Bleach Story RPG
Hello, guest!

Welcome to Bleach Story. We hope that you enjoy your stay here. If you are not already a member, please REGISTER. If you are a lucky member, then please log in below.

Thank you.
Welcome to Bleach Story RPG
An alternative universe Bleach Roleplay Forum, where you can create your own RP character, login here - otherwise create an account now!

You are not connected. Please login or register

Go to page : 1, 2, 3  Next

View previous topic View next topic Go down  Message [Page 1 of 3]

#1 Dream-Makers, Dream-Takers CLOSED COMPLETED on Sat Apr 13, 2013 2:31 am


Saelien sat alone on a once-plain rock, set high enough on a hill for him to gaze upon the nothingness before him.  No sign of life fell before his gaze, but he could sense the reiatsu of hollows in hiding.  They'd all lived in fear since the destruction of the Hueco Mundo, certainly, but fear could cling to ones mind and influence decisions, and it could also seize control of it and force decisions.  The latter was what had happened for each hollow that looked at Saelien and the hill he was seated upon, for they saw the carnage that surrounded him, that he treated with utter nonchalance.  To Saelien, it was as if there was nothing wrong in the world; he was idly wiping blood off one of his icy swords like it was the most natural thing.

Around him lay the bodies of several arrancar and hollows, each of their faces frozen forever in a mixed expression of confusion and terror.  Disappointments, every last one of them.  Fear had left holes in their minds, and where they had once been useful, they had all shown how unreliable they had become.  Some arrancar had voiced how they had loved ones to protect.  Some hollows had said that it was too dangerous for them to follow Saelien's orders, and to go where he told them.  His servants had lost their edge, and so they'd met Saelien's before they had much chance to protest.

They had all been tools for him, and tools rife with rot were best discarded.  Saelien could not discard tools, however.  They knew very little, but they knew enough.  They knew where to meet Saelien in private matters.  They knew where to meet him when discussing their contracts.  That was information he would not see leaked to the general people of the world, and so he had destroyed the tools that had failed him.

It was regrettable.  The Nosferatu had brought him some entertainment, once, but now he was missing servants due to the terror they had sowed.  Zombies, chaos, destruction...and those following him had grown to fear such things more than they feared him.  That, too, was regrettable.  It meant that he had not done enough in recent years to keep his reputation sharp.

What to do?  Saelien turned his eyes down to one of the arrancar he had slain.  She had been a pretty thing, but she was much less pretty with a smile on her neck and bloodstained clothes.  There was a good reason that he could view such beings as naught but tools.  If they succumbed to despair at the world this easily, then they were not weak enough to seize the day.  All around him, Saelien saw the same story being played out.  One would have thought that the law of the Hueco Mundo, where only the strong survived, might have become the rallying law for all spirits.

But it seemed not.

Saelien had already decided that he would wait here, for at least a time.  No doubt there would be some willing to question why, when so many were dying, he would kill these people with such little regard for their lives.  That would be interesting.  Perhaps a few others who worked for him would report, and he would see if they had earned the right to keep living.

They would have that right, of course.  Any willing to approach him now would, after all, surely be worth speaking to.
View user profile


A few hundred yards from Saelien's little throne of bodies was an Arrancar with red hair. This Arrancar, unlike the various other muscle heads that challenged and were bested by the frosty Arrancar, was spending his efforts on more resourceful means. He wasn't going to go off and go play knights of the round with some power crazy Arrancar lost in his own shallow monarchy. See, this Arrancar had better things to worry about other than politics and power games.

"Ain't got nothin' here," Kicking a barrel over, causing it to roll into a building, he uncovered just another pothole. The red headed Arrancar glanced over in the direction of the frosty Arrancar. "Nah..." He thought, slipping his hands behind his head as he looked down in the opposite direction. He had to get some stuff today. He'd been slacking a lot recently and, well, he was a little bored too. He'd searched far and wide, but ever since he decided to enlist with Manda he'd felt that just about everyone here was...Gone. Almost like everyone scattered due to his decision.

