In the end, on whose vulnerable head did this insult belong? The Scathachian whores? Their meddling partners? Arbitrary warriors or mages? Possibly even reckless kindred who took it upon themselves to abruptly grow a conscious in the asinine attempt to pretend that they still had a logical place among the living?

Behold....was it Scathach herself who dared show her face in this hour of the beast......audacious but not to be ruled out just yet. The Heavens moved in ways far less predictable than the mind would lead one to believe or accept.

The list of interferers was long but was certainly not indigestible to the magnificent glory of the Ram. Nocent could savor their syrupy tang on her damp palate already....and she feverishly hoped that they would still be squirming when she and her cabal consumed them with a background cacophony of screams and desperate pleas.

For many days....many weeks....many months.....even longer....the entombed Bhaalite champion dug. Her powerful gauntlets gradually pulled through the thick debris and rubble which had swallowed her whole like a blood-sick maw on that doomed, stormy eve. Her lungs, now filled and corroded with the copious clusters of dust and silt of the cave in, still miraculously drew air........still fed her beating heart, or what was left of it, with life.

And yet, it was not possible for the Anti-Scathachian to still live. Yet live she did....or did live the beast in her place?

She was not deterred by the syrupy sludge collecting in her trachea and throat....that same fetid fluid which leaked unceremoniously from her dried, cracked lips as she bit forcefully with blood-stained teeth through wood and fragments of fallen wall. Nocent could taste the precise verve of The IronHelm....HIS IronHelm. This odious fortress which ?he? had resurrected from the void would not be the cause of her undoing......no. The Bhaalite priestess could caress the keen fact that the great architectural juggernaut still stood unyielding in its initial location and was patiently waiting to resume its sworn gluttony.....its blood rite within Rhydin.

There would be plenty of cherished time to decide how those responsible for this most atrocious sacrilege would suffer...how those accountable for this interference would cry out with unimaginable and unholy anguish. All of them would be left with nothing....nothing save for their own bowels to knit and weave with...their own coagulated blood to sloppily soak in.....and their shredded, open mouths to feebly suckle at a corpse?s decomposing tit. Divine fate.

With each strong pull, Nocent inched closer to freedom from this ultimately feeble prison. In the passing weeks she had begun to intuit the return of Lord Bhaal?s diabolical ?face cards?.....the darkness of their empty souls was once again flocking towards this city of the damned. She herself had invited them all to partake in the abundant generosity of the Skeletal Ram?s bounty; to claim a treasured place at his table. And here, at this table, they would be liberated to explore all pleasures and sufferings of the self righteous....and to gorge themselves sick with the bones and flesh of these misguided faithful. Giminicka was not a hostess who would fail at such an undertaking.

When they, her damned siblings, realized that she still walked....Dracina, Krysira, Carnal, Pharagos, Samara, Isabella, Laviacus, Micar'shalee, Molotoch 'The Devourer', and the many other faithful countenances.....would unquestionably return to this scene of the errant catechism. The beast roared loudly in this temporary grave of dirt.

The weight of the wreckage was still heavy upon her sin-tainted carcass.....cumbersome upon the form of the ravenous, fallen Judge. The old scars decorating her body....from flame and blade, and teeth....still throbbed with a persistent aching burn, reminding her always of the destitute nature which was life......the inert hopelessness which was contained in the very word ?tomorrow?.

Crash..!

Clank..!

Echo upon echo filled the room of horrors as the tall coated figure in the middle continued her task. Long digits grasped hold of anything in their way and curled about, only to give a pull and a final toss. Another heavy crash filled the room just then, only to have yet another come soon after.

"Hhnnn.." Fingers pressed against one another to form into a makeshift knife before piercing at either side of a large piece of rubble. Mighty grasp taken after while tall, hunched form seemed to shudder at the effort having to be put into it. But with the effort came that sweet release as she pulled the large hunk of mass over her head. Another toss - another crash.

How long had she been here?
Why was she here?

The tall blonde had no care for the amount of time or effort she put into this task.
The only thing that mattered at this moment was results.

Dig the path clear, and make waste of this mess,
Dig the path clear, and behold wonder 'oh vice of the flesh.

And dig she did.

That voice already pulled her here.
That voice told her to dig - so she'd dig.

