Post by alastar ullr on Jan 11, 2014 15:58:06 GMT -5
A shadow slunk along the quartz corridors, flickering tepidly in the low moonlight that Las Noches would grant it. Each movement with it brought a sense of unease with it, as if there was an urgency to retreat from the shadows, to balk away from what was the opposite of flame or light, the cold and dark. Yet nobody did, for there was nothing in the grotto that the shadow fled along, the quartz halls had been lined heavily with blood and silken death, each step only serving to wet the boot that the shadow so trod in.
The corridor opened up infront of the shadow, escaping large and wide, spanning out for miles and miles of sand. The cliff that the sand so carefully made up watched over the lands below, which detailed the Godking's lands. The place of dreams and neverending history. A place of refuge and warmth in a place so cold. Yet it held it's cold, too, for the shackles which bound the people below, who ushered around in silence, doing daily routines, kept them to the floor, unable to breathe or fly above those below them. A frown formed over the Shadow's body, thin fingers twisting into a ball. It was a disgusting thing, for someone to disallow the strong to be strong and rule, reducing them to the weak who voluntarily held onto the ground as if it would vanish underneath them. To clip the wings of a bird so that it could mingle with the rats was to give it death. When strong became weak, they could not even hold against those who were weak. They weren't granted their natural power, and when weak, cannot hold up to those who naturally have their strength, but perhaps in smaller numbers.
Spittle tarnished the quartz overhang below the Shadow's body, which flickered with a bit of movement. This was what bound him, the mighty, the strong, the Cero. The shadow of a man, the blood, the gore, this was Alastar, and the cold crimson eyes which now stared out over the city below held the bloodlust that had not been happened for many, many years. This time he would not bow to the Godking, he would stand stalwart, he would remove him from his place on the throne. He would release the Hollows back to their original designation, to wild animals who ruled in a hierarchy over who was stronger, and not underneath someone who was strong and being reduced to equals. Nothing was equal or fair in the world, and thus it would have to stay that way, even if some stood in his way.[ONE DAY PRIOR]
Alastar's eyes drew a calloused gaze over his fraccion. In the firstmost of him was eight Arrancar, each in their own right incredibly strong, durable, and capable of serving him to their uppermost power. However, once he was done with this "exam" that he had thought up so cleverly on his own, only one would remain. Each Fraccion stayed, head bayed down in respect, towards their king like the sheep they had been brought up to be. They had fled to the skies with the rest of Alastar's population, unable to handle the quarrels below. They were promised heaven, and they attained it, but at no cost. Why did he allow people up here with him, he did not know, the sheer idea behind it brought only on the very most shallow thoughts, that everyone around him was only here for their own benefit. It was true, however, they all came here at their own will and had only become stronger as a result. Alastar had too much part in their climbing of power, and thus, it was only right he cull the herd. Yet now he felt the urge to crush all of them, to throw them from his citadel, but no, leaving one would incite a much stronger bond, perhaps even that of loyalty if you could attain that amongst Hollow, the race that had killed, slaughtered and trodden over to become what they were now.
A click of his tongue brought all eight to their feet, all of which did not look him in the eye. They all stared down towards the floor, as they had been commanded to. "Good." Alastar breathed, a sense of satisfaction rising up among him. His arrogance bolstered at no rebellion. "You are eight, but there will only be one. Kill each-other infront of me. The survivor, he wins, and gets to become my right arm, he can tell and ask me of anything, and attain unimaginable power." This was a lie, of course, something like that was completely out of what Alastar would allow. To be bothered with someone who had been given permission to look him in the eye was enough as it was already, but to have someone who was almost an "equal" to him, was something that would not stand.
Yet, the Hollow, all but one took the bait. The one that did not remained silent, not whispering or readying to fight. He pressed no reiatsu, and instead had only found his hand within the person most close to him, removing his head with a flick of his wrist. The blood that spattered on the floor was delightful, and enraged the rest of the group, who turned on the silent one, who bolstered no reiatsu. The cold and calculating one was one Alastar had not known for very long, or so he thought. He wasn't sure, there was simply something about the man that made him sink into the shadows, like what he wore, which was pure black from head to toe, as if he had covered himself in black paint. Yet now, after he had dismembered seven with simple movements of his hands, he was covered in crimson, a beautiful display of arrogance and a calm mind. The seven other had not stood a chance, and Alastar was not surprised in the slightest. He knew one amongst this group was much more stronger, yet he had not been sure of who, for keeping track of as many Fraccion as he had was nigh impossible in it's own right.
Alastar's eyes glanced over to the silent figure, who now stood clad in crimson, for the first time locking eyes with someone in his fraccion. "So, do you have any requests?" Alastar breathed out, rising from his seat, slowly beginning to walk forwards.
"Yes. I wish to exterminate all of those who have their wings clipped to remain fair with those who are weaker."[PRESENT]
Alastar's slow movement was not out of his own lack of strength, but much more his caution. He had just killed many, nearly four-hundred, in the nearby pathways that made up the lower groups of Hollows which acted as Luucio's reinforcements for any nuisances trying to incite warfare. There would be no reinforcements now, for the city at the very least, and that made going into it the least of his problems. But getting to the Godking and killing him - that would be the problem. There was still nary two miles left on the journey, and Alastar was not hiding his Reiatsu, which riled higher then it had before, reducing all around him to a flat surface as he tread towards the capital, prepared to remove the disgusting existence of chains from the face of the abominable sands that washed around in a land that was wild, yet held back from it's true strength. He would set them all free, free back into the wind, no matter if they went back as a whole or as dust.