The red head figured the world was now just intimidated by him, seeing as he was moving up in the world. It wasn't fair to blame the world for being afraid of him. No. His own awesomeness was free to be felt by all forms of life and all matter of beings. His glory and his strength was something that could cause all the desert to become quieted and all the skies to become clear.

"Hmm...Lets see," He decided to take a brake from pillaging and count the things he'd found already. He put his hand in his pockets to pull out a hand full of small gems, jewelry and a a nice looking stone. He fiddled with the goods, making a monetary count in his head as he was going through them. Really, this red headed Arrancar didn't know how much they were worth so much as he made up what they were worth. The blue things were more expensive than the whites, because he liked blue more than white, and the heavier things were worth more than the lighter, because heavier meant more, right? He didn't even have a name for most of the objects, but he knew all their colors and knew what some humans referred to them by, but that didn't mean he knew the meaning behind the names.

This would all go to the Arrancar's stash. His secret stash that no one knew about. The stash that not only housed rare and beautiful stones, gems and embezzled items, but he had weapons, tech and even a few nice looking charts and books he found. Anything cool that humans created that he liked he stole and packed away in some far away place. Today was yet another day on the job of grave-robbing, thieving, and pickpocketing.

As he was minding his own business he sensed a quick spike in energy. Turning to look over his right shoulder was a bit too slow as a cero crashed into him, slamming him into a building. The bright green was obnoxious and, all the worse, he lost grip on all his pretty gems and stones!

The Arrancar, smashed into a building a few inches, pulled himself out mostly unscathed, but his clothes were a bit charred and tattered. He looked down at his skyblue button up shirt, soft blue white washed jeans help up with his name brand black belt and silver bull belt buckle. The only thing that wasn't really damaged were his all black tennis shoes.

He looked down, throwing his hands furious, "My freakin' clothes!" He swore, looking up at who hit him with the cero. The new Arrancar, dazzling blue hair, black stars on her face, had white eyes with a black iris, which made them look inverted. She had on a black leather jacket and that was the only thing that mattered to the red headed Arrancar.

"I went easy," She easily said, raising her hand as the prepatory energy for another cero formed just above her middle finger.
"Yeah. Yer gonna give me that jacket. After I take all yer clothes I'll force you to beg an apology to me," Confident, the Arrancar kept his eyes on her.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. I plan to prove myself to him. Prove that I am stronger than all the rest by dragging your shredded body to him as prof of my strength and dedication. I haven't lost faith and he will feel my resolve as my spirit crushes yours. He'll see! He'll see that I am different. That I am better and that I can do so much more than the others!" She swore and who she was referring too was clear.

She fired the cero off and the red headed Arrancar dodged, ducking low and sonido'ing close to the side of the blow. He felt the intense heat from the cero he dodged. She wasn't kidding. She definitely wasn't some low level foe and she definitely wasn't holding much back. There was a hefty explosion as her cero ran, unchallenged, through three buildings causing a large crash and a great deal of smoke as the beam turned everything in its path into rubble.

The Arrancar came up to her and, after a short tussle, he ended up punching her in the gut. He leaned in close, smirking, "Terremoto" He whispered.

In a flash she would be pounded with a series of punches, beat and battered, and would be sent backwards into another building not too far off. The amount of damage she took was as obvious to this Arrancar as the sound of her grunts and gasps as he sent those super strong, high speed punches into her, almost all of them focused in her chest and face, before tossing her away and her completely out of control.

She'd be hurting.
"I am Piedra, Piedra Brazofuerte, and there ain't no one that got a bigger spirit than me!"




Spiked boots of bone slammed into the ivory white sand, exuding audible tremors as a towering beast of a man walked atop the dunes. Over seven feet tall he stood, stepping slowly upon the outskirts of corpses surrounding the man of fearsome ice. His shoulders were clad in ornate plates carved from solid bone, with the massive pelt of some gigantic wolf-like creature he'd no doubt skinned attached to the plate mounted upon his daunting left side. The two plates were bound to his huge, muscular torso by decorative straps. They were covered in patterns, and one was segmented with a gold chain attaching it's two halves, though dust and faded color upon them reflected their old age.