Rip and tear. Dual toned grunts passing off and on from between those lips while she made quick work of her task. Deeper, deeper. The more time that passed, the more effort she seemed to place into digging. Faster - faster. It was almost here. The reason why she was here, it would come to light the moment she..!

Another crash. It wasn't from a toss of rubble, no, it came from a quick punch of her closed fist. Passing through wood and dirt. Digits uncurled and began to feel about within the cold, soft dirt. Reaching.. grasping.. searching.

Shadowed eyes grew wide the moment those fingers touched down onto the odd feeling of steel.

This was it.. this is what she was searching for.

As the baneful warlord pushed her armored muscles beyond any recognizable human limit, the knowledge and acquaintance of a darker, sinister presence slithered its way through the black gloom and began to fulminate in front of Nocent's eerie consciousness. Her nostrils piercingly flared within this stagnant "grave".......taking in more cloying dust and aged decay befitting this malicious woman who should indeed be dead.

With a powerful thrust of her body, like that of a sweat-soaked lover wholly aroused, the Anti-Scathachian pressed herself closer to the solitary shadow which seemed to be hovering ghostlike just above her emerald eyes. Her actions then unexpectedly morphed from deliberate and methodical to that of a ravenous, blood-sick creature clawing desperately for its next fat laced scraps of moist, unsullied flesh.

Nocent pulled and dug with an intensity unbound.....refusing this imprisionment which would deny her the rewarding grapes of vengeance and massacre.

By all pragmatic means, it should have been impossible for her to escape this desolate burial....this rotting tomb of wreckage into which her body was purposely cast for undoubtedly offending the gods with her child sacrifice and unrestrained vile heresy towards the many guardians of light.....towards Scathach and her suckled bitches.

Nocent cared not. She cared not for the Sisters.....not for the victims past.....not for the future herd to be culled in the name of unholy murder. Nocent longed for only ripe destruction and chaos; that which the demons of the old world would salivate for in spite of their eternal torment. The decreed punishment of the puppet gods mattered not to this woman....mattered not to this damnable beast.

Impossible to escape......impossible...impossible...

As she ascended with fervor, higher through the sharp and unforgiving debris, Giminicka....Nocent....and the malevolent beast within all understood a poignant fact which they magnanimously shared in their dourly coalesced awareness.......there are always worse things lurking.

One may hopefully think that they have seen the most terrible thing, the thing that amalgamates all of their nightmares into a freakish horror that actually exists, and the only hinging consolation is that there can be NOTHING worse. Even if there was, their mind would snap at the mere thought of it, and they would know no more. But there are worse things....much worse....and the mind does not so easily snap and provide liberation...and thus somehow one must carry on. While they might in fact understand that all of the joy and peace has fled the world for them, and they would pray in vain to the gods almighty to be hurriedly granted an end...to be stripped of the very pain of living......cruelly, life goes on. It was then they would then realize that they were sheathed in a Hell of their own making, but go on living nonetheless....for there was nothing else they could do.

She understood this all too well....and somewhere in Paternal Time?s tattered manuscripts, Nocent had gone from the one hopefully wishing, to the ?thing? that would always be worse. The ?thing? that would cause a substantial, devout being to violently plead for death, unable to grasp why some abomination so evil and twisted was allowed once again the opportunity to rape the world of its delicate humanity.

An inhale. The fetid air was suddenly cooler now....much cooler. Bhaal?s priestess spat a mixture of filth and coagulated blood into the rubble once more, as she could now just barely make out the murky image clouded above her in the darkness of the IronHelm Flats. A tall figure...long locks...an ominous hat for a crown....

It was at this precise moment that the unholy god of murder, resting patiently on his throne of blood and bone, turned his menacing horned head towards this quiet event transpiring on his "playground" in the Prime. A forceful gloved hand then swiftly sliced through the disorganized jumble of stone and wood like a razor through an infant?s bobbing throat.

Nocent?s serried crimson gauntlet immediately was drawn to this gloved hand which reeked of death.......this hand which purred like Hell?s own cat. Like metal to a magnet they were drawn to one another and met.....locked....and sealed.

As the fingers of leather and steel interdigitated, Nocent felt the stunning chill which without warning coursed through her hand.....her arm....her body.....and through the dank void which now occupied the very chamber of her damned soul. It was electric, sensual, and agonizing all at the same time. She felt severe pain and indomitable pleasure wrack her form like an unchained tempest. Encased within forged iron beneath her ornate breastplate, Nocent?s ample nipples became quite full and erect.....her strong thighs ached for violation.......all while her glistening teeth and tongue lustfully danced for the sultry stickiness of spilled blood and human meat.

