LIKE YOU DON-”
Prepared to roar in anger towards what he believes to be feigned ignorance of his fallen friend, there is a rumbling throughout the Desert, and an awful, disgusting power that spreads along with it. The inscrutable Primera falls into silence. He, unlike many, is not ignorant to what this feeling is, to what is taking place. He’s felt a similar power years ago, back when God King Vincent went missing.
”Tell me, Niño fresco. (New Child) …Do you recall your name?”
When Vincent speaks, it is only then that Marcos realizes how long the silence had gone on. Neither he, Vincent, or this friend killer had spoken a word, made a peep as all three took in the spectacle within Hueco Mundo.
” Accept what you are feeling. How it makes even El Vacío (The Empty) like us…Feel.
But fear not. I am what centuries of their torment reaps.
Vincent speaks as if to comfort the boy, to offer him some form of solace. He continues to speak, a confidence stirred from depths unknown lacing every word. He offers an invitation to the “newborn”, while simultaneously ringing the bell for battle, calling the hole bearers to arms. Never one to demand, to expect or wait, he lingers long enough for his words to resonate and sink in before propelling himself towards the source of that atrocious energy, the gates of Hell themselves. Marcos blinks, then looks towards the small boy, the distance between them still untouched. The Primera snarls, then folds his arms, turning his head away sharply.
If Vincent wanted that friend killer to tag along then he could have him! Marcos was not so quick to forgive the boy for his crimes. Still, a single pink eye glances curiously towards the direction Vincent travels. Maybe...

 

[BSD]

SNIFF SNIFF..SNIFF SNIFF..SNIIIIIIFFF
The masked head is tilted up towards the air, stretching one way than the other, sniffing the air like a rabid dog seeking its quarry. He needn’t wait or search for too long.
A multicolored streak rockets through the skies like a comet. It was not some discarded debris precariously launched this way. It moved with speed, purpose, direction. It collides several yards before the towering gates, still open bearing its crimson glow, it's madness and despair that awaits all who enter. When this object touches down, there is no explosion, no calamitous crash. The object was no object at all, it was a man, it was...the God King. The God King rises, turns to face the one who was meant to be his escort back to his cage of damnation.
Drip..Drip..Drip Plop...Drip Plop
”He’s Here..He’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s here!!”
The mask that covers the sinner’s face hides his identity, his individuality, but it cannot hide his glee. Saliva and drool drips profusely from beneath his mask, puddling on the ground beneath him. His reiatsu ripples out and explodes, further marking his excitement. His body shivered and shook, the sound of constant rattling chimes and rings as chains around his body slip in and out of visibility. A single foot steps out in front of the Togabito as he leans forward. Whatever he had in mind would have to wait.
He watches as space twists and tears itself open, a turbulent mass of darkness revealed inside before expelling two men, one clearly taller than the other. Insects, weak and insignificant...that is what they were. Each takes a side of the God King, one bug flaring its paltry power, transforming the white sands to a grotesque obsidian, the other acts in kind forcing the sands that surround him to make way, as if distancing themselves from a sovereign.
Drip..Drip..Drip Plop...Drip Plop
The Togabito continues to salivate, his body shaking and shivering more violently now. He shuddered not out of fear, no. What this sinner felt when faced with the God King and at least two mighty soldiers of his entourage, was pleasure. Pure unspeakable pleasure.

”Oooohh ViiinnnCEEEENNNNTTTT!”
Winds howl as chains erupt from the sands around the Togabito, holding the same hellish glow as the gates behind him. They tower towards the skies of hueco mundo, each metal link dwarfing any of those gathered ten times over. Hell’s putrid power cackles about the chains like electricity as they sway and undulate about. The Togabito calls out to the God King, addressing him by name. It was evident he knew of his identity, clear that Vincent was the one he sought.
”Did you bring these tooooyysss for meeee? Can I break them?” Please Please Please Pleeeeaaaaassee?"
He asks, his horrific spiritual pressure repeatedly rippling out, farther and farther as the chains continue to rattle and dance.
”Issss thisss your apology for running away? Bad Bad boy Vincent. Come home, you have to be punished heeheehee ahhhhhh”
He lets out a disturbing giggle as he speaks of punishment, more disgusting saliva spilling out beneath his mask, making a mess of the front of his bindings. The euphoria he felt right now...inexplicable. Vincent would return to hell one way or the other, and now it seemed, he wouldn’t be going alone.

 

[BSD]

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Above, the vast and empty sky of Hueco Mundo lie dormant. The only luminary, being its hollow moon. From this vast sky,
Vincent's arrival is met with the emergence of two others, Aragon, the now third Espada and another new child. Vincent hadn't been aware of this one yet, but given the energy flowing within his being, its feeling and weight felt somewhat new. Today had seen the emergence of many new Arrancar. This he was pleased by. His voice is heavily accented, even more than Vincent, who's calm voice only accents heavy when speaking certain words or phrases. Still, he found it welcoming. If a bit cartoonish. This one had personality, just as Marcos. He was beginning to see a trend. One could even say…it inspired him.
"You must be the Dios Rey. It is a pleasure to meet you! Soy Maximiliano Zacarías! Let's show the Bastardos of Hell that they'll need far more than one gusano (Maggot) to stop us!"

"Dios Rey? Hmph…I suppose that is what i've been called. Though I can hardly remember anymore.
No matter...
Glad to have you Maximilliano, Mijo.
Vincent hadn't removed his gaze from the Togabito before him. He can perceive the swell in Maximiliano's reiatsu. In the shape of his body. Clearly high from his recent ascension, he craved the test of combat. What better way to understand what has changed within. This was good energy to have, However, Vincents most prominent memories were of his tug o' war with the guardians of hell. He understood how little that mattered if one hadn’t a sound mind.
"So, can we assume this is an Amigo of yours coming to congratulate you on your freedom?"

”He’s no ‘Amigo’ of mine…
…though I know this pendejo’s particular… stench, well.
The eery and conniving voice of the hell beast oozes into the ear. Pathetic is what the slaves of the underworld were. But their strength was real. As Guardians of fate. They were high on the list for removal. Fate was the operator of the world around them. It guided souls between states of being. Of torment and trauma. And from where he stood. Those of hell were particularly reviled because of it. Who gave them the right to judge. To torment and hold souls hostage? It caused him some insane degree of wrath whenever he pondered on it in detail.
This much he agreed upon. It sniffs the air and drools profusely.
Then, somehow, begins teetering with sadistic joy.
”He’s Here..He’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s hereHe’s here!!”

Vincent remains un expressive, his spiritual pressure however, remains ever flowing from his being, the beautiful spectrums of light was alive. It towered into the air in a free flow.
”Oooohh ViiinnnCEEEENNNNTTTT!”
he howls, crying out like some sick BDSM victim waiting for their next violent fix. How many times had this being suffered a beating. These persistent pleasure seekers were a true nuisance. For no singular beating ever seemed to be enough. Their will was that of the underworld itself. An inevitable reality for many Hollow when slain by the Shinigami. As a third of the kingdoms of fate, it too had to be destroyed.
”Did you bring these tooooyysss for meeee? Can I break them?” Please Please Please Pleeeeaaaaassee?”
”Issss thisss your apology for running away? Bad Bad boy Vincent. Come home, you have to be punished heeheehee ahhhhhh”

He would find no words of welcome. His sniveling was a disgrace. Despite his silence, his reiatsu spikes, the tranquil flow becoming a concentrating beam of eradication. His reiatsu tightened around his flesh then surged with force. The entire desert around them began to quake. The sands that had turned obsidian by Aaragon shuttered apart, as more sand came to replace it. The air shook in response. He had done this dance many times. There was nothing left to say to these drooling gluttons of masochism. Though they both increased in power while in hell, the Togabito reigned supreme in that world. Here, their power was far less so.
”Aragon. Maximilliano. Be sure to aim for La Cabeza. Si? he says, pointing at his own face.
”And mind those chains. Only those touched by hell can repel them…”
“Now…Send these diablo’s back to the pit.
Go.”
His arms separate from their cross, allowing the god king lowers himself. His left arm connect firmly on the sand acting as a brace, while his right hands just off the grounds surface. Force and pressure build in his legs as he readies himself. Already short in stature, lowering himself further causes his body to appear compact. Behind him, his mace swivels into position, prepped to act as a type of counter weight to help control his momentum. This extension gives him a bit more length. Within his legs, an immeasurable flush of physical might is generated. Veins violently protrude. His muscles flex and expand, then tighten, expand once more, then tighten again.

Lastly, Vincent inhales, a steady and cool stream of breath fills his lung cavities. His chest widens and his body idles. His target long selected, the god king’s form accelerates, in a single vibratory flutter, his essence disperses. His form barrels forward like a meteor. A fission of unilateral magnitude is left in his wake, the desert howls, as the dune the three occupied shatters into columns of debris. Though they were spared any contact with his spiritual energy, the result of his physical display would cause even the onlookers in the immediate area to be harshly tossed about if they were not cognizant of their position. They were Espada, were they not? They would manage.

The stream of florissant light barrels in a straight line, aimed solely on the drooling monstrosity. Destruction flounders before it. As if to offer itself up to it as a meal. A taste of evisceration would surely quench its appetite. Somehow, there was the looming feeling that this meal would leave one…hollow. Wanting for more. The beasts of hell were easy to read. They craved pain. More of it meant more pleasure for them. The longer you draw it out. The more promintent and numberous the outcomes for your defeat will become. This reality was as convincing, as the star above, shimmering in the vast ocean that was the sky of Hueco Mundo. The land of the empty.
How then would hell feel, if their guardians were immediate expelled from the Hollowed desert. To be immediately cast back through the gate with their chains between their legs.
Only time had the answer to this riddle.

Elswhere....
The hog headed creature is swept up in the jaws of a large lizard like Hollow. Clearly starving for an easy meal, it unhazardly chomps down on its 'prey', to which its jaws find resistance. The being within keeps it's arms, now bladed alighned with the roof of its mouth and pries it open. There remains a number of slits within the jaws of this spiked creature that allow for a view inside.
perfect
The little eye. hurdles between columns, and takes a position adjacent to what would be outside the Hollows mouth and at Hibiki's read. The small hunk of flesh he had been eating would be covered in a small portion of destruction giving it a faint glow. He swings his arm, once. . .twice. . .three times, then tosses it, with the weight of a cinder block. It flies unhindered through the air, passing between the cracks in his teeth just in time despite the complex motions of the larger hollow. A direct hit would cause it to splat and break apart against his flesh, leaving soreness and possible bruising. This alone would make it difficult to maintain his strength, though not impossible. It kept its position within the shadows and continued to watch.