The huge specimen of a man stood but a mere dozen feet from Salien, the lower half of his own face covered beneath the nose by a large tan cloth probably ripped from the corpse of some other Arrancar, judging from the blood stains and rips in the fabric. It was actually a cloak... though around the neck and lower face of this foreign man, it looked more like a scarf. Long, brilliant golden blonde hair danced with the wind from behind his head, kept out of his face by an oddly helmet-shaped visor like mask remnant merged into his forehead. His red eyes studied the ice lord carefully, reflecting the intrigue of a wild beast in their feral gaze. This one showed no such fear; he stood out stark amongst the corpses, like a bloody red beacon of malevolent thirst. "Are these your trophies?" Revenger inquired. With a powerful swing of his bone-gauntlet clad arm, he swung away the cloak which he'd been using as a scarf, hurling the bloodied garment to the cruel sandy winds as he unmasked himself to the Arrancar.

A handsome face was revealed, though the scarred body of Revenger's upper torso was as well... the war of the apocalypse, waged decades ago, had left marks of pride upon his body. He ran his fingers over each thick scar with unnerving delight, bearing a tooth bearing smile that could only be described as spine-chilling as he gazed down upon the much smaller male. "If so, and I believe they are, you are worthy of my presence. The Shinigami once called me 'Revenger'. And it is the smell of the blood you have shed which brought me here..." Revenger spoke. As he did, it would appear that his nostrils were flaring slightly to inhale more sanguine scent.

Grabbing the right side of his chest with thick, battle-hardened fingers, Revenger literally began to tear a rip in his own hierro skin beneath the collarbone. Sparks flew off of it as if it were metal upon metal... as raw flesh was exposed, the blood which was released curled into an undulating crimson curtain. A fleshy, twisted hilt slowly pushed through the strangely animated liquid, which did not spill upon the sand but instead spiraled around the self-inflicted wound with some unnatural will of it's own. The hilt continued to push through, exposing veins of metal in it's form, until finally a massive razor shaped blade began to appear, coated in bone.

The Bloodsword was excreted from Revenger's body with a sickeningly wet 'pop'. Droplets of blood fell unto the sand as the one edged sword floated near it's creator, the surface of thin bone coating it's deadly blade cracking open slowly. The fragments of bone fell piece by piece, exposing a beautiful blade covered in grotesque eyes and flesh, all of which looked upon Salien with a mutant gaze of horror. Revenger's powerful right arm snatched the sword from the air, clutching it's familiar fleshy hilt. A sound akin to leather rubbing on leather issued forth as his fingers tightened around the handle...

Lowering the disgustingly organic weapon to his side, it's occasional throb brought on by a primitive internal heartbeat proved the object was indeed alive. Where Revenger had wounded himself to spawn the weapon, blood continued to spiral, neither spilling nor clotting. "It is a shame I missed the joy of this slaughter, but two men stand here yet; which of us shall leave here alive, I wonder...? I once nearly slew the Primera of old. But perhaps you shall be a finer... trophy!" Revenger joyously spoke, with a maddening joy gushing forth in his syllables. In his left fist he conjured a perfect, thick red sphere of cero. Bending his knees he lowered his posture slightly for stability, just before slamming the red sphere into the blade of his razor-shaped sword and smearing it across the flat side of the weapon. The cero appeared to spill over it like a coating of luminous red paint, which steadily grew brighter by the moment as it charged upon the steel of his Bloodsword; a unique application of a common technique, though it's purpose was not yet certain.

Revenger reached his head down to lick his blade, the flesh of his tongue sizzling painfully against the heat of his cero-infused blade. He could only laugh in anxious delight at the pain which he inflicted upon himself to make waiting for the move of his foe that much more bearable.


The winds suddenly kicked up around the duo, causing brief sight loss; merely but for a moment. The next moment a tall thin man in a black silk butler suit walked towards them slowly. A smile hid any emotions he might have been having, his half-closed eyes glowed demonic red that matched his crimson hair perfectly.

