Grande (solo)

It was a like song playing over and over again. A melody that enchanted him completely. Something was pulling him in, something was calling out to him. A call that had ended his fight with that hated cat creature. Somehow the call took priority over his own will. Why did he have to obey it? Why was it so important he heeded it? He couldn't answer that question, he could only follow it. He traveled in silence as the followed the invisible trail. His swinging took him deeper and deeper into the Menos Forest, and yet he wasn't afraid. The call was all that mattered. Only the call, the need, that was all the mattered. Without thinking he shifted through the shadows on his path, but it wasn't necessary. Stratus was too caught up to realize he wasn't the only one feeling the strange message. All around him hollows of different sizes were traveling in the same direction. Below him a snake like shape slithered forth, to his right a winged beast soared quickly parallel to him, and so many others. It was like an army of hollows had come forth for some invisible general. The siren song held them under it's sway. The didn't see one another, if they had they would have killed each other. No, they didn't notice anything, just to path before them. The place they came to was filled with rocks it almost looked like a massive pit. Nearly a mile deep and almost twice as wide. What purpose was such a hole? Not a one of them could ask, and none of them cared. They all piled into the dark hole. Upon crossing the black threshold the smell of death filled the nostrils. The darkness in the pit was just from lack of light, there was a sinister feeling ran down every creature's spine. It was exciting and exhilarating, and the hollows went into a frenzy. Stratus had dropped into the pit with the rest of them. Whatever it was, he had to be here. He had to go into that pit.

There was a scream as the first hollows we attacked by others in the group. Hundreds of hollows in a strange pit it was bound to happen, but this was different. Was whatever thrall that had brought them there still working? Other fell upon those being attacked and then all hell broke loose. It was like watching a massive battle as hollowed attacked and were attacked in endless succession. A hollow bit into a smaller hollow just as it was attacked by three others. It was an orgy of blood and violence. The smell of death permeated through the whole battlefield and the dark sensation surged. Stratus was covered in cuts and scratches. One if his arms was missing, but for some reason he didn't care. He wanted more power, each time he ate he felt more power surge through him. It was pure ecstasy. If he was of sound mind he would have noticed that his wounds weren't healing. Not only his but that of the other injured hollows too. As they killed and ate, the spiritual pressures mixed and rose to dizzying heights. Those weaker creatures were soon suffocated by the immense pressure now filling the pit. Another hollow bit into Stratus, his blood and others had died much of his skin a dark color. Something stabbed him through the neck, some kind of bladed tendril. He growled and yanked the tendril pulling it's user forward. In a quick motion he caught the offender and drove his hand through it's neck and then bit into hit's flesh. Stratus felt a strange tickle in the back of his head. Something was stirring there; thoughts. He pulled the blade from his body and staggered. Something was wrong, why was he doing this? Suddenly the haze lifted and Stratus was once more in control of himself. A sane man in the eye of a hurricane of chaos.

There were so many questions, but his head hurt too much to even begin to sort them out. There was pain, so much pain, he looked at his heavily injured body. Another hollow lunged at him and he spit a torrent of slime at it. The wave caught the attacker and pushed it back into a tangled mess on the ground. The ground.....It was littered with bodies of the vanquished. Hollows bodies usually dissolved when defeated. But there was piles upon piles of bodies all over. Missing head, arms, legs, and those were the lucky ones. There was something strange about the bodies. They were bubbling as if the natural regeneration was taking place. But the still forms shouldn't have any life left in them. The pieces started to stretch and move pulling at connecting to one another slowly combining. Something told him he needed to get out of there. But how? There was fighting on all sides, and there was not way he could fire his slime that far up. He had to climb out. With only one arm he slowly crafted a weapon and charged a what looked like a thin part of the crowd. He was wrong. It was almost if they sensed he was no longer in the same frenzy as them. The moved as one upon him. Spitting more slime pushed some back. The swift swings of his crystal sword did the rest.
"Get the hell back!" he growled, but none faltered from the deep roar. Each he cut down another four came. The others were taking notice and were moving to his position. Claws grabbed at him and a tail slammed into him. He pushed, kicked and bit his way in the horde. Another creature latched onto his leg. He cried out and the rush came anew almost rejuvenated by his anguish. Suddenly the crowd parted as a larger shape rose and cast it's shadow of them all. The strange regenerating mass had fused enough pale flesh rose like a wave. It was a mass of faces and fangs, arms and torsos. Stratus gave a yell of defiance and tried to move away from it. Hands grabbed him and clawed at him. "Let got of me your bastards, it'll kill us all. LET GO!!!!" they didn't listen. The held him fast as the wall of flesh came tumbling down.

