- Created By Shimuzaki
The Ever Beautiful Sea
I looked out on the sea, the warm ocean breeze caressing my face gently. I could smell the salty sea with each gentle breath I took, smiling outward. I looked at you and smiled. You looked back and chuckled slightly. Quickly that chuckle turned to a smile. We sat there as the blue sea glittered with the gleaming rays of light cast down from the heavens by the star of life.
I looked deeply into your eyes as we smiled to each other. I swam deeply through your soul thrrough your eyes, as you smiled to me with that beautiful look on your face. You then looked out to the sea once more, as did I.
As we gazed on the blue waters that world so close, yet so far away looked back at us. The endless world deep below. The waters teeming with life and possibility. We look down at that world. It seemed to be calling to us. Calling to our very existence, as if the blue world wished to show us its beauties.
We walked down the sandy path stepping into the waters. The water brought on a slightly warm and safe sensation. It's scent was heavy with salt, but it was so pleasant, that it hardly seemed strong at all. We began to drift out into the deep blue. It washed us beneath. Holding you close in my arms, we realized that even though our final moments would be painful, we would at least have each other.
Suddenly you let out a gasp for air as your lungs could no longer hold out, fearing to watch you go in my arms, unable to resurface, I breathed in as well. Surprised I realized that we could both breathe beneath the sea. Inhaling I look around. The waters washed over us. The majesty of the world below welcomed us. Gazing upon the see we saw a new world where we could see the beauty of the world in a new light. As we explored this vast new world, the land seemed to fade away from our minds.
Several days later a fisherman came upon us. Hoisting us to his boat he discovered two lovers each clinging to the other tightly with smiles across their faces. He cried both tears of joy at the beautifully tragic sight. They were lovers even in death.. Their love, so pure... so strong, had given them a new world in the next life in which they could enjoy the company of one another happily for the rest of eternity.
The gunman. (A dream)
This is the dream of a character I created in an RP.
Angeal wrapped his arms around the now sleeping once more kuri and closed his eyes. As he dozed off he began to dream.
In the middle of the room a fountain of gold had stood. Thousands crowded the floor. Alchohol rested itself in millions of bottles around the walls. And in a bar stool next to the counter, a man with semi long green hair sat. The bartender looked across the counter at him and laughed a little. "Well, now. You look like you could use a drink. How about a shot of whiskey sir?" Angeal gazed up from his lifeless spot on the glossy counter top to meet the man in the eyes. "Sure. A shot of whiskey."
He winced slightly at the vicious sound of solid glass slamming on the hard counter, penetrated his eardrum. Thinking to himself he just shrugged off the harsh sound and looked into the whiskey that rested beneath his eyes. The orangish brown hue looked almost exactly like his eyes. The bags beneath his eyes told the bartender he was just some tired fool. But in those whiskey colored eyes, there was a man who was about to carve his name into the history of that place. He picked up the glass. His eyes squinted a little as he held back the alcohol. He was drinking just to get drunk. That's all. Not with friends, nor family. Just drinking to get drunk. Hoping to take away some kind of pain. Hoping to take away some kind of doubt. He looked up and asked the bartender for another. The bartender, as sly as a fox, smiled and replied to him. "Very well sir. I will put this on your tab. So far you owe us one hundred dollars. I hope you have the money to pay for all of your expenses tonight." Angeal looked up at the bartender and laughed. "My pockets are deeper than you think. Just keep the alcohol flowing, and I will pay for it when i am done." Angeal lied cleverly, as the bartender continued pouring drinks. Angeal had the money, to pay for one hundred drinks that this man served him. However, he had no intention to do so.
Drink, after drink ran down his throat. He still couldn't get drunk enough to wash away that trouble though. He stood and looked at the Bartender and spoke for only a moment. "Where is she?" The bartender gave him a puzzled look and replied to him in a nervous tone. "W-who might you be talking about sir?" Angeal looked up at the man, and those whiskey eyes pierced right through him. The bartender could only think of fear. His every thought was consumed by what this man would do to him. Suddenly a sound could be heard. The bartender looked to see a large silver pistol. The barrel rested itself on his forehead. "You heard me! Where is she!!? WHERE THE HELL IS KURI!?" Angeal's scream was violent and spiteful. "I-I I don't know! Please don't shoot me!?" He slowly squeezed the trigger. A scream in terror could be heard, before the sound of a click. Behind the counter the bartender looked at Angeal, and with tears in his eyes, he spoke. "She is on the rooftop, you goddamn psycho!" Angeal looked at him and walked away with nothing else to say. With that the man left for the elevator.