He walked slowly, the light making the iridescent purple rose glisten with brilliance, in contrast to the crimson silk handkerchief supporting it in its left breast pocket in the suit jacket. His white gloved hands hung loosely at his sides as he approached in a un-rivaling demeanor, though the clear bloodlust and elegance were so thick it was tangible. It had been a long time since he had a good fight, he wanted to make sure he was prepared for when he would attack Cadmus- this newcomer seemed to be fairly strong.

Anamist approached casually with the demonic smile still on his face, a façade that hid his every thought. When he had reached a decent distance that was still comfortable for him to react, he bowed before the two.

Greetings, what a fine evening this seems, the soft moonlight and the gentle breeze makes it quite enjoyable.


( OOC: We'll give the others 24 hours to post, after which we'll just skip them from there on. I assume they've forgotten about this thread. )

#6 Re: Dream-Makers, Dream-Takers CLOSED COMPLETED on Tue Apr 23, 2013 11:56 am


OOC: Saelien said he'd post when he had the time. Seeing as it's their thread, you time skipping wouldn't make sense. Just move to another topic with you and Anamist or wait.


[OOC: Sorry for the wait guys, life was a bit hectic there]

It seemed that there were beings willing to bring themselves near Saelien. The first stayed off in the distance, and Saelien smiled at that. Brave or perhaps foolish enough to show himself before Saelien's gaze, yet wise enough to stay out of immediate reach. A burst of pesquisa told Saelien that the one far away was weaker than he, thus it made sense for him to keep his distance from the Cold Lord. One did not idly approach men on hills surrounded by corpses, after all. Ultimately, however, the presence of such a being was a dull thing if it was not willing to approach, and it meant the continuation of Saelien's silent pondering.

That was, until another presence showed up, and began to fight that individual. A female arrancar, and even from where he was seated, Saelien caught her intention through her actions and words. Here to prove herself and her strength? His name had indeed been lost on the wind these past two decades if he was seen as no more than a strong being, another warlord on the sands for the weak to pledge fealty to. Once, those who sought him out did so through proving their loyalty and skill, not their strength, in the knowledge that he offered them both great risk, yet also the chance for great rewards if they performed their tasks admirably.

It seemed that he had much work to do.

He might have approached the pair - the first arrancar had managed to overcome his opponent for now, but Saelien had seen their little dance a hundred, nay, a thousand times before. In those who fought rather than killed, it was the dance of testing and struggling, waiting out and seeing who would reveal their true form first. Only once they both released would the truth be revealed...for whilst it was always possible for a dispute between arrancar to end in the sealed form, if this was to be one of those encounters it would have ended already.

Even so, he might have approached them...but something much more interesting had come his way. His pesquisa picked up something tremendously powerful, something strong enough to give rise to a certain hunger in his soul. His spirit had seen a new light worth consuming, a new soul to erase from the great game of life. Saelien stood up, a light smile on his face as the newcomer approached, a great titan of a warrior. His reiatsu was...unusual, not in the sense that Saelien's was - Saelien's was cloaked by a technique - but rather, it seemed to be arrancar and yet a certain taint ran through it. This man was more than he seemed.

At the mention of trophies...well, Saelien didn't allow his smile to fade, but inside, he was a little disappointed. This man looked the part of a warrior and it seemed that he wished to play the part as well. When Saelien had arrived here, slaying those who had once followed him, he had not been expecting a fight to occur, yet it seemed that one would. A being of this power and stature would not appear before him otherwise. The Cold Lord's hands brushed lightly against the hilts of his blades in anticipation. Yes, there would be a fight. This one was certainly too great to kill with ease, unless Saelien's instincts were wrong.

And how often did that happen?

"I suppose you could call these trophies, but they're a lackluster lot. Forgettable."

Taking a few short steps from his position, Saelien closed some of the gap between himself and this being, who revealed his name - or at least his alias - as 'Revenger'. Still smiling, Saelien calmly activated his infusion technique, tearing away the cloak of cold that obscured his reiatsu and slightly raising his power. He suspected he would need much more than that to slay this one, but he could afford a moment to gauge its combat prowess.

"And you seem worthy of my presence, 'Revenger'. You may call me Saelien."

