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 A Calling to the Culling

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CPKallday
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Subject Post 1PostSubject: A Calling to the Culling   Sat Nov 12, 2016 1:09 am

A CALLING TO THE CULLING
T H E__R I S E__O F__T H E__Q U I N C Y ' S__F U T U R E




"Have a good day at school!"

"Hai..."

It was a day as any other, Lorin was bid farewell by his mother jumping on his skateboard responding in disdain. He made his way to school with feelings of being patronized by this world's cruel system. Being forced into a position as another cog that spun just to spin another. Sure, it was a life that could be lived, but for reasons unknown to himself he felt as though his life was destined to be larger than what it was led to be. It tore at his heart and mind each living day he spent doing the same lame ritual. The only time he truly felt as himself is when he broke from these habits and found himself elsewhere. Free from the void that he has been placed in unwillingly, free from the world that has tightly held him in place for so long. Fate and reality always keeping him here in this town known to be as Karakura. Even adventures that let him leave the dreaded land still brought him back with time. He was trapped, and forever would be without some sort of aid. It was as clear as day that he would always be captivated by this world's system. Though, he still tried to break free.

Placing his board within the confines of his locker, he slammed it shut. Closing his eyes for a moment as he took in an agonizing breath of having to carry on with school for another day as he had already brought himself here. He let out a sigh before opening his eyes and heading to homeroom where he'd find his classmates socializing with one another. They'd greet him as he came inside, though he stopped responding to their greetings months ago. He just gave into his dull and boring lifestyle day in and day out. Becoming a product of societies infrastructure, not veering from the path that was laid before him. Though, deep down inside he wished to break free, he didn't see it be possible. He had tried, many times, he had put himself in harm's way in hopes that something spectacular would happen to him once again like it did that day in Ireland...

It had been two years since that day, that encounter, that made him feel as though he had a greater purpose than all of this. His body had become infiltrated by the one known as "Neoveta." However, nothing came of it. It was as though his body had rejected what was put into it and was doomed for this dull lifestyle that he currently lived from such. During these two years, he had slowly and slowly fallen into a slight depression that left him with feelings of their being little hope for his future to be the way he sought it to be. The way that he thought it would be...

"Very well, class. We will make our way to the library where you will select a book of your choice for a five-page report to be turned in by the close of the semester." The instructor would inform as the students agreed in unison grabbing their things before filing out of the classroom. Lorin sat still, his mind adrift from what was going on around him. He had gazed off into space thinking about what could be if it were to be, though it would just be a recollection of what had happened on that day. The things he had seen how things had slightly changed since that day. Since that day, he had seen so many things that were astray and out of this world. Creatures and humans that possessed powers and abilities that were strong enough to annihilate entire cities. Yet, for some reason, he was stuck in this position of not being one of those humans with such abilities. He didn't understand how or why, but it was not written upon his life's stone. "Mr. Hardwell, do you wish to join us sometime soon?" The instructor asked as Lorin ripped his head back in surprise and shock falling back into reality. His mouth ajar, his cheeks grew blush before he whipped his head back and forth snapping out of the look of stupidity upon his face before giving a vigorous nod to the teacher. "Very well, let's go." The instructor directed, grabbing a strap of Lorin's bag and bringing up to his chest. Lorin would grab the bag and place it on his shoulder and look to the other students that seemed to be mumbling to one another. It was clear that they thought the way he was acting was odd to them when it was just human for him to dream without being asleep. They just had smaller ambitions than he did.

As the class was lead to the school's library Lorin continued to draw back memories from that day. He could remember the presence he felt come over his body as he became possessed by the demon that was in the sky. He could draw himself back to the words that were spoken to him by the other Demon, Matthew. They were both so odd and they both wished to help him in their own way. Though it was never communicated so directly as that. They wished for him to become something that was similar to what they were, but he wasn't receptive of such. It was odd, why did his body reject these things so easily? Why was he forced into this pointless lifestyle that he led? Why was such an event placed in his life if there was no meaning to any of it? He couldn't wrap his mind around an answer that was worthy of the situation. It was odd. The beat of the children's footsteps echoed in his mind as he mindlessly followed behind them, deep in these thoughts and recollections of memories long gone. Though he was stuck on the fact that they had to amount to something. They wouldn't have happened to him just for the sake of it being just that, there was no way.

