Something Ugly This Way Comes...

N/A · 05-14-2013, 11:21 AM

Monster, demon, a creature wrought from the deepest sins of hatred. A manifestation of evil intent and wretchedly cruel. She was an entity compromised of foul intentions with no glimmering chance of redemption. A wretch, a nightmare, a plague that infected the land with cynicism and utter cruelty. Not a single redeemable quality took root in her chest, not a single act of conscious and good will would be performed. A nightmare, pulled seemingly from hells gates, wrought in fire and misshapen. The dame would walk, the earth seeming to bend and tremble in an effort to fall out of her path.

Along beside her a soft moment a flicker of flesh and fur would make itself known and then vanish back among the grass. A scampering, a soft scramble and it was easy to match the massive dame, if she could even be given a gender, with ease. His mistress was a great many things but rarely did she display speed. twisting and twining beneath her pads, avoided getting squished or stepped on, he weaved between her legs, uninhibited and without care. Finally... he leapt, catching her forelimb and digging his claws into her flesh. Banshee didn't pause. He scrambled up the appendage with ease, coiling down, sinking into the scruff of her fur, his own hollowed eyes boring out into the landscape. The rat was unimpressed and Banshee's chest rumbled, vibrating with the noise and fell silent. Wraith nipped absently at her scruff.

Banshee's gait was slow and seemingly cumbered, this was a ruse of course, to make strangers think her deformations had crippled her. They were wrong, Banshee was a powerhouse of heavy muscle and wicked teeth, jagged and permanently stained a soft red from the amount of prey she had devoured... or merely killed. She had taken innocence, the life of pups, the life of expecting mothers. She had no morals, no soul was off limits. Her spine arched upwards and out, a deadly mockery of normalcy that crackled and snapped with every step she took. Her fur was a matted tangle of obsidian, missing entirely in some places revealing scale-like flesh beneath. Her eyes were hollow orbs of glassy white, burning in their intensity, no pupil could be seen, but the dame did not seem blind. She was grotesque and they tiny rat that clung to her like a vice, was in no better condition.

She would stop, pillars of obsidian dragging her massive frame to a halt. Her head would careen to the right, watching...waiting. Wraith squirmed a top her back, peering into the forest, watching, waiting, the foreign scent drew closer... he wondered if this little red would be foolish enough to stumble upon the wolf...

Speech,

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