[Spirit Class 8 | Hazard F] Cala Paracer

Though the memories are forever lost in the seething mass of Hollows that would come to be known as Cala Paracer to tell the story in it's entirety it begins, like all things, at birth. Due to the massive loss of life and anguish caused by the third world war countless spirits and Hollows alike sprang into existence and this, in essence, is where the very first piece of what would become Cala began. Consuming, as all Hollows who survive eventually do, it's kin.

Given the events of the war many human souls ending up succumbing to Hollowfication and Cala's was just one of many. There, in that deluge of newly birthed Hollows all attempting to devour one-another, all born from the same traumatic event the very seed of Cala would be planted. Possessing just enough intelligence as a Hollow to avoid the most violent feeding frenzies of other Hollows, Cala instead took to sensing out wounding, lost Hollows, those who had just survived a battle of their own or ones Cala could ambush with little trouble. Though this method led to Cala feeding much more slowly than other Hollows lucky enough to survive their early life, it did mean that they were much more likely to survive, as well as creating the very kernel of what would come to define parts of Cala's personality, even as an Arrancar.

After the most violent and dangerous Hollows birthed from the war had all either been eaten or had eaten one-another easy prey and sources of power to feast on became much more scarce. While Cala's primitive intelligence shifted from actively ambushing other Hollows to instead altering itself to appear harmless, weak, like easy prey that had somehow survived the tumultuous feeding of some of the stronger Hollows, those Hollows now were only too happy to try and devour what they perceived as an easy snack. Only to then be devoured by Cala themselves. This manner of feasting took much, much longer to accomplish. With each and every more powerful Hollow devoured being it's own hunt in and of itself. Though it took many, many years Cala eventually evolved into a Gillian.

In stark contrast to their time as an ordinary Hollow, Cala was not a Gillian for very long. Having come into the evolution with enough power and preparation, while not letting themselves being driven mad by their hunger, meant that now Cala was easily able to feast on other Gillian with near-abandon. It's primitive intelligence reveling in the power it took with each and every bite, each and every bit and bite that it's prey lost with every bite it took. It was not long at all before this Gillian became an Adjuchas. Though this new transformation did not come without it's own.... complications.

After becoming an Adjuchas, and as Cala's intelligence began to blossom into something close to what it now possesses they became aware of a very distinct.... longing within themselves as well as a distinct type of... feeling they would occasionally come across that would satisfy this longing. Every few years, among the feasting on countless other Hollows and advancement of it's own intelligence and power, Cala would feel this longing satisfied by a Hollow it would devour. Something.... almost more fulfilling about each and every bite it took. It is impossible to tell what exactly lead to Cala coming to the realization of what this feeling was but all that Cala is aware of is the fact that some time within the last century they realized that what they were feeling, what was subconsciously making them want to hunt down these Hollows more than any others, was that even after the war had passed and other Hollows were created.... Cala could still sense the Hollows that were born fro the war, and they were the ones that Cala became obsessed with devouring.

Every time Cala devoured one of the Hollows birthed from the war they could feel something about themselves... changing, something about them growing and solidifying within themselves. Whatever this feeling was... Cala quickly became obsessed with bringing it to fruition.....

As Cala's hunt for these specific Hollows continued, broken only by the necessary desire to feed to survive, Cala slowly began to realize bit by bit what it was that this feeling was. Each piece of devoured spiritual energy was like a flash of clarity, like a brief breakthrough of sunlight in a storm. Each and every Hollow that Cala devoured from the war, including Cala themselves, still possessed a vague echo of what they had lost in their death and eventual corruption.

Just as Cala had solidified the disparate voices and souls of the countless Hollows they had already fed upon into their current form, now too were they solidifying the picture, the memory, of the third world war from countless Hollows who had only the barest, shredded, animalistic remnant of memory left. Piece by agonizing piece of was dredged forth from the souls of thousands of Hollows.

A faint, aching feeling thrumming deep in Cala's chest where now only a hollow hole resided. Even as they fed on the very last Hollow they could sense that carried some essence of one from the war, their clawed hands grasped at their skull. That thrumming, aching sensation building and tensing within them, like they were trying to breathe again only to have an iron vice clamp down around their throat. Their claws dug their masked face, the feeling becoming clearer, the sensation becoming sharper. The feeling... was loss... and understanding. Anguish, despair, solitude, the feeling of having lost everything they had ever been seared through Cala's collective soul until it burnt into a focal urge to scream, they needed to scream, they HAD to scream. But they couldn't... not with the mask they wore.

With razor sharp nails digging into a white, stark mask this urge drove them to force their nails into the porcelain-like surface, forcing it to crack and splinter, break and tear before, with an agonizing wail, they mask was torn from their face. Their new voice, already hoarse and ragged as it wailed out the agony of the bits and pieces of thousands of lost loved ones who would never be remembered again, lost places they would never see, lost sensations they would never feel, all of this.... was their birth as an Arrancar.

