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#1 The color of violence on Wed Apr 29, 2015 8:56 am


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Thead Name: The color of violence
Thread Link: Click Here~
Thread Master: I(Anamist Souigetsu) will guide the plot. NPC control is allowed after first consulting me.
Thread Participants:
Roleplayer Name / Character Name
Thread Limitations: No death. At least one descriptive paragraph per post(minimum 250 words)Battle, no death, no maiming, undecided victor.
Plot Guide: In his travels, the butler goes back to the dreaded Hueco Mundo to look for allies, like-minded individuals he might create a group who supports each other and his ideals. But he ends up running into a strange individual who seeks a fight for little to no reason.
Thread Location: Hueco Mundo, White Sands
Resolve Drive: No
Comments: One participant may be allowed but you will be expected to reply once a day. Ask & send a link of your character app.

Sand, white sand as far as his supernatural eye could see. The crimson orbs searched with a hungry gaze as the pale man looked around, all he could see was the white sands of Hueco Mundo. His red eyes stopped searching after he had found nothing too close to his self: there were a couple of considerable spiritual signatures, but nothing that he was too concerned with. Being as old and powerful as he was, there was very little which could truly worry him. Anamist was an arrancar of many thousands of years old, so old that the majority of his curse, the hunger of Gluttony had mostly abated and returned him to a refined gentleman-like manner. His earlier days had not been so charming however, he still would shudder at the things he had done in the past.

Once he ruled over Hueco Mundo, or at least a vast majority of it with no one who would oppose him. He had been all about his hunger, the terrible curse- his sin. He had eaten many of his subjects, arrancar, hollow, human and shinigami alike. It had been an unusual scene to see humans or shinigami in servitude in Hueco Mundo. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't last a second around a host of soul-devouring monsters like the hollow. No one would touch Anamist's servants though: those who bore the insignia of the ruler were untouchable. Mostly due to fear, if any of his servants had been hurt or devoured by the other denizens of Hueco Mundo, Anamist would have known and then devoured the perpetrators.

That was an era long passed however, his tyranny of ruling had ended abruptly when he lost his taste. He had eaten so much over the centuries that his curse grew even worse- his hunger never sated and yet he couldn't taste anything at all anymore. He abandoned his kingdom to the wilderness and forsook ravenous eating. Over many years alone, he learned to control his hunger and went to the human world. There he studied the humans, learning from their generations and fighting to control his hunger.

Now he was back in Hueco Mundo, the nostalgic memories of thousands of years passed resurfacing. He wondered if any of his old subordinates were still alive and if they were succeeding where he had failed. He wasn't here to reminisce though, he had a reason for being here. He was a refined gentleman, a monster nonetheless with a ridiculous amount of spiritual power which he mostly kept compressed and hidden. He was back in the accursed sands to find possible allies for the future, he was also quite curious about the whispers he was hearing about something called the "Army of Blood" He knew nothing of it, and he had the suspicion that he needed to know. He stood in the sands, looking up at the sky while letting out a decent amount of reiryoku to attract intelligent creatures. He wanted information, his visits to Hueco Mundo were very short and not very often, he knew more of the human world than he did the denizen world. The question was: who would approach him? He kept a large amount of spiritual energy hidden to surprise his visitors if they were less than friendly.

He wore his black 1800s style butler tuxedo with silk white gloves, a silver chain watch hanging in his pocket from a button on his vest. His crimson hair giving off a bloody hue in the pale moonlight.
[/585 words

#2 Re: The color of violence on Wed Apr 29, 2015 9:43 am


Sangatsu wondered about. Something felt off, but she wasn't sure what it was exactly. She looked to the sky, 'Has it grown night time already?' she wondered. She suddenly felt the presence of another creature. She looked at her Asauchi and sighed. "I wish you'd hurry up and help me... I wouldn't have to be scared if I had something to fight with..." she spoke to the sword. Her thoughts lingered before she felt a chill. "Luke would kill me if he knew I was out here alone..."

