The last call

Mon Dec 27, 2010 11:27 am

(Yes, Tsubine. This IS important posting music.)

It never ended

Yet it never began.

My journey, but a small spectacle in a featureless plane.

I am at the conflux, the inescapeable stage where my destiny is to be reshaped
again...

I have been here already, yet I do not know it.

It has all come to past, only to be reiterated in the future

Then to I, originality is but a hoax.

A hoax to me, a hoax to everything.

Who am I to walk this land, if there is not space in the endless parchment called life?

Could I even reach it?

....Could I even perceive it?

I want to be That. To be One.

Then why?.. Why am I still...

A lamb?

Welcome to the grand tale of intense ardor and bold antimony. This tale reveals the rue of the lost, the rancor of all vengeful, and the vigilance of the compassionate. A great many perspectives are to collide, and the faith of the few is to be trialed. The journey is iconoclastic, yet the heart remains obliging. The individual parts are tragic, but the whole is an ineffable masterpiece, in which the beginning is far more tragic than the end could ever be. The parchment in which this story was etched is botched, but the context draws the heart of a courageous, young man. Infinite beings are labeled by definite effigies, and pervasiveness prevails as the theme. The manifold stakes are tethered by a uniform purpose.

Let us begin with The One...

named Een...

It was currently Dead Moon on the middle of the 5th Luna, post medias res of the cycle of life. It was well after the thirteenth hour, and the sun has embarked on its descent slumber. Regardless that this was the period of elated feelings and lackadaisical slivers of time, the aura that permeated out of the weary wanderers of the singing deserts of Saudi Arabia were saturnine, laden with a tense hankering for getting through the encumbering trek, and into a fertile area where sustainable living on the land was undoubtedly possible. The acrid taste of salt and sand was prominent in the parched atmosphere of the barren wasteland that many ethereal predators call home.

The opacity of the horizon was close to absolute, as the relentless gusts ushered in a sandstorm that would bamboozle the 33 man tribe about not only where was the destination that they longed for oh so dearly, but as to what direction they are traveling in as well. The moistureless tempest was already raucous enough to smother their fatigued bodies with searing hot air, yet the matter was made even more intimidating by enshrouding the vision of even the most diligent nomad to the point where they could not discern their brethren that walk only a couple of feet ahead. Only dim, quivering, brown shadows would be visible in the perception of the beholder. It would certainly be an unnerving situation for the sheltered, spoon fed member of the so called "advanced" society, yet this tribe, with their vast knowledge of the modus operandi of nature, pushed onward, vigilantly seeking the end of their arduous journey.

It was impossible to take a whiff of any atrocious stenches, due to the consistent influx of salted air that overrides the nostrils with a sickening, almost unbearable sensation. All was a grim tone of sepia everywhere the eye wandered. Not even a puny sliver of sky could pierce this abrasive, translucent veil. It was like trying to cross the tundra in the midst of a menacing blizzard. The same rule applies, the only differences being that the atmosphere is arid and scorching, rather than frigid and frozen.

If the view was pristine, then it would be lucid to see how the walking patterns of the tribesmen are synchronized. Each man raised their foot, only to land it on the freshly made footprint of their relative. Not one man seemed to move faster, nor slower than the rest. It was as if they were linked to a sort of remote that operated them all in unison. This would have been believable, if it were not for that one young shambler whose getting near total exhaustion.

The youth in question was none other than the scrawny lamb of the pack, Een. He was enrobed in an attire similar to his fellow nomads, being a white, worn around the edges, cotton robe that covered him from head to toe, a white turban that appeared to be more recently made due to its lack of tears and holes, as well as the pristine vibrancy of his pairs of red, silk ribbon ornaments that were grafted onto the right and left side of the underside of his turban, a pair of red thong sandals that appear new in spite of being a few years old, and a white, worn out shoulder scarf that further obscures his neck and shoulders from view.

Locks of his dark blonde hair were long enough to peer out of the brim of his turban, shielding most of his eyes and nose from the constant barrage of sand grains, with little bits of his golden hues revealed in between strands of hair, further obscured by a his partially closed lids. His hair, along with the rest of the clothes, was flowing in the dry wind, grains of sand becoming entrapped within the locks of his hair.

He could not feign toleration much longer. His face could already no longer guise his desire to retire, even for just a split second. Even so, he continued to move on in lieu of not only gaining the respect of his nomadic peers, but also making it to the sought after goal, a new temporary home. Even so, his body fought hard against his spirit. His mouth was getting drier, the young lamb getting further and further parched. He longed for quenching his pugnacious thirst. He longed for the pain to stop.

In his mind, Een could not help but think if this was where he is to meet his demise with the rest of the wanderers. The view was so obscure thanks to the hostile sandstorm. What would not prevent some voracious demons from lurking amongst the sand dunes, waiting for the perfect time to strike the helpless set of “sitting” ducks? Een can lucidly remember a few cycles back when his tribe has been the victim of a hollow feeding frenzy, which resulted in the murder of his mother. He could not see the monsters, but he saw crystal clear the damage they have done to his fellow nomads. The sight of his mother being slaughtered by an invisible force was not only depressing, but greatly disturbing as well. Those who were able to see the spiritual entities communed with Een about the ethereal abominations shortly after the incident, giving him his prescience about how they were to be avoided at all costs lest he be the next one to be subject to their profane ways. If only he were able to distinguish such beasts would he know where to run in an attempt for a grisly fate not to befoul his little soul, even though it would be unlikely for him to escape their dark, suffocating grasp. He did not bode well in the fortnights shortly after, but, like the survivor he was, he learned to move on.

