We Share A Nightmare [R, NDE, Hard]

[Kashmir De-Mona]

SPOILER: Click to show

The guard held his walkie talkie to his mouth. He held his walkie talkie to his mouth, and then spoke into it. "Cargo has arrived, please lower gates, over." There was no response, only static. The guard returned the walkie talkie to his mouth and held down the button once more. He held down the button once more so that he could speak. "Cargo has arrived, please lower gates, over." There was more static. There was more static, but finally a voice answered with a cough on the other side. "Sorry, didn't hear you the first time! Could you repeat? Over?" The guard had an annoyed look on his face. He nodded his head in apology. It was necessary to apologize to the two escorts. It was necessary to apologize to the two escorts who were waiting outside with him.

"Cargo has arrived, please lower gates, over." He stood with two escorts. He and two escorts stood outside of a large facility which greatly resembled a prison, or perhaps a gulag. It had a yard surrounded by electrocuted chainlink fences. It had chainlink fences, and it had a flat, barren wasteland of a yard. This was where the inmates exercised. The facility was a rectangular prism. It was a rectangular prism with not even windows. It was simply an imposing brick building in the middle of nowhere. It was a facility which was in the middle of nowhere and which had the pleasure of caring for the mentally unwell. The only entrance was a metal gate which did not raise upward, but lowered electronically into the ground. This too was electric.

The gate lowered into the ground, and the guard stepped aside. The guard stepped aside to permit the two escorts to wheel in their cargo. The two escorts nodded thanks and began to wheel in their cargo. They were both tall men dressed in black uniforms. Their cargo was on a wheeled metal slab and had a metal gorilla mask over his face to cage it. He was dangerous. His eyes spoke to say as much. "Clear. Inmate #666 is now entering the facility." the guard said into his walkie talkie. There was grinning from behind the gorilla mask. It could not be seen but through the small caged holes. However, it was evident to outside observers. This was a dangerous man. Inmate #666 was a dangerous man. This was a dangerous place.

This was the brief scene which played in Marcelius's mind before he fully left the shack. This image played, and abruptly ended. This left Marcelius only, probably, with more questions. It had not played for Zeich. It had not played for Zeich, and it had only played for Marcelius. It was all strange. Looking over the town, nowhere stood out. Nowhere stood out, however there was a shop which said "SOULS, COME ON IN" on their entrance sign, and had the logo of the Gotei Thirteen as well. This meant that it was aware of Shinigami. This was an invitation to spiritual beings to shop in that shop. If Marcelius entered, perhaps he could purchase a Gigai. Perhaps he could also decipher the start of the images in his mind. There would be many more before the night was over.

Meanwhile, Zeich would not experience these images. Instead, Uzumaki arrived, and after a brief conversation with Zeich, attempted Soul Burial. This one also failed, and Uzumaki recoiled. Zeich would also feel the chill which had made Uzumaki flinch as soon as the Soul Burial failed. Both men would be privy to the feeling of chills. This feeling of chills would be accompanied by a brief mental flash image, perhaps half a second long at most. This image was of a satanic grin with perfectly white teeth. This was an evil grin. This was a malevolent grin. The little girl whom they were supposed to bury also looked very confused. There were questions. There were questions, however there were no answers.

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Apologies for breaking order, but I have been sitting on this post for quite a while now. Figured Zeich would not have any involvement with Marc this early, so there would be no harm in proceeding with his mission. Hope that doesn't cause waves!)

A waking dream. A phenomenon in which a mind may perceive delusions as reality, as if they had entered actively into dream space. Similar to the eerie feeling of Deja Vu, perception fails to properly grasp the situation at hand. There are equal parts reality, and equal parts farce. What makes such a thing dangerous, is the perfection with which the two blend. If the lines which define what is fact and what is fabrication, become blurred beyond comprehension. That is what this moment felt like, as Marcelius played the role of onlooker. In the dead of the night, he stood in the presence of a daunting structure. Examining it's cold exterior and windowless walls...Marcelius felt a shock go through him. The sensation, was very human...compelled by ideals which had clung to him sense before his time as a Hollow.

It was clear without sign or message, "This...is a prison." Taken aback by the sight, he did not know what more to say. His mind raced, but nothing congruent came together. Was he not just in a shack? There had a been a phone, one with no one listening on the opposite end of it's receiver. How? How then, did he arrive here? More efforts to uncover his memories were all failed, granting him only brief glimpses of pain and misery. All of which, were felt through the souls of others...a boy, a young woman, so many others. Luckily, the madness was disturbed. Before he could lose himself further in his own thoughts, voices erupted. Men, speaking to one another...as well as the distinct signals of technology. Yes, tools used by those in the Land of the Living. That is where the shack had been...that is where he remained.

Stepping closer now, he observed the men who had collected his attention. There were three, one far more talkative than the others. Gaurds of some sort. Waiting at the massive metal door which lead to the place Marc least wanted to tread. Without understanding of how he came to be here, he was left to do little else but watch. Something was wrong with this situation. There was no music. No song or lyrics, the world felt unduly quiet. This fact only served to pull Marcelius in further. Why could he not hear the hearts of these men before him? The sudden sound of electronics gave him cause to look away. Light came from within the monstrous building, pouring ever brighter from the widening entrance. With a metal barricade slipping slowly into the earth, more voice began to speak. Confirmations of a delivery. Marc raised his brow.

A name had been mentioned..."Inmate #666..." When his mind said the name aloud, there was no question in it's tone. It was as if the name had been carved upon his psyche...as if he had always know it. Thus his focus was shifted to the "cargo" in question. There were bars, which isolated the contents from the world. Inside...there was only darkness. Had he not noticed the soul within? How could this be? Marcelius' old eyes strained even harder, to pierce the veil which shielded the contents. Into that waiting blackness, a form slowly took shape. It was...a man? No, something more. Something...worse. Through his age-worn lenses, he could only barely make out the faint traits of the occupant. What he gathered, was not the definitions or proportions of this Inmate #666...instead, Marcelius bore witness to the threat he posed. Feeling it now, like a heat that had been slowly rising all around him. He was in danger.

"Aaauuhh...aaah~" A deep, and desperate gasp for air. Eyes fading back from the blackness they had seemingly dominated them. Feeling light headed, the old Hollow tried his best to calm his breathing. Raising his head slowly, he found his sight slowly returning. The world crawled back into view amid glares and spots of light. Soon enough, he was able to make sense of his surroundings. Hunched over a bit, he felt as if he were about to fall. On his left, his arm had extended towards the near doorframe. Clenched fingers opened to drop splinters of wood. The doorframe had surrendered under his grip, and now he had to whipe the wood chips from his palm. Hierro prevented any discomfort, there were not cuts or blood drawn.

Once his cognition made an inventory of his body again, he found that he was still in the shack. Having yet to set foot from this cursed hovel, the truth behind his recent memories became clear. This place was able to instill intense visions into any occupants mind. Given Marcelius' sympathetic mind, he was at more risk than others. The time to leave had long since come...for if this place could implant memories, it may also possess the ability to remove them. The last thing this, or any, worlded needed...was Marcelius mind of it's leash. So...the old Arrancar set out to resume his previous investigation. With his wits about him once more, he recalled the beer receipts. "Yes, a Gigai." As if discovering a note left for himself, he knew what had been required of him last. Unfortunately, simply knowing what is needed...does not grant it.

Luck, or destiny, must be on his side for this venture of his. Shortly after entering the city before him, a small store had been discovered. Above it's doorway read innocent words which invited spirits of all sorts to enter. Promising. It would have been a dream come true, of not for a single detail. Placed upon it's ingress, the symbol of the Gotei 13 had been embellished. Was this establishment an outpost for the Soul Society? Was this an informant of theirs, or someone simply aware of their existence. This brought the Arrancar pause. It was a risk to blindly enter without clear understanding of possible threats. The thought occurred; Marc had not sensed many threats with his arrival. There had been two Shinigami...the likes of which held no interest to him or vice-versa. There's had been Hollows, but his own insensitivity had provided the demise of both.

