Zansanette DayStar was only half human; her other half spawned by a monstrous sea creature. In the embrace of water she was deadly fierce and impossibly fast. She had chosen a serene lake in the Southern Glen as her home here in this land of RhyDin. And hunt it she did.

Soon the other aquatic dwellers that harbored intelligent free will found another place to inhabit or became her lunch. The few small hamlets within a swimming distance were destroyed in bloodsoaked frenzies. The Caravan Road that carried traders to the metropolis became a frighteningly nightmarish way to travel as more and more atrocities were reported.

The dragons nearby became restless at the invader in their lands.

The pixies became spiteful as they feasted off of her evil.

Her little corner of the Glen was altering to fit her presence.

She waited.

She watched.

And opportunities presented themselves with rapid ease.

((This Folder is open for any who wish to interact with the beastly Fury, if I roleplay with you in room I will clean up the chat logs and include the narratives here, thank you))

She had not killed him.

She had not fed upon him.

She had kept him.

She had broken him.

She had taken him with the promise of his performance: freedom.

She had kept her word.

?Please, I?ll give you everything! Don?t hurt her!? The man yelled, struggling against the grip of the two massive men that pinned him against the wall. He pleaded with their boss, the obese Dwarf who whipped his bride about by her beautiful golden hair, though it all seemed fruitless.

?Shut?em up!? The dwarf snapped, instantly sending one of the men into violent motion, driving a fist into the husband?s exposed stomach. The husband buckled, and gasped for breath, tears welling in his eyes.
And then his hero appeared.

At the end of the dark alley a figure stood, nothing more than a silhouette save for the chrome fixtures at eye level; they caught the glimmer of the moonlight, glossed by silvery luminance, and glowered at the exchange down the way.

?What the hell is that?? One of the men holding the husband asked, catching the attention of his stout employer.

The dwarf checked out the figure looming across the urban corridor and shrugged his bulbous shoulders. ?A bodybag filler. Go get?em.?

The large ruffian cracked his knuckles and shoved the Husband against the rough red brick, letting the other titanesque man keep him pinned. He started down the cobblestones, stepping through puddles and darkness, until he joined the figure, appearing as nothing more than umbral shapes.
The distance kept words muffled and yet, as the whip of a blade slashed open flesh, the sound was distinct enough to be heard above all else.

The man dropped.

The figure came forward.

?Get?em!? The dwarf barked, sending the other man into motion. Leaving the Husband to crumple to his knees, the man turned and rushed down to meet the oncoming terror, drawing a thin-bladed dirk from his waist.

The figure didn?t stop, the backhand stroke ripping out the ruffian?s throat and spinning him lifelessly off to the side.

Still the figure came.

The dwarf curled his fat arm around the girl?s slender neck and brandished his own blade, keeping it tight against her throat. ?Keep comin? and she?s dead! Dead I tell you!?

The step did not cease.

?I?ll slit her throat!?

Still the figure came.

?Last chance!?

With a surge the silhouette came forward in a blur of trench coat entrails and chrome eyes. The glint of a steel flashed as light caught the wide and serrated blade of a dagger just moments before it sank deep into mortal flesh.

Her flesh.

The dwarf gasped, shocked, feeling her go stiff in his arms just seconds before she lurched and spit blood from her pretty lips. He recoiled, stepping back quickly, too quickly, and fell.

Pitilessly the figure shoved the frail and fatally wounded female from his dagger, slamming her into the wall beside her husband, and stalked forward to greet the Dwarf.

There were no words spoken, only screams that were gurgled to silence as the driving blade embedded into bloated hide a half dozen times.

?Why?? The husband asked weakly as the murderer stood slowly from his victim and turned to face him, just in time to see agonizing eyes that flooded red cheeks with tears. ?Why did you do that??

Beneath the mask that veiled writhing tentacles clacked an aquatic voice, one that was alien and normally impossible to understand, though the word it spoke was easily discernable.