"Who in the hell are you?" The words echoed in his mind as a man stood in front of the elevator. Angeal, looked at him callously, and put a gun to his head. "It doesn't matter." The man had then realized his mistake. He spoke, instead of stepping aside. However, before being able to correct himself, the trigger on that large silver pistol was pulled. A bullet went through the man's skull tearing his brains out and spraying them across the elevator door. With this Angeal quietly walked inside the elevator. There he stood, a broken man. Sadness and misery couldn't even begin to describe how he felt. It was as if some being gave him everything he could ever want, just to watch him squirm and grovel like a dog when it was taken away. Angeal knew though, that Kuri was waiting on him. He also knew that he would come to her rescue.
He made it as far as the 58th floor before the elevator stopped. just a few floors shy of the top. The city was beautiful on this ugly night. A night that was about to get uglier. The light gleamed from the muzzle. The scent emanating from it was a mixture between silver, gunpowder, and now blood. The pistol in Angeal's hand had apparently multiplied as he held an identical pistol in his other hand. He carried these two monsters with him to war. And this was a war. To get back the most precious thing he had. To get back the only thing that mattered, and to make sure who did it, could never do it again. The blood on his long black coat couldn't be seen. No, it was far too dark to be seen. A bell rung and triggers were pulled. Hundreds of rounds were fired in the elevator, yet nobody was to be found. Suddenly a second bell rung and two more triggers were pulled. With an instant five men fell to their knees as blood began to build up in their stomachs and pour from their mouths. Yet, he just stood there, as if nothing happened. Instead of looking at the corpses in front of him he just kept on walking forward. he was more like a machine than a man without her. She was that important cog that made him a living being. The only gear that could get things moving again.
Bullets and gun smoke filled the air on the 58th floor of the building as hell unleashed itself within those walls. The screams of dying men echoed through the halls as Angeal let the guns fire on his enemies. Every clip filled with ammunition warranting death, Angeal looked coldly on the men, making sure they saw his eyes. The dead would want to haunt someone, so he would make damn sure they came to the man that killed them. His face being their last living memory. Hell awaited Angeal, and so too did the corrupt hearts and souls of the men who would die this night. However, while he was still alive, he would be next to Kuri, until his heart stopped beating. He had been a fool this time though. He wasn't there to protect her, and these men would pay for his crimes. He would build a monument of their blood for his sins, and he would gladly look upon that monument each day, as long as it meant he could be with Kuri. Time seemed to speed up though. As he continued killing his way through the area, he reached the stairwell. He had managed to make it this far without getting hurt, but he knew his time would eventually come. He wasn't getting out of this uninjured, if not dead. He would still cling to life, though. For Kuri, was everything to him, and he could not make her cry. His life was important to her, despite what he himself thought, and what these men he had been killing thought. As the shell casings rained down, from the chambers of guns, poured down the steps like a waterfall. A bullet to the leg slowed him down though. One unfortunate gunman, got in a lucky shot. A shot that Angeal thanked him for by crushing his skull between his fingers while shooting his friends to death.
The stairwell was covered in blood and bodies, with Angeal at the top. One more floor remained till he reached her. Unfortunately for the men of the 59th floor, there was one way to that floor. A special Elevator. Angeal loaded two new clips into his pistols before kicking down the door. Bursting into the room he let the bullets fly from his pistols. Men were dropping quickly now. Angeal's leg wound was bothering him worse now that he kicked in the door, and he had also begun to feel the tiring effects of the alcohol. He didn't care though. He would fight any man who got in his way. He looked to his side and noticed he had been taking cover behind a bar on the fifty ninth floor. He picked up a bottle of whiskey and pulled out a knife. Digging the bullet out caused him a great amount of pain, but it was worth it. He quickly poured some whiskey inside of the wounds and grabbed some bandages he found nearby and wrapped the leg wound up. The bandages were more than likely there in case of accidents, but Angeal had an emergency. He looked at the bottle and realized there was quite a bit of Whiskey left in it still. As the men fired foolishly at the counter he turned the bottle up and chugged down what was left. After letting out a heavy breathe he rubbed his head a little bit before turning over the counter, and shooting at the enemies. One by one they all fell to their miserable deaths. Angeal killed every man on that floor without remorse, and without regret. This was it. He stepped up to the elevator door and pressed the button. The bell rung and he stepped inside. He saw Kuri being taken earlier on that night. He saw himself being viciously beaten unconscious earlier that day. He watched as the man who called himself a friend, that betrayed them, put a gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. He saw everything so clearly, that it tore him apart inside. Finally the bell rung once more and the doors to the elevator opened. This was Angeal's time. This was the moment he would take Kuri back.
