Post by Iko on Feb 6, 2016 20:33:33 GMT -5
He was limited. Self-proclaimed “Vasto Adjuchas” and yet here he was simply limited. Nothing seemed to be clicking into place and yet everything was. Iko was frustrated. What was missing? Something was missing? Something key. He could grab Cero from the air like they were nothing and weave indigo power across the sky, he could manipulate souls into doing his bidding just by showing them a rose and praying to their temptations to watch them fall under his thrall. He could even unite the Hollow into a significant fighting force by brainwashing them with his Bakkoto after pensively convincing them they were in fact for other races.
He strived, but none of the Espada seemed to be what he was after. In truth, he’d met one once but had been unimpressed. These were the Espada he’d heard so much about? They were Arrancar! Mere half-breeds wrought from a decision to tear their mask. None would be impressed with his work either, he’d seen their King from afar. Trapped in his own mind, Obsessed with his desire to achieve his own personal goals and none for the Hollow. To make matters worse he too had once been an Arrancar.
He needed a mentor, somebody that he could learn from. Somebody that would provide a decent basis of where he needed to go. But in truth, there were none. No Hollow to show him the way to Vasto Lorde. He was strong, yes! But he was lacking. He lacked . . . finesse. Despite how much he willed himself to be higher than his comrades he was but a puppet master pulling the strings and this as much as it pleased him provided an avenue of irritation.
But who? As he’d previously thought the Espada were no good. Even the annals of the last two Vasto Lorde left him at a blank, Yaksha was gone and Titus was long dead. He’d poured over Titus’s work, traced the ceramic of the monument where his life’s work was written. He’d studied Titus’s encounters, how he’d strived and how he’d even clashed with his brother in Hollow Blood Yaksha. Titus had even been an Arrancar at one point! That had surprised Iko but, according to the scriptures he was driven to the brink of death and came back as a Hollow. A heightened state of existence for a Hollow breed if ever there was one.
No, perhaps here on this monument to the Great War, he would find his answer. He gazed once more across the texts trying to find that bridge that would make it all connect and sighed. It was no use, even the technique that the Vasto Lorde used, the all eclipsing “Menos Grande Exterminatus” was lost to time and he felt that even his body was lacking to wield such power.
He tried, raising both his arms he called upon the voice of Hueco Mundo itself like it was written and yet nothing happened. No overarching godly voice saying something in his head. No resounding hive mind of Hollow kind whispering it’s fevered secrets in his mind. Simply put, he wasn’t strong enough.
Perhaps, he was looking at it all wrong? Perhaps he needed to look elsewhere for tutelage – in other races. The thought sickened him and yet . . . Was that the Hollow flaw? The natural need to fight anything and everything. He cocked his head and looked back over Titus’s work, Shinigami and Quincy alike appeared across them. Maybe he needed to serve somebody like them . . . but who did he know? Robert Muhle? He was the only Shinigami of note that he would ever have thought about serving but Iko knew for a fact the Shinigami Laws had made it so that any Hollow who came into the Soul Society would meet a very quick and decisive end and somehow from their last encounter Iko doubted that Robert would be so accommodating.
Maybe . . . in these words. A name . . . “Weylin” it appeared a few times. Apparently this Quincy was one Titus had interacted with multiple times. He punched the monument, but finding one Quincy was like finding a needle in a haystack. One in every ten thousand humans. He dove into the desert, off the monument and ran, his powerful legs kicking off and creating a storm of dust.
He travelled across thousands of miles in a mere instant as his anger at his own incompetence drove him to run further and further. Then he simply stopped. He roared, a long and savage wail of insecurity and collapsed on his knees.
Was this how he was going to end? A recluse, forever stuck in a state of pointless apathy? Was this the purpose that those like him eventually ended at? Was this why there had been so few Vasto Lorde ever recorded? They were failures. Hollow were failures. The temptation to succeed was simply too far out of his reach and he’d never truly be powerful enough to come close to it.
“Tch, who is this one Huginn?” a voice called out amongst the sand.
“He left such a nasty dent, we had to come and fix it, didn’t we Munin?” a voice said accusingly.
Power seemed to fall over him and suddenly he couldn’t move. Trapped in a reiatsu that absolutely dwarfed his own albeit lazily. “What should we do Huginn?” Where were the voices coming from, why did they care so much that he had damaged the monument? And why were the names so damned familiar! His voice could not even leave his throat, it just came out as a snarl.
