The swirling mist would grow darker, gathering the shadows into a shrouding fog-like cloud. Tendrils of ebony would twine around one another, growing into a mass of gloom impenetrable to light. The shape of a silhouette gradually emerging, before a long slender leg would glide (almost wetly) from the embrace of shade; the darkness parting further to reluctantly release the obscenely sensual form from within.

She, who had once been worshiped as she had worshiped another, would turn dark soulless pools upon the inn before her. The raucous laughter and boisterous voices would carry on the shining lights that poured from the windows and door. The pull would be inevitable; the desire curling in the pit of her stomach and demanding that she answer the call. She who had been forsaken wished for nothing more than to rain down loss upon those who still held onto vitality and mundane passion.

This place... this strangely magnetic land that drew people to it...would serve the purposes of the Shaitan Covenant well.

She had observed the bustling and self-absorbed patrons; their lack of connections to each other, to this place, to the land, or to any deities would serve to disguise the insidious reach of the Covenant.

Decision made , a sigh would escape her, mingling both desire-tinged eagerness and a strange haunting regret...the sound tainting the wind but no match for the chattering laughter emitted from the inn...the warning lost within the shadows as they hungrily embraced their mistress transporting her away for her report.

Summoned.

Pulling herself from the watery depths of her haven, she would answer.

A new feasting for the Covenant.

Advance guard had always been her calling. She served her Master well and in return was rewarded with his regard. None had given her as much as he. None had allowed her a sense of belonging. Discarded like refuse upon her birth, the aquatic maiden learned what it meant to be of no worth.

But not within the Shaitan.

She arrived by ocean, emerging from the salt water she'd climb the docks and eye the warm pulsating bodies that mingled there. Hunger would gnaw at her belly after her long travels and she'd easily convince herself that it was the Covenant's desire for her to feed.

On bare feet, naked, her milky white skin would gleam in the moonlight, beckoning a villain to take advantage of her. She wouldn't have to wait long, the "gentleman caller" offering a sickly twisted grin at her seemingly helpless predicament. Her own grin would reveal the double rows of shark like teeth. It would be the last thing he saw and his scream would only sigh from his throat as she disemboweled him with a swipe of her taloned claws. Greedily she would descend upon his fallen form and bury her face within the still steaming hot innards, lapping hungrily, feeding.

Twining around his corpse she would roll back within the welcoming waves of the ocean, the crimson spill of his blood calling forth the inhabitants of the aquatic world.... Swimming among them she would lovingly watch them feed.

Within minutes there would be no remains to report her arrival.

Claws would dig into the tile of the rooftops as he anxiously watched the coming and going of people along the way. Inhuman eyes, large chrome fixtures that penetrated the blackness of his mask, twitching obsessively as he spotted the cavorting morsels, fighting the urge to descend upon them and rend them into shreds.

The dark magic that melded him with the creature is what saved his life, and what damned him as well. He hadn't understood the consequences involved when the Shaitan Covenant came and told him that they could keep him alive with their unholy magic, though the price would be heavy. He didn't care; all he wanted was to escape death, and continue living.

Their cost was a simple one: With his resurrection he would serve them unconditionally, and abandon the guild that had taught him to be an assassin. He agreed, showing his commitment to the covenant by returning to the guild house and slaughtering all those he once called master.

A wicked evolution took hold and the baleful blight that had started as a small patch of wretched flesh at the center of his chest expanded until ultimately consuming him. It twisted him into something far darker than he had ever dreamed, replacing humanity with bestiality, and altering him physically to resemble this internal change. Hands became scaly and clawed at the tips. Eyes swelled, losing all semblance of anything mortal, instead appearing as globes of shimmering chrome. All of these changes, however, paled in comparison to the transformation of his face. The handsome visage of a pure and strong lineage was desecrated by a bulbous void of hairless, scaly flesh, with a horde of tentacles that bloomed from its center. The thick tendrils, horrific to behold, slither and move, quiver and shudder, anxious to wrap themselves around human flesh and suck the life from it.