Yes...he h[smear:ffffff]ad killed them. He had allowed them to die...[/smear:ff3300]no! Though it was his fault, the Human world was no place to allow oneself to grieve. Here he stood on the enemies stoop, and his mind wanted to be drawn to his grief. Oh how clever the chorus was. It would not stop him, no, not this evening. Given that he had already discharge a low-classed Bala, there were certainly spirits in the area aware of his presence. Maybe even his location. There was little more to chance, and he still needed answers. So...it seems his decision was made. Pressing forward, he took a casual stride into the "Soul Shop". Once inside it's threshold, he would emit a most calming and kind aura. Using his talents with charm and emotional understanding, Marcelius more than ANY other soul in existence, could accurately convey the sincerity with which his kindness was built. None should consider him an outright enemy...none who are sane, at least...

[Kashmir De-Mona]

"HEEELLLLLOOOOOOO!" An overly flamboyant voice yelled. An overly flamboyant voice yelled, or called, or perhaps it merely cried out in ecstatic joy. It was perhaps the most flamboyant of all voices. It was a male's soft voice, however it was loud this time. It was loud this time, for it was very excited. The speaker could not be seen. The speaker could not be seen, but the shop could. The shop was filled with shelves and shelves of tomes. It had tomes, items, and many goods such as food and drink. There were odd items, there were expected items. There were all of these, and puffs of smoke of different colors every now and again. It was a shop of wonders. Wonders filled the shop, however the caller still could not be seen. It was strange.

Then, he showed himself to Marcelius. Marcelius would see the shop owner, a pink fluff ball. The pink fluff ball was floating. It was floating, and it was the size of a human head. It had large, reflective blue eyes. It was a pink fluff ball which floated. It had a very happy expression on it's mouth. It had a very happy expression on it's mouth, and it's eyes shone brilliance. It was male clearly by the voice. The floating fluff ball observed the Arrancar with a stupid grin. "ARRANCAARRRR!!!!" it yelled happily. Happily, despite Arrancar being dangerous. The fluff ball approached Marcelius and it smiled at him. It was mere inches from his face. It was mere inches from his face, yet it showed no fear.

"WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY, ARRAAANNCCAAARRRR? WE SELL ANYTHING HEEEERRREEEE! I PROMISE." There were many questions which should arrive. There were many questions, such as what use money had to a pink fluff ball. What was the fluff ball? These were only two of such questions which should be asked. Asked, there were others. The fluff ball continued to grin, however. There must be merchandise which would be good for purchase. There were several bodies hanging around the place, however they were without definition. They were without definition, for they were probably malleable. These must be Gigai. Perhaps there were other forms as well. There must be many things to buy.

Meanwhile, perhaps it should have stayed ended with Zeich. Perhaps it should have stayed ended with Zeich, and the Konso should have failed and that would have been the end of it. It was not the end. "Hey...do you feel that?" Uzumaki asked Zeich, for there was much to feel. There was much to feel, for a powerful reiatsu had suddenly appeared. It was a spiritual presence which defied all other feelings. It was not the same as any other reiatsu. It was not the same as any other reiatsu, for it evoked in any who could sense it the same feelings which the shack had, however more. Marcelius, in the shop, would feel nothing until he left. Zeich would be left to feel it. The memories the shack produced in him several times over, and dozens of other memories, new ones, worse ones.

Uzumaki also seemed affected, for he cringed and grabbed at his temples. He started to shake and shiver. The new reiatsu was less than a mile away, though it did not approach. It did not approach, however it produced a sinister effect. It was evil. It produced fright and terror. The new reiatsu was also very large. It was very large, and it had such potency to it that everything felt cold. A nearby potted plant resting on a window rotted and died. It rotted and died, and soon was black and nothing. It was gone and dead. The spirit of the girl recoiled and shivered. It started to crawl into a fetal position. The feeling persisted. It was a horrible feeling. Uzumaki began to gather himself, however the feeling continued to linger.

[Kashmir De-Mona]

Do so please.

[Marcelius]

Stepping into this strange and convienent boutique, the Arrancar kept his wits and wariness about him. There were Shinigami nearby, who had already dispatched some of his brothers. This shop certainly did seem inviting to those more spiritually aware than humans...though Marc assumed it's patrons to infrequently be of his stock. Yes, this shop must be aimed more for the samurai. These were his suspicions, ones he carried close with him as he entered. Once inside, however, his thoughts began to churn on a whole new grind. For there were wonders and trinkets of all shapes and sizes...littering shelves which seemed to strangle customers as they entered. It was impossible to see all of the shop, with the view blocked by the towering racks. This would be the first time this evening, that the old man would find his mind splitting off into several tasks.

Fortunately, it was only two. Thank goodness for that..considering how exhausted one can become from over taxing their thoughts. Either way, the two issues which quickly took hold of him. The first was a close inspection of the various items that had been set out on display. They ranged from the mundane to the seemingly priceless. There was such a wide variety of things, that Marcelius' eyes could hardly stand to pause. Each new and peculiar do-dad made his mind spin wild ideas of what it could be, or what it could be worth. There were a few things which he could recognize; though his age was great...he had never been widely traveled. Not in the human world, at least. Thus, many of the secrets and stories of this land...which may have helped him discover the origin or purpose of some of these wonders, was sadly missing from his history.

So he greeted each with a fresh, and wide-eyed delight. It was so much a delight, that for a brief moment, he could forget about the deaths and suffering he had experienced earlier this evening. After all, that is what his second focus remained attached to. Like a deeper part of his mind, working over problems and suspicions without the higher brain noticing. The ever cautious Arrancar, slowly examined the areas of the shop which his eyes could not admire. How large was this building, truly? Where there rooms hidden in the back, beneath or above? Where was the shop keep...and any other occupants which might reside inside the walls? With his unique utility of a alternate sight, he hoped to discovering another soul nearby. One aware of his presence in the shop...one who could perhaps, be very open with their thoughts. It was unlikely, but certainly worth the initial search. Alas, he would not find his answer. Instead...it would find him.

Excited. That was the best way to describe the tone of Marc's invisible patron. The voice seemed rather soft and feminine, but still distinguishably male. The thoughts which accompanied them, assuming he could hear those too, should confirm this gender assumption. Ah, but things would not be so cut and dry for the old man. For as he peered around him, trying to find the source of the voice, he would be suddenly taken aback. In the passing of a blink, a sudden figure appeared. Figure, not body. What lay before him seemed to be nothing more than a decoration or toy...it was nothing more than pink and fluff.

Had it not been for the hoovering, Marc would have not given the strange creature a second thought. But no, it levitated in front of him...demanding his attention. Soon Marcelius' surprise wore away, and he recognized the large blue eyes and unquestionable grin. This creature had an expression to perfectly blend with it's voice. Was the happiness this spirit conveyed authentic? Was it truly happy to have the Arrancar in his store? Certainly it knew what Marc was..?addressing him by his race's title. Relying on his second sight, he would gauge the honesty of the beasts joy. Now if he could pull himself together, and form a sensible question for the thing.

"G...Greetings. I would like to see your Gigai, and hear what you are charging for them." With a voice like his, the salesman would be able to detect his age. Assuming the dim lights had even hidden his wrinkles at all. Given that Marcelius was so busy trying to understand why this being looked as it did...who was to say that the flying cottoncandy was not doing the same to him? There, simple and to the point. Marcelius even went an extra step, to motion towards the bodies hanging from the ceiling. Clearly they had a supply of the False Bodies...finding the right "fit" should not prove difficult. In truth, Marc had to be careful not to be swindled. He did not posses great understanding on the intricacies or varieties of Gigai in existence. Whenever such a thing was needed, he had submitted to the Septima's far superior understanding. It was something that made him quite uneasy right now...such a blatant shirking of a learning opportunity. If this all went well, he would have to make amends to such errors of his judgement.

This soul did not seem interested in exchanging names, and Marcelius could not imagine extending conversation with something so strange as it. It was wrong of him to be so harsh in his judgement, but it was nevertheless true. Unless otherwise inspired, he would keep his words limited and filled with intent. This was too dangerous a place to linger in idle conversation...plus, indulging business with a Hollow like himself, might get this innocent on the Gotei's radar. The faster Marcelius could get what he needed and depart, the better both of them would be. Still...he could not help but wonder. What kind of manifestation was this fluffy entity?

Maybe it had a name, and if so, he could possibly learn just from listening to the creature's heart. This posed danger for him, becoming to fixated on the curiosity he held for the puff. So he tried, as best he could, to shake his increasing tunnel vision. Instead he thought back to his original objective. Pulling a receipt he had pocketed from the shack before, he looked around to see if this place soul beverages or whatever else might be listed on the bill of sale. Marc was confident, something highly spiritual was connected to that strange home...and this place could contain much more promising finds than merely the Gigai and a baffling shopkeep.

