The world has changed. Five Hundred years have come and gone and the battles of old have fallen into myth and legend. Now something is stirring beyond the veil, something that has not awoken in a millennia past. The world has changed.....


    And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

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    Sal Norongachi

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    Join date : 2012-02-06
    Age : 31
    Location : Glasgow

    And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Sal Norongachi on Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:59 am

    Southend-on-Sea, Essex, England

    The whitewash bungalow lacked a certain amount of menace, James thought as he stood at the beginning of the paved garden path. When he heard the tales of the man inside, of the things he was capable of and the deeds he had accomplished in his seventy years of life this was not the abode he imagined him in. Normality seemed to find all of us at some point, he mused.

    The smell of the ocean, of seaweed and salt, swept across his short blonde hair and he took that as a sign he should proceed. The black painted metal gate, no higher than his knees, swung upon without his touch and smart leather shoes clicked with each step toward the rich oak door. Three steps lay at its foot and he stopped just before them, looking at the bronze knocker with the face of a lion holding the horseshoe of metal tightly in its jaws.

    The half circle rose of its own accord and fell toward the shield of metal under with a resounding clack. Twice more he knocked and then with his hands in the pockets of his fawn winter jacket, he waited.

    The seconds slid by and impatience began to surface in the thirty-three year old, perhaps ten seconds came and went before the lock clicked and the door swung aside lazily. There was not a soul to greet him and why should there be? What was the use in their powers if mundane tasks had to be done by hand.

    Hesitation flickered across his calm for a heartbeat before he took the first step and then the rest until he stood on the hardwood flooring of the short hallway. A room lay at its end, another to the left and one more to the right. His senses put his target to the left and he noted that whatever wards he had placed to shield from the unwanted eyes of others like himself had been dissipated. Confident or perhaps arrogant, could the old man be sure that he was in town alone?

    James walked to the open door and peered into the room. It was open, fairly square with a higher ceiling than he expected. A silver fan hung from it, spinning lazily and casting cool air over the leather three piece sofa, coffee table and TV, which was affixed to the feature wall above a disused fireplace and hearth.

    No sign of his target however. He let his senses flood the house but found nothing- had be been mistaken? Had he walked into a trap!?

    Instinct welled up inside him and every ounce of power he possessed surged to the fore, the air around him becoming a haze of charged particles, casing tiny sparks across his clothes, hair and the fabric of the furniture.

    "Mighty jumpy, wouldn't you say?" The voice was strong, and directly behind him. James spun on his heel and...found nothing. Bewildered he turned frantically, paranoia and self preservation clouding his find until his eyes found themselves resting upon the high backed leather lounger. In it was an old man of African descent, his skin so dark that the whites of his eyes seemed to shine like stars from their sockets.

    "Now what brings you here, young man..." His accent was diluted, a touch more English in there than what might have been when he had first come to this country but there were definite indications of creole lingering on certain words, certain letters.

    "You know why I have come. It is time." James responded, helping himself to a seat, the furthest from the old man, on the sofa.

    "Time..." He said, almost fondly, a pearly white smile flashed upon his lined face. "My oldest friend."

    "I have no time for your tricks and games Elias," James said and as if to punctuate his point the cold hearth close to, and to the right, of the mans chair erupted with fire. "Give it to me."

    Elias looked at the fire with disinterest and immediately it snuffed out with a soft 'woomph'. "You will get nothing from me child, for I have nothing to give."

    "Do not lie to me old man! You are one of the six keepers, I am aware of this and exactly what you possess. Do not make things difficult, I would take no pleasure in harming a practitioner of your esteem." And he meant it, if he were truthful Elias was something of a legend among those like him.

    "Ahahahahaha!" The laugh was booming and mocking from his mouth and James found anger rearing up and taking hold of him, he could barely stop the spells from falling from his lips. "I had forgotten that youth comes with such courage...and so many delusions." All laughter ended there, all humour, mocking or otherwise, fled the room along with the warmth from James' body.