He was digressing, albeit maybe it is a better idea to continue reminiscing about his mother’s ghastly death, than fear about his own. Nevertheless, back to what he was thinking about. Even if no ethereal predator took a liking to having tribal nomad for lunch, wouldn’t the bitter assault of nature be enough to bring them all down? The self-doubt and fear went on and on, ringing loudly in the young fool’s mind like a stubborn alarm.

The burden of undertaking the perilous venture was taking its toll on the mind of the young nomad, and resulted in him walking in a pattern arbitrary to his brethren. His quivering and sluggish walking patterns belied his reluctance to continue. His body was hunched in recession, unlike his fellow nomads who stood tall. His head was pointed toward the endless sea of sepia colored, infinitesimal grains, unlike his older relatives, who have kept their heads upright, looking not down or up, but forward. He His metaphysical cries for help would be heeded by none other than an elder of the tribe.

The inchoate One would be gripped tightly on the shoulder by a large, unctuous hand. The grip was firm, yet not constrictive enough to crush his bone. Een knew whose hand It belonged too, even as he was enduring this fierce tempest. Slowly raising his head up and turning it to the left side, he gawked at the elder in an observant stupor. He dare not utter a word, as he was cocksure from past experiences that these moments were to be listened to, without any inquisition whatsoever.

The elder appeared to by 6 ‘3, his body standing upright, regardless of his old age. Although his turban covered his entire scalp, if he were to take it off, no hair would be seen on his scalp. He did sport a fat mustache and long, droopy beard that ran down to his collarbone, however. His face was heavily wrinkled, and his eyes were but thin slits that barely exposed the inky black orbs of his eyes. His figure appeared quite large and toned, more so than the average old man within civilization.

The solemn gaze that emitted out of his eyes reconciled his manifold experience, and his dexterity during even the most grueling of moments. His eyes, even with the savage foray of sand wedging between the perceptions of the two, easily forecasted that Een was delving away from the road. He must not succumb to fatigue at this key moment in the trek. Parting his pruny lips, he would speak to the boy in a coarse and raspy, yet compelling tone.

“No matter what awaits you…the end is always worth the burden…

…Always…”

Those words were the only ones that he muttered, and those were all that were needed in order for Een to recall his vows and former experiences as a nomad. This wasn’t the time for woe. It was the time for perseverance and steadfastness. Een took careful heed of the tribe elder’s words, his deadpan eyes immediately shooting back up into a determined gander. The elder could see how swiftly the young one complied. It is great to see how easily suggestion works on him. It is good that the boy is able to recuperate with only a mere statement.

The elder’s grip on the young nomad slowly loosened before raising itself off of Een’s shoulder, returning it to the elder’s side. Een broke out of his frail composure, standing upright once against as he kept his head straight, not too high, nor too low. He leant forward slightly as he raised his right arm up to guard against the impounding winds and stinging ensemble of sand. His golden hues were laden with the fiery desire to reach the destination, pushing against the demands of his body. It was only a moment after his rebound ere the sandstorm would begin to placate. As the violent sandstorm appeared to be coming to an end, Een just couldn’t help but ponder that something… or someone was awaiting them further onwards in his direction. That feeling he just could not quash, no matter how hard he attempted to focus on another matter.

Wed Jan 05, 2011 7:16 pm

(Time Section 0)

It was a smooth desert storm as Bai sat with her eight children like a family trip after hard work in the Seireitei. It was a spectacle to behold from outside as the sound was filled with the eerie wind whistling from Bai’s Ryuteki. The tune she played was what she learned in the Imperial times of Japan. Her eldest son was cradling his youngest brother, the eighth child of his mother, Baiseirei Sugiura. It was all peaceful until one moment that Bai’s second born daughter spotted thirty-three people with the ability to see spiritual pressure granted from her training in the Shinigami Academy. Though both her, her elder brother and her younger sister are all in a certain division in the Seireitei for special training under their respective captains, they still take time off to spend time with their mother and their aunt, Misaiko.

(Second Born) “Mother~ About thirty people are caught in your Tempest.”

Bai stopped playing, causing the sand to settle down as she looked for the people that her daughter spotted. Without a clue that they are there, Bai thought her daughter was playing a trick, but it was no trick as she spotted an old man traveling with a boy as a large possession advances before them proudly. They must be nomads; something that Bai did not think existed. Stubborn, but tough folks facing extinction as society grew. It is sad to Bai to see these proud people disappear into the forgotten pages of history. But time calls for change and things needed to move on or they will be unnecessary casualties before a war could start. Bai loves war...plenty of tough guys for her to pick!

(Bai) “You’re right! Let’s go meet them! There should not be more chances after that!”