[Zeich Yajuu]

It makes no sense... why isn't this working...? Zeich frowned at the young girl, who was still sitting and staring at him with questions written all over her face. He didn't understand why Soul Burial wasn't working, or at least, what was causing it to fail. He knew there was something or someone behind it; the chill, the brief visions that flashed across his mind's eye, the sense of a triumphant, smug darkness... any less objective person might have taken it to be “evil,” to let their feelings rule their perceptions of a situation. It was malicious, certainly; whatever this being was, it took joy in something dark, something heinous to those of a more “noble” mindset.

Zeich was not a subjective person; he looked at the facts and nothing more. He preferred his cold logic to sudden emotional leaps, especially since he was having difficulties controlling the feelings that rose up within him lately. Part of him blamed the Shadow within him, a dark being that knew how to prey upon his hatred and anger and draw out the rage within him. That anger was a terrifying thing; before the Shadow had revealed itself, the Third Seat had previously been able to contain that fire within him, concealing it beneath a layer of icy calm that had been all most people saw from him. Even now, Zeich did his best to keep himself neutral, difficult as it had become of late.

As an objective figure, Zeich looked at the situation before him based on the facts. There was something preventing Soul Burial. It wasn't a failure, or reports would have flooded in, followed by messages sent out to any active Shinigami. That meant that there was someone or something actively blocking their attempts to send the girl to Soul Society... or a problem within the Plus herself. Both were possible, but Zeich suspected that even if the latter was true, there was a third party involved. The malicious grin, the feeling of chilling dread that washed over him when he had tried to send the girl's spirit to Soul Society... those were not natural, part of the child who stood there, quivering in fear. There was most certainly a third party involved.

All of this ran through Zeich's head, but not a word came from his lips; he kept his thoughts to himself until he was sure of the chain of logic, and even then he didn't say much to others, preferring to work alone. Trust was a difficult thing to come by; he trusted only himself and his Zanpaktou spirit, the essence of his soul. Instead, he examined his two companions. Both seemed shaken by the situation as much as he was, confused, disoriented; had they seen the images too? What thoughts were running through their heads? While he disliked sharing his thoughts with others, Zeich ironically took a very strong interest in the thoughts of those same others because it provided information he did not have, not because he cared about opinions or feelings.

However, Zeich's thoughts were quickly interrupted by a question from his fellow Shinigami, followed by a surge of Reiatsu that filled the area. The Third Seat felt... fear. He felt pressure, terror, horror, all rolled into a thick wave of a cold, chilling energy that filled the area. It wasn't nearby, either; it was at least a mile distant, if Zeich's limited skills with detecting energy were accurate. And yet, despite its distance, the Third Seat could feel it as though it were right over his shoulder, looming down on him, the being's existence threatening to swallow him up. Dark, chilling self-hatred mixed with fear and loathing, a churning whirlpool of dark energies that attempted to drag him beneath the surface.

It was not as easy as the enemy thought it would be, though; Zeich immediately recognized the feelings of fear within him, and quickly activated a special technique that he had learned to develop through meditative applications of Hakuda. Gigei Mikon: Douzen Heisei was an ability that allowed Zeich to simply seal away his emotions, locking away any sort of disturbance besides calm, cold logic. The sense of fear was quickly diminished, and though it was still present the enhanced ability to keep calm combined with a decrease in his ability to even feel the terror that had threatened to overwhelm him now allowed the Third Seat to keep to his feet, fighting through the waves of memories that rushed to assault him.

He stared over her, his cracked teeth a reminder of the pain about to come...

The belt descended, an angry red coating his skin as the metal buckle whipped around, slamming into his arm and leaving a deep welt...

Claws tore across his skin, raising bloody welts that slowly withered as infection set in...

Terror, pure unadulterated terror. He had to run, he had to hide...! It was going to devour him...!

Memories filled him in a rush, threatening to drag him down even with his technique active. Zeich fought through them, fought through the pain that had both of his companions weeping in soundless agony as they were swept in as well. Of the three, the Third Seat was the best-equipped to fight his way through the agony, and he did so, forcing himself onto his feet, his back straightening as he came up from a half-curled position he had barely noticed himself taking. Refusal to succumb and his own natural strength of will had him shaking off the worst of it, left only with images and ideas rather than being sucked into the lives that each memory portrayed.

Instead, Zeich was able to examine the effects of the presence around him. He saw death overtake the nearby plant, felt the same decay and corruption on the air even as the flower withered, died, and faded away. There was something dark and powerful in the area, something whose mere presence delivered death... it was something he would likely have to deal with, lest it become a problem. He was the only one who had the clarity of mind to deal with such a threat, judging by Uzumaki's own reaction. No, Zeich knew he would be on his own for the upcoming encounter. He was fine with that, though.

“Sixth Seat Uzumaki, watch over the Plus, and attempt a Soul Burial again once this presence fades. If it fails, continue to protect her until we can deal with the situation, and contact Seireitei via Hell Butterfly. I am going to investigate.” His command given, Zeich quickly started off in the direction of the presence, leaping up above the rooftops using air ground and running in his chosen direction. With no obstacles and his high speed, he would eat up the distance in no time, quickly closing in on where the presence should be. He had a threat to end.

Remaining Reiatsu: 2400/2500 (-100 for Gigei Mikon: Douzen Heisei)

Natural Calm: 1/5 (Disorientation) / 1/10 (Mental Burnout)

[Kashmir De-Mona]

The floating fluffball disappeared behind a series of curtains. It reemerged seconds later with a blank white body dangling next to it. The blank white body dangling next to it was human. It was human, with two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. It had all of these appendages and no features. It lacked features, meaning that it lacked definition of muscle or weight, no toning nor additional flesh. Only the bare essentials existed. Only the bare essentials existed, meaning it also was pure white without skin color, bald without hair, and had no eyes, ears, nose, mouth, eyebrows, anything. It was a flexible mannequin. The floating fluffball also lacked hands. It lacked hands, and somehow was levitating the Gigai to hold it up to show Marcelius.

"GIGAAAIIIII!!!!" it called as a flaming fluffball. "COMPATIBLE WITH ARRANCAR BODIES! WILL EVEN SUPPRESS YOUR REIATSU SIGNATURE ENOUGH THAT SHINIGAMI AND HOLLOWS HAVE TROUBLE LOCATING YOUUUUUU!!!!" The pink fluffball was holding a Gigai of nearly identical size to Marcelius. It was of almost identical size to Marcelius, and perhaps may even grow into his size because of magical properties, as some Gigai were known to do. Once he stepped into it, it would most probably take his natural form. The pink fluffball had been thorough when it found this piece, or perhaps when it crafted it. "200 Ryo..." the pink fluffball explained. "Interested?" It was something which was cheap. Too good to pass up perhaps?

"Or perhaaaaps you were interested in other iteeemmmssss?" the pink fluffball asked as well. "What brings you here, AAAARRAAANNNCAAARRR?" The dark aura could not be felt from within the shop. The dark aura could not be felt from within the shop, however it was also plausible that this pink fluffball, who was both resident of town and regular shop owner, could know something. He was spiritually aware. Knowing things would most probably be up his alley, or perhaps knowing where to go to learn certain facets of information. The pink fluffball had wide eyes as it continued to float there next to the floating Gigai. As it continued to float there next to the floating Gigai, it continued to watch Marcelius.

Meanwhile, Zeich once again left Uzumaki behind. Zeich once again left Uzumaki behind, and found himself, if he closed in on the source of the putrid reiatsu, soon reaching the outskirts of town once again, and once again the shack. Continuing onward, if he entered the shack, he would be able to trace the source of the putrid reiatsu into it, all the way up to a wardrobe, which if he opened would reveal an grassland. Tracks of fresh blood had been along the road to the shack, and had led all the way inside as well. These tracks continued to lead into the wardrobe, and if opened, it led to another place entirely. This other place was an enchanted forest. It was an enchanted forest, but a dark enchanted forest.

Zeich's observation would reveal to him a small grassy field which led to a dark, foreboding forest filled with black and tall trees. It was filled with black and tall trees, and the brush of the leaves overhead was thick with black leaves and kept out all of the light. It kept out all of the light, for it was meant to be imposing, and the cold in that area was very high. There were chills, and menacing winds which howled such that one could almost assume they were murderous. Inside of the wardrobe, if Zeich so chose to enter, it would become clear that this was still in the human world, for his cell phone for Seireitei communications was still functional. Many sounds came from the forest up ahead. If he approached it, he would see something else.

There was a man outside of the forest, just at the entrance, only a few feet away. He lay there covered in blood, drenched in a puddle of blood. Gashes and wounds were all over him, and his skin was white and clammy and pale. His skin was white and clammy and pale, and he wore a brown trench coat. The man did not move. It could not be immediately discerned without approach if the man even breathed. Was he a corpse or was he not? Approach would show that this man was alive and took shallow breaths. In his left hand was a black gem. He did not move at all. He did not stir, however shallow breaths showed life still existed within him. Come... a voice rolled out from the forest. Coommmeee......

[Zeich Yajuu]

Zeich's calm shook from time to time, ripples beneath the frozen surface as he hurried to follow the trail of Reiatsu. The Third Seat's eyes were narrow as he considered what he was heading towards; such a powerful, malicious presence suggested something worth fearing, especially considering the destructive aura that came with it. The feeling of death and decay lingered in the air, growing stronger, and for a moment Zeich was treated to the mental image of diving headfirst into a grave, an apt metaphor for his approach towards the source of the feeling in the air. As fate would have it, the Third Seat expected that he would find a body at the end of it; he just hoped that the corpse awaiting him at the bottom of this mystery wasn't his own.

...We need to get you a book of happy poems or something. That was a dark metaphor, even for you.

The town's buildings passed by quickly as Zeich continued to track the dark feeling in the air, the smell of decay in his nose and the taste of rot in his mouth. The Reiatsu in the air was foul, like sludge splashed across a garbage heap, and only grew worse as the Shinigami quickly approached the outskirts of town. As soon as the open plain came into view, Zeich knew exactly where the Reiatsu had to be coming from. Without even needed to open his senses to the energy in the air again, the Third Seat turned to approach the decrepit building outside the town's border. Logic dictated that the strange presence he had felt around the shack before had to be related to this overpowering aura of death filling the town, at very least sharing a connection but at most being the direct source.

The location of the source was obvious, but what Zeich wanted to know was what the source was. What would give off such a feeling? No Shinigami, that was for sure, despite their translated title as “Gods of Death,” and it certainly didn't resemble any other spiritual presences Zeich had felt before. Perhaps it belonged a Hollow of some sort? But no, the Third Seat would have immediately recognized such a feeling from Hollows in the past. It wasn't likely to be an Arrancar either, as on average they bore a presence about them that was a cross between a Shinigami's and a Hollow's. Something about it felt... strange. Familiar wasn't the right word, as Zeich had never sensed anything about it, yet something about it seemed to trigger a recognition.

Ah... the smell of death...

Zeich froze as the Shadow's voice broke through the silence, its whisper like the drip of blood that brought with it the feelings of hatred and a desire for destruction that the being seemed to constantly emanate from the creature within his soul. The shock was enough to break his concentration and thus his technique, causing his calm to shatter completely. The Reiatsu's aura, this close, swallowed him in its presence, driving the Third Seat to his knees, fear washing over him and dragging him beneath the surface. Gasping for air like a man drowning, Zeich forced himself to struggle through the memories that suddenly returned, the reaching fingers of horror that dug into his body with cracked, jagged nails. The sickening presence around him made the Third Seat struggle not to throw up, his arms wrapped around him to ward off a chill caused only by terror.

What's the matter, boy...? This world is heaven for monsters like you and I...

Vision spinning as he fought to recover from the surge of stomach-twisting emotions within him, Zeich pushed himself to his feet again. The Shadow's presence within him added a tension to the Shinigami that only Zeich himself would understand as he struggled to remain standing. When the Shadow awoke, darkness and death followed. Haiiro...? Where was Haiiro...? The wolf had been quiet since his owner had entered the shack, too quiet; with the Shadow's presence so strong and Haiiro suddenly absent, Zeich feared the worst. The terror that was closing in around him suddenly seemed to press forward, threatening to bear him down to the floor once more, and with his newly-awakened concern for his Zanpaktou spirit, the Third Seat was hard-pressed to keep on his feet.

He couldn't do it. Zeich found himself curling inwards in another wave of fear that crashed over him, breaking against him and pulling him into a sea of terror. Clutching his arms about himself, the Third Seat hunched over, his legs feeling weak, cut out beneath him; once more he staggered and collapsed to the floor, shivering in a chill that seemed to fill the air. Zeich's body told him that with how cold he felt, he should have seen his breath steaming before him, yet nothing came with each exhale; it was as if the cold had sucked every ounce of warmth out of him and left a frozen, terrified shell that wanted nothing more than to curl up on the wooden, broken floor of the shack. Zeich barely noticed the rough wood beneath his cheek; his vision dimming as he struggled to find a breath. I... can't lose... another...!

A voice came from the darkness, a warmth that banished some of the chill that clouded Zeich's thoughts. A familiar, relaxing voice. Master, I'm here! Calm down!

Ven...tus...? Zeich used the wolf's old name without thinking, shivering in the freezing cold that gripped his bones. He found that just knowing that his Zanpaktou's spirit was still there had eased away some of the fear that he had let himself sink into, allowing him to uncurl stiff, aching fingers from about his shoulders.

Yes, master, I'm here. Relax; find your calm and think objectively. Logically, what is this feeling? Why are you afraid? What has you so terrified? Or is it just some illusion brought on by this feeling?

Haiiro's calm tone and objective view helped as Zeich slowly uncurled himself from the shivering ball of terror that he had been on the floor. Every joint felt stiff, every muscle strained from the fear that had racked his body, but he was alright; the sense of decay and death, the feeling of fear in the air, still remained, yet its effect almost felt lesser. The Shadow had retreated at some point; Zeich couldn't feel its presence anymore, and reduced a significant portion of his terror, allowing him to slowly push himself to his feet. He felt something warm against his cheek, an odd sensation through the numbing chill of fear that had wrapped him in its shroud only moments before, and gently placed his hand on it.

Fingers came back stained red with blood, and for a moment, Zeich checked himself for injuries, wondering if his fear had numbed him to pain. A quick inspection showed that he was whole, and a glance at the floor revealed a splash of crimson staining the wood beneath him where he had fallen. The Third Seat, still shivering in a cold that he could not shake off, wrapped his arms about himself and followed the trail, wondering just what he would find. Some monster, perhaps? Something had been injured, but to Zeich it had the feel of prey bleeding to death as it was dragged into the predator's den; if he followed the trail, the Third Seat anticipated that he would find both predator and prey. And yet he staggered forward, his steps slowly becoming steadier beneath him. Being objective thus far and accepting the logical facts was helping the Third Seat slowly get over his crippling fear, at least.

The blood led to a wardobe that rested against one wall, the wooden construct seeming innocuous at a glance. But the trail of blood had led to it, and Zeich expected to open it only to have a body fall out. Still he approached, knowing very well what he could expect, and stepped to the side as he opened the door, steeling himself against shock or surprise. The thick oak door creaked open with the loud squeal of hinges that desperately needed oil, causing Zeich to wince and fight not to cover his ears. In the end, it was more surprising that nothing happened; Zeich slowly, carefully moved around the wardrobe's wall, glancing inside with one hand on his Zanpaktou.

What lay within was almost as much a surprise, a dark wood with the same feeling of malicious intent flowing out of it. The Third Seat paused on the threshold of this strange doorway, wondering just what he was getting into; would it be wise to even enter? Doubt and fear still filled him, making Zeich hesitate where he normally would have acted, and the Third Seat wondered if it would be best to call for backup. This wasn't something he should be doing alone; a squad of Shinigami would be best to handle this, preferably with one of Captain level present in order to deal with any major threats in this mysterious forest. Still standing at the doorway's edge, Zeich wondered what he should do.

Amber eyes caught sight of a figure among the trees, lying in a puddle of blood. The trail seemed to lead through the wardrobe and up to the body, suggesting that this was the “prey” that Zeich had been tracking. That decided the Shinigami's course of action; he stepped through, hurrying over to see if the person was still alive, to see if he or she could provide any information as to what was going on. Approach revealed that the figure was a man in a trench coat, bleeding heavily from numerous injuries, yet he was still alive; the breath rattling from between his lips suggested so. Zeich didn't have anything on him to try and bandage the worst of the injuries, and so settled with removing his jacket and putting it over the man, pressing down to try and stem some of the bleeding. The Third Seat shivered in the chill winds, wearing only a gray sleeveless undershirt over his torso, but he did his best to ignore it as he leaned close.