Saelien watched without a real change to his expression as Revenger readied himself for battle, tearing a blade free from his body. It was an act that he coldly analysed - for it revealed a certain talent of this individual. No heed for pain, perhaps some form of regeneration, clearly some organic had been some time since facing a being with abilities of that type, and none quite like this, but Saelien remembered how they died. That was what really mattered.

"Impress me, and perhaps we'll both walk away," said Saelien pleasantly.

He did no grand ceremony like this arrancar in revealing his weapons. He simply took hold of the hilts of his swords, drawing them cleanly out of their sheathes in one swift movement. Nodding his head at Revenger as he made use of a cero technique to seemingly enhance his sword - Saelien would treat that particular sword with no small amount of respect - Saelien allowed a vein of reiatsu to flow through one of his icy blades, the sword becoming laced now with crimson lines. His 'Sword of the Godslayer'. He utilized infusion in the technique - it would not do to lose a sword too quickly here.

At the side of the battlefield, another presence arrived. Espada, by the feel of the pesquisa. Saelien could have frowned at that - he was no great fan of observers in his conflicts, but there was little choice in the matter now. He was free to join, if he wished, for Saelien was no stranger to battles that extended beyond simple duels.

Idly, he wondered how the two in the distance would react on seeing what was unfolding on the hill now.

No matter.

Saelien stepped forward, bringing his unchanged sword in a slicing arc towards Revenger's neck. Enjoyment of pain or not, Saelien doubted he would ignore or laugh off a strike that could likely pluck off his head.
View user profile


The towering blonde more or less ignored the rather butler-like Espada; having no respect for authority that did not come from raw strength, the Quinta might as well have been a commoner approaching the Bloodsword-wielding warrior. Ignoring the breeze and the sand which rose at the approaching wind, he kept his attention focused entirely upon the icy man he had challenged so boldly.

The Revenger's sanguine eyes gazed heavily upon Saelien, not unlike a tiger waiting for the moment to pounce on it's foe. It read his body language, his movements... he even smirked as he watched Salien draw a sword of his own and imbue it with a technique of some sort, wondering if it would be similar to his own 'Giant-Killer' technique. He could tell only by the faint crimson lines tracing it's icy form... a thing of beauty, almost. It had been ages since Revenger faced a foe he admired. Revenger did however face a problem. He gradually began to realize that he could not actually read Saelien's moves clearly. He seemed... unpredictable, like a liquid shadow or a shifting apparition of snow and ice. The curious trait fascinated him.

But Saelien would be right in assuming this was no ordinary Arrancar however. Before Saelien ever attacked, Revenger felt a buzzing ripple echo throughout his skull; images of the attack before it ever happened came to him for just an instant. They told him everything he needed to know... Revenger's hereditary psychic qualities were somewhat weak, enabling him to predict the motions of his foes only about once every five minutes.

As Saelien was stepping forward, Revenger's right arm glowed red. Adorned with his bakkoto vambrace near it's wrist, it emitted a brilliant crimson shine just before tossing aside the cero-infused bloodsword it had been holding. It was flung far behind him by his immense strength, before it's own levitation capabilities finally stabilized it's motion and allowed it to begin slowly drifting back towards Revenger. Raising his right arm, he lifted the glowing red limb right into the path of Salien's unchanged blade - and unleashed his Repercursion technique just as it struck.

When the blade hit Revenger's scale-like hierro, two things happened. First, sparks flew off just like how they had when he tore his own skin open, and then a flash of red not unlike cero flashed simultaneously. It was a huge release of red reiatsu blasting forth like a tiny explosion, reflecting most of the force Saelien had placed in his swift, vastly skilled sword strike back onto the weapon, likely damaging it or even shattering it entirely - and quite possibly stunning the arm Saelien had used to attack with the sheer force of the counter, though it wouldn't inflict any sort of real injury. But the temporary shell of reiatsu was exhausted by the strange hierro-based reflection technique.