Bai was going to get up, but her eldest son gripped her disconnected sleeve. Bai usually felt that tug as a signal that her eldest son wanted to talk to her before she runs off. Her eldest son was usually the social type while her second born daughter was the brains followed by the third born daughter as the brawns. So Bai usually take heed from her eldest son when it comes to nomads.

(Eldest Son) “Careful, approaching them in a hyper manner would scare them.”

Bai nodded to her son and runs off with her second born daughter. The eldest son sighed and walked with the others until the third born daughter rushed off to catch up to Bai and her eldest sister. By the time they arrived to the scene, Bai was about to wave wildly at the nomads, but her second born daughter grabbed her wrist and stopped her arm immediately. However that is not enough because spirits are normally feather light compared to Humans and she is not the athletic type like her elder brother and her younger sister, so she shortly became an improvised flag by Baiseirei’s high strength of being ten thousand years older than her daughter.

(Third Born) “Aww~ Onee-chan~ That looks fun~”

(Second Born) “EE_eYA_AAH_H!! Sh_UT! UP!”

(Eldest Son) “Oh boy~ Mother. Look up.”

(Bai) “Hm? Oh~”

After her son told her about her second born daughter, Bai stopped and put the dizzy second born daughter onto the ground. The second born daughter stumbles around in a daze before falling over into the strong, slender arms of her younger sister, who was part of the eleventh division while the second born took twelfth division. With most of the nomads looking at the group of Sugiura, the eldest son waves slowly to show that they are not dangerous.

Thu Jan 06, 2011 10:38 pm

The scripture continues…

Fitting theme for Ryuteki, isn't it?

Een only expected that the sandstorm was only entering a temporary recession period, and that the infinitesimal assembly of sand grains would grow in rancor after a few minutes. That was his logical presumption based upon previous experiences in the dreaded, scorching wastelands known as deserts. The evidence asserting his point being that the translucency of the atmosphere was still dense enough to be wedged through by a blade, and that the winds, although vitiated, were continuing to be a major source of irk and woe to him and the tribe.

Truth be told, the outcome of the sandstorm would be in stark opposition to Een’s thoughtful ponderings. Rather than tensing back up, the winds continued to vitiate as the manifold grains of sepia moved at an ever diminishing pace. The once opaque veil that enshrouded Een’s eyes was being reduced to a transparent sheet of indiscernible specs. The once pugnacious atmosphere would gradually abate until the sandstorm has been fully terminated; completely eradicating the cloak of grains that once obscured the vision of the nomads. Such an occurrence was quite rare, disturbingly rare, to say the least. Could this really be an act of Nature? Was something else behind this arid tempest?

The radiant sun scintillated upon the massive sea of sand, creating a singing blanket of heat that induced the sweat out of the tribe. The sun was ever getting closer to the zenith, which would signify the completion of life and the transcendence into the cycle of death was approaching. The azure sky was void of any clouds whatsoever, a sight that was not uncommon to behold In the desert, being that rain is but a scarce blessing around here. The merciless heat is this wasteland’s sole enclave for the remainder of its life, which won’t terminate until the tectonic structure of the Earth alters over an immeasurable number of millennia.

He digresses…

The inchoate One could only behold the pristine image of an ocean of miniscule particles, void of any life or moisture. Yet, he failed to successfully gander the group of ethereal beings that doth approach him and his fellow tribesmen. Truth to beheld, most of the flock of stubborn nomads could not even remotely suspect that a nonphysical entity was amongst them. They were all oblivious as to the cause of the arduous endeavor they just endured, let alone the fact that the very cause of that irksome event was venturing towards them this very punctilio. There were but a select few in the remaining tribe that could see that which is not incarnate.

The men in question were the no boastful seers of the group. Unlike the rest, they could have a lucid perception of the spiritual beings that crossed their paths. This makes them valuable in their ability to forecast their fellow nomads about a voracious pack of hollows, or an incoming missionary of hierarchal society. Unlike Een, the sight of eight people journeying towards the tribe was lucid to them.

The tribe elder who spoke to the lamb earlier would be the first to react to the sight, changing his pace from a steady walk, to a speedier trot, weaving in between the nomads in front of him; he would make his way to the front of the group. He was not alone, from the back of the herd, three other men would also hasten their pace, walking past the other men. Een knew these faces very well, and took it as a valuable omen that they were about to enter a quagmire that didn’t include the precarious possibility of being mauled by invisible entities. If that were the case, the seers would have just bellowed out that beasts have come to attack them. This was not the case, however, since the seers were shifting their position to the front, signifying that the nonphysical entities that were intelligible in the eyes of the seers were in fact capable of reproach and discussion. Odds were that they were also not cantankerous as well.

Upon reaching the front of the wandering group, the tribe elder quickly raised his wizened arm from his side, flexing it out to his left, causing a right angle to form at his armpit. He had an indomitable gaze upon his eyes, a look that was austere enough to forecast lack of interest or desire to listen to what these effigies had to decree, demand, or beleaguer them. Even through the thin slits of his pruned face, it was lucid to see how he did not appreciate the ethereal inception into their usual travel path. His solemn gaze was frozen, along with the rest of his aged form, as if he were petrified that very instant. The other three seers would also maneuver their way into the front, two of them standing by the left of the elder, and one standing by the right. The four were two meters ahead of the rest, representing the ad hoc “head” of the tribe. Although ancient tradition forbade the aspect of controlling one another, the seers had to at least forebode the rest of the current perchance for the sake of their survival.