?Food.?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

The last of the bodies were dropped upon the shore as though sacks of meat, the horizon spilling mauve color upward into the blanket of starfilled night to herald the arrival of dawn. The time was getting close and soon she would birth her horde, but until then she would need to feed.

And so he fed her.

He fed her to keep her beneath the surface of the water.

He fed her to keep her from unleashing her appetite upon Rhy?din.

The first agonizing ripple was visible across the milk-white flesh of her distended stomach.

A growling sound of discontentment settled in her throat as she twisted and shifted beneath the contraction. Her gills fluttered in growing agitation as her breathing quickened; otherwise, no signs of fear or pain revealed itself.

From above, the splash of a body hitting the surface of the pool warned her that Austorc was feeding her again; yet, her own omen was revealed by her lack of concern.

The drifting body was ignored as she scuttled forward on a swish of her lower extremity, a stringy sac of mucus coated flesh pushed free from her and she moved on seemingly oblivious. One after another, birthed, their sizes, shapes, and colors a myriad display of grotesque perfection.

She continued on her path. Unmindful now of anything that would seek to distract her. Unbelievably vulnerable in these next few days as the eggs continued to come in rhythmic dispelling.

For now she cared nothing for the ones birthed, her focus only on dispersing them all from within her.

Row.

After.

Row.

They continued to appear.

Hunger.

She returned to her underwater grotto sated and replete. Burrowing deep beneath the remnants of her kills, she nested down and waited. Slumber overcame her and beyond the steady flutter of her gills and the few rippling movements that propelled her along the sandy bottom she made no move to do anything but rebuild her strength.

The time came when, with a flutter in a nearby egg sac, she awakened on a quivering spasm of excitement. The outer lid of her eye parting to reveal the inner membrane that protected the ball from the pressure of the deep. The ridge along her spine rose to its full height, the deadly quills trembling in readiness. But it was not violence she anticipated. Not yet. Purling, the wet gurgling purr vibrated through the water, as she unwound from the nest, twining almost sinuously through the weightless environment. The mermaid's beauty was overshadowed by the hideousness of her sharklike grin of anticipation.

It was time for the Hatching.

Industriously she slid amongst the various shapes and sizes of her brood, gathering them by stringy mucus sacs and scaly ridges. They could not be allowed to hatch so near one another. Their own voracious appetites and vicious natures would make each birthing a fight to the succession and she would not lose so many of her precious offspring. No, they needed to be allowed the opportunity to find their way without their siblings impeding their bloody rampage.

Over the next three nights she dispersed her eggs throughout the waterways of Rhy?Din. Some would be left near the piers of Dockside, others in gentle coves of the Southern Glen, a dozen or more in the salty water of the Seaside District, still others she took through the mountainous reaches and icier waters near Mount Yasuo. A great many found new homes in the sewers beneath the main city, the aquifers of Old Temple District, a high concentration in the waterways beneath West End, and even a few became dark blemishes of inexplicable horror in pristine pools of New Haven. They would hatch, ravenous and delirious, some would be terrifying to look upon, others beautiful. Many would be confined to their watery havens, some would take to the air, and more than a few would climb from their watery depths to find the surface theirs to traverse. They would resemble monstrous beings of myths, or violent creatures of legends, and most assuredly, horror-inducing denizens of nightmares.

Only one trait would they most certainly share.

Their Hunger.

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Dockside

A trembling hand sank within the gritty sand beneath the pier pulling her along weakly. It took another shaky grasp and desperate lunge to reveal the sodden head of a woman as she emerged from the murky froth of water. A beer bottle floated past and the cellophane wrapper of a forgotten pair of smokes tangled in her slick hair.

The debris was the least of her problems as she struggled to find the strength to continue her ascent. Stretching out her arm she found another shaky grip to pull herself further from the polluted ocean water.