A song was playing in the background, and it had a slow melody to it. The tone seemed so somber, and sad. Its as if Angeal felt death creeping up on him. He stepped forward soaked in blood. The scent of Gunpowder reeked heavily around Angeal as well. He stepped forward not noticing the pain in his leg. The bastard who stole her was sitting there behind his desk. A golden forty five caliber pistol sitting on his desk. "I see you have made it after all. Well, Mr. Luxell. You certainly are a persistent one. Your woman, Kuri I believe it is, is here. However, you won't get the chance to see her. After a few beatings and several lashes with whips she finally passed out. You should have seen is Angeal. I wish you could have. It would only make this better. Now, don't be a fool. Come over and sit down. You are surrounded anyway." Angeal looked around seeing thirty or forty gunmen waiting. He wasn't sure if he was right about his counting or not. He just knew this would not be easy. "You talk too much you old piece of shit..." Angeal walked over and had a seat in the chair. The old man looked at him and took a drag from his Cigar. he then exhaled letting a thick acrid cloud of smoke slow from his lips filling the air with a wretched stench. he looked at Angeal in disgust and then spoke again. "Is that any way to treat your father you little bastard? When I found you, you were nothing but a little piece of trash clinging to your whore of a mother. A diseased creature who had no dignity. I gave you everything and its about damn time you learn who made you, you little shit." Angeal looked at the old man in disgust and turned his head. With that a fist with a golden ring met with Angeal's face. Blood poured from Angeal's mouth and puddled on his jacket. He smiled at his adopted father, with blood pouring down his face. “I have something old man. Something you will never have. I have myself, and I have her.” The old man bursts out heavy with laughter. “You little chicken shit! What do you think that is over there? Have you just become the stupidest bastard on the planet? No damn wonder you didn't take over the business. You are twenty one today. Its your birthday, and you are still the dumbest damn thing on this planet. Why did I even send you to that school? Unfortunately I need your dumb ass. Now. Will you take up the family business and keep your little girlfriend or whatever it is. Or will you and her both die like fools. I am running on a schedule here dammit. Make a decision so I can move on with my day.”
Angeal was torn between saving the woman he loved. He looked at his father and spoke. “I accept...,” his words were muttered. “What was that boy? Speak up.” Angeal looked at him with those eyes and glared at him. He then spoke clearly and sternly. “I accept.” His father laughed and nodded in approval. “I accept... NOTHING.” Fire built in his eyes as he tore away a gun from one of the men standing around them. He dashed to the right and took cover holding the man's rifle. Using the assault rifle he plowed away a few of the men before running out of ammunition. He looked around, and found an enemy waiting just around the corner. He stuck his gun out a little and the man came around the corner ready to pull the trigger. As he did, the barrel of his gun was grabbed by Angeal, and his head was slammed into the concrete pillar Angeal was using as cover. He died when his skull caved in crushing his brain. Angeal took his gun, and began trying to conserve ammunition. He shot down man after man with the rifle. But he never hit his father. The fat greasy piece of crap ran off somewhere hiding. After making his way through the remaining killers, he made his way back to his right handed handgun picking it up. He turned and saw the barrel of a golden forty five waving in his face. The silver barrel went to his father's head. “Do you know why your gun is silver, and my gun is gold? Because you are second prize. You aren't cut out for this. Drop the gun take your girlfriend and just go to hell already. Get her and accept your fate. Its the only logical choice you can make.” Angeal and his father backed away from each other slowly, waiting for one another to slip up so he may shoot the other. Battered and bloody Angeal's vision was blurred as well from the large quantity of alcohol he consumed. On top of that he had been shot and lost some blood. The old man pulled the trigger firing away. He he shot Angeal in the shoulder and in the chest. It missed the heart, but Angeal was not supposed to be alive. He lifted the silver cannon and puled the trigger seven times. A bullet to the chest, two to the stomach, one to the knee, one to the throat and one to the forehead. He stood over his father's corpse and looked down on him.
