Devils Back Bitches

It was as if the last two years had never happened. The white devil couldn't remember them, and it was like he had been dropped in some waste land. What in the hell was this place? It reeked of packs and wolves, pathetic animals- sheep lining up for slaughter. He had left his home, and fought through hell for Amaranth, and yet he couldn't scent her. She had to be dead, and even her ghost wouldn't waste her time in a wasteland like this. His prowled, his body always braced for attack along the banks of the rushing river. The blood roared in his ears, the ivory audits flattened against his skull. Gums curled up in a snarl, the slew of curses that left his maw with every paw-step would have caused Satan himself to blush with embarrassment. Creedance Voltaire was back, in the same dark capacity that he truly had first embarked on the land- not that he could remember it. In his mind, this is how everything had always been. He'd spent the last week going from shore to shore- anger surging through him as he realized that he was nearly trapped. Getting away from this hell-hole wasn't going to be easy, so while he was stuck here- he supposed he could wreak havoc. What else could the demon do?

Angry at his lack of memory- the blackness that over took his mind every time he tried to remember the last couple of years. Years that he knew were gone, though he couldn't place how or why- he would plant his seeds of revenge. Someone here had to have caused this, and he would find them and make them pay- even if he had to eat the souls of every fool to dare stand in his way. He would bring this world to its knees.