Laughter. He was torn from his secret thoughts by the sound of it. It came from the street, several stories below his perch. The owner of the mirth, a young girl, pranced through the powdery frost, pointing and laughing at a boy her age. She scooped up a ball of snow and hurled it at him before darting down a nearby alley. The boy, barely ducking the missile, gave pursuit.


And so did he.

(The Following post is intended for MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. 18+ Viewer discretion is advised.)


"Oh yes! Ohhhhh yesssss! Right there! Yes!"

The song of thrusting flesh would ring out along the empty halls of the chapel, followed by the pleading cries of the nun - begging for conclusion and culmination all at once. Through empty alabaster eyes he watched her, his current vantage point only offering the back of her robes scrunched carelessly around her waist to expose the bare flesh of lower limbs, crimson hands riding firmly on her hips. He had warned her that their lustful comingling would be the result of her attempt to 'save him', but she hadn't believed him, secure in the protection garnered from her faith. It hadn't taken long, and soon she was braced against the pew, offering her flesh to him in hungry submission.

The mortal realm offered so much more to devour than his demonic homeland of Zebul, mainly because of the mortals' ability of choice. Unlike the Tanar'ri, who were bound to evil by the seed of their creation, mortals could sway back and forth, vile one minute and virtuous the next. There was no set outcome when dealing with the mortal realm, it was all up to chance and persuasion - which favored him.

The beginning of his existence was one of many Incubi; stranded upon the demonic plane, shifting between realms in search of bold explorers, lost souls, or something in between to feed upon. Drawing sustenance from lust meant that physical contact was required, and while the seduction of other demons was a passable meal, he considered it the equivalent of digging through the trash. It didn't take long for him to understand that he didn't want scraps, he wanted the entree. Unfortunately, he had no way out. Open portals from Zebul to other realms was magic he did not have, and the only way to acquire such magical travel was to align with one of the demon lords...an option that he would only consider if absolutely necessary. So instead he roamed the landscape of jagged mountains blanketed by red and black skies, picking at meandering demons while waiting to chance upon stranded mortals.
What he hadn't expected was to be summoned. Torn from his home, he was yanked across time and space and conjured before the white sorceress, Eliasi Dewshine. She used her great magic to entrap him, to make him her puppet, and her slave. Within the circumference of her magical circle he was imprisoned, unable to escape. She told him that she would let him go, release him, if he completed the task that she had set for him. He was hesitant, though his choices were futile, forcing him to agree.

Eliasi explained that the target was a powerful half-demon named Aolani who had been seducing the wizard's of her tower away from her. It was her plan to fight fire with fire - literally - and to send an Incubi to put her in check.

Bound by the nasty geas, he had no choice but to follow the instructions laid out before him, and set off to pursue the objective.
The meeting with Aolani did not play out as intended, as the lush temptress countered his ploys of seduction with words of power and freedom, clarifying to him the purpose of her order, the Shaitan Covenant. He couldn't deny the allure she presented regarding the Covenant and it's dark master, Drakul Lothcar. Still the geas weighted on him, pulling at his essence, threatening to destroy him if he didn't complete the task. Together, both he and Aolani worked around Eliasi's poorly worded spell, seducing her own sons to sneak into her chamber and murder her before the geas expired.

Left to wander the earthly plane, Aukai was now released from the condemnation of Zebul, liberated from his Tanar'ri home as well as the prison that brought him to the mortal realm. He was free.
He accepted Aolani's invitation to join the Shaitan Covenant, and since that day has known power that he had never even imagined.

The nun screamed in blissful release. The zenith of their union was explosive and draining, leaving her a in a quivering heap upon the pew. His devilish visage twisted into a sinful grin as he took a step back and withdrew. He glanced at the holy effigy that dominated the far wall of the church, looking down over the main antechamber, and gave a sly wink to it before turning and heading for the door.

"Thanks for the salvation."

Sickly yellow eyes stared thoughtfully at the small shard of ice he held between ridged fingers, examining the swirling energy trapped inside ;he dark magic he had used to strike the Katagarian Tigard splintering off a piece of her essence for him to possess.

"Vanessa Tigarian."

