Bloodseeking

[Shadowsong]

One could say that this stranger was beginning to try Krevster's patience. One could be more accurate and say that this stranger had begun trying his patience several minutes ago. This was very easy to accomplish with Krevster, but he was one of those men who welcomed this kind of irritation. Anger and hatred and revulsion were not feelings he struggled with, they were gifts he learned to embrace as a berserker, revelling in their moments of intensity like an ecstatic rage.

Gazing with an eye to the darkness, he decided to ask a question. He decided to ask the priest's name. But it was not the priest whom he asked...

A hiss bubbled forth to answer from the darkness.

Krevster's voice came out as a snarl beneath the ram-like helm. "Phaloth, she spoke to me of her need for an altar. Hence why I am out in a haunted forest at night speaking with a bizarre stranger who persists in annoying posturing." The two-handed grip on his sword relaxed, and the stance shifted the guard to a more comfortable position. The potential for provoking an attack had passed. Of course, this priest could be smart enough to wait for that moment before striking, but fundamentally Krevster was still the one heavily armed.

Seeing Gia shake her head at his encouragement actually paused him for a moment. He had a pragmatic need to keep an ally satisfied and willing to serve, but he also wanted a figure to accompany him on his rise to power, someone who could gain alongside him and need to remain attatched to him for further gain.

This made Krevster consider alternative options.

Pause broken, he snapped his head sharply towards Phaloth again, so as not to caught with his thoughts turned inwards.

"Do this, and the Goddess gains an altar, then worshippers, offerings prepared in the better fashion, and a Demonsworn." That last one was stated with gravity. Demonsworn were fearsome things, mortal engines of destruction to wreak havoc for the infernal will.

Although after seeing Gia's distress reminded Krevster that there were alternatives paths than a dying goddess.

[Phaloth Arnitel]

If Phaloth was surprised or even remotely fazed from Krevster's sudden knowing of his name, it did not register anywhere it could be plainly seen. Truth be told, divinations of that sort were not wholly unheard of within the Culto Sangreso---but they were a little more down to earth and a little more involved than plucking a name straight from the nonexist itself. Given a little time with either of these fools, the Bodycrafter could easily get names and figures. Unfortunately, the armored man and his furry companion would probably not give him the time of day to allow Phaloth to work the methodologies of his practice upon them. A pity, that. Phaloth always enjoyed the amusement that came along with that.

The slightest tic of his partly exposed jawline was the only measure of recognition given to Krevster's upstart statements, but little else in his voice gave way for even the slightest deviance from his innate and inborn lucidity. "It is you who are posturing, warrior." Phaloth wrapped his arms around the front of him and placed his rich, earth-toned hands on the flat ridges of the bone blades protruding out from underneath of his sleeves. One before the other, Phaloth slowly slid each hand down along the gore-stained blades; as he did so, the large mass of superhard bone shrank down into the recesses of his over-sized sleeves and into the skin of the forearm underneath. In some sick way, it was like a the bud of a flower shrinking after the last rays of the sun have struck it. When the blades were retracted far enough out of sight, Phaloth nestled his hands into the crook of those sleeves and made further effort to smooth out the distortion in his flesh that he created so that he could create those blades.

"You speak of the Goddess, yet you have done nothing to enumerate upon your ties. What you see here is a testament to my good faith, which has far superceded more than what word of mouth could ever hope to achieve." Phaloth lifted his head somewhat, a gesture almost hidden by loose and opaque nature of his raiment. "If you are the warrior I seek and if your ties are true, then I demand similar recompense."

[Gia Rilan]

Gia kept silent after she'd given Krev her answer about leaving. She was hoping, however, that they'd be done with the priest soon enough. She didn't like him, the fact that he murdered his own pack, or his smell. She rose from her seat on the edge of the clearing and paced around for a few minutes, then sat again. She didn't feel like she had to defend her master from this priest--he appeared more than capable of taking care of himself.

She lay down, head on her paws and ears alert, with a sigh. her bright eyes were watching the two men and she felt a strong dislike of the priest whenever he spoke. The wolf wanted revenge for his pack, dead on the ground around him. Gia wanted him to go, but she understood the part he was to play. She thought she did, anyway. He was to make an alter for this goddess that they kept talking about in reverent tones, a slight worship to their voices when they spoke her name.