“Rest in peace.” The only words he could say to the man who took him in and raised and fed him. He could only look at that man with scorn and hatred. “You took something important from me. I took something important from you. See you in hell old man.” After saying that he went to get Kuri, and walked away. As he left with Kuri in his arms, and exited the building the top floor was taken out with explosives. Angeal had not planted any bombs. He knew this much. However the person who did just gave him the perfect cover. As he walked away he began to drift off. Suddenly Angeal awoke looking over to find Kuri had been with him the whole night. He smiled at her and laid back down going back to bed.
I am dedicating this one to Moka! <3 Enjoi everybody!
Streichen Fareborn <The Soul of a Demon>
There was blood everywhere. A man who was just getting up had witnessed the horrors. His colleagues were laying all across the room. He saw their bodies, but he also saw them standing. When he looked down he saw his own body. As he looked around, the blood ,that painted the walls, had been accompanied by various bits of flesh from each man lying on the floor. Suddenly they found themselves looking down on their own corpses. As they began to study the area they found themselves feeling some sort of negative energy. Suddenly the souls had learned fear once more. They had heard the roar of something otherworldly among them. Soon they saw a large cat like creature take a step through the door. One of the poor souls screamed in terror, while pointing his index finger at the beast , and said, “What in the world is that!?” The other men were also alarmed at the sighting of such a beast. As another man went to scream the beast pounced forward onto him. Quickly the demon like cat sunk into the soul and started eating it. This demon, however, had no interest in taking only one of the souls. It looked around. As it made eye contact with the remaining souls it had counted only five left.
This demon was interested in one thing, and that would be taking every soul it had to gain power. The beast circled the rest of the souls as if they were in shark infested seas. The demon looked at the souls and spoke with disgust underlying the tone of it's voice. “You look like weak souls,” the beast spoke with hatred filling it's voice, “But that won't stop me from eating all of you.” One of the men thought to try and reason with the beast. The bold man spoke, “Please. You are a being of intellect. So you must know that eating us will not benefit you? You have eaten one of us already! Spare the rest of us!” The monstrous beast just gave the souls a cold look and pounced on the one trying to reason with it. Upon tearing the soul apart it had gorged itself on this soul as well.
Before it could finish its meal a human appeared in front of the four remaining souls. The human's scent was far different from most though. He stood six feet into the air from head to toe. His eyes were like glass as they reflected the world inside them. Those blue eyes gave the beast a feeling of nostalgia. The man looked at the beast through those eyes of glass beyond his long yellow hair. His stare was as cold and piercing as his voice as he spoke. “What is your name hollow?”, the man said hinting his disgust. The beast looked at the shinigami and retorted violently with his words. “I am Streichen Fareborn. I would ask your name, but quite frankly I don't care who you are. To me your nothing but filth,” said Streichen. The shinigami lost his composure somewhat but tried to stay calm as he said, “Your name is Streichen eh? Well Streichen. Prepare yourself for death.” Streichen could do no more than smile at the shinigami as he drew his sword. He allowed his large tongue to lick the outer edges of his mask. He would tear the shinigami to pieces and lap up his blood. The demon was clearly distraught in the eyes of the shinigami.
Streichen leaped forward at the shinigami with his left paw out and his claws extended. He wanted to rend the Shinigami's flesh. The man moved quickly however. He had just barely escaped by dodging the attack. As he did he came at Streichen from behind swinging down his blade. Streichen had gotten lucky and the man's sword had just missed his tail. It had took a few hairs with it though, and this angered Streichen. It had hurt his pride that he had been touched by a lower form of life. He turned around and faced the shinigami. He was serious now. He had only intended to injure the shinigami somewhat, so he could devour the weaker souls quickly. He wanted to toy with the main course of his meal before eating it. The main course being the shinigami of course. He feinted a pounce causing the shinigami to flinch and jump forward swinging his sword. It was apparent to him that the shinigami was not as well trained as he had lead on. He was a rookie and Streichen could tell. Though he may be a rookie he was still a challenging opponent for Streichen. After all, he was a low level hollow himself. But he had been awaiting a chance to test himself. He turned and began walking away drawing the shinigami into a rage. The man took his leave as an insult and attacked Streichen from behind. The foolish shinigami fell right into a trap. Streichen quickly turned and dodged to the right bringing his enormous paw into the air. As the claws extended from his toes he slashed downward on the shinigami slicing into his shoulder.
