Wrong Turn (cross-posted)

[Craven Delights]

"Come on Mary, no one's around we'll be fine." Viktor urged her on as they walked through rows of headstones towards their hiding spot. Rose colored cheeks puff out as the youth does his best to pout where the look only brings to light his daily battle with growing facial hair. End result being the illusion of leprosy.

"I dunno Vik, didn't the one caretaker go missing a few weeks ago?" Emerald eyes glinted in the moonlight as they moved further away from the main path towards the mausoleums. Her alto voice gently quavers despite trying to sound strong so he doesn't pick on her for being scared.

"That guy was a drunk, probably fell into one of the fresh graves. We've been up here twice all ready. Nothing's gonn-," Viktor's head snapped to the left at the sound of a stick breaking. His entire body went supremely still to see if it was just some animal or one of the caretakers staying late. "-a happen."

"The last few times it was broad daylight Viktor" Heedless of his sudden stilling she continued to suppress a sinking feeling in her stomach.

At the moment Vik had something else to consider. She just used his name, not the nick. This meant he'd gotten himself in trouble. "Come on baby, we know where we're going. We have our phones on us. This'll be fun. Besides....I've got a surprise for you..." Taking her hand and offering a squeeze of reassurance he moved to push the rosebushes apart so she could get through unmolested.

Mary began to offer more protest but she had to smile at what he just did. The guy was being nice and said he planned something. True she knew guys only did that when they wanted in her panties, but she and Viktor have been dating for a year now and they just started fooling around a little over a month ago. Maybe he wasn't like the others, just maybe. "Aww, what is it?"

Offering a secretive smile, he just shakes his head and ushers her forward. Wincing as one of the thorns pricks his finger; Viktor sucks on the wounded spot. With one last look around he ducks through the bushes after her.

Soft illumination greets them on the other side as dozens of domed candles flicker in their holders around a soft circle of lilac petals. In the middle was spread a heavy comforter with a red and black pattern Mary wasn't sure of the design. Lots of sharp angles, and small caricatures she couldn’t place. Odd, but the whole sight made her stomach flutter. Blushing, she turned to Viktor with a coy smile. "Does this mean you want to....." The end insinuated as her delicate hands fell to clasp in front of the button of her jean shorts.

Carefully removing his light jacket, Viktor let it fall to the ground while nodding in confirmation with her insinuation. Arms start to encircle her waist as he nuzzles slowly against her neck. "I think we've been patient enough, don't you?" A smile winds its way to his lips noting her subtle shiver at the sensation of his teeth brushing across her skin just below the curve of the jaw.

"I do...but I wanted to make sure it wasn't all you were after..." Her carefully manicured hands slid up under his shirt to feel his skin. "You're kind of cold Viktor....do you need your jacket back on?"

"Oh no, Mary. I'll be warmed up soon enough." Holding her closer to listen to every soft sound she made, Viktor swirled his tongue over the larger vein in her neck before gently nibbling, feeling the pulse race under his tongue.

"Gawds...you're so bad you know that?" Giggling before sighting heavily she let her nails play along his skin, shivering harder at the biting and the sensation of his tongue on her neck.

"You have no idea Mary...." lips kiss her throat fondly before pulling away.

She felt him pull back and opened her eyes to watch what he was up to only to be confounded by seeing just air in front of her. "Viktor?" Eyes dart around to figure out where he disappeared to. "This isn't funny Viktor, not at all."

Lines of worry crease into her features trying to work through what just happened. The soft rustle of leaves to the left sets her pulse pounding thinking that’s where he darted to. "I'm so gonna kick your *** when I find you..." Barreling head first through the bushes, she didn't even notice the spot of red on the glass globe at her feet.

[Craven Delights]

“Viktor f you don’t stop this I’m going home!” The way her voice carried in the quiet cemetery didn’t help melt the ice within Mary’s fluttering stomach. She scratched nervously at the small scrapes on her arms from passing through those damnable rose bushes. She’d have to blame them on the neighbors’ cat…again.

As the silence spanned after her ultimatum the idea that perhaps Viktor had done this on purpose and just gone home to mess with her became confirmed. Why he’d do it she didn’t know. Boys were only half-intelligent at the best of times anyway.

“Oooh! I’m so mad right now, there’s no words,” A petulant stamp of her foot for emphasis before looking around at where she’d wound up. “now to figure out where the hell I am.”

Muttering more as either a means to ease her fears or vent frustrations at Viktor’s childishness she looked up trying to find bearings. “Dad always said Arabrab will be to your aft….I’m not at sea though…that’s useless. Thanks for nothing…” Taking a chance she started heading to her right. “Find a wall, find a gate.” Arms brought around her to stave off the chill of night air careful steps turn into a determined lope.