“This one, he’s strong Munin. This one is impressive” From the left corner of his eye a vulture-like Hollow appeared in his field of vision, then from the right an eagle-like one as well. These seemed to be the sources of the voices.
“True, true Huginn” the eagle-like Hollow cucked, tucking his head underneath his wing and scratching his feathers with his beak lazily.
“But he did damage masters monument” the vulture murmured nodding, the spiritual pressure paralyzing Iko increasing in furious intensity and weakening his joints. He knew that if he made the wrong move here his entire body could possibly snap into two. But something else also struck a chord to Iko. Masters monument? But Titus had a monument . . . then suddenly it made sense. It all fell into place, these two were Titus’s birds. Supposedly servants he used to deliver messages. What was more impressive is that they were still around.
Suddenly he found the energy to speak. “You served Titus?”.
Both avian Hollow stopped what they were doing. They very slowly looked towards him. “Why are you asking?” their voices melded as one. “When one speaks his name, we become curious, why is it that you know him? Why is it that you were at the monument? Is it possible you are smart enough to read? Is it possible that you are one of the few who remember our master?” the birds power was unimaginable, it made sense that these would be Titus’s birds. But he needed to be very careful lest they grew tired of him. They were very capable of destroying his body in a heartbeat.
“Iko studies him, Iko looks to be as strong as him” Iko spoke, forcing each word out in turn. The birds seemed to take his sentence with humour as the vulture started laughing softly to itself.
“He was not strong”
“He died”
They said sadly as the pressure ebbed away.
“What you feel is what is left. Scattered are fragments of his broken power, but not even bringing them back together would revive him. This is just the last of his influence, entrusted to us to maintain the monument of the battle and even that is diminishing everyday”
“We see inside your head you know. We study your memories and your aspirations. We can see who you are Iko. That is the power of Titus, the power to see inside your head. So let us offer you something, Weylin is still alive. The memories they shared have no faded and we can see the paths that will most likely lead him to you. Alas we can only give you hope” the two suddenly took offer into the air, their spiritual presence vanishing in a mere instant as they vanished into the horizon. The force of their take-off however blew clear the sands around Iko creating a crater.
Their voices echoed. “Alas hope is all we can still give”
He was alone again. But he’d always been alone. Always fighting for himself. This crater they had left him in, strangely peaceful however. The Hollow looked around, such power from just the mediums of Titus’s power. He truly was a Hollow that he could aspire to be.
So that left something more important.
He needed to find Weylin and he knew exactly the Quincy to lead him there.
“Freylief, Iko’s coming back”
1500/75 - 20GP (roughly 1507)
He strived, but none of the Espada seemed to be what he was after. In truth, he’d met one once but had been unimpressed. These were the Espada he’d heard so much about? They were Arrancar! Mere half-breeds wrought from a decision to tear their mask. None would be impressed with his work either, he’d seen their King from afar. Trapped in his own mind, Obsessed with his desire to achieve his own personal goals and none for the Hollow. To make matters worse he too had once been an Arrancar.
He needed a mentor, somebody that he could learn from. Somebody that would provide a decent basis of where he needed to go. But in truth, there were none. No Hollow to show him the way to Vasto Lorde. He was strong, yes! But he was lacking. He lacked . . . finesse. Despite how much he willed himself to be higher than his comrades he was but a puppet master pulling the strings and this as much as it pleased him provided an avenue of irritation.
But who? As he’d previously thought the Espada were no good. Even the annals of the last two Vasto Lorde left him at a blank, Yaksha was gone and Titus was long dead. He’d poured over Titus’s work, traced the ceramic of the monument where his life’s work was written. He’d studied Titus’s encounters, how he’d strived and how he’d even clashed with his brother in Hollow Blood Yaksha. Titus had even been an Arrancar at one point! That had surprised Iko but, according to the scriptures he was driven to the brink of death and came back as a Hollow. A heightened state of existence for a Hollow breed if ever there was one.
No, perhaps here on this monument to the Great War, he would find his answer. He gazed once more across the texts trying to find that bridge that would make it all connect and sighed. It was no use, even the technique that the Vasto Lorde used, the all eclipsing “Menos Grande Exterminatus” was lost to time and he felt that even his body was lacking to wield such power.
He tried, raising both his arms he called upon the voice of Hueco Mundo itself like it was written and yet nothing happened. No overarching godly voice saying something in his head. No resounding hive mind of Hollow kind whispering it’s fevered secrets in his mind. Simply put, he wasn’t strong enough.
