Post by MC Hollow on Mar 8, 2013 16:20:10 GMT -5
Thousands of Hollows all milled about in the murky blackness of the granite forest. The trees, a stone mockery of the beauty of life, were standing solemn guard over something that had not happened in the Menos Forest for as far back as anyone could remember. The Hollows came in all shapes and sizes, all colors and mind sets. Some were the lunging hunger brutes of the mindless, others the whispering dark things of nightmare, still others bore the cold calculating look of thinking killers. The mix of Hollows crept from the dark mists swirling around the millennial old trunks of their forest, and the sight filled MC with pride.
Here was the true power of the after life, the force that withstood all changes the force that survived all things. The Espada rose and fell with their leaders, needing a personality to circle around. The Shinigami were lost without their captains, the slaughter and mayhem that arose with the civil war over Aizen was still fresh on many of the thinking Hollows minds. The Quincy's were crushed once, and would be crushed again. The Hellions were new kids on the block, they were a surge that would die back soon enough. It was the Hollows that held true, their hunger and tides never ending. Yes, here was the power of the spirit worlds., and it was MC that called them.
The Pauldrons on his shoulders were shouting out their song, and it was a song the Hollows would respond to. It was a song of longing, of hunger, of loss, but it rang of light. It was this that called the swarm of lost souls to this meeting of thought, this meeting of deliberation, this meeting of power. With a little reiatsu control MC could cause his music to spread out over a wide range of the Hollow Forest, their forest and no one else. Even a few Gillians with their slow mindful tread answered the call, the music calming the raging hunger that ate through their stomachs like no others. As the crowd settled down, unknowing in their gathering but singular in their thought, MC stood out from his perch high up in the stone forest upon a twisting limb.
"My brothers! My comrades in hunger! My siblings in the unending horde that is us! Welcome! Welcome!" Hundreds of thousands of eyes turned to the creature standing in the tree, his mask a grinning skull. "You are the teaming power, you are the force that propagates. It is from you that the Soul Reapers try in vain to protect their little worlds. You stand on a precipice brothers,your numbers out weigh them, your power out combine them. But nevertheless you stand on a precipice." MC moved his gaze upon the unmoving crowd. His words slowly sinking into even the most bestial of their number, well maybe not the Gillians. He let his words sink in further, while the music he created slowly moved amongst their ranks, making them think, making their tired brains ponder on more than just their hunger. "Here we stand, in our forest of granite and mist, using the darkness to abate our fears. As a myriad of hungry lost souls we are nothing but a stone, a single lonely stone. But it is with mountains that stones are made!" MC waited for the roar of Hollows to die down. The flicker of thought flamed behind so many of their eyes that a blazing fire was starting to kindle in the pit that was their souls. His words were filling them, their thought was returning.
-song playing from pauldrons: Echelon's Song (Song for Voroshilov)
Here was the true power of the after life, the force that withstood all changes the force that survived all things. The Espada rose and fell with their leaders, needing a personality to circle around. The Shinigami were lost without their captains, the slaughter and mayhem that arose with the civil war over Aizen was still fresh on many of the thinking Hollows minds. The Quincy's were crushed once, and would be crushed again. The Hellions were new kids on the block, they were a surge that would die back soon enough. It was the Hollows that held true, their hunger and tides never ending. Yes, here was the power of the spirit worlds., and it was MC that called them.
The Pauldrons on his shoulders were shouting out their song, and it was a song the Hollows would respond to. It was a song of longing, of hunger, of loss, but it rang of light. It was this that called the swarm of lost souls to this meeting of thought, this meeting of deliberation, this meeting of power. With a little reiatsu control MC could cause his music to spread out over a wide range of the Hollow Forest, their forest and no one else. Even a few Gillians with their slow mindful tread answered the call, the music calming the raging hunger that ate through their stomachs like no others. As the crowd settled down, unknowing in their gathering but singular in their thought, MC stood out from his perch high up in the stone forest upon a twisting limb.
"My brothers! My comrades in hunger! My siblings in the unending horde that is us! Welcome! Welcome!" Hundreds of thousands of eyes turned to the creature standing in the tree, his mask a grinning skull. "You are the teaming power, you are the force that propagates. It is from you that the Soul Reapers try in vain to protect their little worlds. You stand on a precipice brothers,your numbers out weigh them, your power out combine them. But nevertheless you stand on a precipice." MC moved his gaze upon the unmoving crowd. His words slowly sinking into even the most bestial of their number, well maybe not the Gillians. He let his words sink in further, while the music he created slowly moved amongst their ranks, making them think, making their tired brains ponder on more than just their hunger. "Here we stand, in our forest of granite and mist, using the darkness to abate our fears. As a myriad of hungry lost souls we are nothing but a stone, a single lonely stone. But it is with mountains that stones are made!" MC waited for the roar of Hollows to die down. The flicker of thought flamed behind so many of their eyes that a blazing fire was starting to kindle in the pit that was their souls. His words were filling them, their thought was returning.
-song playing from pauldrons: Echelon's Song (Song for Voroshilov)
