A Not So Subtle Change (Vicious Evolution)
Apr 19, 2012 14:04:15 GMT -8
Post by takeda on Apr 19, 2012 14:04:15 GMT -8
The very nature of the hollow was that it was a broken being. The word "hollow", which described the race, implied they were empty, lost creatures. Vicious knew the feeling. As a human, he had been broken badly. He remembered at least that much. He had had a name, but it had been lost to the madness that had tainted his mind. Vicious had lost so much because of the Madness, and now he was left with nothing but holes. There were giant gaps in his memories, in his very consciousness. He couldn't even communicate clearly enough to convey the most basic of thoughts. It was frustrating, but not nearly the worst of his problems.
Like all hollows, Vicious was plagued by an insatiable hunger. His forays into the human world never resulted in enough food to satisfy his ache, and not even feasting upon his fellow hollows could cure him of his cravings. No, it was not something that could be cured. It was a condition he had to live with, and he had come to accept that. It was hard, but he could ignore the hunger when there was no food to be had. He took every scrap he could get, even if he had to fight for it, but when he had nothing, there was no complaining.
He roamed the dunes alone for the time, wandering back and forth across the sands. Presta's pack was not far...not just Presta's Pack, his Pack. They were allies...for now. Vicious wasn't sure if such a union could last, but he would be keeping his eyes open for signs of it beginning to break apart. When control was finally lost, and they started turning on each other, Vicious would no doubt be the easiest target if caught off guard. He would not allow himself to become prey, it was not something he could tolerate.
His musings were cut short by a tremor in the air, something that shook him to his core, and called to his very nature as a hollow. He could feel a massive amount of reiatsu to the East, and it wasn't simply a singular force, but a multitude of smaller ones. They were clustered together, creating this single reiatsu field that even a hollow with minimal sensory abilities like Vicious could detect. he could practically taste it on the air, and it was so powerful that it pulled the primal, instinctive needs of a hollow right to the forefront of his mind.
As if pulled by an invisible leash, Vicious darted to the East, running pellmell towards the reiatsu. He did not know what it was, nor what would come of it, but he knew he had to go to it. Reiatsu spoke the hunger inside him, whispered promises of food and contentment to his empty soul, and it was a siren's song that could not be denied. He left all thoughts of the Pack and his past behind, and focused only on the call. Each step brought him closer, and the closer he got, the more influenced he was. By the time he finally found the source, he was practically mindless with hunger.
He was witnessing a feeding frenzy of dozens of lesser hollows like himself. They were balled together in a writhing mass, devouring each other and creating the powerful field of reiatsu that had drawn him here. He hesitated, grimacing slightly as his sentient mind fought with his subconscious instinct. All that awaited him down there was death. If he joined the frenzy, he would be devoured, and disappeared. He struggled internally, grappling with the consequences of the decision that instinct was forcing him to make. It was a struggle he lost. The urge was too great, and he lunged forth into the frenzy, sinking his teeth into the first hollow in his path. In turn, another hollow bit into him, and the cycle continued.
He gorged on hollow flesh, and lost himself in the insanity that followed. The reiatsu surrounding them began to merge and condense as their frenzy became a tighter and closer cluster of mayhem. Vicious disappeared in the feeding mass, and for a while, nothing changed. As the reiatsu continued to condense, the mass began to lose all shape and distinctness. It turned black, and became a sphere of tightly condensed spiritual particles. These particles collided together, a combining of souls and of minds, and once again became a singular, physical form. Hours passed, and a handful of other lesser hollows plunged into the mass, disappearing within. The mass reached a towering height, and new shapes began to emerge. Its body became more defined, and the black outer layer became a fluttering cloak, concealing is deathly white hands and feet. A twisting blob of molten bone formed at the front, contorting and twisting as though it were struggling to determine its final shape.
