Post by Garret on Feb 19, 2016 14:35:42 GMT -5
The sun shining down onto the earth below. The sound of men, of laughter, the sound of horses, the sound of metal banging on metal. Tents littered the landscape, a seemingly endless sea of small cloth constructs that many of the men called "home". Across the campsite was an equally endless amount of men of various ages and builds, all spending their day doing god knows what. Some worked, preparing supplies and maintaining the equipment for whatever battle came next. Some played cards, some lounged, and some ate meals that could very well be their last. Each spent their day doing something, something they wanted to do, because as a mercenary it could certainly be their last.
Amidst it all were two individuals, pieces of the chorus of sounds that permeated the camp site. The sound of metal against metal, the clanging of steel as two individuals had at each other. A man nearing the latter years of his life, head held high with fresh gray hair grown atop. He had a nice little scar across his cheek, a reminder to him of the constant danger he faced in his occupation. Despite the apparent age of his body he still possessed a fire in his eyes; a spark that could rival any would be youngster seeking fame and glory. He, calmly, moved his blade into a position to block the swing of his, smaller, opponent, smiling with a new found excitement as he sparred with his partner.
A child, roughly seven years ago, stood before him wielding a sword far too big for a boy his size. The child tried his hardest to even land a blow on the man, only to have his strikes knocked aside by his opponents obviously higher skill. The man smiled at the child, loving his optimism and sheer determination. "Say, Garret, maybe you'd like to switch to a smaller sword? One right for your size?" Daurth asked as he danced around Garrets, admittingly slow, swings. "It's fine!" Garret shouted back, and so their spar continued.
Once it had ended and what injuries they had were patched up, Garret found himself sitting beside his uncle enjoying some roasted pheasant. The grand taste of meat in his mouth, he barely noticed his uncles peaceful expression as he watched the sunset. Garret blinked, looking up from his meal to the setting sun with his uncle. A moment of peace between the two. "Beautiful, ain't it kid? An end of a day. Makes us think of what's coming tomorrow, don't it?" Daurth asked, raising a mug of ale to his mouth. Garret smiled, nodding and replying with "Yeah, sunsets are nice."
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A brief of air between his lips, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, as he focused. His arms felt heavy, the sword in his hands far heavier than it normally was. Numerous logs of wood were tied around the swords length, increasing its weight in order to help Garret train. Yes, this man trained. Despite the ever constant battles during his nights he needed time to improve his own skills and strengths. Right now he was focused on improving his physical strength, and the only way he knew how was to use his sword. Use it...but increase the weight. So, here he was, wielding a sword that weighed about twice as much as it normally did.
Gritting his teeth, Garret stepped forward and swung his weapon downwards; creating an air current from the weight that pushed the grass beneath the swing. He stopped before striking the ground, turning the blade so the flat faced the earth and swinging to his left, carrying through with the strike and swinging his arms overhead, twisting the sword a bit so its blade faced in the right direction, before swinging down yet again. He let out a breath, resting the blade against the earth as he shut his eye, taking a minute to breath in that cold winter air.
Even he needed to train. Fighting was sure to improve him, yes, but unless he added more weight to the sword then there was no way he would be able to increase his own Strength. He didn't have the best control over his reiatsu, and as a result the overall effectiveness of reiatsu reliant moves for him were negligible. So the only skill of his he could continue getting better at was with his sword and the muscles in his body. White mist escaped between his lips as he breathed outwards, the coldness in the air meeting the heat of his breath.
Standing up straight and looking around, his eye scanned the white forest he dwelt in for now, watching for any movement or for anything out of place. It had been quiet, at least his definition of it, for the past few days. Besides the inevitable night time battles, Garrets day light hours had been relatively peaceful. No Shinigami, no Arrancar, nothing. Nothing seemed to be chasing him. It was like the earlier days of his travels again only having to worry about what came bumping in the night. The snow covered woods provided him with some cover, just in case anything was looking for him anyways.
His gaze softening, Garret resumed his practicing. Lifting his greatsword in the air, he began to swing it one handed up and down, stopping it before it touched the ground. Despite the silliness of its appearance, and its simplicity, it was an effective strength training exercise. Normally his weapon weighed close to 400 lb, an absolute absurd weight for a weapon, but with all this extra weight attached to it even Garret was having trouble wielding it. By raising it up and stopping it from touching the ground, Garret was not only training his arms but also acquiring more control over his body when using it.