The shinigami fell to one knee as the large paw rested on his shoulder. The man was in terrible agony at the weight crushing down on him. Streichen had grown overconfident though. His opponent quickly swung his sword from the right slicing into Streichen's leg. The blade didn't penetrate deeply, but it was enough to do damage to the beast. The shinigami stood quickly to his feet and brought his sword up to perform a killing blow on Streichen by severing his head. As the blade came down Streichen moved quickly forward and the blade cut him in the back. It didn't slice in as far as the shinigami had hoped it would but it had wounded Streichen. As he felt pain surge through his body he ran forward again this time escaping the shinigami as it pulled its blade out of his back and up into the air for another attack. As the blade swung down Streichen had been ready since the shinigami's attack had clearly missed. Streichen swung his paw at the shinigami knocking away his zanpakutou.
Streichen leaped forward pinning down the shinigami. As he had the shinigami pinned down he looked up at where the four souls were before the battle had begun. He looked up only to find that they escaped. This sent Streichen into a violent rage. He looked down at the shinigami and spoke in a very dark voice. “You cost me my meal shinigami,” Streichen's voice grew cold, “For that you will pay with your life.” He then looked down at the shinigami and let out a bone rattling roar. The man could only look in terror as the roar consumed his mind. As he finished his rage induced roar Streichen quickly came down, his teeth like a vice on the shinigami's throat. As his teeth penetrated he tasted blood. When his teeth had finally met in the cent of the man's throat Streichen pulled his head upward tearing the shinigami's throat out. Blood began to pool around the body as the shinigami grasped at his throat trying to gasp for air. No oxygen could make it to his lungs, but his death would be over before he would suffocate to death. Streichen swallowed the mouth full of meat and returned to the shinigami's body biting into his chest tearing open a deep cavity. The screams of the shinigami's agony could not be heard though. Streichen tore out, not only the man's trachea, but his vocal folds as well. As the life faded from the shinigami's eyes Streichen had begun finishing off the carcass, only saving the head for very last. He pulled the head of the man into his mouth and began to bite down on it crushing the skull and fulfilling Streichen's much needed meal. He was still enraged at losing four human souls, even if the soul of a shinigami would more than suffice to make up for that.
As Streichen finished swallowing what was left of the head of the shinigami he looked at the doorway. It was time for him to make his exit now. As he walked out the door he began to look in both direction in one final attempt to find the souls of humans. He was still hungry for power. The only thirst that he had that could never be quenched. Finally he made his way to the exit of the building. When he stepped into the sunlight he saw thousands of living humans all around him. None of them had a clue that he was there. But he saw every single one of them. He had been hungry for souls. If he could feast on this many souls today then he would become powerful with no trouble at all. Suddenly he leaped forward into the crowd and brought his paw high into the air with his claws extended above an unsuspecting victim.
Streichen Fareborn
Name: Streichen Fareborn
Age at death: 20
Age in Hueco Mundo: 28
Personality: Streichen is very bold. He is also very smart. He uses tactics that seem rather unorthodox to most. He is more than willing to take damage in order to lure the enemy in to a trap. He never hesitates to kill something. His ambition defines his very existence. He wishes nothing more than to be the ultimate force of power. This goal was something he obtained after becoming a hollow. He didn't want the power of a king. No, he wanted the power of a god. His goal leads him to kill anything and everything that gets in his path. He kills anything that presents him with the chance to obtain godhood. He is cold towards even hollows. He doesn't believe in such pathetic pipe dreams such as justice. The reason behind this is due to his memory of his time in the living world.