It was a simple talent that most were easy to dismiss, but the ability to know the name of any that he observed was a powerful tool for the Dark Mage of Barud Das. What better way to know one's enemy, interest, or prey, than to know their deepest connection to existence: their name.
Clutching his staff in his gloved hand he would use the gnarled shaft as a crutch to assist in rising from his magi throne; a high backed chair forged of steel and bone. Across the dimly lit chamber he would limply stride, headed for the large tome that rested upon an ashen pedestal near the doors. The sounds of beasts howling in the distance garnered his attention with a look toward the large window overseeing Shadedeep, the realm he had conquered as his own. Cracked lips laced with dried blood would pull away from sharpened teeth, forming an unholy smile in regard to the creatures. How he loved them so.

Arriving at the book, he would extend his ungloved hand and wave it softly over the steel-bound Grimoire, magical energy infusing with the arcane volume, peeling back the hardback cover and fanning the pages out before him. They would settle on a blank parchment , the tattered edges of the page speaking to its age. From the folds of his cloak the icy shard would reemerge, and gently he would place its tip upon the empty page.

Swirling from it like a fountain pen, the inky magic would spill forth and slither up the page, painting a picture of its lost owner. Again those lips would pull back into a smile, though this one would not share the depraved affection he has for the denizens of his land. No, in fact, this one is far more dangerous and malevolent, hinting at the sinister agenda that shall soon unfold.

Replacing the shard he would turn from the album, a blas? swipe of his hand closing it with a thud. The click of his staff would sing a hollow echo with each step until he returned to his desk, once more falling into his throne. His deviant gaze would vanish thanks to descending lids, opening the channels of communication between he and the High Priestess, Satariel Shah.

"Hail, Shaitan, and greetings to you, Baphomet, Queen of the Shadow. We must meet soon." Ailing golden eyes drifting open.

"There is much to be discussed."

With a snarl he stepped off the boat, eyes hidden behind the veil of shadow brought on by his fedora.

It was eatin' time.

The shadows pulled at their mistress, demanding her attention: some would cajole, others plead, most demand, and some would resort to the very force of their nature. She was careful to balance the power of the shadows that she took. The worlds that she created for her ?companions? were densely populated and, at times, more real than the one she fully inhabited. Once in her youth she had stolen the shadow of a demi-god, wresting his evil from him and forcing him within her control. The construct she had carefully contained to hold him fast became her own holding cell as she struggled for dominance and nearly lost. A choice fell to releasing him and knowing that he would return for her and vengeance, or to forever descend within her own mind trapped within the realm of her creation: a plaything.
Fortune saw that her unique ability to exist as a reservoir for evil had drawn the attention of a powerful being. Drakul Lothcar?s assistance with the freed demi-god had forever drawn her to him. The power of the shards became hers to oversee and with the beginning of an ancient alliance, the Covenant was founded.

Stroking her fingers through the dense black tendrils that floated about her, she would seek the one that needed releasing. Each touch was different from the last: a warlord would brutally assault her senses as he threatened her destruction, a drow assassin would hiss at the sensation of her attention and tense for their continued battle, a vengeful harpy would crow her insanity, and the seductive caress of a stalking monstrosity of carnality would entice her to rejoin him for their struggle. Each would require her to exist now that she held them within her control, their essences reliant on her attention and focus. Some of the weaker strands had been lulled into a sense of security in the false reality she had created and sought only to feel her presence again, but the stronger foes knew that the world they currently inhabited was not their own, was not even real, but a fa?ade created with skilled ease by the Mistress of the Shade.

The blood-soaked terrain of an Asiatic setting would spill across the canvas of her mind. Here was her destination. She would ignore the pulling from the other strands and instead slide her consciousness inside this created domain.