6-Tier: Allowed all beginners.
5-Tier: Allowed all beginners.
4-Tier: Allowed 1 Adept, 3 Beginner
3-Tier: Allowed 3 Adept, 1 Beginner
2-Tier: Allowed 2 Advanced, 2 Adept
1-Tier: Allowed 1 Elite, 2 Advanced, 1 Adept
0-5 Tier: Allowed 1 Elite, 3 Advanced

NOTE: There can be exceptions you can discuss with staff if the character's themes and masteries etc, are better suited to a different configuration. Let us know when after we approve your character if something along those lines is something you want for your character. e.g If your character isn't particularly quick but the force in their strikes are massive, so you could take a hit to their speed and drop it a level in exchange for raising your strength

Heinrich gives Iris a small nod and returns to his seat, sitting beside Roy as he moves from the bed. At her question his lips turn up in a small smile before grabs his left gauntlet he had removed. "First, I suppose, are these. Hydraulic-locked gauntlets my father made himself. Though I'm not quite sure how to be frank, as I told Roy they are very durable and have no problem clashing with steel on a repeated basis." Heinrich locks the gauntlet back onto his forearm and after a moment, a small hiss indicates they have locked back onto his person. Shortly after, the backs of each of his hands on the gauntlets open and small mechanisms sheath his fingertips in opaque, diamond-like talons and he flexes them in the light so she can see them clearly. The odd material not just covering his fingertips but each and every finger individually, to give them more durability from parts chipping off. "Second are the talons. I know my father compares their strength to diamond but they don't quite... look right. Anyways my gauntlets are also capable of assisting my grip strength to around 200 pounds comfortably. Though that is nowhere near what it was on Roy, obviously."


After another moment or so of thought Heinrich shrugs casually "Father has put a lot of thought into some of the smaller details as well I suppose. For example... each gauntlet of mine also comes equipped with a sort of.... tether. And-..." Heinrich cuts himself off as a nurse peaks into the room, an oddly docile look marking her features. "Excuse me we h-..." suddenly a man, not quite rotund but of a stocky build with green eyes and tousled brown hair barges into the room past her. He is wearing a large brown trench-coat and carrying a clothe bundle under one arm. Meanwhile, raising his voice to the point the nurse's is lost like a single person clapping midst a hail of gunfire "Yes yes out of zhee way! Guut grief, zuch un inefficient vay of introducing people..." the man rubs his face before smoothing back his hair as far a pair of goggles atop his head will allow, his voice not seemingly genuinely agitated but instead very distracted and sharp, when his eyes meet that of the three Champions he blinks before patting a bundled erm... well mess beneath one arm and setting it down on one of the beds. His vision remaining largely on Roy and Heinrich before he speaks, a small, odd grin turning the corners of his lips "Vell son I cannot say zhou have made a bad choice in comrades.... zhough..." the man trails off before shaking his head and pulls the goggles down over his eyes and approaching Roy. Staying out of arm's reach of the young man yet peering with the intensity of someone who was trying to see a speck on the end of a pin head.


The man, Heinrich's father, peers and mutters to himself as he studies Roy like an interesting insect beneath a microscope. Heinrich, meanwhile, merely looks exasperated. "Interesting. Ze is a very shmall one iz he not? Very likely zhe result of und birth defect yes?" he waves his hand in front of his face, as if trying to clear a bad smell from the air "Inconsequenhat I tial. Vrom vhat I have seen of you young man you are very keen to using your blade yes? Vell, in zhe interest of goodvill und zhe success of my son's new team, vefore I left I set my machines to fabricate zomesing for you." Heinrich's father strides the bundle he had set down before, before Roy can say anything to respond to his very, VERY fast rate of speech and he unwraps it to reveal a sheath for a blade. Though it looks odd and knotted towards the top, yet oddly balanced for it's odd form. Walking toward Roy as he draws a blade from it, the overall length of the sheath remaining the same. "Zhis I had designed to repeat und replicate the sharpness uv a blade of zhe style of yours. Uv course it vill not be zhe same so zhese were designed with back-up in mind." the man tosses the blade down and draws another, equally long and sharp-looking blade from the same sheath. Then he replaces them both, shoving the bundle into Roy's hands "Zhere are three vull-length swords inside, as vell as two smaller vakizashi attached to the outside as part uv zhe sheath itself....."


He turns abruptly on a heel and he focuses on Iris, smiling and adjusting his goggles as he walks towards the girl, pulling a chair loudly up beside her and sits with a dull thud. "Absolutely fascinating. Pardon my dear but zou are un exquisite specimen..." Heinrich's voice cuts him off for only a fraction of a second "Father..." the older man raises a hand abruptly, his voice, amazingly, not losing the least bit of it's rapid stride. "Don't interrupt. Now...." he huffs and frowns slightly "A shame, one so unique left to these buffoonish-ly inadequate medical procedures." he waves a hand in the general direction of the rest of the hospital and snaps a finger, watching Iris' auditory response before nodding and rubbing his chin "Vell, I vill have to ask zou many, many questions at a much more ample time it seems, yes?" he reaches out, shaking her hand rather abruptly and Heinrich pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Unfortunately my dear zhe gift I had in mind vor you may take a bit more time." he holds up a hand, fingers separated by a small space before he stands and dusts off the coat at the knees, though it does not look like any amount of cleaning will remove the grime stains found there.


The man smiles an odd, almost too-large smile and turns back to Roy and Heinrich, his eyes briefly flicking to his son's features before he shrugs and nods to Roy and then to Anton. Speaking quickly as he does so "Un any case, it is my understanding zou mean to allow my son to join you for zhe next hunt? Marvelous!" he does not wait for a response between the question and his assumed answer "Vell then, if zhere is nothing else I bid you all un good day und farewell." the man walks towards the door as he speaks and rounds the corner out into the hall still speaking "Ov course farewells are not forever zo until zhen auf wiedersehen and..." his voice breaks off for a second "Vhat? Yes... no, now get out of my way..." his voice trails off the further he gets until it vanishes entirely and Heinrich rubs his face. "Apologies he... is normally only like that when he is inventing..."