The tribe was monolithic in appearance, every man adorned in the same robe and turban. Each man wearing the same tone of tainted white. Although the sizes and faces differ, not one man stood out from the other, all but Een, who was the only one to be wearing the crimson head ornaments, causing him to be able to evoke attention easier than the rest. The very instant that the elder extended his arm, the wanderers vitiated their pace, until they all came to a complete standstill, close to one another as if this form of herd mentality would protect them from that which was confronting them. Of course, a single vane conjured by the ethereal mistress would cleave them all into pieces. The looks on their faces belied their fear and curiosity as to what was going on. They all leered at the same direction, wondering if they could see the very reason why they have adjourned their trek for the moment. They knew that no danger was imminent, as that would take the ruse of a group of hungry, spiritual beasts. They wish they could be able to commune with the beings as well, but would have no choice other than to let the seers handle this predicament.

The inchoate One would prudently move himself along the front of the group that resided behind the four seers, his auriferous orbs, unique in comparison to the black and brown pupils of the remaining nomads, being affixed upon the space that the four were peering at. Een could see nothing but the featureless horizon and dense gathering of sand that stretched for an indeterminable amount of miles. He was certain that there was someone standing there, but was maladroit in regards of locating or parsing these nonphysical entities. The only backbone to this self-suggestion was that all of the seers of the tribe were up front, and have gestured the remaining nomads to stop, implying that there is something ahead that impedes on their path. The elder would speak, his blunt tone belying the philistine casuistry of the nomadic people in comparison to that of the partakers of society.

“What do you want from us?”

The inchoate one, rather than simply listen as to what the elder would have to say before the invisible entities, would opt to replicate the current conversation within the deep confines of his mind. Slowly shielding his auric hues from vision by shutting his lids, while reposing the muscles and limbs of his body, the inchoate One, using intense focus, would imbue his mind with his genuine imagination, bringing him into a different plane, in which everything was the same, other than the sole, lucidly discernible being that faced the nomads currently.

Standing before the small tribe of nomads, was an entity that appeared to exhume divinity and might. A man whose very guise could easily duress the boldest of men, regardless of the fact that he was mostly human in shape. He stood significantly taller than all the nomads, which was obvious for anyone to see. His masculine form as enrobed in a simple, white, sleeveless robe that revealed his sculpted arms. His curly set of shimmering blond hair was combed back, just long enough to reach the bottom of his neck, without bangs. The area around him was illuminated, bringing color and vibrancy to a little amount of space around him. Everything else has dimmed drastically, enshrouding the tribe in a rayless cloak of undoubtful bathos. He appeared to be the sole source of light in the grand, arid sea of dim gray.

Although the grandiose being has yet to even speak, his form was more than enough to give off the irremovable thought that he was ready to relentlessly lampoon the nomads as they are nearing the end of their rope. He had the ruse of a nonchalant deity that was ready to unleash endless censure and despair upon the meek that behold him. A lofty one he was, with the ability to beleaguer the many with the most fulsome of remarks that can ever be contrived. The disparity between him, and the scrawny, fatigued group of nomads was incredulously great. It was very austere that this being was ready to mercilessly adjudicate the group of refractory wanderers upon where their last moments of existence shall be had.

Tue Jan 18, 2011 3:26 pm

(First Son) “Me and the family of spirit hunters have been traveling to help nomads like your group, but they are dwindling. I feared that your group are the last surviving nomads in this world as we speak.”

(Baiseirei) “They are the last? I thought the spirits in black are supposed to be patrolling here...”

(First Son) “From what I’ve learned in the Seireitei was the fact that things has gone down the quicksand ever since Rihiku Hitsugaya defected.”

(Baiseirei) “Ah~ Well! Let’s go traveling together! We’ll protect the last nomads!”

(First Son) “Mother...Fine. We’ll travel with them until a shinigami comes around to collect them. I’ll contact the Seireitei about it.”

The first son walked away from the group and pulls out a cellphone specially made for shinigami working for their respective division. It happens that he works for the Third Division under the command of Captain Kyoko. While he calls in for relief, Bai’s family circles around the group while looking out for Hollows and demons. All of them except for the baby in the arms of the eldest daughter were wearing the shinigami uniform, signifying their importance as they are responsible for keeping humans safe from Hollows. Bai; she was still in front of the elder.

(Baiseirei) “The name’s Baiseirei. Knowing you’re nomads, we understand there is no need to try and convince you people. So instead, we’ll stand ready to defend ya when Hollows are coming. Just keep your heads down and you’ll live.”

Baiseirei looked over the elder’s shoulder and started counting the nomads with her eyes. What caught her attention more were the two children, a girl walking to the elder and a boy who was with the crowd. The children caught her interest because she is a real softy for kids. It soon made her slightly concerned about the absence of women except for the girl. These men have no future now.