Heat, wet and steamy would blanket her. The jungle canopy overhead effectively blocking out the light as the sounds of the rainforest surrounded her. The Hengeyokai was hunting. Lifting the strands of her long silky hair off the nape of her instantly damp neck, Satariel would be aware that the shape-shifter had caught her scent and that the games had begun. As the time had come to free this entity, she sought to settle the flicker of fear that had her belly tightening and her heartbeat increasing.
The coughing growl of the clouded leopard would ?chuff? somewhere in the branches and Satariel?s fear would double despite her control. The scent would only draw the hunting creature but the feel of an animalistic hunger seeking her out was unnerving. Here, within a fantasy world, Satariel?s normally statuesque and inhumanly emotionless demeanor was gone. To make these worlds real for her chosen, she had to fully immerse herself within them.
A very real trickle of sweat would thread its way down between her breasts, her clothes sticking to her in little time. A combination of fear and heat causing her skin to flush. A cautious step back and then another would soon turn into a fleeing rush. The run would be quick and hard over unexpected terrain, the underbrush beneath her feet as treacherous as the creatures within this forest. Panting within minutes, Satariel would try to stall the panic with reason, the outcome was necessary after all, but a survivor?s instinct was hard to quell. She?d tear through the hanging greenery for what seemed an eternity, her breath catching in her throat in painful little wheezes and her chest burning with each rapid rise and fall. The scenery flashing by would be filled with the sounds of the environment: chirping, tweeting, slithering, rustling, tittering, squeaking, growling, whispering?a cacophony really that would suddenly cease. It was the quiet that warned her of her impending danger, too late as the golden form shot from the greenery above, the beautiful pattern on the thick coat a blur of movement. Supple ankles and a lengthy tail would keep the clouded leopard on the branch as the rest of its muscled body descended before its prey. The front claws would rake deep and find purchase even as its fangs (the longest canines in the cat family) sought the sweet flesh of the kill.
The puncture of the claws would rip through her in an agonizing sensation of tearing skin, muscle, and tissue. The long curved razors pierced her abdomen and burrowed upward to find purchase on the now glisteningly exposed bones of her ribs. Satariel?s mouth would part in a scream but the gurgling sound would not be her intention as the maw of the beast tore out her throat in one smoothly feral move.
Drawing its kill up into the overhead branches the leopard would emit that chuffing sound deep within its throat. Settling back into the grasp of the old gnarled tree it would deposit the still warm weight of Satariel?s body before it. The thick rasp of tongue emerging to run over the beautifully serene face of the Mistress: sightless eyes would stare up unseeing into the intelligent orbs of Shieyu Atsumichi and with the suddenness of a wreck, the world would come to an end with a shattering explosion of reality.


Her lashes would flutter open revealing the soulless pits of her eyes. Emotionless, anyone observing would be unaware that mere moments ago she had allowed herself to be devoured by the famed figure of a Hengeyokai. The pain and fear of such an experience would linger, but here in reality?s embrace Satariel would allow none of that to be perceived. A slight push against the dark shadows that forever embraced her and she would glide across the dusty and decayed floor of the abandoned castle she resided in. She had no need of real world comforts, all sustenance and pleasure divined from her constructed realities. She fed upon her ?companions? as one would partake of food and drink. What need of furniture or household accoutrements when the shadows protected her living form in a desperate bid to serve and please. Depending upon which reality she chose to dally in, she could command any luxury.
From the conglomerate of darkness a single shadowy thread would unravel and trail up and before her. The evil essence of the Hengeyokai was departing to return to its owner. As this one had been a willing enough participant in Satariel?s ownership, the parting would be a painful one. She would miss the Asiatic world she had created for the sohei, but it was time for her to re-awaken and continue the mission of the Shaitan Covenant.
A nod of her regal head would be her only display, the whispered words carrying eerily through the wretched disrepair of the castle and out onto the night wind, Hail Shaitan.

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/78/210297580_ab750a87b1.jpg

((Mature Content I suppose, please be aware and read at your own risk))



A screen slid across the floor to open up the atrium of the pavilion.

?Emiko, see to these birds.?

His directions were met with the same smile that always appeared when he spoke to her. Obediently, she gathered the feed sack and slipped the harness over her slender shoulders. She was surprisingly strong for one so slight and the esteemed Master Togashi had lit upon her uses quickly.

Her sandaled feet carried her through the bamboo and fronds as she spread the birdseed. A song humming past her lips as she called to the spirits that oversaw the birds to please bless her with their own song, but none would come. The birds fled at her approach, silenced, flying high and out of reach despite the temptation of their favorite seed.