The group entered the library and everyone took a seat, placing their things in their respective areas at each table. Everyone seated themselves in groups of four or five, removing a chair from one table that would result in someone having to either force themselves to another table of four or sit by themselves. This person would end up being Lorin, of course. He'd make no fuss about it and just place his things on the desk and drift back off to la-la land as the instructor gave his directions of what they were to look for in a book. He listened to what was said half-way and got the general gist of it all. He was to find something that he could read and then write how he felt he would act differently from the main character or why he agreed with them. Why the story could not have ended in a different way and why he felt the characters were unjust or justified in doing the things that they did. He would pass out a paper with these questions on them and another paper that would help them outline their paper so that it would stretch into five pages with the proper formatting. This would be considered the first time the class would be assigned a paper of this size, so guiding them through each step seemed to be relevant.

First thing was first, a book was to be found and that would require everyone to get up and search for such a thing. It was a rather large task and probably the hardest part of the entire paper. The students would have to judge a book by its cover and hope that they would fall interested in the story enough to be willing to push themselves to do the paper. Some students walked over, grabbed a book, and went straight back into their seat. They'd later come to find that it was an unwise decision as they would struggle to make their way to the conclusion of the story and find it hard to apply their own thoughts to something they couldn't enjoy reading. Lorin was one that was able to think in this logical manner of further down the road. Thus, he searched a bit more thoroughly and instead of spending the remaining time in the library starting to read the book he chose he would create options for himself and pick out books that seemed to stand out to him. He made three choices, which took him a bit longer than twenty minutes to find. By this time, everyone else had already selected their book and had started reading. He stood out in this way, it seemed to catch the eye of the instructor.

Loring carried on as he continued to look further into the books that he had selected. For one reason or another, he was only drawn to books that held a title with the word "Demon" in it. It was obvious to him as to why he had done such a thing, though everyone else would probably give him an odd look if they were to notice that. Luckily, he sat alone and was left unbothered by the presence of others. That was until the instructor made his way to his table and pulled up a chair. Lorin looked up from the selections before him as the instructor did so, as the instructor took his place at the table he grabbed the three choices that he had in front of him. Looking down at them then raising a brow at the odd choices Lorin had made, immediately noticing the similarities. "Quite the taste you have... I had no idea that such books even resided within our library." The instructor joked, Lorin dropped his gaze and blushed slightly, lacing his hands together and putting them between his thighs. The instructor chuckled slightly, "It is quite alright... I do have another book that you might wish to read. I hear it's a true story, though I can't see how it possibly could be." The instructor stacked the other three and passed a book that was held together by leather bounds. The pages were old and warn, the words hand written. As Lorin thumbed through it he rose a brow and looked up to the instructor unsure of what he was looking at. The instructor would respond with a smirk, placing his hands on the book closing it and bringing it back to him. "I understand, you don't think it is good because of the age. A normal reaction."

"No! That's not it!" Lorin exclaimed stretching his arms out and laying himself upon the table as he brought the book back into his possession. The instructor chuckled and hummed in interest as he stood up from the table.

"Very well. I'll leave you to it then." Using his middle finger to push up the frames of his optical helpers he would smirk once more as a glare shimmered across the lenses. A small chuckle humming through his slanted lips as he left Lorin to indulge in the old literature. Lorin gazed it over and hummed with curiosity as he dragged his fingers upon the pentagram that was etched into the leather cover. The book held no title, but he felt as though the instructor had great promise in the context of the book. So he felt obligated to see it through. Shrugging, he opened the book and began to read. As he completed the first chapter his eyes would grow slightly larger as he flipped to each new page. He soon found himself lost within the words that were inside of the book.