But the wolf wanted the priest dead. She would wait, but when Krev had done with the bone-man, the killer, he was Gia's. She would wait as long as she needed, but she would kill him in the end. He would defend himself, of course, but Gia was growing more confident in her powers in just the few days she had become aquainted with Mavarion and Krevster. The wolf was nothing to be feared, they seemed to be saying, albeit indirectly, but the wolf is another source of power, and you are strong enough to take command of yourself.

She fixed one of her amber eyes on the priest. Oh yes, she thought quietly, human and wolf mind for once in harmony with each other, no matter what diseases he has, he is ours. When the master finishes with him... he is ours for the hunt and the kill.

[Shadowsong]

By now, Krevster had officially had enough. Everything the robed buffoon had said simply filled him with contempt. How the hell did this fool ever become a cult leader in the first place? Surely that required some ability to attract converts, lure them in with promises and offerings, convince them of the merits of his goddess. All this one had done was grate and bluster, had killed his own servants on what seemed like a whim, and generally showed himself to be a danger. Even worse and refused to build the altar which his very goddess had demanded in order to stroke his own ego in some mastabatory farce that Krevster had neither time nor inclination to tolerate. Phaloth was a liability.

What made his decision was Gia. The wolf utterly hated this stranger, a feeling the towering warrior could empathise with. More importantly, Krevster valued his allies. He found one ally in Morsereg and another in Gia. Being powerful needed allies, and such disregard for allies as this Phaloth had was folly.

The ram-like helmet masked his sneer, and the fact the helm covered his face was the only reason he never spat. "You can teach me nothing." Krevster declared. "I have no use for you. Whatever gift you begged for was wasted on you, better spent on a dungheap." Of course, there was a chance that the stranger would be offended, but that hardly mattered. He didn't need to live very long anyway.

"We can go." he said to Gia, honestly relieved by the prospect of getting rid of this irritant. Such a disappointment. "You have done well, saved time that would be wasted on this dead-end." Mentally he began gathering ideas for alternative mentors. Until one of them became viable, he could pursue the goals of the wolf, out of sheer boredom if nothing else.

Then he decided, that this priest was a simple loose end. Noticing the distaste which Gia bore for this stranger, he thought of a gift he could offer. Right foot stepped back, and Krevster began to turn away. Left foot stepped forward and across, so he had now turned 270 degrees to spin and cleave a chop towards Phaloth's leg. The cut was intended to maim rather than kill.

As much as he enjoyed killing, that was a pleasure to be shared.

[Gia Rilan]

Gia's tail wagged slightly at the compliment about saving wasted time. She was always happy to serve, even though the wolf was throughly disgusted at her manner right then. She started to her feet as Krevster finished speaking, ready to walk right out of there and leave the mad priest and his dead pack.

But then Krev attacked the man with his sword. Gia stopped, desperately wanting to partake in the killing of the priest, but ready to wait. Alphas always got the glory of a kill, it was the way of the world. She almost began a barking howl of encouragement, like wolves use to scare their prey and startle them into a panic which cheering on the killers, but then Krevster stopped.

Gia backed up a bit, confused. He was supposed to finish the job. He had maimed the priest, yes, but then he'd stopped, and seemed to mean that... Gia paused. If he meant that it was her kill, and it seemed that he did mean this, then the priest was hers for the hunt.

True, there wouldn't be much of a hunt. The man was wounded now by Krev's blade, and quite clearly could not go anywhere fast. She walked forward to her master's side, glancing between Krev and the priest more than a few times. It appeared that Krev was giving Gia this gift, and the wolf and the girl both appriciated it.

She stopped a few feet from the priest, scenting the blood from the cut that Krev had given him and letting that blood drive the wolf into a sense of power. The wolf could take the priest, easy. Her legs were shaking with the effort to keep from lunging at the priest. She didn't know why she held back. It wasn't to be for very long, but through the priest's glare, she thought that she could detect something more than blind hatred.

He smelled a bit like a deer just before she gave it the killing bite. Like fear. Not strongly, but under the rabid-bear hatred scent, there was a touch of the preyfear that she was so attuned to. She bared her fangs in a happy wolf smile, and then lunged at the priest.