?Do you see?? Togashi asked the wise figure of Imura.

?Yes, the birds sense great unrest in that one?s spirit. But you worry too much Togashi, I sense no evil in that child. Her spirit is pure of any taint.? Imura appeased the Master Togashi with a dismissive laugh. ?Let it be, she has proven a worthy concubine for your son and their offspring shall strengthen your line in numbers if not in talent. As it should be. His marriage to Zanako shall produce the fine sons that will carry on your line.?

?Hai, your words are wise and I shall rest upon them.? Master Togashi inclined his head to the bowing woman and turned back to the young and hauntingly beautiful girl who carried about her task oblivious to their discussion. He did not notice the departure of the old woman as he became lost in contemplation.

Tears misted her eyes at the slight from the avian spirits. Emiko wanted only to be accepted and her nature was not one of strength. Their denial of her request hurt. With quick small steps she exited the atrium with an air of dejection, returning the feed bag to its proper place and turning to depart. The sight of Master Togashi still before her caused her eyes to widen in surprise and immediately she descended into a low kneel, her head dropping in respect. ?Master, I did not realize you were still here.?

Her bowed head received the stroke of his fingers and the strong digits grasped her by the nape of her neck and forced her head up to his with a tightening grip. He would study her upturned face for a moment, ?You are very beautiful, little Emiko.?

Her cheeks stained crimson at his words. Unable to lower her chin she instead dropped her eyes to study the rich brocade of his kimono.

His hand tightened cruelly, ?Do you have nothing to say then??

Her lashes spiked with unshed tears her eyes refusing to leave the hold of the ornately embroidered robe before her, studying the thread as if her life depended upon it, ?I..I know not what to say, Master, except that I hope that I have gifted the beauty that you admire onto your grandchildren.?

At the mention of her children his hand loosened from her neck. The young boy and girl that she spoke of were indeed beautiful and serene like their mother. But their innate quietness unnerved even the reserved nature of the Jenli. Ever watchful, the son would prowl before his sister?s crib with a fluid grace no child of three should rightfully possess. The daughter had uttered only one cry and that was at her birth.

His gaze lingered on her mouth as she spoke and the hand returned to stroke back her hair. The children forgotten as he watched her nervously wet them with her tongue. ?Do you appreciate what my family has done for you then??

His words brought back a flood of memories. Awakened, scared, alone and shivering from the cold she had followed the sound of singing in an attempt to find solace. But it had been the murmur of a waterfall that beckoned her. Weak and ill-prepared to survive in the wilderness, she had fallen to her knees and wept at sight of the Singing Lake, bereft of even a shred of memory. She had no idea where she was, who she was, or what had happened to her. She had turned her gaze heavenward and stared at the linked stars, Duty and Loyalty, entreating them for help, unaware of their history as her own remained a mystery. The spirits had answered her tears by delivering the Togashi family. Their travels of trading had brought them through the pass at the time of her need.

?Hai, Master Togashi, without the kindness and generosity of your family I would not be here today. Your son,? another blush would steal across her cheeks at the mention of her love, ?is a gift from the spirits.?

The play of emotions across her face was easy to follow as she possessed no guile. His lips moved at the sight of her commitment to his son. His next words would destroy her and he hesitated to deliver them, not a cruel man, but driven by his own purpose at the expense of others he viewed as simple fodder.

?Emiko,? his thumb rubbing across that dampness on her lips, ?Kaigen is to be wed to Zanako and blend our families together to strengthen them.?

Her stricken look did not stop him from finishing his words, in fact a strange thrill of pleasure would bloom at the wounded sound that escaped her, ?he has decided to keep you as his concubine, you will not be joined by name and tradition to our family.?

A sob would be sucked back through clenched teeth as she rocked with the pain of his words. ?But, but, our children...he said should I bear fruitful I ...?

?Emiko,? His words chided in tone, ?He made no promises and was forthright in his explanation of your circumstances. As I am being now,? his hand again curved around the nape of her neck, this time more gently, keeping that tragic face upturned so that he could observe the beauty of her crumbling. Her uniquely gold eyes were truly entrancing and swimming with tears they would be hard to look away from. ?I should forewarn you that should Zanako decide to demand he rid himself of his concubines, you will be ... moved to another holding.?