Whatever internal struggle was going on within the being, when it finally came to an end the mask had formed. It was sharp and angular, with the face jutting out slightly. Three horns extended from the mask. The middle horn was twisted like a drill, and curved backward only slightly. The other two formed a few inches from the central horn, and were swept back much further. Jutting down from the upper jaw of the mask were a pair of long, sharp teeth that curved in a manner reminiscent of a saber-tooth tiger. To anyone who had known Vicious as a lesser, the identity of the dominant personality was all too clear. Vicious was in control for the moment, whether he was entirely aware of it or not. The newly formed Menos Grande howled in triumph, and lumbered off aimlessly in search of a meal.
Like all hollows, Vicious was plagued by an insatiable hunger. His forays into the human world never resulted in enough food to satisfy his ache, and not even feasting upon his fellow hollows could cure him of his cravings. No, it was not something that could be cured. It was a condition he had to live with, and he had come to accept that. It was hard, but he could ignore the hunger when there was no food to be had. He took every scrap he could get, even if he had to fight for it, but when he had nothing, there was no complaining.
He roamed the dunes alone for the time, wandering back and forth across the sands. Presta's pack was not far...not just Presta's Pack, his Pack. They were allies...for now. Vicious wasn't sure if such a union could last, but he would be keeping his eyes open for signs of it beginning to break apart. When control was finally lost, and they started turning on each other, Vicious would no doubt be the easiest target if caught off guard. He would not allow himself to become prey, it was not something he could tolerate.
His musings were cut short by a tremor in the air, something that shook him to his core, and called to his very nature as a hollow. He could feel a massive amount of reiatsu to the East, and it wasn't simply a singular force, but a multitude of smaller ones. They were clustered together, creating this single reiatsu field that even a hollow with minimal sensory abilities like Vicious could detect. he could practically taste it on the air, and it was so powerful that it pulled the primal, instinctive needs of a hollow right to the forefront of his mind.
As if pulled by an invisible leash, Vicious darted to the East, running pellmell towards the reiatsu. He did not know what it was, nor what would come of it, but he knew he had to go to it. Reiatsu spoke the hunger inside him, whispered promises of food and contentment to his empty soul, and it was a siren's song that could not be denied. He left all thoughts of the Pack and his past behind, and focused only on the call. Each step brought him closer, and the closer he got, the more influenced he was. By the time he finally found the source, he was practically mindless with hunger.
He was witnessing a feeding frenzy of dozens of lesser hollows like himself. They were balled together in a writhing mass, devouring each other and creating the powerful field of reiatsu that had drawn him here. He hesitated, grimacing slightly as his sentient mind fought with his subconscious instinct. All that awaited him down there was death. If he joined the frenzy, he would be devoured, and disappeared. He struggled internally, grappling with the consequences of the decision that instinct was forcing him to make. It was a struggle he lost. The urge was too great, and he lunged forth into the frenzy, sinking his teeth into the first hollow in his path. In turn, another hollow bit into him, and the cycle continued.
He gorged on hollow flesh, and lost himself in the insanity that followed. The reiatsu surrounding them began to merge and condense as their frenzy became a tighter and closer cluster of mayhem. Vicious disappeared in the feeding mass, and for a while, nothing changed. As the reiatsu continued to condense, the mass began to lose all shape and distinctness. It turned black, and became a sphere of tightly condensed spiritual particles. These particles collided together, a combining of souls and of minds, and once again became a singular, physical form. Hours passed, and a handful of other lesser hollows plunged into the mass, disappearing within. The mass reached a towering height, and new shapes began to emerge. Its body became more defined, and the black outer layer became a fluttering cloak, concealing is deathly white hands and feet. A twisting blob of molten bone formed at the front, contorting and twisting as though it were struggling to determine its final shape.
Whatever internal struggle was going on within the being, when it finally came to an end the mask had formed. It was sharp and angular, with the face jutting out slightly. Three horns extended from the mask. The middle horn was twisted like a drill, and curved backward only slightly. The other two formed a few inches from the central horn, and were swept back much further. Jutting down from the upper jaw of the mask were a pair of long, sharp teeth that curved in a manner reminiscent of a saber-tooth tiger. To anyone who had known Vicious as a lesser, the identity of the dominant personality was all too clear. Vicious was in control for the moment, whether he was entirely aware of it or not. The newly formed Menos Grande howled in triumph, and lumbered off aimlessly in search of a meal.