Much like a wave of water the flesh smashed down upon the hollows. But unlike the water this was a living creature. One like none had seen before. Tentacles reached out and grasped the monsters, and from those tentacles claws and hands sprouted. They were were literally torn into pieces and then absorbed into the large body. Around the edges of the pit the blackness now moved. It's own dark tendrils snaked through field racing along the battlefield. Those touched by the darkness were paralyzed and the mass moved in to strike the hapless creatures. They didn't scream or yell as their end came. All of them still under the strange call that brought them here. It was if they welcomed this death. Stratus struggled to free himself from the grasp of the hollows around him. It only got easier as more and more of them were devoured and torn asunder by the mass, or paralyzed by the black shadow. From the front came the pale growing white mass tearing through the group. While from the rear came the creeping darkness freezing them in their tracks. The window for escape was growing smaller and smaller as he cut furiously at those around him. He had to move to the other side before the was two threats met in the middle. But it was already too late, they were moving faster drawn together like opposite poles of a great magnet. Just as he was about to free himself from the grasp of the last two hollows that clawed at him, a tentacle wrapped around his leg. With strength beguiling it's size it pulled him towards the mass.

Stratus dug his claws into the ground trying to halt the pulling tendril. It looked back as the blackness swallowed those the tentacle has liberated him from. They froze in place, and were grabbed. Another white tentacle grabbed his other leg as another wrapped around his waist. He swung his claws trying to free himself, but a fourth tentacle now grabbed his only working arm and a fifth gabbed him by the neck. Still he struggled, but to no avail. The mass grew closer it's surface rippled and a sudden opening appeared in the center; a mouth. A gaping hole of utter darkness that mirrored the shadow the threatened to swallow the field. There were no teeth in the mouth, there were twisted forms. They looked like souls twisted and grotesque. All the hollows that had been taking into it's form a private hell for all those dark creatures. Their agony and torment never ending and Stratus was the next to join their ranks. Their hands reached for him as the tendrils brought him closer. Stratus had no strength to scream, even he was disturbed by the sight before him. He tried to summon his slime, but felt a chill fill him. He could feel something creeping across his skin, it was like a spider web. Light and airy, yet it was suffocating. From the corner of his eye he could see the black shroud licking at his flesh. Any hope of resistance was dead. Stratus finally found the strength to scream, but his death cry was cut short. The mouth opened wider and then everything went black.

The mass finished it's grim task and the blackness soon swallowed it as well. In less than an hour the blackness had consumed the whole pit. It sat upon the pit like water a liquid malevolence that made even shadows look bright. It's surface calmed and silence befell the area. It was like nothing had happened the lives of so many hollows hadn't been snuffed out in a matter of moments. Then there was a scream, the scream that reached the far reaches of the Menos Forest. All the hollows stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction of yell. Such things weren't uncommon to those that lived down here, but still garnered some measure of attention. Back at the pit an explosion of spiritual pressure shook the black water's surface. It was broken as a impossibly large hand ripped through and grasped the side of the hole. The second hand sent bigger ripples as another surge of spiritual pressure rattled the whole cavern. The large claws on the hands looked like faces. They dug into the stone and tensed as the muscles pulled the rest of the creature free from the murky waters. Something white broke the surface of the black pit a very familiar mask.

Spoiler:

The black pit of it's eyes scanned the area. Seeing, but not quite seeing. It's hand pulled again an it pulled free of the darkness. As it moved the darkness latched onto it like a cloak. The towering form now pulled free of the pit and took it's first step on the solid ground. It gave another roar. Those that lived in the forest of stone knew well it's meaning; another gilian had been born.