    This was it, blonde thought as his blue eyes held the dark, almost, black of his targets stare. Whatever mayhem that was about to be unleashed in this homely sitting room did not commence with immediate flair. Instead they sat there and for the first time James heard the ticking of a large faced clock upon the wall above Elias' head. It seemed to grow louder with each movement of its arm, so loud in fact that nothing seemed to exist outside its rhythmic tick, tick, tick.

    When the old man had vanished James didn't know. His mind seemed muddled, marred by fog, that slowed thought and gave him an almost sedate feeling. It was only when he felt the surge of energy cascade across the room that the grogginess was ripped aside, as his body was thrown, sofa and all, clear across the room where he met the wall with deafening force and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

    It took him moments to untangle his aching body from the shattered furniture but moments are all you need in their line of work. "Zèl nan tonèr la!" The spell boomed with an unnatural volume and James had to use all his supernatural speed to throw himself across the room as the screeching, and it did screech, flurry of bright blue lightning obliterated the wall, floor and ceiling where he had previously been.

    He took off running down the side of the room, where the door was, and extended his hand drawing up his spiritual energies he channelled them into the words that flowed from his tongue. "Lancea inferno ira!" A jet of brilliant fire scorched to life from his palm and seared across the distance to Elias.

    "Plak pwotèj nan tèt ou, avèk plak pwotèj nan limyè kè, nan fènwa a!" The words, in perfect Creole, were so quick that they were almost a singular noise and the shaft of destruction hit a wall of crackling energy that channelled it around the old man.

    They stood there, facing each other, panting. Sweat glistened on their foreheads as the furniture burned from the magic discharge and smoke began to cast a haze across the room.

    "High Priest Elias," James smiled. "I can see the title was not just for show."

    Elias did not feel a response was needed, his ageing body ached, his heart thundered in his chest. The great power he had once wielded, taken for granted even, had withered with age. Too much was at stake, he could not allow the key to fall into the wrong hands. He had to be stopped, stopped at all costs.

    "Shall we end this, old man?" James called out through the thickening smoke. He did not wait for an affirmative, instead he focused his energies into speed. A hiss and a flash of light were all that remained of him at his starting point and then he was upon Elias, a blade in his hand, plunging it into his chest.

    "Kraze zèl yo nan kaw a, pa janm li pral vole pa plis!" The old man cried out in pain and James found himself flung once more by powerful, unseen, hands that shattered him against the ceiling before then gravity aided him in rejoining the floor.

    Elias clutched at the wound upon the upper right side of his chest. The crimson liquid flowed hot between his fingers and he watched the man stir from the daze of impact. Doubts, selfish fear, raced through his mind as he considered his next course of action. The wound was not fatal, of that he was sure, but it was enough of a handicap to banish any thoughts of victory.

    "It is time..." He said softly and then with a steely stare at his foe his considerable might rose to the fore. The very house shook in its foundations, the windows rattled in their panes.

    "Obligasyon pou respekte san," The miniature quake grew more intense, sparks leapt from his wounded form. "Ansanm ak doulè, lavi bay lavi" The small fires all around him roared with renewed vigour as the words of power sailed into the ether. "Lanmò pote lanmò!" The final part of the spell said he thrust out his withered hand toward James and the world literally exploded. The roof above him simply disintegrated, the windows in this home and those all along the street blew outwards in hails of sparkling glass, the floor under him splintered and fled his presence.

    The downed combatant cried out in pain and flipped onto his back. Upon his chest was a wound, much the same as he had inflicted upon Elias. He looked up furiously at the Priest. "What have you done!"

    "Dark magics, child. The key, it will never be yours!" His out stretched hand willed the discarded blade of his attacker into his hand and was an iron resolve he plunged it straight into his chest with a grunt of pain. As he sunk to his knees, the blood bubbling from his lips, he saw the young man rise to his feet.

    He was smiling and in his hand was a small object, a few inches in height and white, all be it for a splash of crimson, and as he watched the doll began to smoulder from the chest and then turn black and disintegrate.

    "You aren't the only one who know's a bit of Voodoo old man." James smiled and let the ash doll fall to the floor.

    The key. The final key, was theirs.