(First Son) “Called in relief, they should be pinpointing a drop point in their way as we speak. All we have to do is defend them until relief arrives.”

Nothing made any sense to Ada as she went through a sandstorm that dropped without a warning. Even more weird was the seers are acting weird while the adults are gathering in a defensive manner. Grampa, the elder of the tribe and the seers spoke out in encouragement for nothing to answer what they want. Silence was around her as she looked around to find out what is going on within the silence. Her eyes suddenly caught her sight upon a boy who is her age, but only a month younger than her. Shyness gets the better of her spirit as she shuffle out of the adults and to Grampa. The hood and veil hid her blushing and anxiety from being close to the boy she knew as Een, the Lamb. She looked around and noticed only desert and dried up plants. What was it that Grampa was talking to or what do they say back?

Wed Jan 19, 2011 2:11 pm

The scripture continues…

How dumbfounded, oblivious, and afflicted the nomadic group was, being utterly unable to discern even the most faint vestiges of ethereal activity going on. It was as if their eyes have been enshrouded from beholding the group of ethereal beings that stand before them now. They could not even determine the lightest audible pitch from their voices. Some of the tribal men assumed the ruse of bravado, believing that doing so would vex the invisible beings that they were not to be messed with. Others tried to dissimulate to keep their true thoughts veiled from the invisible entities that beleaguer them. The four seers, especially the elder, did not abate their condition, showing that the beings that have approached them have refused to leave.

It was austere by the solemn gazes that the nomads emitted, as well as their vigilant, strong composure, that they did not yearn for the help of these ambivalent entities. And yet, they go on and respond in a seemingly persiflage tone as they went on to surround the group, acting as the ad hoc guild of guardians to protect the group of semi effete nomads. It appears that they have not learned from any of the prior experiences that have occurred between Shinigami and the nomads. Ere the shinigami could successfully ensconce the nomads into a city, they would all kill themselves, in a blunt display of refractory abstinence from assimilating into society. The saturnalian elder would part his dried lips to speak at Baiseirei once again, his tone as solemn as before, only with a hint of disgust.

“Your help is not welcome… You know how this ends for us.”

The question was, however, whether or not would she take these words as a key omen to disband the group and abandon the nomads, or just petty folderol. They have denied time and time again any offering to be sent to the matrix of debauchery and unrestricted rapacity. These men were cocksure in their ways, and dare not become apostates thanks to a mere mountebank of society. The seer on the far left would further contribute to the argument, speaking right after the elder has finished.

“We do not seek anyone for help. Not entities such as yourself, or other beings of feigned superiority. For nature is our One, and only supremacy. “

And how true he was, stating what he has grown to learn in decades of self-thought and untethered experience with nature. The carte blanche of speaking such derring do to the more powerful entities has come to be kudos to much observation and abidance to the indescribable. Their way was the way of all things. The ubiquitous order that has been long forgotten, con by false deities and tangible beings that could be far easier to comprehend subjectively than the unintelligible, mute, and true giver of everything that is, was, and shall ever be. Alas, it would be too late ere these quasi pundits would ever fathom how absolute its influence is. In a world where everyone has turned a blind eye on the order for the sake of reveling in lethargy, they are what remain of what were once an elated, prosperous people who abided by the faultless laws of nature.

Those days have been long gone, like the icon of their respect and love for the intangible order. The majority has withered and vitiated over the æons, into the execrable group of stragglers that remain. Even at their anticlimax, they dare not falter now when they are immured by the invisible beings. They were not ready to participate in the obsequies just yet. Wheedle them, browbeat them, and exert force upon them. They stay hidebound to nature, no matter how éclat the offering is to reside in their grand bête noir.

The elder did not want anyone to try and confront the entities themselves, nor did he want anyone who would make the foolish decision of trying to pass through. The wizened man stood as still as a frozen block, the fervid rays of the merciless sun beating down on his face, causing drops of sweat to slowly trickle down his heavily wrinkled face. Even he couldn’t dissimulate the fact that he was steadily becoming effete himself. The callous conditions were to take its toll on him and the rest of the nomads, eventually. Nevertheless, he would be dead ere he ever truckles before the bane of nature, society. He did not want to be reduced to a fatigued corpse at this very instant. Not when a group of ignorant entities dare believe that they can just commandeer dominion over their usually pragmatic, carte blanche nature.

One thing that would quickly catch the elder’s attention, other than the ethereal aberrations that immure the group, was the last female of the nomads, Ada, moving toward him. He kept his body still, only tilting his head slightly to the left, his dark hues quickly shifting so that he could gaze at the young lady that approach him. It was lucid to see her dumbfounded, bashful stare under the white veil and hood as she moved ever closer to him. He knows well that she is the last one who could ever stand a chance of keeping the nomad race alive. If she were to go, their fate would be undoubtfully sealed.

