[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

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How odd was it. That those who had previously tasted defeat, could now take center stage, every continuous war that was Hueco Mundo continued endlessly, without any true end. This was true for Heliodorio, who had reigned above the desert sands as its "king" for some time. It was not until some time ago did his reign come to an immediate and abrupt end.
It was arguable why Heliodorio took on such an attack so early on. Seeing as he had easily dominated the now released Tiran. The King's eye was a small creature that shared its master's reiatsu potency, yet it paled far in comparison to the scale of his source. Tiran's spiritual energy stood a degree above the little creature in terms of its size as well. It is what made it possible for the small creature to hide amongst the haze of acidic spirit energy. It was a decent cover. Heliodoro had a slightly above average Pesquisa, though if Mi'ojo was truly so weak and minuscule, the nature of the Vasto Lorde's response may not have been so severe. The only logical conclusion by such frivolous and wasteful use of his spiritual energy was either one of two things. blind rage, or steep fear.
Blind rage was the likeliest conclusion. Heliodoro didn't appear to be the type to admit to fear. But for whatever reasons he found the two to be some sort of threat, worthy of his might. Somehow able to track a much 'weaker' source of power than either Tiran, his main adversary, or himself, he covers all of his bases, conjuring forth a three hundred and sixty-degree field of star-like heat. For most, this show of strength is enough to remove them from existence, but as the wall of heat tears at Tiran's Hierro, his spiritual pressure resists, as well it could. Causing a reaction, a grand flash of light takes the area in its grip, blinding all within. Heat and acid rush about, erupting into a massive dome of power around the scene. Heliodorio's is stronger by a margin, but Tiran's spiritual pressure, when introduced to the heat created volatile conditions.
Mi'ojo is lost in the chaos, appearing to be swallowed in an instant, engulfed into a field of heat. Amidst all of this, the integrity of the ground they stoop upon was lost, the acid had loosed much of the sand on the surface, puddles of sandy muck revealed much more of the stony integrity beneath. With Heliodorio's harsh intervention, the ground around them crumbled, stone either melting or shattering in response. This eruption creating a large chasm into the forest of menos that at all times existed beneath them.
Large boulders of stone were accompanied by a sea of dust. Like the aftermath of a firebombing, it converged upon the land around them. Heliodoro fires cero after cero indiscriminately. At the last known location of both his opponents. At where their spiritual pressure seemed to move and shift about. At where he assumed they were. Anything was a potential target. Further and further he destroyed the ground around them until nothing but a large cavern remained, an infinite flow of sand pouring down into the depths of the forest. Small hollows who failed to escaped were swallowed in the indescribable heat of the Vasto Lorde's cero's, effectively turned to nothing.
Tiran swims its way away from Heliodoro, who was possibly still in pursuit of him. Vollies of cero bombard onhis position, though his fate remains unknown still. He lizards his way toward Las Noches, the long journey away taking some time for him to return, he may find that he continued to be hunted if that was Heliodoro's wish. But what then of the eye? He had been swallowed by the events. Had its fresh life been snuffed out?
There, nestled in the shadows, huddled amongst the many nooks created by Heliodoro's falling hubris. There the creature remained, almost one with the dark. The familiar glow of its spiritual energy dim, like the flame of a fading candle. Like a mouse, its body froze, in hiding. His left arm had been entirely lost, up till its shoulder and the right diminished to a stub up til its elbow. Much of its left side had disappeared, leaving most of its lower torso and its legs which could function. They were covered in burns but had survived the brunt of the impact. It had sacrificed these limbs in an of preservation for one's own life. It...
no...