    Elias had lived a long life, he had seen and done things most people only read about in storybooks as children. The life was leaving him, draining from the mortal wounds on his body. He had lost, but he was not defeated...yet. If James had looked down after drawing the final key from the Priests body he might have saw his trembling lips move silently.

    The call had gone out. The six had been chosen. They would be drawn, one and all, to the six and then the fate of the world was theirs.


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    Auryuu Spire

    Posts : 15
    Join date : 2012-02-22

    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Auryuu Spire on Sun Feb 26, 2012 7:39 pm

    "Shan can you hear me?"

    Auryuu's voice echoed throughout the pond. Her figure non existant this time as he called out to the lonely inner world of his zanpaktou. Shaaaaan?, he called out to her as he floated above the water of the large pond. Auryuu grew suspicious as he couldn't locate his zanpaktou or even find her. He took a diving like motion and now was in the water where she could only be hiding. It was so smooth and cold. It made his skin feel smoother just by swiming further into the depths of her sanctuary. The world was truly an oasis.

    His body keep a familiar motion as he swam further down propeling himself steadily till he heard a strange noise and saw a figure through the thick colored water. Finally he touched it with his hands as he struggled to clear the neon green water to see what he had discovered. There she stood; peaceful and unbothered. Her eyelids lying closed as she missed his welcome. Something was odd. Auryuu rapidly moved his hands against the strange circular object she lay in trying to get her out. It was almost like a crystal, it was solid and strong. Nothing he did to it seemed to Affect it. Nervousness was all he felt now, when a usually emotion in this world was calmness.

    Sleeping, but her breathing was obvious as he watched her exhale and inhale. He could usually feel her strange presence, but it was blocked off by the strange crystal, almost like it was disrupting their connection. Something was not right. It grew more apparent to him as he delivered more and more strikes with his hands.

    "Should we wake him up!?". A manly tone came from the outside of his door as Auryuu's eyes raised to show him to be quite groggy. "Don't! I don't care if those other people want to talk to them do not allow them in! He is a guest!". A womans voice came louder from the door as Auryuu bolted from his bed instantly aware of the men she had spoken of. Footsteps came sprinting from the outside no doubt as he heard them approach his floor rapidly, they had found him. Since his books appearance to the world he had become somewhat of a celebrity, but not to these people who wanted him dead. The Agency nonteless were these people. With a flashing hand he instantly picked up his 2 ft sword tucking it in the belt of his jeans as he was already in his casual wear. This was not the first time they had ambushed him from his sleep. He shunpo'd to the window near the bed as he jumped out fast hearing his door break simultaniously as spiritual bullets sprayed his temporary home shredding up everything he had just seen as his body flew into the outdoor enviroment of London. It was bothersome, but he was more bothered by his unawaken zanpaktou's sleep. He was hoping it was just a false alarm.

    (OOC: The resurection of the tweltfth is disrupting Auryuu's zanpaktou for a strange reason, probably due to the immense power being showcased to bring him back, that also supresses his zanpaktou.)
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    Elise Veicht

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    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Elise Veicht on Mon Feb 27, 2012 10:22 am

    Hueco Mundo, the realm of the Hollows. Simultaneously an infinite distance from the world of the living and the merest step away. It was to there, to her sanctuary amidst the burning sands of the endless desert, that Elise had retreated following her last, nigh-on-disastrous foray into the mortal world. But even there, the echoes of events in the mortal world could be felt; the effects of terrible actions sent tremors resonating through the fabric of the spirit world like ripples in a pond, and the Hollow found herself stirring from thoughts of vengeance upon the world that had abandoned her. Eyes flashing scarlet beneath the stained porcelain of her mask, she turned, casting her gaze toward the distant, brooding shape of Las Noches.

    Had it come from there? Had another come to claim rulership over the ruins of Aizen's realm? Or had it been one of the Vasto Lorde? Had it been - and at this thought Elise found a shudder wracking her inhuman form - Ahriman?