With a violent heave, the beast pulled with all of its strength....and from out of the warped wreckage the Anti-Scathachian emerged to face her sinister, hat adorned emancipator.

This time in the grave was now at an end.......

( This log was taken from live play. )

After finally being released from the prison of dirt and wreckage, cool oxygen struck Nocent's nostrils for the first time in......a long while. Her gauntlet released, her emerald eyes adjusted to the murky darkness and upon tall figure who emancipated her.

In the darkness, the happy clown assassin, Carnal, heard but two things, the first being the sudden loud snap of debris as Giminicka was pulled to the surface by what she would assume was Vice, the second being Vice's eerie voice hissing along the dank air: "I see you..." the voice spoke. "What pretty hair..."

Complete. Her objective done and the pull that came along with it felt no more. The lumbering form of the Scissor Stalker twisted about on thick right leg. Dust and dirt forced to rise from the ground as left boot came stepping down lazily, yet still held quite a bit of force behind her. Blonde strands of long, twisted hair began to sway just then as she pushed herself forward.. step by uneven sort of step -- her body continued an awkward sort of sway as she moved about the wreckage she had created.. That's when something caught her attention; and those words left her lips. Her cracking spine lining back into proper place as she pushed out of that arched position and went dashing toward the pink haired beauty that struck her fancy. Weapons began to spin about clockwise within her large hands. Both knife and scissors held with their pointed ends aiming down at her target.

The Anti-Scathachian's facial demeanor changed as she smelled death lingering right before her. She smelled something else all too familiar as well.....sickly but distinct: *Cotton candy*

Her keen eyes now adjusted to the darkness; they widened at the sight of this lumbering monstrosity approaching HER now. If she had not had her awareness about her, the little clown would be cut in two. Quickly she leapt out of the way of the descending blades nearly cutting herself on a jutting piece of rubble sticking out from wall itself. Her voice was stammering but oh so jovial still "HEY HEY HEY HEY!!! What's all this violence about??!!!" Still she backed away from the massive attacker.

"Hhnnn.." The rubble had found itself pierced just then with enough force to send streaking cracks along it's surface. Heavy boot pressed to the wall and began to strain against it as she took a moment or two to pull those weapons out from the wall. Staggering back, one foot to another, before finally catching her balance.

Still backing up cautiously; her little clown smile dropped into that of a frown. "I brought you here Knife Lady! ME! ME! ME!"

The chaotic noises filling her ears and drumming a sense of time back into her brain, the Bhaalite warlord pushed herself through the remainder of the wreckage; dust and silt falling off of her armor and crunching under her steel-like boots as she moved.

Did she really expect the looming figure to respond to her words? If the answer would be given with actions; that's exactly what the clown would be given. Heavy thumps echoed out throughout the room. Closer and closer she came while shadow held eyes seemed to keep themselves locked onto that beautiful hair. Another spin of a weapon, but this time only one. Knife held right side up once more and arm pushed out in a quick jetting thrust in an attempt to slice across the woman's throat.

Stopping only momentarily to pull an eight inch shard of rotting wood from out of her left bicep, the wound oozed a blackish coagulated stream of jelly-like blood from its orifice.

"Ssss.. sstop movingg.."

Four blades cut the fabric of reality in a deep dark corner, then, a fleshed hand slipped between the cracks, and tore it wide open. The resulting energy sending arcs of mana and Nexial energies to scorch the stone walls. As the portal yawned open, out stepped Renna, the black cloaked one, almost fused complete with the shadows. The large hood, creating its own natural shade to hide her face. But none could mistake the glowing swirls of magma, hissing from the darkness. "SILENCE! Cease your mindless bickering before a warrior of dark perfections..." The red eyes turned to the tall, hatted one. "I've waited a long time for this."

Emerald eyes began taking in the display before her: This extremely tall, hat-adorned woman...Her own psychotic clown...And the powerful being known to her as "The Betrayer"

The horrible blade this time found a target despite her hasty deflections, slicing into her cheek and drawing blood. It took a streak of alabaster paint with it as it stroked her happy little face. Mad eyes darted from the Scissor Stalker to the new coming Darkness. "OW!" she hissed. "Hey come on now...who kills a clown for Hell'sa sake??!!!!!!!" She knew that this was going to get very ugly fast. Eyes now fixed on Vice.