Physical Appearance: Streichen is a Liger. A breed of animal that is born when a Lion and a Tiger breed. Streichen is very large. He is 9 feet from the tip of the nose to the tip of the tail. From the bottoms of his paws to his back he is 5 feet tall. His fur is a slate gray color that is almost blue. He weighs in at 1200 Lbs. His mask is in the shape of the skull of a tiger that has two large fangs protruding from the upper jaw. The lower jaw is fastened to the upper jaw. His eyes are as blue as his fur. They send a glow from within the mask that resembles the light of the heavens shining down upon the souls of the dead on their ascent to the Cosmos. The patterns across his fur are stripes, that instead of traditionally black are a very deep crimson, as if someone poured blood across his fur and it seeped in creating lines across his body. His paws hold massive claws that he uses in battle to protect himself with. He uses both his claws and his weight to his advantage in battle. He is rather quick due to his powerful legs. This also comes in handy when in the heat of battle.
Biography:
Streichen was a young student who was graduated Valedictorian of his Class. His knowledge was vast. He had a younger sister, who's name was Mina. She was younger than him by 10 years. Sadly their parents passed away when she was 9 years old. Streichen had moved out the day he turned 18 due to issues he had with his father. This had lead to some rather bad altercations in their past. He took his beloved younger sister in after the death of their parents. She had been stricken with grief. He knew this so instead of taking his own time to mourn over the death of his beloved mother he took care of his younger sister. A year later they had found out Mina had developed a rare heart disease. The only way that she could live was to receive a heart transplant, but there wasn't enough time. There had been many people on the waiting list for hearts as it was and she was added on at the bottom of the list. She had only 1 month to live past her 10th birthday, and Streichen made the ultimate choice. He went in to have his heart checked to see if it would match her body. He knew he would die, but for his sister he would do anything. They had been a perfect match. Therefore he made the decision to give his sister his heart and give up his own life.
The doctors were against this due to moral issues, but He had already spoken with his father's brother. The person that Streichen looked up to as his father. He asked him to take care of Mina once he passed. Through the moral issues of the doctors' he had finally found a doctor who would perform the procedure. He felt he had lived long enough for himself. His sister didn't want to lose him but he couldn't give her the choice. He had kissed her on the forehead one night before she went to bed. The next day she awoke late without realizing what had happened. He sacrificed himself that night and took her to the hospital. The doctor performed the operation and it was a success. For Mina would live on. Streichen's life, however, ended. His soul stayed by Mina's side for some time. He had witnessed a shinigami destroying a hollow just before leaving her. This allowed him to decide to find out the power the beast with the mask contained. As time passed on his soul chain began to deteriorate. He had evaded the shinigami for some time, but if he wasn't careful he would be detected by them. He only knew them now as the men in the black cloaks, however he would know soon enough who they were.
His soul chain had finally dissolved completely. His time had come. He knew what this meant. He would become like that thing. He had seen a few more since his first sighting. He had been studying them before their deaths at the hands of the cruel human-like demons. As he went through the process of hollowfication his mind was tested. After transforming he found himself lying in a world coveted by the moon. As he looked all around him and looked over a vast ocean of white sand he had found that this place was not where he had been before. This desert was his destination he though. He went to stand, but couldn't. He had then studied himself momentarily and realized that he had become some form of an animal. Quickly he realized that by his weight and mass that he was in the form of a Liger. He had maintained his humanity somewhat, yet he knew he would have to fight to his way to the top. He wanted power. Power he would stop at nothing to achieve.
Ciriaco Pendragon (My second Fully developed Character)
Name: Ciriaco Pendragon
Age at death: 19
Age in Hueco Mundo: 22
Personality: Ciriaco is very laid back. He tends to hold a smile that proves deceitful to others to mask his true intentions. He is very social and not very quick to anger, however he does take pleasure in killing senselessly. Ciriacao has a violent hatred for the happiness of others. Seeing somebody else happy and cheerful when he isn't sends him into a hateful and violent rage. He has no control over himself in situations such as these and usually attacks anything and everything around him. This is one of his greatest downfalls psychologically. However, when he isn't enraged he will gladly attack the psyche of his opponent to lure them in close so they fight on his terms rather than their own. When attacking the psyche of his opponents he holds nothing back and will use anything at his disposal. He pays attention to details when he is spying on someone or hiding. As many people reveal their secrets in solitude he listens when he can to use this as leverage against them should he need to in future situations. Ciriaco only remembers some of his past life. He has no recollection of some of the things he has done. However, he has a clear recollection of crucial points in his life such as his death and his childhood.
