Topic: The Tending of the Flock

Marisse

Date: 2015-06-22 00:51 EST
Excerpt of "Bodies" by Drowning Pool

Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floooooor
Beaten why for (why for)
Can't take much more
Here we go!
Here we go!
Here we go!
One - Nothing wrong with me
Two - Nothing wrong with me
Three - Nothing wrong with me
Four - Nothing wrong with me

One - Something's got to give
Two - Something's got to give
Three - Something's got to give
Now

The little elven girl crashed into Marisse at full stride, then slid and fell on the wet cobblestone street. The girl sat there for a long moment, her breeches dirtied and wet from the impact. Marisse stood still. There was dull ache in her side where the elf had slammed into her body, but she refused to show any sign of pain.

She really didn?t expect to see a child this late at night on the dark streets of Dockside. Even though it was full a moon, the sky was full of clouds from a recent thunderstorm that had rolled in from the sea, causing the streets to become pitch black. As she sat on the damp street, the little elf pulled at her breeches in an attempt to straighten out her clothes. Suddenly, a female?s voice cried out in elvish from the distance. ?Ayla, Manke naa lle?? The little girl, obviously recognized the voice, most likely her mother?s, for Marisse recognized the look of panic on the little elf?s face. Marisse understood the language and knew the voice was calling out to inquire where the girl, obviously named Ayla, might be. Marisse took a couple of steps toward the girl and crouched down before her. ?Why were you running in such a hurry, little one?? Marisse asked in the common tongue.

?Because I felt like it,? Ayla said.

Marisse?s full lips curved upward in a smile. Good answer, she thought. Children were not usually allowed to be out so late. Their parents didn?t usually approve of such. This little elf had courage.

?Ayla!? The voice rang out again, the tone full of panic.

?She won?t like you being out this late.? Marisse said.

The little elf?s eyes welled up with tears suddenly and she reached for Marisse?s hand. A scream resounded behind them. ?Get away from my granddaughter, you wench!? Marisse turned just in time to see an elderly elven woman, swing a walking stick at her head. With an almost unnatural grace and swiftness, Marisse ducked the blow then quickly stood and pulled the wooden stick from the woman?s hand.

?You were really going to strike me with that?? Marisse asked the woman, though her tone was calm with no inclination of anger.

Marisse didn?t wait for an answer. The manicured fingernails of her free hand extended, forming deadly talon-like claws. With a speed the human eye could barely follow, she swung her arm gracefully outward, her razor sharp claws ripping open the tender flesh of the older elf's throat. A spray of blood and gore splattered across the brick wall that lined the street. The elf, her mouth gaping open like a hooked fish, dropped slowly to her knees. Her hands were grasping desperately at her throat, in attempt to stop the torrent of blood spraying from the viscous wounds in her neck. She tried to scream but the only sound she could manage to put forth was a gurgling, for blood had filled the woman?s throat. Marisse watched the lifeless body slump over onto the street as she lifted a talon-tipped finger to her lower lip. She ran a claw along the full curve, her tongue tracing the tip as she tasted Ayla?s grandmother?s blood.

A frightened sob from behind her, brought Marisse's attention back to the little elf still sitting on the wet cobblestone street. The girl was in shock. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks as she sat there frozen in place by terror. The girl?s eyes were opened wide as she stared at the lifeless body of her grandmother. After retracting her claws, Marisse let the walking stick drop to the cobblestones and she scooped up the little girl by the waist, holding the girl to her chest with one arm, her free hand resting atop Ayla's head gently. The girl was paralyzed with fear and could not put up any resistance.

Marisse stroked the elf's hair soothingly with her hand and whispered lightly into her ear. ?There . . . there, little one. Everything will be fine . . . you will see. We must go find Zandramaschal. You will be quite the little morsel to sate his hunger when he awakes."

Marisse cradled the young elf in her arms as she walked along the cobblestones, soon disappearing into the shadows of night.

Marisse

Date: 2015-06-28 01:20 EST
A few hours later . . .