“Find a wall, find a gate.” The words repeated so many times it was literally a mantra at this point as she stepped over a low stone wall to cut behind a length of mausoleums in the older section of the cemetery.

“…m…mary….”

Nearly leaping from her skin, Mary swivels her head around at the sudden ghostly utterance of her name. Eyes wide to the point of showing each shaken vein, they sought the source of the voice. “Viktor….if you’re trying to scare me, its working.” Prick. She added mentally as an after thought.

“Real peace of work Viktor…” With the shock wearing off she went back to fuming. No longer loping, Mary was full into her anger now. The air around her thick with a pissed-mist that was palpable should any cross her path.

“…m…m…mary…”

“I’m not falling for it Viktor! You can take the bad acting and stick it.” Huffing she walked a touch faster, thinking she heard steps from behind. “You’re real scary..jerkface.”

Rounding a corner Mary stopped to look at one of the crypts when a strange crunching sound came from within. Aging wood splintered where something had burst outward. Debris from the remains of the door lay scattered across the entry steps. The instinct to run vibrated heavily in the back of her head, yet something told her she needed to put her fears at the sound to rest. Swallowing hard she moved up the stairs and disappears inside.

Flat gray slate fell from the entrance to slither into polished granite steps beyond. Faint light from the cloudless night outside the shattered portal to the cemetery barely reached the inside of the crypt. Eyes squinting, Mary couldn’t see anything through the wall of shadows at the landing. “Viktor?” She asked of the darkness secretly hoping he was getting bored of this game.

“Viktor?” a faint echo of her voice carried back to her off the stony innards below though the soft crunching sounds had stopped.

Hesitant of what she might have disturbed, Mary kept her left hand to the walls. Letting the cold stone ground her from flights of phantasm. Rhy’din held many flavors of life and un-life but she’d never heard of anything inhabiting the cemetery that wasn’t moderately sentient. Mary gingerly tested each step with the toes of her Duerrgo&Goblina flats before committing weight to the next level.

Her movements came to a halt at the edge of the shadows trying to look further down. Mary thought she caught a faint glint of something further beyond…but much farther and anyone still in the cemetery might not here me scream she thought to herself.

“…Mary….”

Jumping hard enough to crack her head on the stair encasing, she grimaced as Viktor’s voice resonated from the top of the stairs. Holding her hurt cranium, Mary spun around with barbed daggers of death gleaming in her eyes. Standing at the top of the stairs was Viktor, unwisely grinning like an idiot at making her jump and hit her head.

“You ***! Scaring the Hecate out of me like that!” Flats stomping she rushed up the stairs to slap the imbalanced hormones out of him.

Falling back under the barrage of swats and slaps, Viktor held his hands up in surrender. “I give, I give, I give! Just stop hitting me!” Hands rub at his arm where the majority of her hits landed. Certain he’d have a bruise the size of a rookie duelist’s ego in the morning.

“You’re taking me home, right now, Viktor. That wasn’t funny and I don’t appreciate being scared like that!” a petite fist from the heavens set his head spinning and stars dancing across his vision as she threw in a final strike.

Moment taken to make sure she hadn’t dislocated his jaw, Viktor slumped his shoulders in defeat. “All right, I know…it was stupid. You can make me eat leather once we’re out of here. Saw some tracks I don’t like….” Vacating her pissed-mist bubble he let her lead the way back onto the main path.

Arms folding over her stomach, Mary didn’t even look at him as she stepped past and kept her chin up high. “I was going to use my tongue piercing too….” Fuming she glared at him more and took satisfaction at his devastated look.

As they departed a desiccated hand curls over the broken hinges of the crypt door, eyes of red watching their retreating forms. The soft crunch of bones being chewed nothing more than a faint whisper in the now vacated resting place.

(to be continued)

[Craven Delights]

Catacombs beneath Rhy’din

Depthless eyes look around in seething fury at a room filled with shattered stone, silver, and steel. From each defiled effigy to the next, the lone figure moved with only the fae jingling sound of silver spurs for comfort. His fractured mind slowly pieced together what brought this disaster to his doorstep. From the corner of his eye comes a slithering movement too sluggish to be what he’d kept in this vault.

Viper strides bring him rounding on the source of motion, finding a remnant of what had once been a daring creation. Eyes of pure malice gleam up at the Singer of Songs from sockets the shade of dried papyrus. Spine severed, its hands of bone barely pull it along the floor trying to flee.