Twist. Her large body, even in size, could move in such a way that one of normal means could not understand. The knife found a mark -- not it's intended mark, but good enough to draw a bit of blood. She'd continue to twist about after this action and bring about that large pair of scissors for the follow up. It came to pass that the knife had been, if anything, a distraction to what would come next.. yet the scissors found themselves suddenly stopped before they could pierce into that exposed side of the clown. Eyes already locked onto another. ".. Iinterestingg.."

Using this time wisely the 'Joker Card' spun away from the massive Vice and pushed herself into the far wall, her silly voice sing-song but crackling a bit with distraction: "Yeah! go go go...play with her!! You are nuts, lady!!"

Her left sleeve lifted, and from it came four long, wicked blades, and then finally her black alloyed gauntlet. She pointed the blades towards the others, "Have some respect to the dearly departed." The claw flicked, and indicated the rising Gimi. "This is a tomb. Pay your respects. Or allow the poor soul to claim your flesh." The hood turned to the risen Anti-Scathachian.

Giminicka too took some lumbering steps upon strong legs that had been absent of vibrant circulation for quite some time.

Respect. Tomb. Words the woman cared none for. She began a slow stride just then. One boot thump after another led her closer and closer to the woman who spoke. "... Bbeautifull... Mmy collection could use youu.."

The Fallen Judge's eyes keenly took in this insane dance.......then focused specifically on its dancers.....Carnal...Vice....Renna. One she knew. One she had heard and read much about. And the newcomer she knew nothing of....save for her immense power and aura of evil with which she dripped.

"NOCENT!!!" The grin on her face returned.

The swirling mist of chaos in this room alone was enough to strike a verve in her absent soul.....never mind this gathering if sorts. The overwhelming blackness and absence of humanity was as close to a revival elixir as the beast could have wished upon.

She made no attempt to retreat. Despite the lumbering one coming towards her. She didn't bother to move, as her gauntlet came to rest at her side. But her eyes were on Nocent. Then once Vice came close enough? She lifted her gauntlet, and clenched her fist. Force Choke? Sure if you want to reference it. The correct term in Renna language is magically manipulating the DNA around the throat to cause the muscles to contract and close of the airway. Then her hand suggested downwards, "Kneel to her." She turned her eyes to Vice. "Or kneel to me."

The clown's eyes widened before Renna's appearance and her words. Then they darted between Nocent and Vice. Slowly she walked behind Vice and attempted to tap her on her broad shoulder.

Stopping dead in her tracks. Exposed neck, or as much of it that could be seen through locks of blonde, had already showed signs of pressure. The way the skin pressed and twitched wildly from the force applied. Her head urged to bend back -- and in doing so exposing wild green eyes. But did the look on her face show an expression of fear? Danger for her own life? No. Instead it showed confusion. "... Hhaaaaa.." An exhale of a cracked breath; somehow being able to escape from the choke. Knife held hand rose up just then.. and with a plunge, she'd send it straight into her neck. A jerking motion of her arm followed. Crack.. gush.. blood bellowing out in this sign of defiance. This would continue till a good half of her neck had been fully separated from her body. She'd then press that palm against her skull and force it off to the opposite side.. With a quick tear, she'd decapitate herself. The head hit the ground with a heavy thump. Yet eyes continued to focus on the woman who forced her to take this set of actions. The body itself crouching down slightly. Poised for attack.

"OH THATS JUST AWFUL!!!!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh that is terrible!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh boy!! What a night!"

"Such a... Sad way to go. All I asked was for her to kneel..." Renna released her control, and then looked over the carnage, and the crouching body. Her gauntlet waved aimlessly in its direction, but gave up half way. She approached the head, and moved a fleshed hand to plunged the fingers into the eyes, picking it up like a bowling ball.

Nocent moved towards them all; now her head titled in response to all of this newfound bloodshed.

"Why did you kill her??!! She was special!" She walked to Nocent and stood silently by her side. The silence did not last long: "She was special Red Lady. Speeeeecial. Can you fix her?"

Renna glanced to the clown. "You do not understand the supernatural, do you?"

