Post by Roash Bronson on May 30, 2011 9:49:00 GMT -5
Title: Honey Badger
"The Honey Badger just doesn't give a shit."
A lone creature strutted upon the steps of Las Noches: the grains of sand weren't enough to bar Roash Ikagi. Red converse sneakers were made filthy by the fine dust and such evidence was prevalent between his steps. The weathered living being seemed apathetic at the time being. Roash had spent days wandering the dunes once again, even digging into the forest down below. Beneath his eyes were dark pools: the result of mounted fatigue and malnourishment since embarking to Hueco Mundo.
There was nothing to drink besides stolen alcohol which didn't even come with chasers. There was no food aside from confections stolen from the living world as well. With murky determination Roash returned to the castle which had become a reluctant home base for him. He was hardly welcomed, but allowed to exist within due to some kind of alliance with some of the Espada; or it was understood to be that way.
Roash Ikagi wandered the confines of Las Noches; drops of human blood created a trail throughout the winding castle as he was war-torn from a drunken search. An intoxicated journey through the forest had taken Roash down into dozens of close-call fights with various hollows. Big ones, small ones, humanoids and legitimate monsters all the same. With a slight daze Roash maneuvered sloppily through a pristine hallway which was painted a painful shade of white. He buckled. With queasiness filling to the brink Roash keeled over. The knock of his knees against the flooring was a prelude to alcohol induced vomiting. His voice was garbled amongst the spew of brown liquid which included squirming chunks within. The matter was putrid to the point it drew his attention. While journeying through the forest Roash had managed to savagely eat a bite-sized portion of a hollow amidst a fight. Why? Once a hollow has lost a portion of themselves they would forever be stricken from evolving: a fact Roash had learned of while journeying through that abysmal underworld. Of course his body had rejected the matter. The sliver of flesh squirmed on it's own: being within Roash must've provided it with some kind of nourishment for that short time.Without a hint of amusement, Roash was winched to his feet by a force of will. The partly inebriated man was in desperate need of rest, drinkable water, edible food, and clothing that wasn't steeped in blood.
Behold.
The pool of waste was left behind as Roash had committed to limping through Las Noches. He found a lone common goods storage which was labeled as such, and met a trial in attempting to open it.
"Who locks shit like this man?" He spoke aloud to himself with a noticeable drunken slur. The fact of the matter was that most individuals could snap a regular door lock with ease. First, Roash tackled himself against it, creating a clamor with his stiff shoulder. No luck. He then reeled back for swinging about with a flex of his muscle: with a swift spinning-kick his body blurred in motion before ripping the door open. The powerful ripping would made little echoes through the corridor.
With the barricade gone Roash climbed into the pantry before commencing to treat himself of injuries, find new clothing, and hopefully some nourishment.
A white jacket soaked in blood was stained red as he peeled it off and through it aside. Blood stained the walls from his actions, but only slightly. He was a brazen man, and the new definition of his body was starting to reveal itself as Roash stood bare-chested. He had wounds like Jesus, but was far from holy. Roash was slightly ripped now, but nothing too impressive. He searched through each cabinet, reading through various medicines with the hopes of finding something that would aid him in healing quickly. It was then that he paused; there was something or someone making their way towards the storage facility.
663/13>13GP