Physical Appearance: Ciriaco takes on the appearance of a death stalker scorpion. His body has a length of nine and a half inches from his head to his tail's beginning segment. His tail is another eight inches in length. From his head to the tip of the stinger on his tail he is seventeen and a half inches in length. He has two razor sharp pincers that act as hands for the scorpion hollow. The end of his tail is equipped with a razor sharp stinger. Ciriaco has six legs. Each leg is broken into two segments like other scorpions however each segment is about two inches long. He is large for a scorpion but small for a hollow. He can use this to his advantage by moving through areas that most other hollows could not get into. He can slip through many areas such as crawlspaces. He can use his legs to dig through loose materials such as sand and use it to his advantage in hiding from his enemies.
Biography:
Ciriaco was raised by his parents in a hostile situation. They relentlessly abused him from the age of five. At the age of eight he brutally murdered them for the abuse they had inflicted on him. A born killer, he stood over their decimated corpses and laughed at them as he believed them to be sent to hell. He walked from his home that day covered in the blood of his parents and began crying. These tears were nothing more than crocodile tears, but he used them to manipulate the people around him. His next door neighbor came running and grabbed the child. She took him into her home; thus he began his life anew. In time the woman grew curious of the situation. When she had decided to ask him what had happened to his parents, he told her that someone broke into their home and murdered them.
As the woman kept him close she eventually found the dark secret he concealed for many months. When she found out he knew what he must do. Ciriaco made sure to take a few things of value from his home before leaving that hell behind. Among the things he had taken, there was a golden ring that had belonged to his mother. He planted this evidence in the woman's jewelry drawer and framed her for the murder of his parents. She was sent to prison for two counts of murder. However. Ciriaco didn't stop with just sending her to prison. Before hand he murdered her children and framed their deaths on the woman as well. He was an eight year old child with a mind for violence and a thirst for blood. This was the beginning of his story and the start of his short life as a madman.
He went from orphanage to orphanage for years until the day he turned eighteen. He had framed hundreds of people along the way. He had also murdered hundreds. His past was covered in blood from beginning to end and he knew he would die a death worthy of himself. The murder tool had differed many times but each kill had been more gruesome than the last. He had murdered and lied his way through life building a small fortune along the way through stolen goods. He found each kill harder to get himself out of and found the challenge exciting. It had literally become a game to the man.
By the age of nineteen Ciriaco had made his last string of murders and his last framing. A ghost from his past came after him. Someone whom he had missed many years before. He had forgotten about the daughter of the woman who took him in directly after murdering his parents. She had lived with her father. She arrived shortly after he killed her siblings and framed her mother. She found the evidence she needed to prove who killed her family members. However she never went to the law with the information. She came after him directly. She hunted him for years and finally found him eleven years after the incident. That girl had not made her presence known until he finished framing his last victim. She tailed him to a bus stop. He had taken the money he accumulated over the years and was about to leave his country of origin for good. He would kill in different parts of the world now. She ended him before he could retaliate. She left him bleeding to death slowly as he awaited the arrival of a bus that would take him to the airport.
As he slipped off he realized nobody would come for him. In his final minutes he laughed hard and congratulated the girl. They went over quite a bit of his life after this. She wanted to know more about the man she had murdered. As he drifted into death she took the money he had saved and left behind the life of blood he had to offer. She had been nothing more than a common thief.
He awoke with a broken chain protruding from his chest. He looked back to see his lifeless body lying in a miserable, dirty little hovel on the disgusting ground of a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. He laughed as he saw himself sitting there so pathetically. He left his body and began to wander off. As time passed he somehow managed to evade both shinigami and hollows. He felt the chain of his soul deteriorating with each passing second. He knew that once this chain fully deteriorated something would happen to him. He kept going though. He had no regards for the future and would meet his maker soon.
As time had passed Ciriaco went through changes. He felt like everything had been slipping away now. His chain had finally deteriorated completely. He had lost consciousness after this point. Ciriaco awoke in Hueco Mundo feeling strange. He looked around and saw that he was in a vast ocean of pale desert sands coveted in moonlight. He laughed sadistically at the thought of this. He remembered some of his past and saw this to be a fitting world for him. A world coveted in darkness. He remembered about some of the many crimes he had committed and how he died. He remembered his death more clearly than anything, mainly because it was the most pleasurable memory he had. Now Ciriaco Pendragon would start his life as a hollow.
End