She looked back to Renna and curtsied "I like to learn things"

".. Sss.. qquite beautifull.." The body sprung into action -- as did that severed head. Lips, molded to speak, only grew wide to expose teeth before those themselves parted to let loose a mist. Glint of steel flicking within the fog while they came in for their strike. The knife itself arcing down to strike for
Rennas neck, while the scissors themselves hoped to stab themselves into her spine. It would be easy enough to stop all movement.

Her eyes glared down at the head then she remained still as the new attack began.

Blade found neck, and found a fountain of blood, and the scissors found her spine, and tore open muscle, sinew and vessels. But the hood turned towards her. Then towards Nocent. "Is this your pawn? You need to find new employees." Renna jerked her neck from the blade, and moved to slam the animated body with the head she had impaled on her two fingers. Then, she thrusted the head back into the woman's, decapitated bodys' hands.

Giminicka's head tilted slowly like a feral animal as the words creeped from her mouth, unphased by this display of butchery, "What is transpiring here exactly?"

"Silence her before I have a damn good reason to break her apart one cell at a time."

Nocent had heard Renna's words, and moved towards the bloody mess, one step after another.

The stalker seemed even more confused by the change of actions. Having known she struck two vital points of her target. She should be on the floor, twitching and unable to move.. drooling all over herself with her mind being her only get away from the fact that she would indeed be dying soon. Yes, quite a confusing set of actions.. This caused the woman, who had been staggering back, to try and rethink what she was doing.

She lifted her claw to Vice. "Stop right there. I have not come to fight." She glanced to the clown. "Or save her."

Scissors and knife dropped from her hands and pierced the ground just then. Stepping forward to gather her head into those large palms so that she could set it onto that still bleeding neck. Twist, twist.. then letting go. The head leaning off to the right and falling right back down to the floor.

She continued to move towards the large, lumbering woman's blood soaked body.

She looked to be not interested in speaking. Instead her time was now on trying to set her head back into place. Bending over once more to grab onto it.

"Thank you for saving me!"
"Thank you thank you thank you hank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

".. Hhnn..." Annoying. The reason why she finally brought up that foot and sent it down onto the skull. Crush, crush, crush. constantly slamming down that boot to turn it to mush.

A glance to the clown. The red eyes narrowing in the hood's darkness. "... Hmph."

Palm padding across the ground to find that hat. No longer caring about the head. Once found she'd rise to stand at her looming seven feet once more; the hat now held before the empty space that would of made up her head.

Carnal would happily skip over to Nocent yet remain silent. She was thirsty for violence but this was a bit unexpected, all of it.

Nocent walked past Renna, bowing to her out of some aged old respect.....a time honoring amongst the true denizens of chaos and harbingers of grisly death.

Renna, lowered her head to Nocent. "... It's good to see you once again."

The Bhaalite stopped right before the massive Vice who was even larger than she herself, which was a very different scenario from the norm. Her crimson hair, covered with silt and dirt, fell to her shoulders as her head raised to this female "creature". Her voice was seductive, yet a tad raspy from intake of the dirt into her lungs, "No minion of mine Betrayer Great. Yet come for me she did......"

This woman was abnormal.. the one in makeup at least ran in fear, meaning that she could indeed be killed -- possibly.. Locks of blonde hair fell from her shoulders just then while hat pulled itself away so that she could set it down onto that reformed head of hers. Attention turned to the third, the one she had hoisted up from the ground. Attention being a small glance in her direction. This sight seemed to flick back and forth from her to the cheek-cut clown.

"And why did you come dear one.....why? What manner of beastial savage are you my love?"

"Evil, can sense greater evil." She whispered. Her eyes turning to Vice.

"I wrote her to come! I did! I did! I did!!!!!" The mad clown would not be ignored in this. "I wrote her and she came! Dreamt it all and did it. For you Nocent! For Lord Bhaal! For clowns everywhere! Hahahaha...", her laughter weaned down.

Right arm twitched. Fingers flexed and contorted as they continued to speak.. and then, the figure seemed to finally snap. That same arm rose up and at a fast pace moved in it's attempt to bring a palm quickly onto the crimson haired woman's features. Fingers curling along during as she tried to take a mighty hold of her face.

The serried steel gauntlet steadily reached for the leather clad fingers of Vice just as her hands gripped Nocent's face.

".. Yyou are a messs...cclean yourselff.. "

(Continued from live play log...)