If the girl were to move too close to him and the seers, the elder would bode a foretoken that she was not to pass. Turning his torso around to that his shoulder would line up with Baiseirei, he would swiftly raise his brittle arm off of his side, extending it outward towards the girl, his unctuous palm exposed to Ada as thin fingers were outstretched. His barely imparted eyes would affix upon her rich, caramel orbs. His face was more than enough to disclose the idea to her bluntly and pristinely. She must return to the group that she is parting from, even if Een was nearby. The elder has seen her cower away from the One best fit for maintaining the nomadic blood. She, just like Een, is oblivious to how dire it is for them to keep their kind away from complete evanescence.

It was obvious that these beings were not simply going to disregard them and move on. They were to be subject to their debilitating whim. This did not appease the seers one bit, nor did it do anything to eliminate the mystique that enrobed each and every nomad in the group, including the inchoate One. Een was still in his imaginative stupor, his eyes remaining closed as he kept his hands idly at his hands, his head remaining upright as he kept his breathing slow and steady. He did not even notice the presence of Ada when she gawked at him for but a mere instant. He has delved deep into his own little world, allowing his cognitive senses to vividly and thoroughly craft all the images for him.

So long has he longed for this moment, the moment in which the refractory race of adherent people was nearing its end. These pitiful men and women have rejected society from the very beginning. He has come here just to give them one last offer before the epitaph is to be engraved onto their slab at last. His eyes would undergo a symbolic metamorphosis, changing from a lampooning, cynical gander to a humble, benevolent gaze. He would slowly uncross his toned arms as he would part his fair lips to convey his ultimate warning onto the lugubrious ne’er-do-well. He stared directly at the lamb, in particular, out of all the others in the group. It would appear that Een was of most interest to him.

“What has happened to the once bountiful and elated race? The nature worshipping, respectful and self-sufficient men who sought for nothing more than what they already had. I knew from the very beginning it would end like this. The evanescence of the sacrosanct beings of nature. I jest at your pain, and jape at your woe. Worry not, patricians of bathos. Hope still awaits you. For becoming an apostate, you can settle yourself into the great many confines of society, where you can revel in joy and elated moments. No longer shalt ye endure unnecessary labor and sacrifice to gain what you seek for constantly. It is all here, waiting to be plundered and used to satiate your hunger. Will you discard your dogmatic, insipid nonsense and ensconce yourself in the land of gratis and plenty? A cornucopia awaits each and every single one of you ignorant savages.”

There it was, the last offering for a joyous retreat into the many areas of civilization that encroaches the ravaged Earth. He would wait for a moment to see if any of the nomads have been palavered by his statement. But, the only response he would receive, uttered by the elder, would be a statement of bitter rejection and dexterous denial.

“Your help is not welcome… You know how this ends for us.”

The very moment he heard that irksome statement, his gaze would regress to the lampooning, discrepant stare that he wielded earlier. How shameful it was that, even at their nadir, the nomads were stubborn enough to accept the final boat that would sail them to safety.

“I most definitely do…You dare not retreat from your blind worship, staying cocksure that your way is the only way. How vituperative. Insignificant infidels such as yourselves are not worthy of any sort of reward or peace, for your mind has been imbued with your self-inflicted restraint that keeps you from seeing the promised land. You will never understand, even after it is all over. You were doomed to follow foot towards your inescapable demise from the very beginning. Your arrogance and unwillingness to submit shall bring you to your destruction. But none of you care, for it is your dogma that you believe in, and not the hopelessness of your grim situation.”

He would slowly extend his left hand up into the air, bringing his elbow and shoulder into a right angle, his hand still clenched into a fist, level to his face. Gently opening up his hand, he would spark a ring of searing embers that would seemingly emerge from his sides, quickly spreading around the group on both sides before connecting at the opposite end, immuring the tribe in a wall of tall, crackling flames. This was to make sure that the imbeciles would have no chance of escape whatsoever.

“So be it… You want to spend the last moments of your pathetic lives here in the wastelands of the world, fiiiiiiine… I shall make it so that you will all heavily regret your fatal decision.”

Regardless of the sudden appearance of burning embers, and the illumination of the once dark, opaque area into a foray of red and orange lights, the nomads appeared to maintain their strong composure. Another seer would even continue to commune with the feared deity.

“We do not seek anyone for help. Not entities such as yourself, or other beings of feigned superiority. For nature is our One, and only supremacy. “

“Then it shall be nature where you will all return to…”

After all this has been spoken, he has yet to even move his eyes away from Een. Every single punctilio, his eyes continued to gaze deep into the lamb’s soul.

“Do you not understand what awaits you? Not death… for death you would constantly wish upon yourself after experiencing that which I forecast to you now. A fate far worse shall befoul you. A nefarious destiny that can only be described as…infinite woe and agony. Suffering and rue beyond your most profane imagination. All that you know shall be strained to the very last strand. Everyone you know shall perish before your very eyes. No one shall be spared from the wrath to ensue. Not even you… Real, eternal damnation is the curse that shall forever pester your meager little soul. And no one shall save you. Not me, not anyone, or anything. You never stood a chance, for it was over since the very beginning…”

Een was most definitely sure that the being was talking to him. All that he has stated afflicted him with worry, as to how true it really was. He lived such a arduous and pragmatic lifestyle. Spending days hunting and gathering what little food there is out there in the manifold wastelands, and spending nights running away from invisible beasts that sought to calm their voracity through a series of blind mortals. Walking through the most frigid winters, and the most fervid summers, through mountains, deserts, tundra, swamps, and every other raucous piece of nature. All in the while trying to avoid anything that was created by the harbingers of society, by any means necessary. It was such a miserable existence for him. Would it ever end? Could society be the safe haven that he was looking for all along?