Ayla could barely breathe. She was running as fast as she could through the dark forest as she followed the edge of a creek. Her breeches were torn and her legs were bleeding. Thorns had scratched her arms and legs. More than once she had been smacked in the face by a low hanging tree branch. She had somehow managed to keep her footing along the muddy bank. Tears were streaming down the young elven girl?s face. She could hear the creature somewhere close behind her, stalking her every move.

You had best run child. I am coming for you.

Ayla heard the voice of Marisse, the woman who had murdered her grandmother just a few hours ago, in her head. The young elf let out a scream, a desperate cry caused by pure terror. She quickened her pace, running desperately as fast as her small legs would carry her.

Brambles tore at her skin as she continued to run into the darkness. Her breathing was coming in short whimpers. She was growing tired and at this speed she knew Marisse would catch her in no time. She stopped, needing to catch her breath. Ayla balled her small fists at the sides of her body and screamed yet again, pleading.

?Please, let me go! I just want to go home!?

Meanwhile, somewhere nearby, beneath the forest ground . . .

Zandramaschal awoke to the sound of screaming. He lay beneath the cold earth, his muscles aching, listening to something he never thought he would hear again. He listened to the fearful cries. He listened to the prey. Moonlight, filtered through the canopy of the trees above, cascaded down upon the mound of soft earth that covered his body. Suddenly his blood red eyes snapped open.

Zandramaschal

Date: 2015-06-28 12:24 EST
Running With The Wolves
A song by Aurora

Go 'round the boat to safer grounds
But don't you know we're stronger now
My heart still beats and my skin still feels
My lungs still breathe, my mind still fears
But we're running out of time, time
For the echo's in my mind, cry

There's blood on your lies
Disguised up and wide
There is nowhere for you to hide
The haunting moon is shining

I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the (wolves)

Trick or treat, what would it be?
I walk alone, I'm everything
My ears can hear and my mouth can speak
My spirit talks, I know my soul believes

But we're running out of time, time
For the echo's in my mind, cry

There's blood on your lies
Disguised up and wide
There is nowhere for you to hide
The haunting moon is shining

I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves

The grove was quiet. The trees draped over it like a canopy, and the shadows carried a chill. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in small dappled specks. Birds chirped somewhere overhead, a chattering protest for being woken up, and occasionally something crashed through the underbrush. Zandramaschal listed to every sound as he crouched over the lifeless form lying on the forest floor before him. He was gradually starting to gain some semblance of his old self after being asleep for so many years.

His eyes felt dry and gritty but they had returned to their natural hue, a deep emerald green. Zandramaschal looked to the small elven girl lying on the ground. The small elf?s arms and legs were covered in scratches and her clothes were dirtied from the damp forest ground. Zandramaschal reached down with a blood covered hand and brushed the girl?s hair from her face. She looked as though she were simply asleep. The girl?s chest was still, void of breath, and along the curve of her neck there was a vicious wound. Zan traced a finger lightly over the deep punctures and the torn flesh, exposing muscle, at Ayla?s neck. She was so young, he thought. She had been robbed of the precious essence of life in his frenzy. Zandramaschal closed his eyes, perhaps with a bit of remorse, and whispered into the forest air. ?Sleep now child, you shall not be forgotten for the gift you have bestowed upon me this eve.?

?How sweet. The hunter asking his prey for forgiveness. So . . . what is the word . . . touching? Did your Sire teach you nothing childe? You should know better than to play with your food.?

The feminine tone from behind him was dripping with venom, cold and without any sense of mercy. Zandramaschal did not have to turn to recognize the one who approached behind him. Marisse dropped to a crouch behind him and draped her arms, her cold touch, around his neck. Zandramaschal muscles tensed slightly under that wintry embrace.

?Marisse, why did you have to choose someone so young?? He kept the tone of his voice purposely calm, void of emotion. The last thing Zan wanted to do was anger the primogen of his clan. Kiashara, the one who had given him the gift of "The Kiss" had taught him such.