As the bow and lace wrapping fell to the ground, the object inside made its way to the Scissor Stalker's sight. A gorgeous but demented-looking doll of fine porcelain; adorned with a fine regal dress and long blonde tresses of hair which were curled and soft like silk. The doll truly resembled a miniature noblewoman in every sense of its innocence and beauty. Two fine details which stood out was an ominous hat upon her head, which obviously did not belong with this picture, and lastly thin bloodstains descending from her tiny mouth. The clown hissed, "A doll, for a doll stealer! The hair is real Stalker. Touch it..."

The doll would be held up by it's delicate wrist. Slowly did the figure of the stalker rise up to stand at it's full seven feet once more. She'd then give it a small toss, letting it leave her grasp by only inches before she caught it once more under it's armpits. She gave it a tilt to the right, and then to the left. Head began to bow...drawing the small doll forward so that she could press it to her shadowed face.

Once more the fearless clown limped over to Vice, pulling the pointed scissors from her leg and held them with unholy reverence, "A dolly. A happy, little dolly! Everyone needs a friend. Wanna be our friend?"

Nostrils flared. Taking in it's scent with a large intake of a breath. Only then would she pull the doll away. Carefully cradling it within long arms and giving it a gentle rock back and forth. ".. Uuse it on herr.." Looking to the offered scissors. Who did she speak of?
Wrist bent and the long digit of her index uncurled, pointing at the crimson haired woman. ".. II require her hairr.. II take your offeringg.. II will not kill you, for noww...Oonly a few strands are neededd.."

Long, lean and lanky, Krysira Clayborne was suddenly standing at the stairs of her building, The IronHelm Flats. She looked down into the chasm where the collapse occurred and where Nocent had been apparently resurrected. She heard her voice; it had to be their leader! It was now, perhaps more than ever, a holy site. The head of the callous Blackwolf Guild was looking over those gathered, with a smile upon her twisted lips.

Nocent had heard the exchange between Carnal and Vice. Her voice remained a pillar of malice coated in thick syrup, "My hair?" ::a slight but firm scoff:: "You want my hair love?"

The Stalker responded, "Wwould you rather I kill youu?"

The master thief arched a sculpted brow at the tall hat wearing woman as she descended the last few steps. She hoped that the threat was directed at her or Carnal and not to Nocent. A wise person in any capacity would never threaten Nocent.

The Fallen Judge allowed her razor like lips to curve into a sinister smile, "Kill me my love? It would seem as I awaken from my grave I have many a rival lined up to supplant my fist.....all are welcome in Hell.....plenty of room for all of our flesh."
With that, Nocent strode over to Vice and deliberately kneeled down in front of her with malcontent; offering her hand to Carnal as she spoke, "The shears....give them to me Kya."

The costumed assassin did not hesitate in her flowing action as she accurately tossed the scissors to Nocent at her command.

Giminicka's gauntleted hand grabbed the scissors from out of the air, all the while not breaking her gaze with Vice. "You want my hair woman.....Is that was you desire as your fee? And what of the skin that holds it ever so tightly? And the treasured blood that feeds it whole?"

Krysira's shifty eyes swung to the clown Baroness Kya as her steps hastily took her in that direction. Her crafty gaze, though was always half on Nocent.

Shadowed eyes kept themselves locked onto the woman.. No, not at her features -- her hair had been all in the stalkers gaze. "... Yyesss." A dual toned voice letting loose a small hiss after the word left her lips. "II want itt.."

With no vacillation, Nocent raised and utilized one sharp blade of the scissors to slice a small portion of scalp, nearly down to the periosteum, from the left side of her temple. She then gripped it and peeled back a portion of scalp, and blood soaked hair::

Krysira's right hand thrust into her pocket, her fingers fumbling over and over with her enchanted dice, 'Alea Fatum', feeling the sinister warmth which began to grow from them. She had come to stand next to Carnal, or as some referred to her still as Baroness Kya Robichaud. The thief's gaze was content for now to remain on her leader Nocent and this creepy woman with the long, long hair.

The sickly sound of wet flesh tore from Nocent's temple as she broke the twisted "graft" loose and held it in her right hand without a flinch from her green stare. Blood dripped down the side of her tanned face and even squirted from a portion of her temporal artery as she presented the gory, matted hair, complete with its flesh bed, to the colossal Vice. "Then here is your other gift........emancipator."