Too weak to pant for the breath that she needed she whimpered as a board pummeled her back, washed up by a wave. Bruised and battered, she used the force of it to propel herself the last needed yard to finally gain freedom from the sucking depths of the water.

No energy was left to her and she succumbed to the exhausted slumber that beckoned now that the immediate fear of drowning had passed.

*********************

She awoke to movement. The sun breached the slats of the dock above her and she recognized that much time had passed. But beyond that there was sound above her. Dust littered her as the weight of a person passing overhead dislodged it. She tried to call out, attempted to let her presence be known, but her throat was too constricted, her cracked lips revealing the desperate state of her need.

Able to only enact a mewling sound of panic, she was easily ignored beneath the sound of the ocean's waves and the growing tumult of a busy day at dockside. Sailors and their ilk moved overhead and paid little heed to the trash and filth that had washed up beneath their feet, concealed by the aged planks of the dock.

Again darkness pulled at her, and again she succumbed.

**********************

The rank and splotched fur of the cat had seen better days. A torn ear healed over long ago into a gruesome scar, twisted and torqued as it tried to assess the strange situation before it. The mangy beast had picked itself a spot beneath the docks that offered protection and the best scavenging it could find. Put off by the arrival of the woman it had given its normal haven wide berth, but her lack of movement and shallow breath had restored the cat to its more curious nature.

Picking a delicate paw along the littered shoreline, it froze as its back paw snagged in the tangled lank mass of hair that spilled about the woman; a long ago injury had splintered its claws and destroyed the sheath that allowed retraction. Growling its displeasure the beast daintily, despite its scurrilous looks, shook out its paw as it attempted to gain release.

****************

She was roused this time by the sensation of her hair being tugged at and weakly lifted her lashes to reveal the nearby presence of a mistreated Tomcat.

Death was close. She could feel it in her bones. The dark lassitude pulled at her and encouraged her to return to slumber where she couldn't feel the burn in her throat or the dusty dryness of her mouth.

Her lids slid closed and she listened to that promise of reprieve, a death's rattle in her chest...

******************

The cat finally yanked its paw free and with a snarled hiss it lashed out at that which had entangled it, claws swiping across the face of the dying woman.

******************

Eyelids shot upward as the pain scorched across her consciousness, a hand lashed out and cruelly crushed the fragile bones of the old tomcat that had seen and survived so much before. Even had their encounter ended there it would surely have died as its ribcage had crunched like so much seashells beneath the feet of the unaware, but its last moments proved to be far worse as it was yanked toward the lips of the dying woman....lips that were spreading far wider than should've been possible. Crammed headfirst into that maw, the cat wheezed a defiant wail as its limbs refused its commands. A razored circle of teeth scraped along its body and as the rich warmth of its blood poured over her chin the woman felt a surge of renewal. The tortured dryness of her throat rejoicing as the replenishing liquid soothed it. Widening to admit the passage of the feline, her throat worked in convulsive ripples to sink that still living creature into the bowels of her stomach, the scrape of her teeth having admitted a paralytic that insured its final resting place within her.

The wide gaping maw drew together slowly as the cat descended and finally returned to its original shape, a cupid's bow set of lips closed around the final tip of her meal's tail and she smiled quite prettily.


The daughter of Zansanette had fed and with this sustenance her strength would most assuredly return.

Mount Yasuo

The cherry blossoms whispered with the gentle breeze, delivering small showers of petals that carried the delicious scent upon the air. Somewhere just past the fusuma, someone strummed a lyrical instrument that sweetly ebbed over the murmur of voices.

Sheltered in the shadow of the Yasuo Mountain Range, the village remained peacefully idyllic. A safe haven from the hectic blare of life in Rhydin, this place was known for its healing abilities. Over the decades it had become a retreat for those who learned of its secret.

The waters were said to be particularly invigorating, fed as they were from the icy tip of the mountain, the brooks that carried steadily downward remained pure and cold...

...a cold that had lengthened the hatching time of her Offspring.