Before he could think any further, he would notice the sole girl of the tribe moving towards the elder. For the first time, the being’s orbs would shift towards the small girl that was trotting towards the elder. Could it be, was she truckling before the deity? She would continue to move further and further before the elder would motion her to stop with his skinny hand. All the duress and strain has caused her to lose sight on their causes. She was what remains of the female nomad population. If she were to truckle, there would be no chance left. Watching this event unfold before the inchoate One’s eyes, he would snap out of his doubtful stupor, knowing that the deity was but trying to wheedle him into falling for his ruse. Even at this dark and lugubrious moment, he would not let himself be subject to trickery.

Fri Jan 21, 2011 9:12 am

This, was the horrible and decrepit land. As one would say, this was a fool's land, if you came here looking for death. The Sand, was hot, almost unbearable to walk through. Sands, of which, would make one twist their face in pain, from the severe burn's. this was more like fire, waiting to spring forth. A horrible unbearable land. There was no reason to understand, the nomads. After all, that was their way of living. It, just made everything uneasy. For themselves, and for the people who pitied them. They were such stuck, in staying in their own idealistic nature. Such a thing, was a beautiful and almost majestic oath. The oath of such, that they probably thuoght that it would transcend time. However, it didn't transcend into anything that bothered to help or add to nature, but rather destroy it. That was evolution, when something began anew. Something was destroyed, in place of it. The time were dinosaurs lived, what happened to them?; they were taken out by the cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event. Leaving the land, ready for newcomers to come aboard. The same cycle would repeat, with every race after they had passed, but the concept still sparked the same truth. Evolution, something that destroys life, and brings new life. Something that erases old concepts, and draws new concepts, like a pen or pencil, to paper. Ordinarily, that wasn't a bad thing. However, for those who still lived, this was a complete violation, of everything they knew. Something completely foreign. Actually, it was as direspectful as one could get, in their entire life. However, it's not like they had a say in it, but even till this day, those poor and defenseless nomads, defied evolution. To them, they had no leader, and nature was something that was the ideal, and only.

Such stubborn actions, were admirable. However, when putting their life into this equation, it was quite a high level of idiotic notion. They probably don't care, about the weather, nor do they care about what happens to them at the end, for them, this end was something they chose. Sticking to their ideal of nature, no matter what they were faced with. This was definitely admirable, but it was far gone. There time had ended many years ago. Even before the 400 years that happened to karakura. So, what did they gain from this?; Aboslutely nothing, in the eyes of the people who were stuck in their greed, or in their technological advances. If it weren't for these living groups of nomads, one could consider them a large pair of relics. To others, they were just idiotic dogs, waiting to die. It wasn't a surprising end, no one would mourn for them, except their bretheren that still happened to survive. So why did they still continue on this journey?; Was nature such a treasure, that the nomads, kept clinging onto it, so?; No one really wanted to understand them, nor did anyone understand. This was something they brought on themselves by keeping old ideals, and not signing a proclomation of obidience with Evolution.

However, not everyone forget about them. Apparently, in Soul society, there were plans to drag whoever still lived there out, in order to go to where they thought more hollows resided and existed at. Yes, the hollow race were definitely going to enjoy, a buffet like this. However, considering how these men were near death, it'd be useless to do anything except eat them, and move onto the next thing. Luckily, for these nomads, fate seemed to have earned them a meal ticket, whether they acceped it, or not, was solely up to them. at the very current moment, a female shinigami was on route to this land. To bring the nomads, into a more prominent land of wealth, and fortune. or at the very least, things that would help them survive. Warm beds, well cooked meals, Showers, all of this would be avaiable, if they accepted the terms, of the shinigami. So, to be cautionary, they voluntarily selected a captain, to go out into the lands, to retrieve them. Luckily, they chose a very melancholic and cold indiviual. One, who simply didn't wanna sugarcoat things. She wasn't mean, yet she wasn't all that nice either.

That was what summed up Akitsu, the most recent 3rd division captain. Her job was simple, go to the nomads, offer them a golden opportunity, and give them a new chance, at life. That was easier said, then done. It's not like they were going to say yes, that's why she prepared a few different plans, for whatever outcome, awaited her. Normally, she hated to see so many people die.

Yet, she wasn't in the mood, to care about it. This was what they wanted to choose, she'd be lucky if she even got a few people.
Nonetheless, she had some hope in her heart. If that's the case, she wouldn't have even accepted coming here. Currently, she was making her way here, through the usage of flash step, and using a senkaimon gate, to appear within this area. She did come prepared however, making sure to bring a gigai, in the case, that the people became surprised or startled, when she would begin to talk to them. After all, she doubted full heartedly, that any of them knew what a shinigami was, or for a more important matter; Sense spiritual pressure.