Marisse laughed wickedly and leaned in to place a frigid kiss upon Zandramaschal?s bloodied cheek. She whispered against his skin. ?The blood of the youth is so much sweeter, is it not? I wanted to give you a treat, a succulent morsel to taste after being asleep for so long.? She chuckled again and rose gracefully, now standing behind him. ?I had forgotten you were such the sentimental one. Tsk . . . Tsk. You care too much for these mortals . . . and that childe will be your undoing, if you are not careful.? She placed a hand to Zandramaschal?s shoulder. Marisse?s tone was demanding. ?Come . . . we have work to do. Leave the little one for the wolves.?

With reluctance Zandramaschal surrendered to Marisse?s bidding and followed her from the secluded grove. She was a few yards in front of him, her step light and graceful. Marisse extended her arms as she walked and spun, turning in her balletic stride. She looked up to the heavens, through the canopy of the trees.

?Such a beautiful night. Don?t you think?? Her tone now taking on a bit of mirth.

Zandramaschal sighed, out of habit alone, as he watched her. With a solitary thought, a molecular shift triggered deep within his body, causing him to take on the form of a large black wolf instantaneously. He leapt forward, easily closing the distance to Marisse in one nimble bound. He moved to Marisse?s right side, matching her serendipitous pace as they strolled through the shadowy forest, toward the city.

Marisse

Date: 2015-07-09 19:36 EST
?London Bridge?
A Nursery Rhyme, Author unknown.

London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down
London Bridge is falling down
My fair lady

Build it up with iron bars
Iron bars, iron bars
Build it up with iron bars
My fair lady

Iron bars will bend and break
Bend and break, bend and break
Iron bars will bend and break
My fair lady

Build it up with god and silver
Gold and silver, gold and silver
Build it up with gold and silver
My fair lady

London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down
London Bridge is falling down
M-y-y f-a-i-r l-a-d-y

Wilhand Fiedlerson, was not a young man by any means. He was well past fifty. The features of his face were that of many of the common folk of Rhy?Din, plain and not very unique. He had sky blue eyes and chestnut colored hair with a touch of grey at each temple. He was a renowned tailor, known for his attention to detail. He crafted magnificent dresses for the upper class down to the simplest cloth breeches for the common man. Wilhand had lived a simple and modest life. He had married his teenage sweetheart and they had raised two loving sons. He had a bought a small two story building on the south side of Marketplace with an inheritance he received at his father?s death. The ground floor of the building was opened to the public and a simple sign hung on the door, which read ?The Sunny Shawl.? Wilhand and his family kept their private quarters on the second floor. Wilhand was a proud father and his two sons worked by his side daily. His oldest son, Davian, was his apprentice and his skills with a needle and thread almost rivaled that of his father?s. Wilhand, or Will to his friends, was well-liked by the citizens of the city and always greeted each of his patrons with a warm and welcoming smile. None of that mattered now for Wilhand and his family were dead, viciously murdered all because a silken black dress in his shop?s display window had caught the eye of lunatic, his fine craftsmanship admired by a merciless killer.

?London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, hmmm hmmm hmmm-hmm.?

Marisse sang in a whispered tone as she sat straddled upon Wilhand?s disemboweled bloody corpse, looking into the dead man?s eyes, well eye rather. Her petite lithe torso rocked slowly back and forth while her singing turned into a melodic hum. She was humming a nursery rhyme that her mother use to sing to her back in the South Harrow District of London to help her fall asleep. Marisse?s face and arms were covered in splattered blood. Bits of flesh and gore were tangled in her chocolate colored hair. One of Wilhand?s sky blue eyes, was held up a couple of inches in front of Marisse?s face, pierced on the tip of the claw extending from her right index finger. She was peering into lifeless orb, the bloody optic nerve still dangling. Her mouth was forced into a wide unnatural grin, so that she could see own her teeth in the reflection of Wilhand?s eye. Marisse stopped rocking and her peaceful humming ceased as she slowly looked to Zandramaschal who stood a few feet away from her, his arms crossed lightly over his chest.

?I can?t tell childe . . . do I have any skin stuck in my teeth??

Zandramaschal

Date: 2015-07-09 21:58 EST
"From his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the Devil is gone,
To visit his snug little farm the earth,
And see how his stock goes on."
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, The Devil's Thoughts

Zan was disgusted by the senseless killing but he dared not let his tone falter, betraying his horror. Marisse gave him an appreciative smile and simply flicked the eyeball across the room toward the hearth. The soft crepitation within the hearth was drowned out momentarily by a sizzle and then a crackling pop. Pleased with Zan?s words, Marisse rose gracefully to her feed and the melodic humming recommenced. She was walking slowly as she admired the fineries ?The Sunny Shawl? had to offer. He watched her stop to try on a wide brimmed hat, adorned with frills and lace. Unpleased with the fit she tossed the finely made hat to the floor. Her meandering finally stopped near the front window so that she could inspect the extravagant black dress, displayed there. Zandramaschal?s arms were still crossed as he looked out over the grotesque scene surrounding Marisse. Splattered blood and torn body parts were strewn all over the shop?s wooden floor. The killings had been senseless and the crazy bitch had not even fed from her victims. Zandramaschal did not partake in the massacre, but he didn?t try to stop Marisse either. If he had, he would now be amongst the corpses, there was not a single doubt of that fact in his mind.

Zan continued to watch the kindred as she immodestly removed her clothes, disrobing down to the nude right in the middle of the shop. She proceeded to try on the finely crafted silk dress, obviously not bothered by her blood and gore covered body. Gracefully, she pulled the delicate straps over her slim shoulders, one by one. Marisse held up the hair at the back of her neck with one hand before turning to look over her shoulder back towards Zandramaschal. Marisse batted her long lashes at him and a sultry pout formed on her full blood covered lips.

?Come childe. Zip me up. I don?t want to break a nail.?

Zan didn?t hesitate, he moved to help Marisse with her dress, his fingers nimbly closing the zipper that ran along the spine of the dress. He took a slow step backwards away from her.

?Isn?t this dress simply to die for? It is magnificent! I will have to wear this when you drag ol' Welvi-poo to my feet.? Marisse said as she spun into a slow pirouette her arms extended at her sides. The hem of the black silken dress lifted slightly from her thighs from the momentum of the spin.

Zandramaschal sighed out of habit alone.

?Marisse. I really don?t think that is necessary. Welverin has always been quite reasonable. I can simply find him and tell him that you are requesting his . . .?

His words were abruptly ended by the sheer power of Marisse?s backhand to his cheek. He didn?t even realize her hand had moved to strike him, it was that quick. His muscular form was launched backwards through the air. Wooded shards exploded into the air as his fall was broken by a counter across the shop. Blood was now dripping from his nose and his mouth as Zandramaschal laid upon the floor dazed atop the ruined counter.

Marisse was across the room in an instant, faster than the human eye could even follow. She reached down and snatched a fistful of Zandramaschal?s hair and lifted his bloody face slightly off the floor. Marisse crouched down and put her face within inches of Zan?s. Her eyes were glowing an eriee crimson and her lips were curled exposing her bared fangs.

?The next time you question my one of my orders I will stake your bloody arse myself! Do you understand me, childe?? She was screaming. She stood quickly, releasing his hair after shoving his face to the floor. Zandramaschal?s face bounced off the floor boards and he just laid there, very still.

She was now pacing back in forth quickly and cursing under breath. Marisse?s cold tone was calmer but the decibel of her voice lessened to a normal tone as her anger started to subside.

?You will bring me Welverin. Dead or Alive. I care not which.?

She paused and tapped the toe of one of her high heeled boots agitatedly as she watched Zandramaschal, as he laid upon the floor.

?You will find that straying pup. I don't care what it takes or who you have to go through to get it bloody done. Do you understand me childe??

Zandramaschal pulled himself weakly off the floor, his legs wobbled slightly as he found his feet. He lifted his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth as his eyes narrowed on Marisse. It took every fragment of his will to keep from losing himself completely to an all-out angered inspired frenzy. He pictured tearing the bitch from limb to limb in his thoughts but for now he simply nodded.

?Yes, Marisse.?

Marisse was already wandering back around the shop, looking for the perfect pair of gloves to match her dress.

"Perfect. I am glad that is settled."