The Art of Murder [Cifer]
03-10-2013, 12:48 AM
It was no surprise that the monstrosity was drawn to this field of plague and death. A demon in her own right, a beast of legend and of fear. Her deformed body cracked and crunched, bones grinding together in a horrific fashion and creating the most grotesque of noises. A strand of tattered intestine, hung from one of her canines swinging beneath her thick jaws as she stalked forward. Fur was matted, clumped with clotted blood, muck, and God only knew what else. Wraith hung from her maw, razors gnawing away at the swinging entrail as she walking. Coyote. Not a bad choice. The scent of iron and the coppery tang of blood filled the air, saturating her senses and her thick, heavy musculature rippled with power. The scent made her anxious, made her crave the fight, the kill. This place was the crowning jewel of destruction, hundreds had perished here, their corpses rotting into the earth and fueling the life for this wasted meadow. Her thick pads sunk into the cool spring water, staining it with brown, black and red as the muck floated from her legs. She trudged through the water, it rising midway up her thick bodice before she exited the other side. Wraith giggled incessantly, teeth grinding the organ to mush before swallowing it down whole. Suddenly... his mistress came to a halt. Her audits swung forward and her head rose, hollow, empty white oculars narrowing in on a piece of the forest. Wraith ceased his meal and scampered down her snout. Pink nose sniffing the air for what had captured his mistresses attention. "It seems... an old Glaciem friend has come for you Banshee." Wraith purred into his mistresses ear. Speech, |