When the small red explosion cleared, it would be visible that only a tiny skin-deep cut was on Revenger's arm, just below the Eldritch Vambrace the Nosferatu had given him. It wasn't that Saelien was not capable of cutting him, however; even despite a huge difference in raw strength and toughness, Saelien's vast sword skill was surely a rival to Revenger's brute power. The true difference had just been Revenger's hierro skin itself - unlike other variants of the steel skin, Revenger's was totally specialized to defend against cutting damage at the cost of being weak against blunt impacts and reiatsu based attacks. Tiny rows of almost rooth-shaped scales were what composed it, so small yet firm that they could only be seen beneath a microscope, and them grinding against Saelien's blade had been what produced the sparks seen in the impact of his sword against Revenger's body.

Though, Revenger would at first seem at a significant disadvantage without his sword. As he stood there after the use of Repercursion, he was essentially unarmed... only his fists were present. But he showed no pause; in fact, he didn't even wait for his Bloodsword to levitate into his reach. He just rushed towards Saelien like a wild animal.

"Waaaaargh!" cried the Revenger, his familiar roar of bloodlust which echoed across every field of battle he touched. He moved with sonido-like speeds, fading in and out of Flash Step as he moved so swiftly he surrounded Saelien in rings of motion, throwing punches at him from all angles at speeds the eye could not see alone; Revenger's mastery of unarmed combat rivaled Saelien's peerless mastery of blades. He had not discarded his weapon to weaken himself for his opponent, but rather to show respect for him by using the means of combat by which he was most skilled, holding nothing back. This Arrancar could throw nearly 100 rock splitting punches in a single second; four seconds passed as he dashed around Saelien like some kind of banshee, punching rapidly at every inch of flesh he could reach. If Saelien was struck, it would become obvious that Revenger's right arm hit much larger than his left - it seemed to be empowered slightly by the odd flaming vambrace he wore, which glowed with parasitic power.


Anamist was not surprised with the "cold shoulder" approach that the Revenger had given him- it was often that stronger arrancar ignored opponents they saw as inferior. Anamist was always a calm collected "man" though being treated with indignity and such ignorance, let alone no honor or chivalry- really bothered him. Enough so that he had contemplated attacking the hulking man... but his thoughts were deterred when he felt the sudden rise in energy and bloodlust from Saelien.

He had smiled to himself when the initial clash of battle had echoed- it would now be rude of him to interrupt; though things would change if he were dragged into the fight- siding with the weaker of the two might prove better odds; though he doubted Saelien would consent to help- likely attack his back just as he was to attack the Revenger.

With that line of thinking, Anamist began to lean back, he began to float mid-air and slowly lowered himself in a seated position. Red riaetsu glowed around him to bring into existence, a chair and table; elegantly decorated in red and cushioned comfortably. he threw one leg across the other and rested an arm against the table-top to rest his chin upon as he enjoyed the fight. A cake appeared atop the table & a bottle of wine- the objects moved on their own... slicing the cake and putting it onto a elaborate place and the wine being poured into a cup. He brought the cup to his lips, then offered a "toast' to the combatants before taking a sip- thoroughly pleased with the taste of his wine.

By all means, take your time- I have a proposition for the winner, and possibly the loser also if he proves worthy... providing both survive this encounter.

There was another reason for his stationary movements, despite the bizarre scene he had just set up- it was actually a very defendable approach; not only to the two combatants, but also the other presence he felt not too far away. That power was somewhat less then he expected, but it could still be an interesting topic to "talk" about.

Anamist carefully analyzed both men, each had coated their weapons with special attributes, a rare skill among arrancar. Their fighting styles were complete opposites however, the skill between the swordsmanship and the brute strength seemed an ironic yet cliché happening. Anamist was thoroughly impressed with the weaker arrancar of the two- it was possible that maybe his swordsmanship matched his own? Possible- though few in numbers were the ones who could avoid his Iajutsu techniques... the thought amused him and he hoped that Revenger wouldn't kill the other arrancar, at least not until he had been allowed to properly test his mettle with this newcomer.

#10 Re: Dream-Makers, Dream-Takers CLOSED COMPLETED on Wed Apr 24, 2013 7:32 am


"Greatness! Glorious, gallivanting greatness!" Piedra said, brandishing a triumphant smile as he stood on top of a building, his arms crossed, and looking down at his opponent. Piedra didn't exactly know what one of those words meant, but it sounded awesome in between the other two. It sounded so great that it couldn't help but be a compliment that none could question while being backed by his unhesitating confidence.