he panted heavily. There was no blood, only smoke remained, smoldering at the remains of his lost limbs. Though pain shot throughout its body, as severe as it was, he did not react. He remained stiff, almost stoic to it. It was as if he hadn't felt it at all. it simply replayed the events in its eye. Having sensed the sudden surge in its opponent's spiritual pressure, it snapped its limbs forward and erupted most, if not all of its reserves of spiritual energy. Using the open space as a platform, its mighty limbs snapped its body in the opposite direction, out of the burning haze. By snapping its limbs forward, it launched itself off the surface of the air, shooting its entire body back in response. Given that the field of heat devoured but two feet from Heliodoro's frame, It was, though arduous, the only path Mi'ojo could take in order to survive. Had he taken more of the area in his grip, even a foot or two the creature would have surely lost its life. The power of destruction was enough to mitigate the effects of the Vasto Lorde's outrageously hot spiritual pressure, though, only enough to preserve his existence. He had escaped, but far from scot-free. It is the reaction from their three spiritual pressures combined that destroys the ground beneath them for good.
All of these events flood Vincent's mind, deep into his subconscious. There, but not at the front of his mind. Like data stored in a mainframe, the more the creature experienced, the more information was learned. It wanted to fight. To defeat and drag that monster back to the source. But all of its instincts told it to stay. To remain. It was not yet strong enough to defeat it on its own. Though he had help, it was difficult to call it that given its weakness. Tiran clearly had much to learn, but by that same token, So did Mi'ojo. It would be some time before such grievous wounds reversed themselves. Already its flesh began to take on a tiny little glow, its severed muscles, and tendons beginning to bulge and pulse. The glow from its repairing flesh paled in comparison to the light now in its eye. Above, Heliodoro bombarded Hueco Mundo, uncaring to the fate of any nearby. His fit raged on and on endless, uncaring to even his own demise, the area around him is obliterated, all of it observed by the eye, who, though deep below, burrowed away, deeper, deeper into the endless forest. Narrow and forgotten tunnels made by Hollows his size were the perfect getaway. Within minutes he was lost to the sands.
Soon enough, he would fulfill his masters wish...
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BSD

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Talons dug into the sand, creating dents nearly half a foot deep, clawing into a territory that had been his, and would remain his. Centuries as a spectator, the passing of many, the survival of few. Through it all there was one constant, the watchful gaze of the hollow’s golden orbs never leaving the rolling hills of sand and stone where his maze of statues lies. Independently he both inspects and admires his creations. Every intricate detail seems important, having a special place in the cynical yet intelligent mind that hides behind the veil of a monstrous shell.
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The stagnant and nearly petrified stance of the guardian is ruptured for the briefest of moments, a rupture in the air causes a staleness against the formerly smooth surface of his skin. A vacuum of air surrounds the area, absorbing all residual sound to form a cloud of silence. Just as it is formed—it breaks—an incandescent beam refracts against the darkness of Hueco Mundo flying at speeds reminiscent of a meteorite. As it travels curious eyes follow, never allowing the figment to leave his endless gaze. It approaches—like an imminent and inescapable storm, before landing at the edge of his domain.
From its impact erupts a vortex of dust and sand, expanding into a plume that envelops the night sky. As if delayed, a shockwave pushes forth, moving the presumably unmoving guardian from his perch. It bombards him in waves, each concussively shifting his core with more intensity than the last. Until finally..
CRACK
A distant statue finds its integrity compromised—beginning with a single crack—until it crumbles upon itself. Two more follow, for a total of three, three of his prized possessions scattered to the wind. Internally the beast erupts, but no anger ascends to the surface. There is only lust, a lust for the power that has defaced his mausoleum; An endless, unquenchable thirst that supersedes all.
"OOOOAARRRR!!!"
Hueco mundo trembles at the core, a loud and grievous roar piercing through the souls of the desert’s inhabitants. Was this a taunt? The hollow was immune to trivial primal games, but was much rather invested in the source of power from whence this bellow came. Power struggles in the ruthless badlands of Hueco only had two true outcomes, either you eat or you’re eaten. Finally his foot lifts, sliding against the terraformed area around him. He took his first step forward, spiny wings folding against his back as he traveled, would the visitor of his domain be the catalyst to demise.. or ascension?
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BSD

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Aragon now stripped of his rank as Primera, and freed from its burdens pits his focus elsewhere. Forced to endure hollow after hollow, Arrancar after Arrancar seeking to cling to the coattails of the God King's greatness, turning them away through force, killing those unable to endure the test of power. There is no doubt a sense of quiet relief that comes with this change in rank, seen as he walks across the upper dome, hellish black flames flickering and rising with each step.
He descends down to the infinite desert that is Hueco Mundo, a barren lawless world, his target now, is neither Hollow or Arrancar...but the castle of Las Noches itself. Aragon, the Terror of Las Noches, becomes its destroyer so that it may live again, stronger than before. As Aragon immerses himself in destruction and reconstruction, Nickolas the Arrancar, Nickolas the Espada, Nickolas the Coward emerges from his hole. With the worst of the conflicts now long passed, he feels it safe to reemerge, to show his face once more — just in time to greet an unfamiliar face, a Hollow that calls the skies of Hueco Mundo its home.
A few honey soaked words are all that is needed to gain the trust of this creature, distorted promises move the creature in spirit and action as he takes off, perhaps never to return or be seen again. In the midst of all that transpires, Vincent, ever present, ever focusing, detects another anomaly.
”Aragon, Continue your work. Nicolas, you’re free to come with me if you like. That is...if you don’t intend on paying your guest a visit. I wish to explore the sands. There is something I have yet to find…”
His curiosity gets the best of him, fueled by his whims the God King leaves those around him, trudging through alabaster sands. After countless steps, he takes off, propelling himself across the sands. Soaring through the air like a bullet he lands with a heavy crash that causes the surrounding land in every direction for miles to tremble in response.
Still in his released form, he explores the area. Hueco Mundo, as desolate as it is, seems more dead, more barren in this place he finds himself at.
”OOOOAARRRR!!!!”
A boisterous roar shakes the layer and desert in all, the God King has announced his presence. The resident of this world of stone, the keeper of this place hears the God King’s announcement. His head turns as he stands undaunted by the roar, unphased by the taunt. This was his home and Vincent, it’s intruder. The creature, basked in shadows begins his approach to the one who would so brazenly enter his domain, ruin his precious collection when-
”Man, you should loosen up! Why so stiff pal!?”
A voice, one that belongs to neither the initial intruder, or the strange Hollow. It takes a moment, a single second to locate its source, following the trail of its voice. Within the creature's lair, lost within the many pieces of grotesque sculptures, is Marcos. There, draped across one of many Hollow statues he pokes at the Hollow, forever encased in stone, frozen in time. It appears his words were directed to neither Vincent or the master of this domain, but that statue.
”Wow, giving me the silent treatment huh? What, you think you’re better than me punk?! STOP BEING RUDE ASSHOLE!!”
Marcos becomes visibly agitated during his one sided conversation with the sculpture. He pushes himself away from it, circling around to the front, squaring off with the creature locked in stone. With hands on his hips he glares down at the Hollow, its face ever fixed in terror from its last moments.
When had the new Primera arrived? When last seen he was clearly left by Vincent and Aragon within the upper dome. The distance between there and this strange stoney wasteland was incomprehensible, nearly worlds apart, yet here he was. Genuine, in the flesh...arguing with a statue. Had he, like Vincent, sensed the strange spiritual pressure of this hollow and come to explore? Vincent had promised him fun to be had, more individuals of which to keep him entertained — perhaps..just maybe, he had followed Vincent believing he was escorting him to such an individual? There was no trail of reiatsu to follow from the Grinning Schemer, one moment he was elsewhere, the next it was as if he had been here all along.
”Tch, whatever. Forget you too! I’ll just talk to one of these other cool guys. Aint that right?!”
He scoffs, turning from that statue, only to face and address another.
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The forest of menos a place consider a foothold for many of hueco mundo’s gillian class hollows yet here Hibiki was. A shinigami tossed into the wilds of a place largely filled with mystery to the outside realms. In reality there were only a handful of shinigami who had ever been within, which meant Hibiki was among their ranks albeit he was much more prepared. This comparison was in relation to the late Ashido Kano, a shinigami who so valiantly came to Hueco Mundo in hopes of taking down a fleeing hollow. Hibiki however had an entirely different goal in mind when things were said and done. In the time it took him to arrive here his excitement dwindled and a more serious tone washed over his body and mind all the same. He came through the garganta without hesitation; the sound of his shoes meeting with the rocky surface beneath would be unsettling to some as the area was ripe with silence. The subtle clack and scuff of his sandals echoed out into the open air bouncing off of the stone like trees that reached into the sky above. They dotted the surface as they soon shook moments after Hibiki’s arrival, perhaps he had chosen a perfect time to arrive. Things were clearing in turmoil here whether or not that was a detriment to his health or not was another. One might even wonder why would a shinigami go snooping around in Hueco Mundo, what could they need from the very thing they sought to eradicate as a species. Even the captain commander cut down their population to half and yet here he was a lone shinigami on a reconnaissance mission. He soon went so far as to move a bit deeper into the forest as time went on and the battle above seemingly came to an end. His reiatsu for the time being was suppressed so as to keep his arrival a secret. While such a thing wasn’t something he specialized in, it was fairly common practice given he was a member of the gotei 13. If it weren’t captains would likely be breaking their seated members left and right let alone other members of the soul society. There was something to be said about the feeling that washed over Hibiki before he left, that excitement, that feeling deep in his chest something was different.
Hibiki soon set off a little deeper into the forest of menos looking for somewhere to set up shop. He wasn’t exactly sure how long something like this was supposed to take and given the sheer size of hueco mundo he knew it was going to be quite awhile. His search was long and well spent being sure to mark the location in which he had arrived just in case he needed to return to the exact same spot for his departure with his . while that was unlikely it didn’t hurt to take the proper steps. He couldn’t help but take note of the fact that it was practically impossible to tell the pillars of quartz like material apart from one another. He in turn ran his fingers across each trying to get a relative bearing on things in his immediate area only to venture deeper with each passing moment. However with each passing moment the tremors from the battle above seemed to cease, had things calmed down? Had the hollows above decided their collective bout needed to come to an end in a matter of moments. By the very nature of the mission it mattered what was happening on the surface and in time Hibiki would need to venture above. Although that meant he was going to need some way of concealing himself well beyond merely suppressing himself from immediate detection. As he ventured further into the Forest of menos things began to fall into place. Pieces of his own puzzle were beginning to fall into place as he pressed on with a steady pace and a determined mind.
In a matter of minutes Hibiki managed to cover a mile or two, being sure to slip between the occasional gillian from time to time. It was almost peaceful seeing as they likely didn’t even notice he was there to begin with. Their beast like intelligence was to his advantage as he traversed the forest and in time came across a single alcove. It ran several feet deep enough to call it home for the time being. This meant Hibiki managed to find a place to call home in the time he intended to spend within Hueco Mundo. Amidst this little alcove’s position were several of the same quartz like trees perfectly erected before him. Their malformed design jutted straight into the surface revealing a few specks of light between the gaps almost creating a starry night sky. He soon began to settle into what would become his home for an unspecified amount of time and with that he had already begun making mental notes. His hand ran along the walls of the subsequent cave he was calling home. He couldn’t help but feel as though something or someone was here long before he as he took to the furthest end of the cave leaving his image relatively shrouded in darkness. He wasn’t seeking to hide entirely but merely to take a load off. He needed to convene with his zanpakuto spirit, it was like there was an increasing hole forming in the pit of Hibiki’s stomach ever since the kototsu attack only being compiled with the thought of Jinnosuke and Nibui fighting for the position of lieutenant. There was an underlying turmoil raging within Hibiki along with the fact that in all this time he hadn’t really been slipping into his delusion much at all. The act of such a thing was almost directly tied to his zanpakuto.
His posture was nearly perfect as he sat with his back against the wall along with his legs crossed one over the other. He even struck the ground with his zanpakuto putting it point first into the dirt leaving its small form standing perfectly upright. His eyes shut not long after as if here planning on taking a nap and with that his breath began to slow. This was only the beginning as he dove head first into his innerworld that event stadium he knew so well was empty, no Eiko, no chairs for the pair to sit in, merely the ambient sound of wind blowing through open stadium doors. Eiko was gone or so it seemed, his collected demeanor wasn’t there to comfort Hibiki let alone give him guidance but what did remain in his stead was remnants of his former self. The inner world they had come to call home was being filled with overgrowth. Nature was taking hold on the place Hibiki and Eiko had come to call their own and the latter was nowhere in sight. Had Hibiki’s zanpakuto spirit abandoned him or was its way of saying it was time for change. However this little trip to Hibiki’s inner world was cut short and rather quickly at that. What probably felt like hours within was more or less just a few moments on the outside. Just when Hibiki thought he had gotten to a point of relative safety he was greeted by something just as bestial by design as the gillian on the outside of the cave were.
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It came trotting in with its snout low pressed into the dirt, it was so rudimentary in its behavior that it was following Hibiki based on scent alone and when it arrived upon his location it was pissed. The beast in question had not a care in the world about Hibiki intentions all it knew was that he was intended to be his next meal. It came rushing forward with a certain bravado about it almost as if it felt itself superior to a shinigami with only a tanto in tow. The sound of its hooves echoing through the cave clear as day as a series of aggressive breaths escaped its nostrils with each trot. Hibiki in fact didn’t falter in the least bit as the beast soon came to close the gap, its head low and its stark yellow eyes illuminated in what essence of darkness lay within. Hibiki almost immediately slid into a stance no different than an MMA fighter; his stance was open, yet closed off at the same time. A means of allowing himself to grapple the opponent rather than simply striking with just his fist when the beast and Hibiki’s form finally met the outcome was thunderous. Its low stance was met by the weight of Hibiki’s own. The clash alone caused a difference in pressure to escape from the cave. If one had ever popped the cork on a wine bottle this would be the same sense of aggressive motion one would get when they collided.
This thunderous collision was accompanied by another as once they met Hibiki immediately grappled the beast by the head. His grip firm around its neck as it was nestled within his abdomen. Hibiki exhaled upon the collision his abdomen tightened like steal to absorb the impact without issue. However when he did so the beast in question would let out a squeal of its own albeit far more abstract than that of a typical boar. It was guttural, from deep within the beast throat as it was soon lifted to just its hind legs meaning that what remained exposed to Hibiki was its exposed white underbelly. Its stomach plump from feeding on beings lesser than itself. In turn Hibiki scoffed with disgust, the idea of this hollow thinking it could even remotely contend with a member of the 11th division let alone anyone worth their salt within the gotei 13. If someone like the late Ashido Kano could spend centuries in the forest of menos without issue what made Hibiki any different. He was no member of the second seeking to completely hide his presence and strike like an ambush predator. No, no, Hibiki was for all intensive purposes the apex here and when he brought this beast onto its hind legs to expose its underbelly he reeled his right fist back. Its form poised perfectly for what was to come, a modified version of the hakuda technique known as Tesshō the blow was swift. Hibiki’s hand speed was blinding as one of the 11th’s most disciplined practitioners of hakuda. When his fist met with the boney underbelly of the beast in question it rose clean to its chin, an uppercut to cull the herd. Black blood painted the ceiling mere moments after. There was no squeal, there was no cry from this beast. Its death was swift and without mercy in those moments alone. Hibiki’s fist like the bite of a guillotine...
The beast had fallen and with that Hibiki tossed its corpse aside and went to work on its skull with tanto in hand being sure to remove the necessary pieces for what he had in mind. Hibiki left nothing to waste as he skinned the fur from the back of the beast. He hadn’t even picked up his zanpakuto in those moments. In fact what fur remained on the beast he merely stuck his hand in the exposed interior flesh and ripped it off like a bandaid. The sickening sound of flesh being torn from muscle and sinew was ever present as things continued. He had even gone so far as to scoop out every facet of the beast head leaving enough of its head behind to fashion into a near perfectly suitable mask. He was following in the footsteps of those that were lost to this desolate forest, if one could even call it that. What remained of the beast back fur hibik messily fashioned into a garb around his waist. He didn’t even cast aside what remained of the beast corpse merely tucking it in the same corner that he was previously sitting in. In turn he picked up his Zanpakuto and made his way to the mouth of the cave with the head of the beast covering his own visage. Hibiki’s mission had officially gotten underway as the faint glow of those yellow eyes peeked from within.
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Silence falls upon the sand once more. Distant flashes and towers of smoke can be seen if one is mindful, distant tremors shake the integrity of the ground, all of this played like a symphony for hours now. Or had it been days? Time distorted in this strange world. It had been frozen in place for centuries, after the appearance of the Kouka. Severed from the flow of time. As it stood, Vincent had only just woke up, ignorant to the movements and patterns to the world beyond. All he had was the legacy of this name. He wondered just who this being was.
Beyond his taunt was nothing. Initially. No growl or howl to engage him. All he could hear was the descent of sand. His feet separated from his perch, allowing his small body to hover free through the air. His elevation exceeds the large, mountainous dune before him, revealing a sprawling valley, lit only by moonlight. Within this valley were endless statues, encased, frozen, much like Hueco Mundo had been. Within these memories were trace amounts of spiritual pressure. It is as if they had been locked in status, their souls offering themselves to the large and winged creature. Its body, Stoney and obscured in shadow moved about stiffly, large wings crack in place as they fan out. Ripe with spines they lift confidently into the skies,
Well...Este es grande...
His accented voice carries through the air as he peers down at the beast. It is then that the moment shifts, his expression growing plain.
The voice of one most annoying shatters the air space.

” Wow, giving me the silent treatment huh? What, you think you’re better than me punk?! STOP BEING RUDE ASSHOLE!!”

Marcos had somehow made the journey, nearly beating the King's time. Vincent knew he did not trail him through the air. it was less puzzling by now, but just as confusing. Extraño...this one is full of tricks.
He simply observed the hollow below. His stance fixed, as his arms remained tight around his chest. Having revealed himself he wondered how this creature would react? Would it attack him immediately? Or would it recognize the gap between them? How intelligent was it? Could it speak? It had gained much spirit energy during its reign, this much the King could tell. Its spiritual pressure seemed dense enough.
He pays the distant Marcos Little mind. He expects no aid from that one. He interacts with the inanimate statue at his leisure. Unknown to the average observer, it is unclear if he is ever-presence of the reality around him. Vincent begins to see through this, recognizing his behavior with a Scoff. At least this way, he can keep his eye on him. Maybe the newly appointed first Espada saught to be at Vincent's hip as well? The strong often seek the presence of the strong. The purpose varied from individual to individual, but these choices narrow significantly for the denizens of Hueco Mundo. He returns his gaze to the gargoyle-like-beast before him. Trace amounts of spirit energy begin to grow on the bony like organs attached to his head and his arms.
"Well now...How then, will this one go" ~
Behind him, Las Noches is brazed to the ground, a cloud of black smog takes to the skies, its structure recycled into something new, though yet to form. Aragon enacts his vision in Vincent's place. The forces of Hueco Mundo grow by the hour.
And with their growth, the end of all comes ever closer.
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