Calm, and deliberate, he reaches down to jerk the abomination up by the back its head. Thin-lipped but still seething he watches its jaws snap feebly against the restraining force of his hand. “You will explain everything…..” With strength far beyond his lean build, Cain parts the red see of his palm and lets the waters of un-life flow across the revenants’ lips, pushing the anger and hunger back.

As the revenant thrashes against his hold to succor, Cain’s eyes land on a faint wet spot towards the middle of his secret vault and narrow. Focusing on the spot his sense of smell pushes through violence and blood to pick up something subtler. “She was here…..”

Turning back to his creation Cain rips into its rejuvenated neck. Teeth rend and pull, forcing weak powers of healing to fail as blood and broken memories flood into his mind. Flashes of light allow glimpses of the wretch’s life leading up to the box, the chains….then the unending hunger and consuming madness. Further the Singer of Songs pushes beyond the box to the sudden display of light amid a sea of red hunger. Broken though the memories were, enough images displayed what he needed to know.

Snarling in disgust he threw the revenant into the wall with a sickening wet slap. Hands lift to wipe the blood from his mouth as spurred boots retreat the way they’d come. He had some hunting of his own to do. Not once did he stop to consider what may come from letting these things run un-tethered. Nor did the self-made Master stop to consider there were fifty in all.

(to be continued)

[Craven Delights]

Two Nights Before

“Why does the master slumber?” Each word uttered in hushed tones as Mesha looked from Cain’s serene visage to the stern gaze of her older sister Myra. Delicate fingers gently brush over his hand where it lay suspended off the end of his bed. Things had not been the same since he cast Mayverdia out. Forcing her to choose had come at considerable cost.

“He’ll wake when the time is right. You know this.” Thin lips press a hard line as the red of her pupils consider the same question. He sleeps, wakes, finds new flowers for this sanguine garden, and then he sleeps all over again. Such habitual drive made her wonder if he still sought his own creator, or if all of this merely manifested from wanting to move on to the next realm.

“A little help you two?”

Sultry ripples of living sound cause the two to turn their heads and spy Mara, their third, hauling something over her shoulder. From the fetid smell of seawater and gut rot, she’d been down to the docks again. Spying a bit of green skin under the black cloth hosting the figure Mesha wrinkles her nose. “Not orc again…couldn’t you have caught an elf? At least then there’s a touch of fae wine in the bouquet.”

“As it seems I’m the only one that goes fishing, you’re stuck with what I catch. Can’t leave bodies up there to rot and be found. Given the nature of this place, every disappearance is blamed on that force called The Nexus.” With a slight grunt not really from the weight but more the awkward angle she was forced to carry the brute at, Mara moved him over towards the stone table that’d been in this section of the ‘Combs’ when they moved in.

“Since when are you one to mention beggars and choosers?” Purely teasing, Myra moved to help her sister settle the evening meal on the table.

“Since we’ve had to cut back. Less fluff from New Haven and more hardier spread from Dockside and West End. Have to watch our girlish figures after all. Simply would not do to have the Master wake and we’re all a bunch of homely bodies.” Blowing an errant strand of red hair from her face, Mara lifted the leather straps and started securing the live menu in place.

“Why not Seaside…at least they bathe over there…” Still wrinkling her nose Mesha pulls out one of the drawers of the buffet table and searches for the fillet knife.

Eyes of the brightest green shift and darken where Mara looks upon her incorporeal sister, ready to shred ectoplasm from living tissue. Though only a half-step is taken when she found Myra’s hand on her arm. “That’s enough you two. We can put up a schedule of who does the shopping on what days. Could be fun. I like Italian, Mesha prefers more exotic blends, and fair Mara here is more of a meat and potatoes girl. Besides, the city proper has more than enough fare for us all.”

“What I really want to know is why we’re not allowed to leave things at the old opera house anymore? Renovations are finished, and then Master Romulus tells us we can’t go there….” Licking a bit of dried blood from her thumb like its chocolate frosting, Mara moved to the hutch, giving Mesha the stink eye in passing, to get plates and goblets. “It’s a nice night…I say we break out the crystal.”

“But you say that every night Mar” eyes now rolling, Mesha set the filleting knife down to let Myra do the hard part before ducking a flung serving tray al a Mara. Hisses and snarling filled the room as vampire and banshee clash. Heels and flats pinwheel on the stone flooring as each woman wrestles for the superiority.

“I’ll rip out your hair!” Mesha snarls somewhere in the mix.

“At least I still have hair you floating herpes nest!” Growling like a caged animal, Mara raked at her siblings face.

“If I’m a herpes nest, you’re a herpes breathing dragon!” Head freed from the oppression of Mara’s claws, she drew in a deep breath, fully prepared to catch her sister full frontal with a sonic scream.