?But-but what of my children?? Her agonized query exploded on a wave of fear.

?Your children are Togashi?s. In accordance with your wishes they were given the protection of our name and honor.? His reminder icy, an annoyance really to have to explain these things to her, but the irritation melted away as he watched her breasts heave on a shuddering sob. ?Perhaps, Emiko, there is a way I can keep you close to them.?

Wide golden eyes drank him in, staring up at him as if he were hope personified, ?there is??

The look cinched the direction he was headed as lust speared him. Keeping the strong hand at the nape of her neck, the other reached for the tie of the kimono she had been admiring, ?Hai, Emiko, let me show you.?




The wedding was a sumptuous display of ritual and tradition. The joining of two families of trade?Togashi and Umeki?was a sign of good fortune and wealth. Emiko wept.



?Father I must insist.?

Master Togashi resisted the urge to unleash even a hint of the stark emotion that riddled him at his son?s demand. He had wanted a strong-willed heir to carry on their line and he had been rewarded that with Kaigen. But never before had they disagreed so greatly on a subject. The presence of the submissively beautiful Emiko had been an issue from the first day of the union between the families. Zanako had attempted to simply ignore the lovely concubine but her tears had brought notice from the celebrants. Said to have wept enough to sweep the rich holdings of both families into the river like a vengeful spirit, she had inadvertently placed a dark omen over their heads.

The months since had been dark ones as misfortunate accidents and events occurred with increased rapidity. Zanako had risen to the challenge and embraced the children of her husband?s concubine as her own. A chance discovery that they preferred the meat of animals to the traditional fruits, berries, and rice given to children their age had resulted in a surprising bond forming between them. They eagerly sought her out and the son displayed affection for her that he did not bestow even upon his own birth mother; the daughter, walking at a surprisingly early age, would toddle after her making soft mewling sounds. Emiko was rarely seen outside of the main estates of the Togashi land as a way to put to rest the dark whisperings of rumor.

But the cloud lingered and when Zanako discovered the burgeoning belly of the young concubine she firmly put her foot down. She would not be shamed by the birth of another of the Togashi line within the first year of their marriage, that right was hers to claim. Despite the protestations of all involved that the child Emiko bore was not that of her young husband?s but his father?s, Zanako demanded that Emiko be removed.

And therein lay the problem as Master Togashi found himself unable to part with his newest treasure. Her sweet nature and disposition pandered to his lusts. She was a true submissive and his predations had become increasingly cruel and unusual. The thought of losing her was unbearable. He had not truly sent her away, but only to stay within the main city. She had taken up residence near the White Lotus Pavilion and had sought work to support herself. The illusion of being cast away an attempt that fooled no one. Master Togashi?s increased visits were duly noted and the gossip continued. Some put forth the idea that Emiko was an enchantress meant to seduce the Master into producing another heir and that she had plans to end the life of her unrequited lover to punish him for spurning her and marrying another. Any who met the soft-spoken and demure woman immediately put those ideas to rest. But Zanako was wary and issued a wifely proclamation. Kaigen, aware of the importance of their alliance, then approached his father with his own demand.

It was this moment that Master Togashi replayed within his mind?s eye. Still unable to release Emiko, he sought another plan. He would move her to an apartment in RhyDin, a week?s travel away. Preparations were made.

The shadow had waited: twining sinuously through the air and the darkness outside the barrier of the Nine Towers. Some magical means had kept it from trespassing and it had grown steadily weaker without the power of the Mistress of the Shade to sustain it. Inside those lands rested its destination and with the feral intensity of its evil it would pulsate in growing resentment and dread.

The barrier that kept the people of Mount Yasuo safe from teleportation was unanticipated by Satariel. Admittedly had she conducted any research or experimentation she would have discovered that the wards in place might prove bothersome. But her attention was pulled to the many different expeditions of the Shaitan Covenant and she had unwittingly sent the essence of Shieyu Atsumichi to wither and decease.

The emergence of the palanquin that bore the sweet, unassuming Emiko to her new home in RhyDin would be fortuitous as the shade whispered along the barrier in growing fatigue.