Interest had been sparked. The shadow that loomed over the woman would grow smaller and smaller as the stalker slowly lowered herself down into a crouch before the woman. Head tilting to the side, causing more of those blonde locks to spill from coat covered shoulders. "... Tthis will doo.."
Left arm slipping carefully out from under the beautiful doll she held. Leather held fingers pinched the offered gift, and then she'd suddenly rise up. Boots thumping once more as she stepped away from the scene. Back kept turned to everyone.. for now, she'd go facing a wall.

"What the--", she strongly grabbed a hold of Kya's arm, her expression wore itself like a paranoid portrait. "Who---"

The murderous clown smirked as her own bloody face was streaked with alabaster from her makeup coalesced with the bloody wound on her cheek. She noticed that her good 'ole buddy, pal, chum, partner Krysira had entered this familiar chamber and had taken refuge next to her amidst this wondrously delightful dance. In a hushed whisper she gleefully spoke to the thief, "Nocent's back. Nocent's back! It worked Kry, Kry! It worked! That Knife Lady I told you and the others about was real. As real as the boooooooogie man..." She giggled anew.

The hulking Anti-Scathachian stood as Vice did, and slowly followed this Scissor Stalker to the wall.....like a predatory lioness. Her malignant gaze shifted briefly to Krysira in order to allow her faithful minion to see that no grave would contain her.....Hades would not have her. Nocent had indeed missed her little Krysira from Guller's Creek.

Krysira's toned form took a strange lean as she looked from Carnal to Vice, who evidently was the "Knife Lady". After a narrowing of her eyes, she whispered back to Kya, "What is Nocent doing? She just....partially scalped herself! Is that really her?"

Carnal nodded emphatically 'yes' to Krysira and wet her crimson lips with her tongue like a child. She couldn't wait to see more!

".. Oour childd..." Her shoulders shaking from her wall faces position.. and then, a crack sounded out. The dolls smaller hat fluttering down to meet the ground. Many more sounds followed, squishing, even more cracks...and finally the tall one would bend once more to take a pinching hold of that fallen hat. She'd turn around -- only to find herself standing oh so close to the one she had `` saved `'.
The doll itself looked to have change.. though most of it's hair had still been the same, except for the right side. Those locks that had been granted to her seemed to have merged well with object of the stalkers current interest. She'd hug it close to her chest.

Nocent's piercing green eyes then saw nothing else but Vice at this moment. Her breath moved fluidly.....whether it was raw carnage or air she took in was unknown....blood continued to drip steadily from the side of her head which gave forth the prized gift. Her voice now but a cutting whisper, "The child.....yeeesssss...YOUR child. HE can give you anything you desire my love.....past or future.....anything you so desire....can be yours....to command or devour......"
And with that, the beast within grinned a toothy snarl as Nocent leaned forward, her succulent lips apart, to kiss the mouth of this eerie, venomous monster before her.

Thump. The shadow over the woman became larger as the stalker took a quick step forward. Her tall form pressing against this woman' mighty own. ".. Oour childd.." Everything she desired. Past or future.. Anything she desired. Such words could easily sway the foolish of people. But the Stalker seemed rather...uninterested. The look kept much the same as those lips found her own. What was she to do? A strong arm wrapped itself about the armor clad form and squeezed it closer to her. Gifted lips taken by her own in return. Instinct rung well within the Stalker's mind. Leather held digits gripped tightly against plate, keeping the woman trapped against her. "II will not kill youu.. ffor noww.. bbut it will comee..."

After catching Nocent's stare, Krysira shuddered and then felt calm all at once. As she watched with absolute fixation, there was something between a scoff and a grumble that came from her when she heard the mysterious Knife Lady's threat. The ill favored dice were turning in her pocket, and she was viewing this woman's lengthy hair as a very handy grabbing point. Threats to Nocent did not go over so well with her, nor with anyone else in their malevolent cabal.

Giminicka's hungry lips molested Vice's mouth as did perhaps her overly-slick tongue which darted back and forth like a striking serpent. Another shady whisper was passed to Vice, "By all means love...kill....kill away when the time moves you....I welcome it between my very thighs darling child...."
Her devious tongue rapidly flicked against the Stalker's well-shaped ear, caressing its lobe with a light tinge of saliva and sticky blood.