Her leap carried her through the air and brought her smashing down onto the preist's chest. She felt something go snap under her paws, maybe a rib or three giving under the impact of a huge wolf crunching him into the ground, and then tried to stifle a yelp as his suddenly reappeared bone shard hands raked her shoulders. She felt like an idiot. She had expected him not to defend himself, but that was a stupid thought. Ignoring the slashes on her shoulders, she raised her head as though to howl with her fangs bared to the heavens, and then brought her muzzle down and buried it in the priest's throat, clicking her teeth together and feeling them meet past the windpipe.

He twitched for a few seconds, but, because she hated prolonged agony since then it got her thinking about what was right and what was wrong, she hadn't wanted to draw out his death. She unlocked her jaws from his neck and stepped back, tossing her head back and letting loose a long howl, full of triumph and power. She let it fade away, and then turned back to Krevster, lowering her muzzle in deference to her master. She was ashamed of letting the priest rake her shoulders with his bone hands, and she was ignoring the trickle of blood dying her brown fur a deep crimson. She wanted to know that she'd done good before seeing to her wounds, that Krev was happy.

[Shadowsong]

Very pleased.

Observing the wolf's handiwork brought a smile to his lips. The priest was wounded and no great foe at the best of times, the actual slaying was no feat of massive combat ability. Instead, it was a demonstration of many welcome traits. By savaging the useless berk she had demonstrated that she could fight, she could kill, and she could do so at his bidding. Even better, she could enjoy it. The howl showed pride in her accomplishment.

When in doubt, that meant he could always offer her more to accomplish.

In many ways, she was the perfect servant. Her deference was curious, and he had not made his mind up on that yet. It could be useful, in that it was a sign of loyalty, and that he could rule over her without resentment. Beyond that, he found it simply an intriguing characteristic.

Seeing her wounds frustrated him. Yes, being caught by the bone claws was understandable, but Krevster wished he had thought of stamping on Phaloth's arm while the wolf did her work. Now he would have to arrange for her wounds to be seen to. There was no resentment in that thought, honestly he saw it as another opportunity to gain more influence over his new pet.

Cleaning his sword on the body, he put it away on the sheath worn on his back. Then stooping, he looked at her wounds. "You need to heal your injuries." he announced, briefly touching her muzzle in a stroke. If she bit, well, he was wearing gauntlets so it wouldn't bother him. Then he began finding less bloodied clothing. Assuming she left her clothing behind, this would save them from needing to go find them again before having her wounds seen to. "We can go now. Decide if you need a healer." Because he honestly had no clue how well she could heal.

If she showed no signs of trouble from her injuries, he would of course begin looting the corpses.

[Gia Rilan]

Gia huffed a slight wolf sigh, deciding that it was nearly time to change back into her human form to explain that she didn't need a healer, she'd heal on her own thanks to the feral magic that she claimed to have loose control over. She still ingored the wounds on her shoulders and ran lightly over to where she had left her pack before they had come and met the priest. She'd left the pack nearer to the road than she would have normally, but the latched her teeth into it and dragged it into a stand of thick trees, shifted quickly and slipped on a shirt and pants. She picked up the pack and walked back to the clearing.

She dipped her head slightly to Krevster. "Master, I heal quickly enough on my own. These will have scarred over by moonrise." She smiled quickly and ran a hand over her face. The change from wolf to human usually took care of any unpleasent side effects, like blood covering her face like it did to the wolf muzzle and the bad breath that a fresh kill gave give her.

She stood, slightly unsure of what to do now. She was always amazed at what her wolf side could do--the priest was not so pretty now. She turned away from the mangled sight and waited for more instructions. The wolf was sated for the time being, and Gia was calm because of it. Full moon was coming soon, but the wolf had her kill and would be easy enough to control.

[Shadowsong]

In the absence of a twirlable moustache, Krevster had no idea how to take being addressed as master. It felt cliched, and frankly rather awkward. Perhaps he could get used to it, but he suspected better not to let such a thing go to his head. One thing he had come to understand on the subject of scheming cultists and power-mad overlords was that there was no shorter route to death than to say the words 'I am invincible!'.

Because that was just tempting fate.

Once again, a smile. His face was now uncovered by his helmet, which had the visor raised for comfort. With a nod, he showed approval. "Impressive, Gia. That is good to know" Then he looked back to the mangled corpse, now with more approval. "Excellent work."