The rocking motion of the palanquin had soothed Emiko into an early nap. The sandaled feet of her litter bearers an accompanying beat to entice her into mindlessness. Distressed at leaving her children and Kaigen behind, Emiko could quietly admit to herself in the privacy of her transportation that the thought of being secluded and alone with Master Togashi frightened her. His brand of love left untold marks on both her flesh and her soul. She knew what awaited her in RhyDin, or at least had an idea. And there, with no Jenli witnesses to see his proclivities, she was certain that his concern with concealing the rope burns and other evidence would be less apparent. Her dreams were unpleasant, her dark head tossing on the silken pillow.

The snaking form of shadow twisted along the path, slipping past the litter bearers, who were intent upon keeping the rhythm?for without it the palanquin would bounce and jostle the occupant which resulted in punishment. In his own rickshaw, Master Togashi was content to ride with his eyes closed and let his fantasies carry him through the week long journey ahead. Unnoticed the shade slipped beneath the curtains and into the palanquin, trailing up over the sleeping Emiko?s form and hovering above her face. An interminable black sludge concealed her features, smudging her out of existence as it waited for those lips to part and its home to be found.

It did not have to wait long, a sweet soft inhale from the innocent drawing the shadow inward, sweeping it through to her being where it infused her soul with its evil...finally ... returned home.






Shieyu Atsumichi?s golden orbs flared with an unholy heat. Her beautiful skin stained crimson with the blood of the fallen. The palanquin lay on its side, the rickshaw abandoned, bodies scattered in the various poses of the dead and the dying. The litter bearers had assuaged her feral need for an immediate kill, the armed escort had mistakenly allowed her to arm herself with its first felled man, and the man cowering before her, he would answer for the crimes that spun like hazy dreams across her consciousness.

?Emiko. Why?!? Master Togashi was unable to comprehend the slaughter around him, or his beautiful, innocent concubine?s transformation.

A low chuffing sound reverberated from the throat of the diminutive woman, ?My name is Shieyu, old man.?

Her body shifted, contorted, and blurred into another form. For him, no death by blade would she offer. His transgressions against her demanded that she consume him.

He was nothing more than meat to be hunted and devoured.


http://cloudedleopardproductions.com/clouded_leopard_productions002008.jpg

The wound had finally healed.

She hated dragons. Almost as much as she hated wolves.

This glen reeked of both. The only thing worse were the damn pixies.

Noisome little creatures who sought to play tricks on her, though if you could catch one, they tasted mighty fine.

The dawn skies were always interrupted by the awakening of the dragons in their caves. Thankfully they tended to move on by late afternoon.

The dusk skies were always interrupted by the howls of the wolves. Thankfully they only seemed to travel at intervals of the moon.

Both creatures traveled in packs. An issue that kept Zansanette from luring them to her waters.

But the roads, the roads to RhyDin were always full of travelers if she could but be patient for her windows of opportunity to emerge.

The caravan she had slaughtered had been out of frustrated rage at the dragon?s interference and the throbbing ache of her wounded leg.

But her newest find was her favorite. The young elf maiden had stopped by the waters of the glen to replenish her flask. She had been singing, a softly fluid sound that had entranced the mere creature. Her intent had been to slice open that delectable woman and feast, but as the lake water exploded around the elf at Zan?s explosive attack, her scream had rent the air...and it had sounded like music.




Now, within the grotto she looked to the still shivering maid, eyes flickering oddly in the reflective light of the phosphorous walls.

?Again.?

The haunting song of a frightened elf would echo throughout the caverns.

The air was cold.

That's what they said, anyway. It didn't bother him one way or another. It had been so long since he was confined to the imprisonment of mortal vulnerabilities that he had completely forgotten about such mundane tribulations, like temperature.