As she looked up to the moon, her brown eyes shimmered a moment before darkening. The spiritual energy she felt was getting stronger, and it certainly wasn't recognizable. She held her sword close, ready to draw as she released just a little bit of her reiatsu to warm herself. 'Lotus flame... keep me warm...' she thought.

"I hope to understand this lotus flame thing sooner... I'm grateful it keeps me warm though..." she spoke gently. She had gotten used to speaking to her sword by now, in fact is seemed her sword spoke back in its own way, or perhaps it was just her imagination. Sometimes, she just wasn't sure anymore.

As she walked, she tried to keep her reiatsu low, her hair blew in the gentle wind that sometimes blew across Hueco Mundo. Her dark eyes searched, looking for the source of reiatsu. She hoped it was weak enough for her to attack, she had been practicing her movements all day and could use a real target.

#3 Re: The color of violence on Wed Apr 29, 2015 10:13 am


Anamist stepped around lightly in the sand, having been in Hueco Mundo for a few hours now: he was starting to get bored of the scenery. He was about to leave that area to look in the Menos Forest when something caught his attention. One of the spiritual signatures he had faintly felt before began to move in his direction and released a small amount of reiryoku. Perhaps they are signaling to me? Or possibly trying to intimidate me with their spiritual energy... He though to himself as he turned his body in the visitor's direction and waited patiently for them to get closer.

He waited a short time before their form became visible over the lines of white sand, a female being, a shinigami. Are the Seiretei hunting me down again? The last time didn't go so well with several lieutenants... why would they send just one? A lone individual approaching him didn't bode well, his instincts told him that they were someone holding their spiritual power back to make him assume they were weaker than they showed him. A fine tactic, one which he was employing himself to make them underestimate him. As it was, the spiritual pressure he was emitting was close to a low-levelled hollow, possibly a tier of 4-1.

To any intelligent being, they would likely be confused at his appearance. While he was naturally spiritual, his identity would be hard to discern. He bore no usual bones that gave away his arranification, nor was the hole in his body visible. The glasses on his face were actually the mask fragment, though after so many centuries, he had altered the composition of his spiritual particles to make the bone glasses look realistic. The hole in his body, was in his left pal, which was covered by a silk white glove.  Anyone who looked upon him would initially think he was human from his appearance, the humans that Anamist was so fond of. His spiritual energy was that of a hollow though, there was no hiding the insidious nature of his reiryoku. He would wait until the female approached closer, his body tensed at her presence- naturally, the shinigami was the bane of hollows and Anamist wanted to give the hunter the feel of superiority. If you have come for my life, I will resist with my full power. He stated simply and drew a white-gloved hand up as if it were a blade he would use against the shinigami and pointed his extended fingers towards her.
421 words

#4 Re: The color of violence on Thu Apr 30, 2015 5:24 am


Sangatsu kept her eyes closed as she walked. Allowing the spiritual energy to guide her. She knew Luke would kill her if he found out she was out here alone, but she needed to get stronger, she needed to understand faster. She stroked the hilt of her sword as she walked. "This presence could be dangerous..." she spoke gently to it, "Soon enough, you'll accompany me, I hope." She continued.

She suddenly halted as the energy was close enough to be uncomfortable and her eyes opened, the moon glinting off of her face as she kept a neutral expression. Deep within, she was analyzing the form before her, trying to determine what exactly he was. Then, she began to speak, her voice was silky in nature with a small hint of sharpness.

"No need to fear me..." she grinned as he raised his hand and pointed a few fingers at her. "What a pitty... and here I  thought we could be civil..." Sangatsu was inwardly astonished at herself while the outward appearance seemed to stay neutral with the exception of her words. She stroked the hilt once more. "Join me, my friend" she said, once more her voice silky smooth as she drew her sword. 'Perhaps this way, I can see how powerful he really is...' She thought.

#5 Re: The color of violence on Thu Apr 30, 2015 11:14 am


Anamist was not a being to needlessly jump into battle or partake in senseless violence. His age and experience had allowed him to transcend the barbarity of his less evolved kin, as well as a majority of the shinigami. Very few individuals were less inclined to fight, so it came natural to assume a shinigami finding him in hueco mundo meant that she intended to fight him. In a less stressful time, he might have attempted to dissuade the shinigami woman from fighting with him: these were tough times for the chivalric butler however. Not so long ago, he had been ambushed by a handful of seated officers right here in the sands of Hueco Mundo. He had left them alive with as few injuries as possible to dissuade them from following him.

He was fairly peaceful and had done nothing over the passed few centuries to warrant being so vehemently persecuted. Situations had occurred with simple misunderstandings which he couldn't freely explain without endangering innocent people. So he did what made sense, pretended to be the stereotype monster the shinigami hunted and obsessed over. Making himself out to be a villain for other's safety, yet this also made shinigami reasonably predictable.Nw he was facing off again in the White Sands against a single shinigami. It was foolish to come after me alone... unless she is a captain herself. I do not see any captain robes though and her spiritual pressure is fairly weaker than my summarized strength. Perhaps she is yet hiding the majority of her spiritual pressure?

There were two sure ways to test how strong his opponent truly was. First, he could show his cards and try to suppress her weak stature by the sheer mass of his reiryoku: she would have to match or surpass his spiritual pressure to negate the spiritual weight it would inflict upon her. That method was more safe initially, but if the shinigami was here in the world of denizens, chances were that others weren't far behind. He would choose a more vicarious approach to the battle. He would continue to play this game of power guessing and slowly ascertain the nature of her power. After he knew moor about her, he would improvise. Fortunately for him, he had his hierro and the territorial advantage.

For now he would rely on his steel skin as a defense against her zanpakuto. He would bow politely as a butler but did not take his crimson eyes from her. It is a shinigami custom to introduce yourself to your opponent before fighting them, if I remember correctly. I am Anamist souigetsu, and you are? if she would introduce herself, h would wait until she had finished and then he would lunge forward suddenly- one hand held delicately behind his back while he kept his main arm extended like a blade towards the shinigami and would strike twice, once to parry her zanpakuto to the side and a second to thrust at her stomach. He was attempting to cripple her before the fight fully started, his strike wouldn't be sharp as a blade, but more blunt like a sledgehammer.

#6 Re: The color of violence on Thu Apr 30, 2015 11:35 am


Sangatsu continued to try and guess who this man was. She looked at him from top to bottom and then top again. She calculated all the possibilities of what he could be, yet only could arrive at a few. 'He could possibly be an Arrancar, or a Hollow... he certainly doesn't look like a shinigami to me... though I'm not necessarily a shinigami either... well, not yet I suppose.' This whole thing frustrated her. She couldn't figure out what she was exactly and yet, here she was about to fight a creature in which she had no clue of their capabilities.

Sangatsu looked at the male her stature hadn't quite changed, she still had a vague grin on her face from the previous statements. She did raise an eye to his comment on introducing ones self before battling. 'How odd, they introduce themselves before they fight here... is that some way of knowing the other person's name if they kill you or injure you badly?' she shrugged it off mentally and decided to play along, keeping her same silky yet subtly sharp voice.

"Nice to meet you... Mister Souigetsu. I am Sangatsu Hagarashi..." She responded, going into a deep curtsy. She could feel the tension in the air moments before he darted at her. This would come as a surprise, yet she would react quickly and fluidly before he could connect the second attack. Her sword pushed her back from the initial hit which she happily took the energy and did a back flip and quickly changed her footing to enable herself to go into a roundhouse followed by a pirouette that Luke had taught her. She had aimed for Anamist's closest shoulder; the one he used to extend his arm towards her with, hoping to connect and lower his arm. She would, however, get some impact which did indeed catch her off guard.

His attack angered her, and without thinking, her Reiatsu rose, the air around her began to manifest in very hot lotus flames that could cinch the skin if in contact, yet anything beyond that nothing would happen. "You are rude to attack without warning, yet you pretend to be a gentlemen by introducing yourself." she kept the same silky voice, yet this time the sharpness had risen a little and her eyes had darkened in color.

#7 Re: The color of violence on Thu Apr 30, 2015 11:06 pm


A quick and limber one, this opponent was. She used the force of his first strike against her blade to.push herself back as she performed a counter by attempting to kick him. He was no martial arts master, rather he was a master of how own spiritual energy. He had fully committed to his first two-step strike he had wanted to end the battle before either of them became seriously injured. Yet she was experienced enough in melee battle to perform an effective counter. Her kick came up against his leading shoulder and slammed hard against him. Her kick was surprisingly weak, he expected a strike that would send him flying: instead the lick forced him to take a step to the opposite side to keep his balance. Having kicked him like that, the shinigami's leg would probably be stinging, feeling as though they had kicked a steel pillar.

Now the shinigami was questioning his etiquette:ty had introduced themselves as immortal enemies: why should he be the one to allow her the first strike? The expression "Ladies first." Did not apply during battle, if it was respect she wanted, then she shouldn't be upset about a sudden attack. [I]Perhaps this lady is used to others going easy on her? Then... she can't be much more than a fledgling shinigami?[/] That made sense to him and explained the difference in their spiritual power. His hierro alone would be enough of a weapon against her own body, as well as her sword.

Her anger seemed to ignite a flame power in her Zanpakuto,th flame was not intense, but enough to redden his pale skin. If this battle continued at this rate, he would need a new butler suite. He held up his gloved hand and inspected the white glove he had used to smack her blade aside. A fine cut had split openn the palm of his glove, yet his bare hand wasn't injured in the slightest. Tell me, how well do you know your weapon? A shinigami and Zanpakuto are two separate spirits who must learn from each other. It must be frustrating to work with such a stubborn weapon. he slipped the ruined glove off of his hand and dropped it into the sand with slight disgust. He trampled on the ruined glove with his foot and pushed it into the sand as he explained next and gave away his racial identity. We arrancar are made with thousands and thousands of souls, surviving and evolving by devouring each other. We are our own weapons, unlike the Zanpakuto.

Anamist had no desire to draw his spirit, his second form was a terrifying and hideous monster. Instead he increased his spiritual pressure to the tier of 3-2 and again dashed at her. This time he held his bare hand behind his back and used his other gloved hand to grab at her wrist and throw her.

#8 Re: The color of violence on Fri May 01, 2015 12:51 am


Sangatsu kept her outward appearance calm, yet her leg was hurting insanely. 'What, is this guy made of steel?' she pondered. She looked at her sword, wishing it were a zanpakuto but knowing that if she gave up on it, the process would take longer. Instead, she decided to act insulted by his words.

"My Zan is not stubborn..." she responded with the silky voice thickening a little. "It knows when to fight and when not to fight." she explained. her palm still stroked the hilt of the sword as she spoke. As he explained who he was her eyes narrowed a little in response. "Arrancar...." she growled under her breath.

This was almost insignificant, however as his spiritual pressure rose to that of Luke's. She knew he was powerful, but how long could she toy with him until he gave his full spiritual energy. Perhaps this would attract others near that could sense the energies they gave off. Maybe it was wisest to negate battling and instead find out what his purpose was to being here and possibly escape with minimal injuries.

It was obvious she had been in her mind a moment too long as she suddenly felt a hand grab at her wrist. By this point, her reiatsu would have been hot enough to suggest that she had a high fever in temperature of her body. Her eyes darted at him and she quickly side-stepped, hoping to have dodged his attempt at grabbing her.

#9 Re: The color of violence on Fri May 01, 2015 9:04 am


Then you have a very wise sword, a spirit that knows when a battle is one-sided , it shouldn't show. Its cutting edge. he was making an analogy, comparing her to her sword. She had seemed eager to fight and held a calm composure like she knew battle would ensue. He hadn't wanted to fought either, but he couldn't afford to be caught. Too much was riding on his ability to avoid conflict and attention.

He had revealed he was an arrancar, with which he noticed her eyes narrowed. Immortal enemies, the shinigami and hollow: and yet one of his closest allies was a shinigami who had abandoned the Soul Society. Anamist did not believe the perpetual spirit war was necassary- and yet this girl before him instantly recognized him as a true enemy after hearing his truth. She had been caught up in one of her thoughts and reacted slowly to his advance. He grabbed her wrist firmly but in a gentle manner as she side-stepped. He would pull her closet, closer than necessary: he held her hand up over his shoulder Ann then place his other hand around her lower back to prevent her from retreating. You are very warm, if you are sick, you shouldn't be fighting.

His face was close to hers as he held her tightly about the waist: he searched her eyes intently for as to why her bod was so hot. Normally, he would assume it was her Zanpakuto, but she was a fairly new shinigami and possessed an incomplete blade. His sudden change in nature would likely shock her, maybe bewilder her. An arrancar stronger than her, holding back his power and not finishing her off and devouring her- instead he was concerned about her well-being. Anamist had not killed a shinigami or human in a very long time, he didn't want to fight someone who was sick. He was no fool either, with a strong grip on her wrist, attempting to use her sword against him would be awkward and difficult. He fully expected she would protest his closeness, maybe try to bite him or kick him again: she would only hurt herself and hopefully realize she was out-matched.

He released the seal on his spiritual power and showed her that he possessed a 2-3 tier while not using his ressurection. Had he released, instead of a 4 tier difference, there would have been a 6 tier difference in their power. Does the blade still want to fight even though her opponent is Captain level? I may be a monster, but I have values. Stay your sword and explain yourself to me. Are you with a fever? his crimson eyes seemed to search through her soul, no sign of malice found. She was inexperienced and no threat to him in her current state... surely this woman didn't come to hueco mundo intending to fight the vast monsters here with an incomplete weapon? Then it dawned on him, she was here risking her life to become stronger and learn about her zanpakuto! She had stumbled onto one of the not powerful, if not the most powerful arrancar in hueco mundo: the white sands were vast and yet she went after him... either she was extremely lucky or extremely unlucky. He had no intention to kill her though, so she was lucky, at least that's what he thought. He instinctively looked around, had she stumbled into a group of strong hollow, she might not have faired so well. She was brave and dedicated, he respected that, but coming to this place alone was foolish.

#10 Re: The color of violence on Fri May 01, 2015 10:29 am


Sangatsu was at a loss for words or even a reaction. Before she could respond to his words she found herself up close to him. She had squeezed her eyes closed a moment before noticing that he placed his other arm around her back. This certainly confused her and she looked up into his face, looking for an answer.

Once he unleashed his full reiatsu, she realized that she was most definitely lucky to not be fighting him in this moment. Not having been responded to in this way by another being since she got here, she naturally dropped her facade of being completely neutral. He had certainly surprised her, but just how much she would soon find out.

Almost instantly after he spoke to her, her reiatsu lowered tremendously and the flames and heat went away. She wasn't quite sure why or how the heat was working, but she knew one thing, it rose as she grew more angry or upset. She then made herself respond to the words of this Arrancar who was simply speaking to her. "I...I... no..." she stuttered, unsure of which question to answer first. "I d-don't want to fight any- any longer..." she stammered out finally. She had also lowered her spiritual energy so that should have answered his question on whether or not she was with fever.

After a moment of silence, her voice lowered from its previous higher pitch. Instead, her voice was gentle, not silky nor sharp. "I came out here.. to train..." she explained. "I thought it was a good idea... and.. I was hoping to... well..." She mustered up the courage to explain herself to this man, for some reason she felt it was her duty to listen to his questionings of her and to reply. She took in a deep breath but looked away for fear of his reaction. "I came to seek revenge on a Hollow who put me into this mess... who killed my mother and the shinigami who was trying to protect us.." She responded.

She made no effort to move, as she was more than willing to cry mercy. Why he was worried about her.. that she wouldn't understand. She had no knowledge of who these people.. creatures, were and yet one who she thought she should fight was instead worrying about her. Her mind hurt a little trying to understand it all, it seemed as though it had been but a week from her mother's death and her own suicide and she still didn't have a concept of who she was... what she was. The people in the soul society seemed to keep her at a distance as she had gained powers in a way that was frowned upon, and yet she couldn't understand as it wasn't her fault. She had no clue the sword was a zanpakuto.

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