“What's going on here? Who are you? How were you injured?”

[Marcelius]

This shop was proving to be...one of the more memorable experience of the Arrancar's long life. The shopkeep himself, one of the most confusing...yet exhilarating souls he had ever come across. To watch this creature move and speak, it was all entertaining. Uplifting, even. In a quest too make sense of how the creature interacted wit the world around it, Marcelius desperately hoped to peer into the beings mind. Even if no answer to his mobility came to light, maybe an explanation about is amiability might? What inspired this little puff to be so happy and cheerful?

Clearly a business owner would need to be personable, that much was obvious. But beyond the basic charm of a salesman, this pink puff was brimming with joy. It was infectious, really. Even without a lengthy exchange, Marc was finding his mood on the rise. This evening had been particularly rough, nothing going quite as planned or according to his wishes. The joy was a welcome reprieve. Instead of ruining it, the Arrancar did what he could to relax for the time being. Unfortunately, his host was rather quick with his service...soon enough the limbless figure immerged from the back room. There had been a racket, and a bevy of lights...and now their was a blank Gigai presented to him.

Observing the lifeless body, Marc's mind could not help but analyze and quantify. The Gigai's skin was such a muted white, that it apparead more product than person. It was a doll after all, one that was to be worn about the soul like a suit...maybe it did not matter. More surprising were the lack of any noticeable features. Once again, Marc had very little experience with this tools...certainly no knowledge if this was the norm. Lifting his head to compare the offered body to those that still swung from the rafters, he found it hard for his old eyes to discern their differences. The most pleasing qualities of the new body, were the matching dimensions. Having the same size and proper spread of proportions, it looked as though it was made for someone of his exact size. Was this body...tailored? Was that a possibility?

Surely, thought Marc, surely it must be possible to customize Gigai to the intended owner. By the time he had determined the likeness between him and the faux body, the floating plushie made mention it was compatible for Arrancar. Was this body crafted specifically for Marcelius himself? Was that why this body needed to be fetched from the back, while perfectly good substitutes hung from the shop ceiling? Was this a freshly constructed Gigai? Mmm, there would be no real way of telling. After all, Marcelius was not a craftsman of spiritual goods. If there was any means by which to identify or signify the immediate creation of this device, Marcelius would not be aware of them. It remained his hypotheses I, that this fluffball was a highly skilled producer of spiritual gadgets. As such, the price for such a sudden creation, would have to be quite much...or so he wrongly guessed.

Only 200 Ryo? Truly? What an exceptional price for this kind of thing...again, so far as Marc knew. For such a low cost, it seemed rude to not purchase the Gigai. After all, this soul had been kind enough to treat him with kindness despite his species...that alone was worth the mentioned price. Looking into those glorious blue gems which stared back at him...unblinkingly, Marcelius smiled and gave a nod. "I must say, that is a bargain. I greatly appreciate the generosity." His voice was quite calm, almost completely washed of the terrors which filled the night before. That was the intoxicating quality of the store clerck's attitude. Not only had it brightened his outlook on the evening, but it also loosened his billfold.

Well, he did not have an actual billfold...but the point was the same. So, he quickly fetched his on-hand finances. Soon crisps slips of fresh, infrequently handled cash came to greet the merchant. Unfortunately, by all counts, Marc was 50 Ryo short of the mark. How embarrassing indeed. "Ah...well, I guess I spoke too soon." Drawing back the money, hoping to conceal the embarrassment which accompanied this sort of blunder. "I am sorry about that." Putting the bills away, his fingers graced another papery object in his pocket. Pulling it out into the light, so that he and the salesman may both see, he revealed receipts from a nearby store.

Having collected them from the disturbing refuse of the equally disturbing shack, he quickly lifted them to be more easily viewed. Turning back to his host, he spoke softly once again. "Perhaps I can purchase some answers? I need to know where these recipes might have come from...more importantly, I am looking for the person who received these. They would be a resident of this area, living in the small shack located directly outside of town. I suspect them to be spiritually aware. Perhaps you know the person, or persons, who reside within that building?" Keeping the purchase tickets exposed, in case they might lead to one answer or another, Marcelius eagerly awaited a response.

Meanwhile, the Arrancar's guard rose up once more. Given that the night's mission had returned to the forefront of his mind; Marcelius concerned himself with the outside world's dealings once more. It had only been a few minutes since he enter the shop from the street...but before, he had sensed Shinigami nearby. Could he still sense them beyond the shop? Was this place, in any way, inhibiting his abnormally talented energy sensitivity? If it was impossible for him to feel anything else other than what was in this shop, that would be fine.

A business like this must need some form of spiritual protection or barriers to ensure safety from unwanted customers...it would not be surprising if such barricade affected his abilities. Though it would not frighten or alarm the old man, he would make a point to exit the shop as quickly as he politely could. It was not safe for him to remain in an environment where he could not keep his awareness up and spread out to a reasonable distance. To fearful of ambushes, this Hollow had become in his elder years. Hopefully, his caution would once again insure his safety...in the meantime. "Might there be anything you can offer my investigation?"

[Kashmir De-Mona]

A beguiling smirk fell upon the face of the pink puffy puffle. A beguiling smirk fell upon the face of the pink puffy puffle, for it had been asked a question by Marcelius which was interesting to it. The question which Marcelius had asked, and which had intrigued the pink ball of fluff, was about the aura created around the shack. The aura created around the shack, which was so sinister as to make even an Arrancar wonder. And it was so, that this was something which was remarkable. It was so that this was something which was remarkable, and noteworthy. It was remarkable, it was noteworthy, it was significant, and it was unique. The pink ball of fluff spoke then, but its eyes had grown serious and its face and voice flat. It had taken on a new perspective for Marcelius.

"Stay...away from that place....Put your money away, and stay away from that place. I don't need you to pay me for saving your life by warning you. I have been here for centuries, and that place has been here longer than that. In the time I have been around, thirty six families have lived in it. That place...that place is evil. All families to have lived there were devoured by an evil creature in the night, which has killed many Shinigami who came to stop it. It was a monstrous Hollow which I have seen only once...a beast with no face. I have heard that that shack is its birthplace...That because so much resentment festered there from all of the abusive, horrible people that have wandered through it, a dark aura created from it attracted Hollows, who became one evil monster."

Images began to form. Images began to form in the mind of Marcelius, for in the presence of the story, when so near the source, darkness was conjured. Darkness was conjured, for those who could sense emotions were privy to darkness which others were not, and stories became theirs to see as would never be seen by others. It was darkness. It was darkness, yet it could be seen. He could see and experience a wife being murdered with her children by a father and husband's rusted knife. He could see and experience a murdererous son who carved out the eyes of his parents. There were many scenes to witness. Rape. Murder. Screaming. Yelling. There were many emotions. Fear, resentment, disgust, hatred.

"No one has lived there for some years now..." the pink fluffball said sadly. "And good thing. Yet, in the time it has been empty, horrible monsters have been appearing. Grotesque, putrid things. Creatures which resemble giant slugs, men with no face and no legs, crawling forward on their arms. Beastly worms with arms and legs. Horrible things have been appearing near there. Resident Fullbringers around here have taken it upon themselves to attempt to slay all of these. Those who live here are smart enough not to enter the shack itself, for none who enter it can leave for free. Those who have entered it...will be devoured...I beg of you, Arrancar. DOONN'TTT GOOOO...TOOOO THEEEE SHAAACCCKKKKKK!"

Meanwhile, where Zeich found himself, the man stirred. The man stirred, though barely. It took a great deal of time for him to be risen. His body was weak. He was weak. His body and he were weak. His mind was weak. No more stirrings were within Zeich. Only the moment. Only the moment stirred within Zeich, and the old man reached up to grasp at Zeich's collar as he hoisted himself up. He hoisted himself up, for he desired an opportunity to speak. He had to speak. He struggled at first. He struggled at first, but eventually he was able to sit up. His mouth began to open. Blood leaked out. There was a great deal of blood when he attempted to speak. When he attempted to speak, all seemed to silence for his words.

"My...daughter...was taken..." he explained to Zeich. How could he see Zeich? He was obviously human. He was obviously human, yet he could see Zeich. "Help her...help her...I...I...I don't know how I got here...I woke up in that forest...and she was being taken away...and I...I tried to save her, but I was too weak so I...I ran away...I couldn't do anything...I couldn't escape...Oh god, oh god! Those monsters without eyes! THEY HOUNDED ME. THEY HOUNDED ME. I...oh my god...Please save her...please help her...please save my daughter! Oh please..." The man began to puke. He began to puke blood out. It was dark crimson. It was muddy, and it was in clumps. The man was quite heavily breathing.

If Zeich ventured into the forest, which he undoubtedly must, he would find things. He would find things which disturbed him and shocked him. Even if he did not, he would find them. Eventually, whether in the forest or out of it, they began crawling toward him. They began crawling toward him, for they wanted to consume him. The same fleshy white, pale beasts without eyes which Marcelius had first encountered outside of the shack came sliding toward Zeich. Where they came from was not known. Where they came from was not known, however they were approaching him. It was the end of the bright days. Now was combat or something else. What would Zeich do? Return this man elsewhere and safety, or continue? But...his exit had disappeared.

[Marcelius]

Once more, the saying poses truth, "You do not know what you have, till it is gone". More so than any other factor, this saying applies to emotions. Fleeting and wild, the feelings of one's heart can shift and twist like the wind. Indeed, such a change occurred this very moment. One which felt eerily akin to the sudden abbrasion of chilling gales. Within the once joyous shopkeep, sudden darkness welled. It was not fear, nor was it grief. It was a lifeless and terrible...darkness. The color of the puffle's soul -once a elated, melodious yellow- now turned to a void which mirrored the aura outside.

Was this the power of that strange place? To rob such happiness from souls, and leave nothing in the wake of it's reap? Marcelius observed, amazed, at the strange shopkeep's tale. Equally enthralled by the profound effect it had upon the soul, as much as the content of the tale. Being one for stories and histories, his full attention was granted the pink fluff. With each passing word, the recounting of tragedies old, he felt his breath shorten. Soon...the mind which devoted itself fully to spectacular. In this state, the vivid qualities of the imagination began to take flight. He was not merely informed of the landmarks dark and wretched past; Marcelius was living it. Each life which passed through those doors, each that the puff could remember with clarity...Marc reached out for them with empathy.

Wishing and hoping for them to change their mind and to turn away. Each time, his words and cries going unanswered. For as potetn as his mind may be envisioning the past...he has not once managed to change it. That was his own great tragedy, that he could look but never interfere. This tragedy snapped him free from his trance, reminding him of his separation from this within the story. Yes, they were all gone now. Victims...one's certainly worth his sympathy, but still they were gone. Reclaiming his focus on the present, the Hollow drew his hand slowly from the merchant. Retracting his offer of Ryo, as it had been made clear that no purchase would be made. After all, the gigai was redundant now. The investigation was over.

"I see...a Hollow then." Though a certain sound within the aura had felt Hollow all along, there was definitely more to it than that. Marc had been unable to resolve, just what the difference was...but not it seemed even that was explained. Whatever dwelt within this cabin, was born from a womb of malice and evil. Not simply one soul, dying in anguish or emptiness. Not even several souls culminating together like a Menos. Though it may be Hollow, it is more and avatar than beast. The manifestation of countless atrocities...given physical form. Not one mind, or many...but a twisted mass of notions and desires that never truly possessed an identity.

Nothing that the old Arrancar could ever recall seeing. Neither on Earth, nor Hueco Mundo. Truly a marvel of a discovery..."Thank you..." The lost calm and warmth, now returning to his speech. "For all you help." There was nothing more to say, he had been warned and he was grateful. There would be no bargaining with this mysterious creature, such was made clear by it's commitment to the warning. What information the once happy being might still have, did not change the reality which existed. So...with nothing else to gain. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality and service. I...do so hope to meet with you again."

Marcelius could not help but think of how fortunate he had been till now. To have met such a kind and helpful soul; one that did not judge him for his heritage. Given how close this compassionate soul's residence was to the source of the local plight, a sense of responsibility now filled Marc. This issue...this shack, and it's 'Hollow' occupant; they needed to be addressed. Perhaps it would lead to his death, or worse, the death of the Hollow which terrorized this region. One way or another, an attempt had to be made to change things.

Mmm...maybe this odd creature was just another lost family member, who would do well to find their way to Las Noches? Ah, such fantasies offered him great hope. Too bad, that hope was little use as a shield...certainly against this sort of opposition. So Marcelius turned from his new friend, with a half-heart smile. "My name is Marcelius, and if it is within your policy, please set aside one of those Gigai for me. I shall return for it someday." Stepping back towards the town, the polite geezer strolled into the frightening night.

No more than a foot out of the door, and the weight of the evil laden sky...fell full force unto his shoulders. Such emotions and plight, weighed heavy on his 'heart'. Not only was the core of him burdened, but so too was his mind. Having only just determined his course of return, the images invaded. Not just pictures...but voices and stimulation. All the worst kinds of memories; thoughts which could not be forgotten despite any effort. Scenes which never lost their detail or clarity over the years. Moments of agony and torment.

Such as the icy, metal clap of a belt buckle. The warm burn of tears on soft skin. The jagged, tearing of a rusted blade...too ruined to do it's job quickly. Hatred from a mother. Caresses of a villainous father. Fear and weakness, shared by siblings. Desperation of a wife. Wrath of a husband. Oh, the many ways a life may end. But not, not really end. No...they lingered. Yes, waiting and stewing in their hate. Finding and burning one another, until they cascaded into one another's arms. The growing numbers of untold stories...each with people who's names no longer matter. All of them, gone, and worthless. All of them...apart of a new whole. A new life, born in a womb of loathing. A new conscience which had but one craving, to...share.

Yes, share. Share the tortures and the punishments. Spread the terror and the horror. Bask in the hate, fester and grow in the lifeblood known as disgust. Darkness creating darkness. This is what Marcelius felt, as his feet came to a stop. Before him...the open doorway of the old cottage. Inside, nothing but the shadows. Shades and echoes from what remains after the birth. The aura was strongest here, and so, the allure of the dark power would always draw the empathetic back. Or so it seemed, now that his visions had carried him back to the center of it all. This is where he would have to find it...this 'Hollow'. To prevent more others from seeking it out, whether they be Shinigami or Hollow, he had to do something to displace it. Something...anything.

Crossing into the threshold, no longer dissecting the scene for details or clues, the elder Arrancar took seat in the nearest chair...there to wait, until the resident came for him. Fearful, yes, of what may become of him. More afraid, however, for what might come from his idleness... "Now then, when you are ready..."

[Zeich Yajuu]

This wasn't good. Zeich didn't know what exactly was going on, but the man's gasping words were enough to give him something of an idea. The guy was a human, likely someone from the village nearby, and his daughter had been taken away. Simple logic suggested that the daughter had been brought to this world in the wardrobe, and that whatever was releasing the dark and suppressive presence was likely the cause of it. The Third Seat wasn't necessarily sure how to proceed; he wasn't one to make promises he couldn't keep, yet he had respect for the obviously dying man's wish. There was no guarantee that the man's daughter was safe, or that Zeich could do anything about it... so he did the most practical thing. He told the honest truth.

“I cannot make any promises. If I find your daughter well and am able to rescue her without sacrificing my own life in the process, then I will do what I am able to in order to bring her to safety. In the event that I cannot, be assured that even should something befall her, death is far from the end of either of your journeys, and will not separate you for long.” Zeich looked around, but seeing as his exit had vanished, it seemed that he would not be able to take the man to the world he had come from, to die at least near his home instead of the forest of death that they had found themselves in. No such luck, it seemed; well, the least the Shinigami could do was put the man out of his misery and then send him to Soul Society with a Konso, if it worked there.

“Rest well. You'll be in a better place on the other side.” With that, Zeich drew his sword and slammed the skullcap of it into the man's skull, knocking him out cold. The weapon was reversed, blade-down, and the spiritual steel was driven into the human's chest, straight through his heart. Unconscious, the man would never know that he had died, slipping into the afterlife with only a last gasp of breath. It was a merciful kill, and though Zeich wasn't one who showed much mercy, he didn't enjoy nor endorse pointless suffering. If the man was going to die—and there was certainly no way to save him, as the Third Seat was no medic and he had no way of getting the man to Soul Society without killing him on the way—then Zeich felt it was best to simply end the pain, and let him end his suffering.

Once the man's passing was done, Zeich wiped his blade on the grass, cleaning the blood off of it before starting to sheath the weapon. However, he paused mid-motion, noticing a movement at the edge of his vision. Looking up, the Third Seat had his Zanpaktou before him in an instant, eyes narrowing as he noticed the half-human creatures crawling towards him. Missing the lower half of their bodies, the beings were pale white in color and dragged themselves forward by tortured pulls of their twisted fingers, eyeless faces still somehow turning towards him as they tugged themselves towards the Shinigami. Zeich had seem some horrifying things in his life, most of them without flinching, yet something about those creatures crawling towards him sent a shiver down his spine. Still, they were nothing; the Third Seat was able to keep rational, and focus on the threat at hand. These were what the dying man had spoken of, what had harmed him. They were a threat.

Several quick steps had Zeich closing the distance, and his blade came down in a flash to slash through the neck of the leading creature. Before the dismembered head hit the ground, the Third Seat was already at the next, carving out the being's arm before whipping his blade downwards to cut across its spine, likely paralyzing it if not killing it outright. The two would fall quickly if they didn't have a means of defending themselves or recovering from an attack, and in the meantime, Zeich would be making distance to see if his attacks had been effective. The Third Seat would quickly dash back after his initial strikes, pulling back until he was a good twenty feet away. From there, he would be able to react quickly, unless the creatures could somehow overpower his reaction time.

[Kashmir De-Mona]

SPOILER: Click to show

Though Marcelius was allowed to borrow a Gigai, he was warned, in the end, as he was allowed to depart, that he would not find use in it. He was warned, in the end, as he was allowed to depart, that only his spiritual body would be able to withstand the pain which he had decided to bring upon himself to experience. The pain which he had decided to bring upon himself to experience, he was told, was a poison of the soul. Final, imparting words were his to know as he left. "I can't stop you from leaving, but I should warn you, do not falter. If you should allow your heart, even for a moment, to waver as you approach the heart of the evil, then you will never be heard from again." It was more than a warning, however, of the ominous. Marcelius would discover in the future that it was a logistical one as well.

He was also, on his way out, given an item. On his way out, Marcelius was provided with a small crystal in the shape of a flashlight. It was transparent, as if made of glass. It was as if it was made of glass, and had a sort of liquid within it. He was told that this would light his way as he searched for evil. The more dense the darkness, and the greater the evil, the brighter it would glow. This was a useful tool, as it would also provide Marcelius with a small aura of protection, to ward off the weakest of the dark spirits. To ward off the weakest of the dark spirits, supposedly, would allow him a slim chance of survival as he moved forwards. However, this of course was only a very slim chance.

This slim chance could only be exemplified by the struggles which were faced by Zeich. When the first of the creatures he struck down, a ghastly memory exploded throughout his mind. A ghastly memory exploded throughout his mind, and he would experience all of the sensations even in mid motion which were associated with that memory. There was pain from being tortured in a dungeon in that first one. When Zeich struck down the second one as well, a memory filled him. A memory filled him of a ghastly time, a ghastly time of being skinned alive, and left there to rot. And more creatures began to exit the forest as well. They were weak, practically defenseless, yet killing them impacted his heart with each one.

Before Zeich's eyes as well, the konso had failed, leaving that corpse he had stabbed, and rising from it a spirit with a chain. The spirit had not been visible earlier, and Konso had appeared to succeed, but it had not. The risen spirit looked around in confusion as the physical body disintegrated into ashes. The chain on the man's chest began to gnaw itself out and turn white. Small mouths formed on the chain, and began devouring the links. The man dropped to his knees screaming as more creatures began to come forth from the forest to attack Zeich. The man was screaming. The man was screaming horribly as a hole began to open in his chest. He was turning into a Hollow, it appeared, and the creatures kept coming.

However, the links suddenly stopped devouring one another, and the man stopped screaming. The hole in his chest failed to grow any larger. He was not transforming into a Hollow. For each sluggish creature Zeich killed, he would feel a horrid memory. One perhaps of being abandoned by parents. One of being heartbroken. There were some of the deaths of loved ones. There were others of watching people die. One, in particular, observed an entire city as it burned. More and more flooded out of the forest toward Zeich, as if endlessly. By the time the spirit stopped Hollowfication, there were already sixty coming at Zeich, faster than the first ones had, groaning as they crawled sluggishly forwards in so pathetic a manner.

The failed Hollow spirit then began to change. His skin turned white, and his legs began to melt as the rest of him began to melt as well, features such as eyes, ears, nose, and hair. Rather than transform into a Hollow, he transformed into another of those slugs, which, if Zeich killed, would imbue him with the memory of watching his daughter being taken away by black cloaked ghouls with shackled wrists and skeletal hands. The monstrosities gave off the most pathetic auras, and were filled with horrid memories of pain, more deep than any Hollow, with hatred and rage more intense than any killer, and a desire to die greater than any suicidal. They were pathetic and miserable in every possible way. There was no doubting that.

As Marcelius, meanwhile, entered the shack, things had changed inside. Blood was splattered all across the floors and the walls in every room. Every floor and every wall had that blood splattered across it, fresh, making a grinning face drawing like a Cheshire cat, and with eyes which simply stared ghoulishly. A trail of older, more stale and dry blood still led to the wardrobe which would permit entry into where Zeich was, however the ghoulish faces mocked Marcelius for entering the cabin. There was a new aura in the air. It was even more sickening and evil. The stench of darkness in that room was suffocating. Everything was of evil in that room. Everything was of evil in that town. Nothing was ever safe.

[Marcelius]

”The pain; which I requested, would be pain of the soul. Poison, seeping and burning. An agony so fierce, that only a Spiritual Body could survive.” The words seemed to ring in his head, like the shock from a sudden impact. They were meant to instill caution, a warning to safeguard his expectations. What lay before him was a road of turmoil. Nothing about his endeavor would be pleasant. Of all the guests he could entertain, Death would seem the most kind. But this was to be expected. After all, what he sought was the terrorized life of a fellow Mask. That was the claim, at least, from the only source of credible information. His brother, someone within this darkness, was nothing like the the rest. A black sheep...among heartless, barbaric, cannibals.

Marcelius' was already feeling the pins and needles. For no matter what amount of fear others might expect from him, the truth was, he craved the presence of such things. In one way, such powerful Hollows meant that their species had improved once again. In the other hand, it was a soul for Marc to examine and remind himself, "I am not alone." Misery loves company, n'est-ce pas? Maybe somewhere behind this veil of tragedy and horror...a kindred soul awaited. Maybe, just maybe, Marcelius could see something that nothing before him had the power to decipher. Or maybe he could die...the same as he could anywhere else, on any other day. Maybe he would be tortured, as he was, every moment of his life. If anything, the concern shown to him had only inspired deeper determination. Marcelius was going to discover this Hollow...and all the secrets and pain that it must come with.

Responsibility, more than courage, took grip of him not. Though his imagination would normally run rampant, with images of great Heroes of of; Marc was not so foolish as to believe his cause glorious. There was no search for triumph or justice, only the scouring of a concerned sibling. Somewhere in the midst of this wretchedness, a portion of his family was isolated. Whether by choice, or forgotten by fate, the result remained the same. It was unfair for anyone of their kind to suffer in solidarity, while other races banded and huddled together. The urge to eat drove many to flee the presence of other's, but such aspects should not affect their strong. If indeed this was a superior specimen of Hollow-kind, then certainly it would have no reason to hide or conceal itself. That was the role of the weak, and unable. Hollow's equivalent of the sick and dying.

So then, Marcelius was confident that the Masks he was bound to find.,,was everything the merchant puff had feared it to be. Though this meant he should maintain caution, it also meant an outrageous benefit for Las Noches. Now there was responsibility of family, and duty of station to be considered. The more Marc's mind worked the completing thoughts it often enjoyed, the more he doomed himself to see this mystery to a beneficial conclusion. The outcome he targeted? A new brother to take home to the commune of Las Noches. The outcome he craved? A soul, hidden in the shadows of anguish...who might understand or share the toil which Marcelius lived with. The outcome most probable? A battle between he, and whatever he pursued...whether it be the yet discovered monster, or another hunter on it's trail. Such are the expectations of an Arrancar's life.

Anticipation burned with Marc's soul. Fueling his every pace, keeping his ambitions illuminated. The Fraccion did not plan to rest until answers had been uncovered. Not until what was in the dark, glimpsed by even the smallest flicker of light. And then, as if cued, a sudden glare tugged at the corner of his focus. A light, which had started dimly, now began to shimmer and coat the world around it in a pleasing glow. Looking down, twisting his hand upright before him, he saw that the glow was escaping from his hand. The vial which he had been issued, a final token of generosity from the shop keep, now displayed it's luminous qualities. Loosening his grip for a moment, he allowed strengthening light to flow freely without cover.

All around him he could feel the shift that it wrought. Where happiness chocked and suffered before, dying under the oppression of the bleak, now it was given chance again. It was small, but committed. The further along his walk he went, the more surely it tried to shine. At the cabin's doorstep...the light had begun to flare. Once more, turning the stone upright, he examined it's brightness. Hoping to learn, if there was anyway to do so, how the object managed to react to the aura around it. However, this was not a mission for science. Though he may have an interest in his strange new trinket...it would have to wait. Instead, he entered the cabin as intended. It was then...with both feet weighing heavy on the wooden floor...that he took notice of the contamination of the scene. The clues and details he had collected from his first visit, seemed insignificant compared to his discoveries now.

Upon every wall, and strewn across most of the floor, was blood of fresh quality. Where the sanguine mess became decoration on the walls, below seemed to be littered with and older batch of the life's essence. Though he would have sense enough to discern the dryer blood from the rest...it would have to wait. For now, a fancy he rarely indulged took over. In the midst of all the evil which surrounded him, his empathy began to adapt. His feelings switch to excitement, bordering on delight. It was the infectious quality of cruelty and darkness...the way it could turn even the greatest man into a fiend. The sight of that crimson paint, drawn upon every surface, rekindled his love for it. The smell, the shimmer...the taste it put into the air. Blood, even for someone as passive as he, was quite the treat. Why? Does a Hollow really need to explain such an affection?

All the same, it was more remnant from his former lives...than obsession for the present. To add to the intrigue he usually found in cruor, were the devilish smiles. When he looked at them, all he could see were the teeth. Oh sure the eyes were there, trying to peer into his soul, but he could not perceive them. For it was the teeth, big and prominent, which reminded him most of himself. He could remember, back when he was still an unsealed monster, having big and impressive teeth like that. He remembered using them to rend flesh from bone, then gnaw for marrow. Evil...yes, this place was evil. But it was familiar evil. Terrible, beyond the reckoning, but still familia. Whatever decided to produce this decorum, had more in common with Marc than naught. Even though age had not shown favor to his sinister side, it still remained with him. Like an instinct.

That said, the elder reached to rub his eyes...and gripped the ward in his hand. In the gleam it produced, he found himself back again. Pulled from his memories and distracted from the blood, he felt focused once more. Only one step into the heart of darkness...and already he could feel it's twisted influence. Already he could discern the immensity of the danger. The malice which pooled and congealed here, could attack him with more than just fear. He could reach for anything it needed to, as long as it existed within him. The elder Hollow took a moment, to shape his thoughts. He kept himself in the now, rather than feral history. This is what the puffle puff had warned of...

”Do not let my heart falter, for if I do, I will never be seen again.”[/i][/color], he paused to sigh, "What fear do I have of that...I am already heartless." Though he spoke the words aloud, he did not put much faith in their validity. Knowing better than other's, how no such immunities truly exist in any world. Making his way through the taunting of the wicked aura, he followed the trail which a previous victim had left. The blood which had started losing it's richness and color, he followed it all the way to the closet.

With a careful tug, he tried to open the wardrobe...hoping not to break the already worn structure. Unsure of what he would find beyond...Marcelius braced himself body, mind, and soul. Ah, but how well can one truly ready themselves...for the unexpected? Even for a mind reader, the future was often unknowable. But like all Hollows, his quarry and former incarnations included, he would have to face any danger with utmost certainty of will. Would he find anything more than a packed away corpse, in this strange and villainous cabinet?

[Zeich Yajuu]

...Damn.

Things had already been bad; the fear-laced aura that threatened to crush the breath out of his lungs, the forest he was seemingly trapped in, and the inexplicable failing of a Konso were all reasons to be worried about. But to top it off with the slug-like creatures that were coming his way, Zeich realized that he might be in a situation that was over his head. Fortunately, the things were slow, and seemingly defenseless; they made no attempt to strike as he lunged forward, his sword slashing through the first one's neck and severing it completely. The shriveled, pale-fleshed head simply fell to the ground, bouncing like some macabre ball upon impact while the body collapsed soundlessly.

Well, that wasn't too ha—

Darkness. A candle flickered in the distance, light that brought fear rather than comfort as it parted the black curtain of night. Cracked skin and fresh burns across his body caused him to wince, every breath that was more than a light gasp causing the injuries to reopen and bleed further. Blood was everywhere, his body was caked in it. Yet despite the blood, each of his injuries were nonfatal, albeit painful. Torture? Torture had been left behind a long time ago. The fingers on his left hand were missing from the first knuckle upwards, the stumps left as a reminder that there was more to be taken away. The right maintained its fingers but had lost the fingernails, which had been replaced by true nails, spikes of iron driven through each of them at the joints. His hands, the tools that had carved out his living in this world with their work, were useless, savaged beyond words, and that was only the beginnings of the torture of his soul...

Master, snap out of it!

Suddenly Zeich came to, hours of torment seemingly filling only a single moment, the space of a full step. He blinked in surprise, mentally reeling, yet his body finished the motions he had been planning, muscle memory taking hold while his mind stalled out. The next creature's arm was already severed and lying on the ground, while Haiiro's thin blade sliced through the monster's spinal area, easily severing bone and nerves in equal measure, leaving the being to collapse as the Third Seat moved past it. He stumbled, thoughts finally catching up with him as he tried to comprehend what had happened only a moment before. What was that memory...?

Flicker. A scream of pain echoed through the darkness as the knife's blade bit into him again, stopping just short of the muscles and piercing only the outermost layer of skin. The motions were careful, precise, yet done with a relaxed ease that suggested practice and experience. The the weapon's sharp edge gently carved along his arm, spiraling downwards as though the act was no more than peeling an apple, rather than butchering a human body that could barely move. Yet the eyes staring into his own were unconcerned, more worried about attention to detail and the neat collection of the blood dripping from exposed veins. Every motion from blinking to breathing was an exercise in agony, yet the torment was far from over; only his right arm and chest had been peeled away, the muscles left bared to his tormentor. There was far more to come...

This time Zeich did stumble, falling to the ground as the pain left him, there for only a moment yet lingering as though he had been subjected to the torments in his mind's eye. He quickly recovered into a roll, leaping over another slug-creature that drew too close. Landing on his feet, the Third Seat retreated quickly, keeping his distance away from the creatures as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Why was he experiencing these visions, these memories? He had experienced something similar upon approaching the shack earlier, and now this... the two events had to be connected. There was something dark and sinister wrapped in this whole affair, creating or even drawing in the horrible memories that kept striking at Zeich. But what could he do to stop them?

Behind you!

Zeich turned, only to spot the man he had supposedly sent off to Soul Society. The spirit was still there, however, and to the Third Seat's shock, the soul chain connecting the man to his former body was beginning to devour itself almost immediately. Encroachment after only a short time was not unheard of, but to happen literally seconds after death? Something else to blame on the dark presence in the area, but for now it had to be dealt with. If Konso didn't work, then there was one other solution; Zeich would have to wait until the soul fully Hollowfied, turning into a Hollow whose mask could be broken by a Shinigami Zanpaktou, purifying the soul within. It would be a simple task with a newly-formed Hollow, and it would allow the Third Seat to release the man's spirit back to Soul Society.

However, that plan went awry quickly as the encroachment stopped, only to be replaced with another type of transformation. Skin went pale, limbs melted away, and soon there was nothing left but one of the slug-like creatures that were approaching at the same slow pace. Zeich's eyes narrowed in concern, but he quickly leapt away, springing up into the branches of one of the nearby trees. Surely the creatures couldn't reach him up there, and it would provide him ample time to think...