"Be my slave," Piedra would demand, again. He was a little dirty from their scuffle, but he had the advantage considering her tactics. She was a long ranged type, specializing in long range attacks. He was able to keep her close and pound her with attacks before she could sufficiently prepare her own, which made her the weaker of the two of them despite having a higher energy radiating from her. She was at an elemental disadvantage.

"How humiliating..." She begrudgingly managed to get to a sitting position after she was knocked off that same building and into the ground. She was roughed up something fierce. Not only was she embarrassed at being so easily bested when she was trying to show off, but his rubbing it in only made her feel violated. "This battle is over, I'm sure even a buffoon like you must have sensed that," She said, collecting herself to stand. She was beat a bit, though hardly defeated. She still could release, though so could he.

"Hah? What's that? Yer finally realizing how amazing I am?" Piedra flaunted, feeling elevated by his victory.
"You know what I mean!" She screamed, hearing the loud battle cry from some savage beast.

"So what? I'd kick his ass too, retard. Jus dah same as ya," Piedra pointed at her, before sliding that same hand through his own hair.

"Attacking me despite my higher level and coming out at an advantage was luck. There is a certain point where skill cannot beat level," She said, feeling she were talking to someone completely, unrepairable unhinged.

"Ya really gonna say that? Ain't one of them yer owner?" Piedra asked, smiling as the anger erupted from her.
"As far as I can tell," She snatched herself up, turning away from Piedra with her head turned up high as she decided this fight was finished, "That man is already dead. I will find someone else to put my faith into. Not like he came to help me," She said, not actually hurt because it would have been all the more embarassing if anyone had seen this.

"Dats cuz you are a dumbass that lost a fight she started, dumbass," Piedra kicked some dirt off the roof. She cracked her neck and paused. She was so irritated right now that she almost considered releasing right here and now. She'd smash his arrogant little insulting mouth with her power. She would make sure to smear his remains all over the dirt.

But then she had an idea.
"I'd just rather not waste my time with you. You obviously are the weakest, most pitiful, smallest creature here. The fact that no one took interest in you but me proves just that. Good bye, loser," She said, wishing more than anything that they would never meet ever again before she Sonido'd off in the distance.

"Oh you dirty rat!" Piedra said, stomping a foot before he glanced over in the direction of all the superpowers. It was a nice little stew of abilities and there was some high levels of crazy salted on top. Still, Piedra didn't want to be that guy. You know? That guy that stays off from the fight that everyone things is wake and small and not worth anything! No. Piedra was strong and adamant and incredible! There was no way that he was going to be anywhere but at the front lines. "I'll show ya who's ignored! I'll punch yer owner square in tha teeth," Cracking his knuckles, Piedra sonido'd off straight for the battle scene.


Anamist would sense Piedra first. Why? Well because Piedra was landing from the air and was going to crash right through Anamist's table. Though, someone as critical and attentive as Anamist wouldn't miss Piedra, who could hardly reserve or leash his own presence and stood out like a bright red cruise liner in the middle of a lake. Still, Piedra was coming in hot and the destruction of the table was definitely his intent. Likely, it wasn't' going to be easy to get rid of it without making a mess in time.

"I remember you!" Piedra would exclaim, probably after standing straight up from his crash landing, "Yer suppos' tah be dead!" Piedra said, cutting his eyes suspiciously. Yeah. Piedra remembered it right. This guy was a pretty low guy. He was a master of cheap attacks and wound up fighting with Cross. It didn't end all that pretty either. Piedra didn't like a guy that could only fight cheaply. Yeah. Piedra remembered this guy well.

"Wannabe Espada. I remember ya," Almost rubbing it in, Piedra couldn't help but smile knowing, "Got yer ass kicked hard," He would reach to poke Anamist on the forehead. Hopefully, Anamist would know better than to allow Piedra that seemingly innocent gesture.

Sponsored content

View previous topic View next topic Back to top  Message [Page 1 of 3]

Go to page : 1, 2, 3  Next

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum