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#1 Nightmare's Harbinger on Tue Apr 05, 2016 12:45 am

Breath came, ragged and painful, passing by disease down to tattered lungs.  There wasn't much time left for this form.  There was never much time left for his forms, these days.  Not when the hunger came, gnawing, biting deep with twisting talons in what first felt like his stomach but quickly spread through his body, that need, insatiable and overwhelming.  No small meal would satisfy.  Not today, not this.  Old iron creaked as the ancient rose to his feet, the metal of his armour slightly rusted, the cloth frayed and stained.  Such was the way.  He clinked as he moved, two tired eyes looking out from the shadows, hood covering most of his face.  Soon.  He stopped when he stood beside the messenger that had come.  A pretty thing, so full of fear.

Her words came almost stuttering, but she spoke the message well enough.  Rebels.  Traitors in the ranks.  Unacceptable.  Their treason must have been truly damning, though, for the message to come to him.  Simple execution solved most betrayals.  They didn't need to involve Larypt, yet he was grateful.  He thanked the girl - his voice bearing the tone of two slabs of rock grinding on each other - and he reached out and touched her shuddering face.  Beautiful.  Almost as beautiful as the screams that came as her skin started bubbling under his touch.  Exquisite.  Hunger surged within him, but he beat it down.  Not this one.  She was changing.  Soon the screams stopped, but the near silence that followed was good, broken only by the gurgle of what Larypt had made.

Ah, a dull thing.  Wild fear had overwhelmed other emotions, and the girl had become a misshapen mess.  No personification of an idea.  Certainly no longer beautiful.  And yet...Larypt looked in the all too human eyes of the creature, and saw horror, panic, fear overwhelming.  Magnificent.  His works had begun well today.  Larypt left the thing behind, tearing a hole in space and moving through.  There were traitors to find.  There were new things to touch.  Perhaps they would find themselves becoming something wonderful.

He had been asked to go to Earth.  He, of all the great ones of Nox Xorik.  He, of all their fighting capability.  It seemed, then, that it was time.  Time to step one foot out of the shadows.  Time to see how the world would react.  Only he, in his glory, could be the one to begin such affairs.  It was only just, only right.  Ah, Earth.  A place of small beings, weak souls.  They would change well, even if they made for poor snacks.  He would make a scene.  He couldn't help but make a scene.  So it was, so it had to be.

Larypt fell from the sky and landed in a street.  The sun shone bright in the sky.  Humans milled around, cars rushed side to side, little souls living little lives.  All about to change.  The ground protested under Larypt's presence, swirling like wet concrete and drawing many gasps from the humans nearby.  Chuckling to himself, the sound almost a gurgle, Larypt roamed through those streets, going to where the instructions had advised, but he didn't pass by a human without brushing his fingers along them.  They were weak.  Barely held together as it was.  A single touch sent his reiatsu rushing through them and forever changing them.

Skin grew cancerous, and then beyond.  Flesh swelled and morphed.  Men became monsters.  Women became worse.  A collection of nightmares did Larypt leave behind, as was his right, as was right.  Only then did the humans remember their instincts.  Only then did the mortals run.

The arrancar would have done well to follow them.  But no, they hid, hid behind the ephemeral, as they were born to do.  Shelter, armour, power, flesh.  All things were options to hide away.  Larypt was no exception.  Yet he did not wear his suit to protect from earthly harm, but to keep prying eyes away from the withered living corpse that was his body.  Unsightly.  Unseemly.  Ah, here they were - the problem with sanctuary in any realm to those who knew where to look.

Even this world of the weak had some presence, some spark of reiatsu.  So when there was nothing, truly nothing, then the absence pointed it out as well as a flare.  One had to be looking, but he was looking, and he was excited with the prospect.  The messenger had not said how many were hiding here.  Why, a group could have run from Hueco Mundo and met with even more here.  What a thought!  How delightful that would be.  Red coated his armoured fingers, just a shadow now but soon to be blood and plenty of it.  He reached out to the hidden walls of the shelter, and it bent under his reiatsu.

Larypt tore it apart like tissue paper, and stepped in.  He didn't speak.  He merely breathed in, deeply, and surveyed his catch.  A dozen arrancar, all staring, all terrified.  Unacceptable, completely unacceptable.

They could tremble now, but he was here with malice in his heart.  How could they think to feel terror simply in his presence?  No, no, no.

He would show them something better.

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