Approaching the dead Phaloth, he gave the face a sudden kick, as a precautionary measure, then began divesting the corpse of valuables. Most of what he found were grisly ornaments, which, while amusing, were of little value for him to take and honestly less interesting than any he could make of his own efforts. What was interesting was the crown on his head.

Reaching to grab one of the points, he began moving it, which took the rest of Phaloth's body with it. Frustrated, he yanked harder, seeking to remove the crown with brute force. The corpse followed like an attatched rag doll. This prompted a closer examination, which discovered that the damn thing was fused to the priest's head as though joined to the flesh and bone.

Nothing a sharp dagger could not solve. Thrusting the point beneath the rim of the crown, he began sawing the item free of the skull. This was bloody, messy, morbid and gory, all of which became side benefits to Krevster Darkheart. Finally the crown came free. That would be a good find.

Before searching each body, he gave it a customary hard kick, zombie-conscious fellow that he was.

Other pieces of jewellery were worth something, and most of the cultists carried some bishani on them. Always welcome. Then there were the sacrificial knives, appearing overly angry and angular, studded with strange gems and such. While his own knowledge of these items were limited, the design reminded him of one eccentric old government official who he had to deal with on occasion in his time with the Guard. A strange woman with a spine-like cane.

"We have a small fortune from these trinkets. Think of any gifts you may want. We can return tonight, I know a buyer for some of these items." Then he stopped to consider. "We can demand many forms of currency beyond mere money. We should speak of your ambitions on the way back."

[Gia Rilan]

Gia, taking his words to heart, knelt down at the body of one of the cultists, closing her nose to the scent of the corpse or at least trying to. She eventually settled for breathing lightly through her mouth as she joined Krev in searching the bodies, hunting down a sahrp and functional knife of her own. She had no ideas for its use as a cult weapon of any type, but it might help in gathering meat from kills.

She stood after she finsihed searching a bit, finding a few bishani of her own and holding them to give to Krev later. She tried to keep her breathing light, the smell of her recent kill getiing to her nose. She wondered about the 'other types of currency' that Krevster was referring to... wolves had no currency of any kind, and the idea of monetary value was strange to the girl, even living for a time with traders.

And then there was the mention of her own ambitions again. What was it with these strange humans, thinking that she ahd any type of ambition beyond serving her master? She wanted nothing but to serve, and it seemd that few people understood that. Of course, the wolf certainly didn't. She was a dominant female, and couldn't get why her human side wanted to be subservient. Gia shook her head and banished the thoughts like that, and not for the first time that day either.

These crazy humans. They stirred up all kinds of thoughts in the young werewolf, thoughts that she'd never dream of by herself. Like, was it right to be looting the bodies? Krev started it, so it had to be okay... he wouldn't break the law. Gia had a very loose sense of law and order, but something about looting these... people... seemed strange. But Krevster was doing it, and his word was good enough for her.

Gia longed a bit for the simplistic wolf mind and then returned to the here and now, and scented lightly on the wind, trying to clear the stink of raw flash from her nose. She waited for Krev to finish his looting, and then looked at him, ready to get out of the clearing with the dead people.

[Angatdan]

Gristle and bone. Gristle and bone. It was all she could taste with her tendrils. Once a priest had rested within this clearing; now she could only find remains. They covered the grotto, some mutilated worse than others. She had visited some of these before, when she had first found this mortal through curiosity alone.

She had expected every heart stopped save one. This was more than just an offering to her, to prove loyalty. It also made it easy to find her priest.

Perhaps, mused parts of her, he misunderstood how many deaths I demanded.

It was an opportunity she would make use of. There were several discarded and worthless corpses surrounding the clearing, and here on the ground, where her longest tendrils glided, lay the body of the priest. She knew him more intimately than the others, and the magic which had once bulged from his core still seeped from his skin in wavelets. She lowered herself, down, down, down, drifting as invisible mist along the forest floor. Where her presence rolled death remained behind, sapping the energy and life from the surrounding vegetation and insect life. Beetles, worms and spiders shriveled or became crisp exoskeletons; the plants not only wilted but rotted away, turning to stalks and then ash within seconds.