From his perch high atop the buildings that surround the marketplace he watched the chosen prey move along the slick cobblestone streets. She appeared unaware of his presence, which wasn't surprising. He had adapted to the urban environment fairly quickly, melding with the comings and goings of this realm with relative ease due mostly to the extravagant individuals who called Rhydin home. There had been other places where the sight of him was too uniquely horrific for him to hide amongst the everyday citizen, but not here. Here, among the hodgepodge of dragons, werewolves, and demons, the shadowy figure behind the mask was just another common occurrence waiting for someone to notice him. He liked that, blending in, faceless and unrecognizable thanks to the insipid appearance and mannerism.

She sat quaintly, swallowed in introspective regard. She was innocent, oh so innocent.

Fingers drummed across the leather-bound hilt of the long bladed dagger he held. Anxious. Excited.

The arrival of another brought him back to his perch. It was a man, his gesticulation showing to be of some relation to the young girl. Tentacles tasted the air tremulously, an inhuman sense that relayed detailed information in ways that others not like him could only imagine.
The man below embraced her, and led her away from the fountain toward the small blacksmith shop just off the main road. It was a minute building tucked into the joined corners of two other much larger edifices. The door was heavy and after they stepped through it, the sound of the bolt locking was audible. They had caged themselves for him.

Movement from a chrome peripheral caught his attention, bringing his head around to once more observe the fountain. He hadn't planned on pairing with his hunting partner on this one, though wasn't surprised to see Zansanette licking the water, using her own extraordinary gifts to decode the girl's origin.

With a leap he descended the three story fall, landing upon the snow with quiet impact. Had he still been human the landing would have broken his legs and possibly his back. But he wasn't human, he was something much different, and made of things much more accepting of such forceful collisions with the street. Rising, he prowled to meet the Fury.

They approached the building quietly. Moving to the door he pressed against it, feeling for the heat or tremors from inside. When nothing was there, he unleashed the tentacles to writhe along the wooden surface of the barrier, 'hearing' what was going on within.

They spoke commonly of family and friends at first, but then there was nothing but silence. They knew he was there; he could taste their fear.
Zansanette went for the door, and he could feel her anxiety. They shared a love for the tearing of flesh and the spilling of blood - the ending of life. It was a specialty, much like an artist or musician worked hard to perfect their craft, so too did they, though theirs was a pernicious portrait; a symphony of macabre.

He stayed her hand with a simple motion, tendrils still gliding the span of the door. From the nucleus of the tentacles he spoke to her guttural clicks that relayed information much like the spoken word. They had been partners for so long that she could now understand the language, and understood his suggestion.

With a lithe leap she took hold of the roof's lip and pulled herself up, moving to the chimney. The plan was simple, he would enter through the door, drawing their attention and she would descend through the chimney to take them from behind. The faint aroma of spoiled embers told him that the smithy had already doused the area after a hard day's work, and that the fire pits were no longer a threat of burning her as she touched down.

He gripped the dagger, knuckles whitening with the clutching grasp. How his instrument sought to sing its lethal song, and how soon it would. He stepped back, a series of clicks preparing Zansanette.

The atmospheric break of their internal conduit, the sudden rush and release of air pressure, could be tasted by the quivering tendrils. Someone had opened a door. Stepping forward with a snarl he unleashed a barrage of tenacious tentacles that were more than capable of tearing through the simple door, shredding the planks as though paper. He stepped in just in time to catch sight of Zansanette hitting the ground of the hearth and rolling out into a feral crouch, ready to attack.
It was the door in the back that let them out, the one that didn't appear as a door at all from the outside. Sterling wells watched as the pair, the man and the woman, crossed the street and made their way into the book store, Tea n' Tomes.

He wanted to pursue, wanted to follow them in and tear their guts out, the indulgence of the hunt consuming any slivers of humanity he had left with bestial determination. But he was spared from primordial instinct by residual intellect. There were some places within the city and within the land that were off limits for hunting, and the Teas n' Tomes was one of them. That place belonged to another member of the Shaitan Covenant.
Turning to Zansanette, who had madness swirling in her eyes, he spoke. "It's my fault." He said. There was no emotion in his words, he was simply stating fact.

"No." She replied, dropping down onto all fours. "I should have checked for another door."

Then there was silence. The animalistic nature they shared took hold, and within moments the regret of not obtaining the kill was gone.

Through a sewer grate she disappeared, heading back for the Glen, and he followed.