Perhaps, he was looking at it all wrong? Perhaps he needed to look elsewhere for tutelage – in other races. The thought sickened him and yet . . . Was that the Hollow flaw? The natural need to fight anything and everything. He cocked his head and looked back over Titus’s work, Shinigami and Quincy alike appeared across them. Maybe he needed to serve somebody like them . . . but who did he know? Robert Muhle? He was the only Shinigami of note that he would ever have thought about serving but Iko knew for a fact the Shinigami Laws had made it so that any Hollow who came into the Soul Society would meet a very quick and decisive end and somehow from their last encounter Iko doubted that Robert would be so accommodating.
Maybe . . . in these words. A name . . . “Weylin” it appeared a few times. Apparently this Quincy was one Titus had interacted with multiple times. He punched the monument, but finding one Quincy was like finding a needle in a haystack. One in every ten thousand humans. He dove into the desert, off the monument and ran, his powerful legs kicking off and creating a storm of dust.
He travelled across thousands of miles in a mere instant as his anger at his own incompetence drove him to run further and further. Then he simply stopped. He roared, a long and savage wail of insecurity and collapsed on his knees.
Was this how he was going to end? A recluse, forever stuck in a state of pointless apathy? Was this the purpose that those like him eventually ended at? Was this why there had been so few Vasto Lorde ever recorded? They were failures. Hollow were failures. The temptation to succeed was simply too far out of his reach and he’d never truly be powerful enough to come close to it.
“Tch, who is this one Huginn?” a voice called out amongst the sand.
“He left such a nasty dent, we had to come and fix it, didn’t we Munin?” a voice said accusingly.
Power seemed to fall over him and suddenly he couldn’t move. Trapped in a reiatsu that absolutely dwarfed his own albeit lazily. “What should we do Huginn?” Where were the voices coming from, why did they care so much that he had damaged the monument? And why were the names so damned familiar! His voice could not even leave his throat, it just came out as a snarl.
“This one, he’s strong Munin. This one is impressive” From the left corner of his eye a vulture-like Hollow appeared in his field of vision, then from the right an eagle-like one as well. These seemed to be the sources of the voices.
“True, true Huginn” the eagle-like Hollow cucked, tucking his head underneath his wing and scratching his feathers with his beak lazily.
“But he did damage masters monument” the vulture murmured nodding, the spiritual pressure paralyzing Iko increasing in furious intensity and weakening his joints. He knew that if he made the wrong move here his entire body could possibly snap into two. But something else also struck a chord to Iko. Masters monument? But Titus had a monument . . . then suddenly it made sense. It all fell into place, these two were Titus’s birds. Supposedly servants he used to deliver messages. What was more impressive is that they were still around.
Suddenly he found the energy to speak. “You served Titus?”.
Both avian Hollow stopped what they were doing. They very slowly looked towards him. “Why are you asking?” their voices melded as one. “When one speaks his name, we become curious, why is it that you know him? Why is it that you were at the monument? Is it possible you are smart enough to read? Is it possible that you are one of the few who remember our master?” the birds power was unimaginable, it made sense that these would be Titus’s birds. But he needed to be very careful lest they grew tired of him. They were very capable of destroying his body in a heartbeat.
“Iko studies him, Iko looks to be as strong as him” Iko spoke, forcing each word out in turn. The birds seemed to take his sentence with humour as the vulture started laughing softly to itself.
“He was not strong”
“He died”
They said sadly as the pressure ebbed away.
“What you feel is what is left. Scattered are fragments of his broken power, but not even bringing them back together would revive him. This is just the last of his influence, entrusted to us to maintain the monument of the battle and even that is diminishing everyday”
“We see inside your head you know. We study your memories and your aspirations. We can see who you are Iko. That is the power of Titus, the power to see inside your head. So let us offer you something, Weylin is still alive. The memories they shared have no faded and we can see the paths that will most likely lead him to you. Alas we can only give you hope” the two suddenly took offer into the air, their spiritual presence vanishing in a mere instant as they vanished into the horizon. The force of their take-off however blew clear the sands around Iko creating a crater.
Their voices echoed. “Alas hope is all we can still give”
He was alone again. But he’d always been alone. Always fighting for himself. This crater they had left him in, strangely peaceful however. The Hollow looked around, such power from just the mediums of Titus’s power. He truly was a Hollow that he could aspire to be.
So that left something more important.
He needed to find Weylin and he knew exactly the Quincy to lead him there.
“Freylief, Iko’s coming back”
1500/75 - 20GP (roughly 1507)