Sometime later, after at least a hundred swings with each arm, Garret finally stopped. He used the collected wood to start a fire, sitting down beside it and removing his upper clothing. The biting cold made him breath sharply for a moment, but shrugged it off a moment latter. The cold did not bother him like it used to, no doubt attributed to his spiritual body giving him increased resistance to the extreme of temperatures. Running his hand down his arms and over a collection of bandages, Garret narrowed his eye as he inspected the bandages wounds. It was always like this; some part of him was always injured and needed tending.
Wrappings around his right forearm, his waist, he managed to do rather well the night before. Looking over his body his eyes continued to rest on the multitudes of scars that dotted his skin. His body was massive, a mountain of meat and muscle the likes of which most men only dreamed of obtaining. However, his body was also strikingly similar to the cutting boards of a housewife, covered in scars from head to toe. You didn't live like he did and expect to come out pretty. Removing his eye patch, Garret ran his hand across the scar tissue where his right eye used to be, a gently prod allowed him to feel the Bakkoto nucleus beneath the skin. The scar of his right eye stretched along the side of his head and into his hair line, making a section of his head were hair did not grow. His body was a mess.
Turning his attention to the weapon laying against the tree beside him, Garrets gray eye narrowed as he looked at it. A weapon too massive to be called a sword, too long, too heavy, and far too rough, it was more like a slab of raw iron. It was a symbol of who he was. A man who fought against fate itself. This sword, this weapon, was a literal symbol of who he was and what he suffered. A great weight that he carried with him, a literal symbol. He closed his eye, putting his clothes back on and proceeded to relax by the fire. Night was a good few hours away, and he could use this opportunity to catch some sleep. His body would wake him up when it was time.
So what will you do?
Damn, and he was just getting to sleep. Opening his eye he saw something in the flames, a small hound sitting in the fire just staring at him. A small black hound, the same he'd seen many times before.
You let that one go. Are you going to be letting everyone of them go now?
I said it before, I chose who my sword kills. Not you.
Ever since that day this little black creature kept showing up, questioning him about his decision in regards to the twin Arrancars. Ever since meeting with that one woman, Shinzui, Garret had been...confused about things. She was an Arrancar, and yet Garret felt something more for her. As if she wasn't the same as the monsters that attacked him. ""You.. and I are the same, Garret. We both have our own ailments." Garret remembered her words very well, facing away from the hound as it paced towards him.
Does this mean you're giving up? That you don't care anymore?"
He glared down at the little creature, a scowl forming on his face. No. I will rid this world of those monsters. Don't you think for a second that has changed! The hound turned away, walking back into the flames and departing. Garrets breathing began to calm down, watching the flames for a few minutes more to make sure that the black creature was now gone. Narrowing his eye he raised his right hand, staring down at it as if searching for something. Scratched hands, calluses the size that no man should ever be stuck at, and cracked nails were normal...but he was looking for something else. His hand was trembling.
It wasn't out of fear. It was because of something else. Something that that bitch, Taiho Kasumi'Oji had told him. Something she had told him the first time he had released the Bakkoto. "Yours is different from the rest. It's more attached and thus has a far more intimate relationship with your body. It has access to you in ways that the others don't." He remembered her voice so strongly, like a viper preparing the strike. The light shaking in his hand was stopped when he balled it into a fist, lowering it and closing his eye. "If you're unable to control it you have more to fear than just losing your mind. The toll it takes on your body is enormous, and prolonged and extensive use of its power will begin to damage you.
Your fingers will get tired from all the shaking. You'll begin to lose your senses, taste will be first followed by smell, then your ability to touch. Unless you can learn to control it, it shall completely devour you." Her warning was still fresh in his mind. A warning that he would have been a fool to not heed. Garret sighed, realizing that he was going to need to somehow learn to control the Bakkoto inside of him. But how? He was going to need help from...someone. But who? And when was he going to have the time? Each time he used the armor he was forced to rest for the entire day, the condition of his body making it impossible for him to do anything else.
He still had a few hours before the night came, so he decided to try and get back to sleep. Closing his eye he let his mind flow free, succumbing to sleeps sweet embrace. His dreams were erratic, sharp, torn apart as memories of fights and happier times mixed together. He never slept well. He was awoken sharply by his sudden memory of a moment that would always drive him to anger. The sight of his beloved, Cassandra, being torn apart by the monsters that he faced. Even in his sleep the rage came forth, bringing out the beast yet again Kill them all------------
The woods were dark. It was so very dark. The only source of light, the only thing allowing him to see, was the celestial body that hung over the night sky. His lungs burnt as he ran through those darkened woods, inhaling that chilling winter air into his lungs. The pounding of his feet echoed in his ears. Branches dragged across exposed skin, cutting him open like they were hooks trying to hold him. One tore across his cheek, stinging him as the meat was exposed to the cold air, a warm liquid pooling down his cheek. He dodged around a tree, taking a quick glance back. They were still back there. The man exerted more force into his legs, gaining more speed as he continued his attempt to outrun them.
Their moans echoed through the woods. The sounds of trees crashing into the earth, being torn and ripped out of their roots as they relentlessly pursued their prey. The man's breath was rough. How long had he been running? The trees were parting ahead of him, the undergrowth stopping abruptly. His eye narrowed, recognizing that a cliff was ahead of him. He had two choices, make his stand here or risk the jump. Gritting his teeth he leapt into the void, feeling something swing through the air behind him. It wasn't that far of a drop, not for someone like him.
"Erph!" was the only sound he made as he landed on the ground, a wave of force being created from his drop. Slowly standing back up straight, Garret turned his gaze towards the top of the cliff, waiting for his enemies to arrive. The impact was rough but from what he could tell nothing was damaged. His feet dug into the loose, wet, graveled ground. The sound of falling water was to his right, suggesting that he had landed in a river bed. A river ran beside him, turning into rough rapids a distance away. Besides the river to his right and the cliff behind him, this would make a much better spot than the forest.
From the cliffs edge he heard the crashes, before numerous tree trunks began to descend through the air towards him. Garret narrowed his eye, gripping his blood covered weapon and swinging. Without fail his sword cleaved through each branch, causing them to fall around him instead of on top of him. He narrowed his eye, positioning his sword to his side as he prepared for them. They were coming. And he was sure there were more than base Hollows mixed in with the bunch. On top of this though he could hear the voice inside of him, beckoning him to release.
The first of the beasts landed, letting out a howl as it rushed towards the man on its six legs, landing them quite the force onto the riverbed. Gripping the hilt with both hands the man roared, stepping forward and leaning in, pulling on the massive object. A sword of incredible size swung through the air, colliding with the beasts approaching mask and cutting straight into it. The weight and force behind that swing lodged what could be called a sword into the mask the beast wore. It let out a howl of pain, but before it could pull back the man planted his feet firmly to the ground, like an unmoving statue and turned. Muscles bulging he turned and pulled, ripping right through the creatures mask with a horizontal swing as he pulled his sword free. It screeched in pain, pulling backwards to gain distance away from the man.
Unfortunately, he had no intention of letting it retreat. He ran towards it, sword held to his side, the leather cloak flowing behind him. The monstrosity swung for him, trying to defend itself from his advance. Pulling the sword over his head he swung downwards into its hand. Purple blood exploded into the air as the sword cut cleanly through the flesh, destroying the monsters hand. What this man wielded, it was too big to be a sword. It was massive; it was too thick, too heavy, and far too rough. It was more like a slab of raw iron. As the monster screeched the man roared, rushing forward and thrusting his weapon into the monsters mask. The Hollow, for that was what they were called, let out a dying roar before collapsing, the weight of its body pulling on the mans greatsword.
Its body began to disintegrate, forming into black particles that floated upwards into the air before vanishing the next instant. Pulling his sword free and resting it on his shoulder he turned. The sounds of something heavy colliding with the graveled floor had not escape him. Three more Hollows had arrived, each drastically different in appearance than the now dead one. A small sound escaped the mans hood, the sound of a growl. He reached upwards and began to undo the buckle holding the leather cloak together. It fell to the riverbed around his feet, the swordsman cracking his neck as he awaited their approach.
But then a sudden pressure in the air alerted Garret to something new coming. He narrowed his eye as he watched the other Hollows collapse; the gravitational pressure crushing them as a much more powerful foe came crashing down into the river from the cliffs above. Garret turned, watching the rushing river as he waited for the Hollow to show itself. He watched as the water became disturbed as the creature breached the surface, slowly pulling itself up onto the shore. An eyeless mask greeted him, a grin across its features like some sort of mad jester. Hair like tentacles that covered its body like a robe, Garret eyed it as it emerged from the river.
"So it was you. I was wondering what it was. A little Quincy out on a stroll, eager to become a meal? No, it's something else. What are you? You're not a normal human, and certainly no Shinigami." it tilted its head, the tendrils beginning to move in seemingly excitement. Garret raised an eyebrow, resting his sword on his shoulder with both arms. "So what is it? Are you human or a ghost? I'm curious...because...one tastes better than the other." It snickered. "Just shut up and fight." Garret hissed back, before vanishing with a step technique and appearing overhead the Adjucha. He swung his weapon downwards, aiming to cleave into its head.
But those tendrils moved, catching Garrets sword and halting the descent of the blade. It snickered once more, before more of the seemingly endless amount of tentacle hair it possessed lashed out. He felt the sharpened tips slice through his skin, dangerously close to his neck, so he quickly retreated with another Step. Gritting his teeth as he slid to a stop, Garret watched as each of those tendrils suddenly pointed at Garret. All of them. Not a single one was down. And then the tips of each of those strand emitted a red light that formed into a sphere. He realized what was coming.
"Bye bye!"
"Let your fangs rip them apart."
Each of her Ceros fired, obliterating the landscape before her. The cliff, the woods, everything was consumed in the incredible red light of the Ceros she was firing. "A lot of Hollows have some sort of super unique power. Not me. I got stuck with not having to spend Reiatsu on my attacks. But, hey, that means that I'm able to fire a hundred Ceros at once!" The Adjucha laughed. Its laughter continued as it continued firing, unaware of what was happening within that red light. And suddenly something came out of that light, a weapon that suddenly sliced through its left side.
The Adjucha screamed, leaping back. "How!? What??" It turned its gaze to where it had been, gasping in pain as it saw what had attacked her. When it had fired its Ceros, Garret had given in. He had succumbed to the flames, to the Beast, and became the Monster. A Beast clad in Black stood before her. Glowing red eyes glared at her, a inhuman snarl emanated from within the steaming armor. It turned towards the Hollow, the armor beginning to shake with a tremor before releasing a roar into the air, a combination of a man yelling in pain and an inhuman monster. It began to make its way to the Adjucha, before more Hollows began to descend around them. The real battle had only begun.-----------
Daybreak. The light of that majestic body of the sky peaked across over the horizon. With the illumination came warmth and security. Like the curtain being pulled slowly from the window, the light began to brighten the land. The grasslands that spread forth no doubt welcomed the light, as the animals would awaken and the plants feeding. It was the sort of sight that an artist would no doubt use as inspiration. But as the light continued to crawl, beauty soon became gore. The graveled floor was painted with a combination of blood and bits, ripped from the corpses of the nightmarish beasts that littered the riverbed. Of various sizes and shapes the pale beasts disintegrated beneath the sunlight, becoming nothing more than rising black particles that vanished into nothingness. There had to have at least been a dozen of the monstrous, but the numbers continued to grow the further the light crept.
The destroyed landscape from the Adjuchas seemingly endless Cero had left its mark on the land, opening up the riverbed so that the water had more room to flow. The swordsman rested on the ground, collapsed on his back. His body covered in injuries, ripped and bleeding. He grinded his teeth together in frustration, his eye red from popped blood vessels. "God...god damn it." He had lost control again. He had given into the Bakkoto, given in to the anger. To the rage. He had lost himself in the battle, entrusted himself to the beast.
Gritting his teeth he pushed himself to his feet, pulling his sword up with him. He needed help. He needed someone to help him control this thing. Taiho had vanished, seemingly abandoning him and their deal. He had no idea where to find Nycha or Hebika. Everyone he knew was...gone. He had nobody. Nothing save for his weapon and anger. There was no way he could win against the Bakkoto on his own. Perhaps, though, there was one person. Someone that he was...confused about. Maybe, just maybe, he could find Shinzui. Maybe she could help. He didn't know how to feel about that idea, but...it was worth a shot. If he didn't do something...
He risked being consumed by the Beast.