From his first glance, the book was about a long forgotten human race known as the "Quincy," they were known as archers that purified souls into damnation through the use of their spiritual weapons that primarily consisted of bows. As he carried on, he'd find small pictures here and there. Though, one seemed to stand out from the others. It was an image that was very familiar to him, a symbol that he saw everyday:
The sight of the symbol raise a brow. This very symbol was one that carried a large weight on his father's side of the family. Apparently, the symbol was painted onto this Quincy family's banners as they marched to in to fight a war against other beings called "Shinigamis." It was a battle that waged on for many years. He was unsure of all of this, but he felt as though he had some questions to ask when he got home...

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Subject Post 2PostSubject: Re: A Calling to the Culling   Wed Nov 30, 2016 2:45 pm

A CALLING TO THE CULLING
T H E__R I S E__O F__T H E__Q U I N C Y ' S__F U T U R E





The creaking sound of ungreased hinges upon the Hardwell estate's front door broke the silence that was placed throughout the apartment complex. The redheaded boy that carried the odd book from earlier at school peaked his head in, hoping that nobody was there at the current time. With a look left, then a look right and a few blinks between he realized that he was the only one there. His mother out somewhere, while his father earned their stay.

"Ma? Pa? Anyone home?"

His voice breaking the silence in the apartment once more the volume of his voice heightened as the door creaked shut with a thud as the mechanism was forced into its placeholder. His back hunched as he turned the deadbolt above the knob. Turning back around, he let out a sigh before heading to his room with the book pressed against his chest with his arm. When he reached his desk where he conducted his studies he dropped the book on the desk and placed his bag on the floor, leaning over so that it would slide off and drop to the ground. The bag made its home where it usually did, standing up against the leg of the desk. He unzipped the bag and grabbed out a notebook along with a pen. He opened the book to where he had bookmarked it before he left as he continued to jot down random notes from what he read.

Losing himself in the words of the novel he lost track of time, but was quickly brought back to reality by the jingling of keys into the doors lock. Followed by that was a ruffling of a brown plastic bag and a foot hitting against the door as it was guided to its full extension where it smashed into the wall. His mother let out a hiss, worried that she left a mark on the wall as she came inside and placed the groceries on the counter. Lorin, raising his head up, questioned who was there.

"Ma?"

He queried at a high volume as he covered up the notes he was taking with a blank page and placed it over the book. He stood up from the chair and joined her in the kitchen to help put up the groceries. The contents of the book not leaving his mind for one moment. He thought about asking his mother if she knew what it was all about but hesitated in doing so as she may have gotten worried by the amount of research that he had put into. As that was something that was far out of the usual for him, and she'd think something was wrong with him. Thus, he kept it in his mind.

Shinigami... Quincy... Hollows... What is all this? The Hardwell family held true to a symbol that represented the Homra clan. It wasn't a large group, but they were known as prestigious Quincy that admired the Shinigami's ways and shunned their own. Why? I don't understand...

He thought to himself quoting the book in a summarized fashion, as he finished his thoughts he could feel a burning sensation upon his chest. His shirt giving off a red hue as he hissed and his face was pressed with pain. Clenching the cloth upon the area his rear met the floor and his head throttled back into the cabinet. Lorin's mother rushed to him, trying to pry the hand from the spot, but Lorin's grip and strength wouldn't give up. His face began to perspire, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline. He could hear his mother, but it was as though she spoke with her hand over her mouth. Her words not quite able to reach Lorin's ears clearly. His mind was clouded with pain and the thoughts he dwelled on about the book.

His skin felt as though it was being scorched and then carved into, he could feel a moisture coming to beneath his fist. Unsure if it was sweat or blood he bit through the pain and pushed his mother aside running into his room and slamming the door. His mother beckoned out to him and attempted to stop him, but was confused overall. She slowly came to the door and knocked for a moment, but Lorin was unable to hear her answer. He flopped upon his bed, curling up into the fetal position as he rocked himself to sleep, fighting through the pain...