    But no. A moment's thought was enough to dispel such instinctual concerns, for though the ripples had been potent enough to stir the veil, the energy behind them had been unlike anything the Hollow had sensed in the entirety of her four and half centuries of existence. This was something new. Something unusual. Something, if her senses didn't entirely deceive her, born of the mortal world. But what? That was the question, a question that souls across the realms of the Hueco Mundo, the Earth and the Soul Society would assuredly be asking in near unison. Was it a weapon? Something designed to grant the humans a sliver of a chance against the powers that lingered in the shadows of their world? Or was it perhaps some tool of those same dark powers, a malign force intended to push the mortals further into subjugation?

    Truthfully, it was impossible to guess; four centuries in the beyond had taught Elise that almost anything was possible, and near infinite possibilities clamoured to attempt to explain the resonance that had sent a shiver down the Hollow's twisted frame. Yet for all those ideas, all those conjurations of the darkest reaches of her imagination, she knew that not a one of them would hold the truth. No, if Elise Veicht wanted to discover the source of that strange power - and perhaps turn it to her own ends - then she had but one option open to her.

    She would have to return to the mortal world.

    It was a realization that brought no joy to the Hollow, for she hardly savoured the chance to re-encounter the wretched mortals who had so forcefully disrupted her previous hunt. But did she truly have a choice, or was it merely the illusion of a choice which presented itself to her? Was this just another example of Ahriman's simple choice of evolve or die?

    Somehow, Elise couldn't help but believe it was. So, with fresh anger churning within her blackened heart, the Hollow focused upon the source of the ripples even as she drew in the power to create the gargata, the gate to the mortal world.


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    Artemis

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    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Artemis on Mon Feb 27, 2012 4:13 pm

    Bright eyes shot open in the dark as the old dragon set straight up in bed the blankets falling down to his waist, Terra was still asleep beside him as he slowly brought his thoughts under control. His chest slowly rose and dropped as he fought to realize what power had shaken him from his slumber, Something has summoned me and whatever it was it knew my true name. Artemis swung his feet over the edge of the bed and quietly made his way to his library, he spent most of his time here when something troubled him, though now he came here not to think but to plan.

    When a summoning is powerful enough to force a dragon as old as himself awake it was not something to be ignored, Artemis’ brow furrowed as he thoughts turned to his family, there are not very many mortals left in the world that are capable of performing such a powerful feat and even fewer ever that know my true name. A low growl permeated the air as Artemis’ body started to change his scales slowly becoming more prominent and his claws elongated. If I leave Terra here she will never forgive me and if Aurora is in danger I will never forgive myself, it is best that I leave now before whatever it was comes looking for me and finds my family.

    Artemis frowned but wove his path deeper into his library making his way to the marble mosaic that marked the secret entrance to his ‘private collection’ of artifacts. As he lifted the keystone and slid it to the side cold air blew across his face, the last time Artemis had opened this vault was the day he retired from working for the government. Sliding down what seemed like a little more than a ventilation shaft he let his claws scrape the edges of the shaft. I just have to grab a few things before I go.

    Artemis’ feet hit the hard stone with a thump and before him stood a great cave big enough that if need be he could stretch out in his full dragon form, but the cave itself was of no concern but what was was the suit that one of the government engineers had designed for him so that it wouldn’t rip to bits if he was to change into his half dragon form. “Terra forgive me, I made a promise I would never fight again but, I fear whatever the future holds doesn’t intend to let me keep that promise.”
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    MinKyung

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    Age : 23

    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by MinKyung on Wed Feb 29, 2012 6:05 am

    Min Kyung ran freely around the deserts of Hueco Mundo. He loved practicing his speed in the sand, being that is provided resistance to his pushes and the heat burned his feet; an incentive for him to increase his speed. He played around with a few hollows, hunting games for the lot of them. They acted as though these were games, however it was training to Min Kyung, and it took training extremely seriously.

