Delivering her final message to some high and mighty-noble bitch, quickly she had wanted to return back to the Inn, and meet with Ayreg. But of course, he was a man not easily found in such a city... And, well, she wanted someone to talk too who was on her same wave length... Even if she was - in her opinion - more powerful than him.
"... Bastard." Renna had grumbled, before looking down to cloak of which now was getting old and torn. A nice tare revealled the bone of her knee and legs, so, she needed it repaired but did not wish to pay money for it. So, she would fix it herself, with stolen materials.
"Alms for the poor?" Came a soft, old tone. It sounded almost completely helpless, and it irritated Renna.
Quickly pausing she looked down to an old, withered man holding out his dirty old hand, skin so much far gone in it's age that it seemed the wrinkles had wrinkles!
But the more she looked at the man with her bandaged skull, the more the man seemed to retract his hand, in silence. Perhaps he got the idea this afternoon, but this would be the last person he would bother.
"...Yes, in fact..." Renna's tone was a forcebly kind, and quickly held her hand out, and pulled the man to his feet. "Let's get you a warm meal."
"Oh..." The man looked confused, but smiled his toothless mouth, "You are most kind M'lady... Taking pity upon me."
But little did he know that they had turned off into a dark alley, and as he looked about to notice the dead end, he looked to her. "Excuse me, Miss, but this is a dead end..."
Renna had grinned mentally, "Oh? I am so sorry..." Her tone grew menical, and quickly tore the bandage from her skull, from which the old man shrank in horror.
"W-w-what? N-no!"
"What's wrong old man?" Renna came to block anyway out of the alley.
He began to crawl away, and Renna followed at the same pace, toying with her food. "Keep away from me."
"Shush, I just want you blood to fuel my power. I need it to kill some people more important than you in the future, now, I am sorry, but this is the end of your life." She kicked him to the ground, placed a skeletal foot upon his neck, and pinned him there below her rather light weight. Shame the old man was ont strong enough to prevent this.
The pentagram that was carved onto her head began to glow blue, infact, the eye sockets even too began to emit a soft, gentle mist of sapphire, lurking up to disappear just above her forehead. This, was her mana, her store of energy.
The shadows around her grew darker, and, began to ripple, beat, to come alive. And without any other warning, not even an utterance of a magical spell, the shadows shot out long, black-marbled solid arms from it's very pits. Grabbing both the arms of the man whom now called out for help.
"Shut up!" Her bony fingers pushed open his mouth, and then her free hand doved into his mouth, gripped his tongue, and yanked it from his head.
Blood, poured out of his mouth like a sweet, sweet fountain of red. Her chuckle was growing, it becoming louder, the dark arms and hands held him mid flight, as then further arms now grew out of the cloak's fabric.

And plunge deep into the man's chest. Clenching his lungs shut, suffocating him from the inside.
"Goodnight... Sweet dreams... Come back again to the land of these, good night, sweet dreams... Let not death, ruin your sleep." She chanted to him, almost, trying to sooth his slowly writhing form, held mid-air. And then tore out the pinkie flesh of his lungs, pulling his limbs from the sockets, and dropping what flesh was left, onto the ground.

Blood, was everywhere, even on her cloak. And then, bending down, she took what small coins he had on him, and turned, to walk into a shadow, and to disappear.

Two more deaths happened that day. Each, homeless men. And no women.