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Subject Post 3PostSubject: Re: A Calling to the Culling   Wed Nov 30, 2016 3:29 pm

A CALLING TO THE CULLING
T H E__R I S E__O F__T H E__Q U I N C Y ' S__F U T U R E





Sprawling up from his dead sleep, his moist hand clenched the sheets beneath him as he huffed and puffed. Looking down at his hand he saw blood, he looked down to his shirt remembering why he had even made it to this very spot. Everything seemed oddly blurry. He couldn't quite grasp what exactly was going on here. Lifting up his shirt he saw dried blood that had traveled down to where his pants met his skin. A slight moment of shock rang upon Lorin's visage, attempting to back away from what he had seen, pressing himself against the wall before hopping off of the bed. He ripped his shirt from his torso dropping the wet garb upon his floor as he stood in front of a mirror. He saw the black mark that had been placed just above his heart on his chest. He slowly brought his hand to the surface to find it raised, as though he had been marked and branded with a tattoo. When his fingers grazed upon the marking, he winced in pain. It was as though he had received a fresh tattoo in the kitchen without the aid of someone like Jade that did such a thing for a living.

"The hell?"

His face was riddled with worry, unsure of what exactly was going on. All he knew was that it was the same symbol that he had seen in the book. He rushed back to the chair of his desk, sliding as he did so before pulling himself back to it. He began flipping through the book, running his fingers down the pages as he scanned for something that stood out to him.

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK

A firm thud resonated from the door, drawing his attention and bringing him up from the chair. He realized his mother must have been worried sick about him. He quickly scrambled to the door, grasping the handle before he looked down to see his bloodied hand and torso. He yelped slightly, remembering that he had no shirt on and rushed to his closet grabbing a shirt and throwing it on.

"One moment!"

Lorin shouted.

"Hurry up and open this damn door."

His father replied, which sent a small spark to Lorin's step as he lunged and opened the door. Casually sliding into the doorway, blocking his desk's contents. Lorin smiled, though it was full of guilt.

"What's going on pops?"

His mind still racing with thoughts of what was currently going on.

"I was going to ask you the same thing, what was the deal with earlier? Your mother told me."

His father questioned, trying to peek into his room. Lorin subtly blocking his vision of the desk with his head and body, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips.

"It's nothing, I was just practicing some acting for drama class. It must have been pretty good!"

Lorin scratched the back of his head nervously. His father glaring at him before giving up, Loring letting out a soft sigh and letting his eyes grow dim in relief.

"Ah, whatever. Next time, make sure you talk to her after. Had her worried sick, baka."

Lorin nodded before closing the door as his father turned away. He wanted to tell him, of all people, what was going on but he couldn't. He wasn't sure why, but he felt as though this was something he had to learn about on his own. Bringing his mind back to the subject at hand he sat back down at his desk and turned the page once more, his head propped up with his hand. His eyes drew to a line on the page by chance:

"Those who bare Homra blood, will be marked by the broken bone of the Homra, and inked by the ash of the deceased Homra."


Lorin's arm dropped from beneath his head, his mouth dropping in awe of the words he had read. He took a moment to process as he spoke them out loud several more times. He slammed the book shut and threw the notes he had made into the garbage before clearing his desk off with his arms. He knew that there had to be something greater for him, and it had finally been put onto him, literally. He was marked by the Homra, which could only mean one thing: he was a Quincy.

He stood up and celebrated silently in his room. Once that was over he brought his hand under his chin and thought for a moment.

"But where do I beg--"

His words were cut off as his mind rapidly began accelerating through the history that was embedded in the book. It was as though he was living it right before his eyes. Hundreds of years of battle, joy, turmoil, and grief all being put in front of him within the very place of his room. It was odd, it was as though him being marked by the Homra's seal he was able to tap into all of their information and learn about everything in a moment. It was odd...

When he came back to, he felt as though he knew what he needed to do next. He needed to find someone that could help him with honing his power, as he lifted his hand a red distorted orb flurried in his hand before it dispersed and sent him flying into his closet. He shook his head, removing the clothes that fell on him and smiled as he looked at his charred hand.

Though, as he brought his hand down he saw the book that was knocked to the ground turn into a black ash before it rushed into his body. The seal burning once more until he was placed unconscious once more...


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