    Suddenly an Espada, marked with the number 9, arrived in a flash, smashing into the sand. Her hair was sleek and bright white, with a very few dull strands of gray. Her face was long and his jawbones were visible in his skinny cheeks. Her Kimono was a white that was matching her hair, with vibrant blue markings rising up vertically along her sides. She held a katana at her waist, it's hilt the vibrant blue matching her Kimono, and the sheath a crystalline white shade. She wore white boots that looked pure and clean, but at a closer look, was in fact materialized of crystals. She had a bored look on her face as she looked upon these weak little hollows, being that they were simple pawns on the battle field. Nevertheless, even pawns could take down the King if played right. "It's time." She spoke softly, and Min Kyung looked upon her beauty, feeling love for her. He was quickly snapped from his daydream when she flashed away once more. The memories of his mission rushed to his head, causing it great pain in the moments.

    He shrugged it off and decided to leave Hueco Mundo to perform his mission. Causing mass panic and destruction in the major towns of the world.



    He arrived in Paris, France, a blooming city filled with beauty and the sweet aroma of tasty food. Min Kyung had no want for this food, for it didn't compliment his taste buds, and was therefore a waste of his time. He breathed deeply, thinking about his part of the mission, to take down France. He stepped from the shadows of a large tree in a park, finding a small boy near the edge of the park. He ran up and pounced on to the boy, piercing the boys skull with his fangs, sending his venomous poison into his brains, killing him within a minute. A french native girl looked over, watching the horror and screamed as she saw the small boy fall over dead. A smile crept across Min Kyung's face as the fun was going to being. His taking over of the great city of Paris.


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    Pajaro

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    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Pajaro on Fri Mar 02, 2012 3:28 pm

    Battle begins the day. It ends the day. Hunger is an insatiable beast, craving to be filled. A dance. A flash of teeth, the pounce of claws. The sinews and muscles and tendons and ligaments, of these two Adjuchas. Flexing. Severing. Destroying. The Masticore stared down the Griffin, his body was almost ripped in half, his feline speed misdirected, dodged, or otherwise stopped. His chest heaved, every exhalation was a life breath, and one of his last. And then the collapse. A feast. For those who could defend it.

    Pajaro ate quickly, he knew he would have company soon. A pack of Adjuchas, was fast approaching, and while Pajaro could stay safe in the sky, there was no way he could take 5-6 on his own, even if it ment his own advantage. He remained unscathed from his battles, luckily. His devilishly fast reactions, Wing assistance, and friendly neighborhood comets assured that. But he still had to eat quickly, for time was running out. He got about halfway finished when they got in visual range, the pack was deceptively small, but they all were close to turning, to Vasto lorde, a point beyond regression.

    Pajaro fled in disgust, he wished he could stay and fight the cowards, 1 on 1, until they perished... One day that would happen, one day...

    "Thudthud" a heartbeat sounded in Pajaro's ears... just one, an awakening, a deep stirring, he looked around, his wings carrying him away from percieved danger every second, but he KNEW something... Something inside, something that wasn't his to have... Something he ate perhaps? No... Part of the Gillian process caused this... He had merged with something foul... Something with a purpose... Something which his must carry out...

    A horrible ripping sound followed Pajaro's rip through space, between dimmensions, it healed itself, but his claws opened the way to the human world, over some ocean, he was bound for somewhere... Where was unknown.
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    Terra

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    Re: And Twelve Was The Number of the Beast

    Post by Terra on Sat Mar 03, 2012 11:36 am

    Terra could feel the body next to her stir, and she didn't think much of it even with the pressure or whatever that was bearing down on her. She figured he would at least return to shake her awake or something.... but after a bit of time passed and he didn't she slowly opened her eyes to find him gone.... with no note nearby or anything of the sort. The Dragoness couldn't help but start to frown, and got herself out of bed before hurriedly getting dressed and checking around the house. No notes, nothing, to say that Artemis was going out and would be back soon, he wasn't even here either.

    Pursed lips in a frustrated and anger yes thoughtful look... she quickly got her twin to look after Aurora before she followed what power she felt deep within her bones. Quickly she checked around her to see if there was any witnesses, and with none her body changed into a white and green colored slender dragon. Wings flapped for her to gain altitude as she started to head off, a deep growl within her as her anger started to grow. Whatever this was, she was going to probably be the worst thing Artemis is facing today.


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