That wouldn't hinder her too much though, she simply took it in stride, and made her way onto, the current location and destination. Taking, some time to look around she blinked. Why did she sense the spiritual pressure of another person?; It felt like that of a race, she had heard of, the sugiura clan? Was her mission, useless? or was her sense being drawn to something else, whatever the case may have been, she quickly made her way towards the nomads, just to make sure, no casualities or anything horrible had happened to them.

Making her way and stopping a few feet away, she seen a woman, and others. Standing before the nomads. They seemed to be a well knit family, something that Akitsu envied, but only for a few seconds. It would've been a aruduous and unnerving task, if she kept her sight on them for any longer. With that, in her mind, she stepped forward.

She came towards the nomads, walking past the children, and her mother, as if they were nothing but mere ghost's. Completely invisible to what she came here for. "Nomadic people, i am Akitsu, a shinigami, from the soul society...Ah...wait...eh.." she wasn't worried about giving the speech. Not only that, she forgot that she was in her gigai. whatever the case was, it would make good for intimidation. "I'm simply a shinigami, that has come here to bring you all to a more bountiful plain"

However, she knew what they would say, as she heard not too long ago. "But, i already know, what you are going to say to me" she had a slight hint of a sarcasm in her voice, slightly annoyed, that she was standing before them, and explaining things, that they were not worried about, nor even cared about what she was leading them too. Well, it couldn't hurt to try; "to be frank, you are going to keep on holding onto this so called "nature" which has become useless to you all years ago, even this woman doubted offering you a rebutal." She walked forward, while putting herself into the gigai, and coming into full sight. "Yet, i can't blame you, nor will i continue to go on about this, i simply want the youngest children you have here, so that they may live a new life" it was a simple, and honest reply. The children were young so they would automatically go with her, as their minds were not fully use to the world it's self. "you may keep to your ideals, but why not give these children a chance to expirience a new life, and a new beginning. even if it's a few, it won't make my mission, become something that was all for nothing" Saying this, with her serious expression she stood face to face with the nomads, waiting for a reply.

Tue Feb 01, 2011 7:58 am

Seeing that the nomadic elder was reluctant to accept any help, Baiseirei could not care whether or not she should respect his wishes, he and his tribe are endangered and must be protected. What caught her interest was the girl that scurried out of the group, despite the chance of endangering her or making things complicated. To her, the girl was moving away from someone and upon surveying the group, it turns out there is a young boy in the crowd, yet no other women. It is like the women all left while that girl was sleeping. Baiseirei thinks through the possibilities and narrowed it down to two possibilities; breeding and marriage. Baiseirei's thoughts of the breeding is mainly using the girl to make offspring for the men's future, but it leaves little to no future for the girl...a painful sacrifice. The other possibility is that the boy she spotted earlier would be the girl's fiancee and the girl was afraid of something culturally inevitable.

(Baiseirei) "How it ends for you and your tribe? Nature is a supreme being, but it does not favor you or the tribe now since it is now turning to the strong which lies in the society. Feel free to deny this, but I warned you right now. Your tribe's end draws near with the meeting of a Shinigami and the future of the tribe now lies with two who depart."

Upon the arrival of Akitsu, the first born, a member of her squad approached her with great loyalty. He bowed to her with great respect as soon he was within five feet of her.

(First Born Son) “Captain! I’m surprised they sent you here. I was the one who called for assistance.”

(Baiseirei) "Aki-san~!"

Though it would be annoying for others to be nicknamed by Baiseirei Sugiura, it was a habit; judging by her cheery look and vicious waving, Bai will be harmless since the eldest son put some good words about Captain Akitsu. Even though harmless...she is infamously annoying, even to the tough guys of the Seireitei. Akitsu presented them a promise of bountiful plains, yet anyone in Bai's family knew that would be a problem since the tribe already declined their offer of protection. Then she demanded the nomads' children, Baiseirei couldn't help, but to feel a small resentment to the captain. However, after noticing the only female in the tribe and a boy, she knows that they would not live long in this current situation. She was forced to agree with Akitsu. She sighed and readies herself for anything; whether she has to take the two by force and assist Akitsu or to fight Akitsu and take the children with her to the Sugiura Castle.

Ada does not see the reason why she should go near that boy she was confused about. The elder made it clear that she should return to the group, but as confused as she was since she first met Een, she was not taught about her feelings and why she felt pain whenever Een was nearby. She slowly walked back to the tribe, only to stop halfway at the same moment that Akitsu arrived. It was a mystery as to what stopped her...Akitsu or Een? Whatever the case, she was clearly in plain view of the spirits and exposed to any attempt to capture. A member of the tribe rushed to Ada and grabbed her before running back to the group, knowing that with her exposed like that, she would be unable to defend herself; at least in the group, she would stand a bit of a chance to survive the confrontation. That member held her so she would not repeat the situation again. For Ada, being the only woman left in the tribe scares her about her future in this tribe. Would she end up being the breeder for the men or she would be forced into marriage with one of the men or even the one she was confused about.

Tue Feb 01, 2011 2:40 pm

The last call

The last call

Re: The last call

Encounter

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Re: The last call

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Re: The last call