She drew more. The earth itself shivered as she dove into its deepest layers, sucking hungrily at every particle and molecule for the energy she needed. A circle of nothing expanded around the body as she centered herself above. She tore and gashed every element nearby until she had a gathering of millions, shifting and wafting within her presence to fuel what she needed. Her greed salted the earth.

This would be a costly venture, and she needed the energy which the atoms could provide. Untapped and cataclysmic, this was the only fuel which she could feed upon to complete her task.

She hovered just outside of the body, running herself in rivulets across its length, feeling every grain and pore which had once embodied this priest.

One delicate tendril prodded one of the atoms she had collected, and with a wrench, she drew it apart.

The explosion of power was instantaneous and she absorbed it all, diverting it through herself into the corpse underneath her. The body convulsed and writhed underneath her presence, and as she funneled the atom's power into it, she followed with herself.

She repeated the process. Again. And again. She raced along the corpse's inner workings, modifying and splicing and reanimating and duplicating what she needed. It spasmed and cracked; the skin bubbled and roiled. Inner and outer organs shifted, shrank, disappeared or were remade. The noises were neither gentle nor quiet; this corpse was being recreated from the inside out, and it protested with the loud sound of bones grinding and clenching, the snap of muscles tightening and popping.

Waves upon waves of power flowed within and alongside her as she forced it to take the shape she desired. The shape of herself - though not as she'd once been. The shape that her true priest had seen, before he had vanished and she had been gifted with this other who served beyond his own death. Black eyes, scaled skin, a delicate tail sprouting above the buttocks, tawny membranous wings from the back. She would be a hybrid, for she was neither human nor dragon, and she did not want those who looked upon her to see the difference.

She gave herself clawed hands, and with a burst of atom's power made the nails obsidian. Unneeded bone fragments bloomed from the skullcap and drifted down, attached to twines of bloody sinew which followed. Ringlets of hair followed behind, and the skullcap was no longer bare, covered in a thatch of hair and the sinew she had bloomed from within.

The feet were given the same treatment as the hands, though she left the nails shorter than her claws. The teeth became hardened ivory, miniature tusks small enough to avoid distending the jaw but sharp and sturdy enough to rend flesh if needed.

The final step would require the most energy, and she had saved as many atoms as she could to fuel this change. She could not possess a human, even a corpse whose master had long since left. She would need to transform, modify and adapt the brain itself.

She plunged within, firing every synapses at once. The body convulsed in a final protest, limbs splaying out in a wide arch as she fed herself into the brain. The reworking was exhaustive and final; she sapped every atom from within the horde she had gathered, straining non-existent muscles as she destroyed and created the nuerons needed for this corpse to become her home. When she ran out of needed atoms, she spread her furthest tendrils farther, ripping them from the trees and grasses to fuel her rebirth.

She finished; the body was complete. Her presence sagged with exhaustion, quivering and sinking lower and lower until she was lying on the ground. She had overestimated how much energy and effort the endeavor would take, and still she had tapped every last molecule gathered. With a lurching motion spurred on by will alone, she gathered her memories and poured them, bit by bit, into the brain. She moved at a slow pace, tenderly reconstructing any crevices which leaked her essence into the earth rather than the body. It continued on and on, but she had accounted for the sheer volume of her memories during the creation of the body.

Again, she had underestimated her own mass. The body could not house her entirety; pieces would need to be left out to drift free around her person.

She decided for the moment that this was inconsequential. The memories would still freely waft in and out of the body, and she could taste their meaning with her own presence. She was done; her work complete.

Now, to reanimate the corpse.

Her core settled not in the brain, but in the heart. It shifted and huddled down into the new muscle, expanding the walls. She took stock of herself with a shiver; ever muscle and bone lay ready for life.

With a final delicate nudge, she exploded the last atom she had left for this sole purpose. The energy flooded the body as the spine arched at a sharp angle. The heart beat once in response to her efforts.

Rested.

Rested.

And then beat again.

The chest rose and fell with the natural rhythm of breath. Freshly created blood raced through veins and capillaries, fueling the mortality she'd granted herself. But along with life came exhaustion and the need for rest.

With a steady heartbeat, she gave one final sweep of the corpse she had created, inspecting every last nook and cranny for inconsistencies with her design. And now, finally satisfied with her work, the god settled back inside of the brain and slept.