“Enough you two!” Brandishing the fillet knife like a hot poker Myra ushered her sisters out with a single look and following it up by making sure they went in opposite directions.

“I swear, they’re like a pair of teenagers. Mesha turns thirty next month for crying out loud.” Eyes move from the fillet knife in her hand to the large figure on the table. “Better get the cleaver…this one’s big boned.” So engrossed in her thoughts on what to do with her turbulently tempered sisters, Myra didn’t hear a faint scratching from the other side of the kitchen wall.

Fillet replaced, she got out the cleaver and checked the blade before standing near the table. “Hrmm…should put on tourniquets to control the blood loss….” In the midst of pondering the best way to proceed, hands like iron jerked her back through an opening in the wall.

"You are den mother whether you wish it or not," lilting mirth ripples from her lips as Maerlyna pulled Myra into a rib cracking hug.

Surprise, soon gave way to a teasing pinch as Myra shook her head at the antics of their youngest sister. "Someone has to, don't you think?"

"True, since Cain took his rest there’s been a lack of control in all of us. You think there’s a trade off then?” with the lightest brush of cupid’s bow lips, Maerlyna let her arms fall from Myra reluctantly. Lightly smoothing down the sides of her corseted top, she looked to the ajar door to their master’s chambers.

Unable to take the evident longing look cast to Cain’s door, Myra put her hand on her sister’s shoulder with a soft squeeze. “He’ll wake when it’s time. Why not go lay with him and offer a gift of lullaby through the veil of death.”

“Yep, you’re Den Mother Myra.” Giggling gently, Maerlyna hugged her sister again before slipping off towards Cain’s chambers to do just as suggested.

“I truly hope he awakens soon, “ as fun as the girls are, some things just call for a man’s touch. Myra finished in her head before looking about the kitchen. “Mushrooms…need to get mushrooms.” Really should have remembered to get those earlier. Grumbling she took a bucket from near the refuse dump and set it below the head of their tanked orc. Cleaver in hand, one swing set their dinner broth flowing before she turned and took up her peacoat. “Heading to the Market, be back later!” She called to let her voice echo through their corner of the ‘Combs’.

Like a specter she drifted through the dark corridors to stop below a grate somewhere close to Plaza De Troyes. Eyes scan around briefly before her corporeal body fell away to a light fog of the faintest green. Spiraling up through the pry holes in the sealed man-hole her consciousness filled the fog and looked down upon it all at once. Drifting quietly her essence slipped free of the underground and traversed the pavement to slip into the mouth of a narrow mouthed alley.

Willing herself to condense and solidify, Myra reformed just inside the entrance with only a minor problem. Looking down she found her coat on backwards. “I swear…there’s always something.” Worming her way from the coat, she righted the error when a peculiar scent came to her nostrils. Undead to be sure, but something was odd. Sniffing, Myra craned her neck to peer towards the back of the alley when a faint growl came from above. She wasn’t given the chance to look when impossibly strong hands jerked her from her feet, blood slashing across the bricks as her scream is cut off.

((the attack of Myra is open to be played off of.))

[Craven Delights]

West End, two blocks from The Watchtower

“Sweet leapin Beelzebub the night’s slow…” Crash counted through the handful of coins he filched from a lost gnome as he leaned back against a stack of empty moving crates behind a tenement.

“If you want to waste energy in this heat there’s a Watch Dog down on the corner, go piss on his leg and see how long it takes him to react.” Snickering at the image of Crash urinating on a member of the Watch, the veteran Mako scratched at the scar splitting his cheek.

“I dunno…the way they to’k credit fer killin tha’ thing in the Marke’place? I think there might be hope for’em yet.” Grinning he started flipping one of the smaller crowns from the tip of his thumb and catching it in mid-air. “Just head to the deli. Now that another Helston’s in charge o’ things we best be personal no-grafiti., eh Shakes?”

“That’s personA NON-graTA you illiterate.” With a groan Shakes covered his eyes and looked away from his associate. “Do as you want. I’m headin to Ame Corrumpe Manor. See if my girl’s free.”

“The owner of that place scares the Howe out of me.” Suppressing a shudder, Crash flipped his coin one last time watching Shakes head off. Turning his heels in the opposite direction his hand opened instinctively to catch the tossed coin. When no weight touched down in his palm, beady eyes squint and quickly count through the remaining coins to check that he didn’t trick himself.

“Nope…I to-“ Bone-like claws shove through his blackened teeth, scratching the back of his throat as Crash is lifted from the earth into the waiting darkness above. His boots disappearing over the lip of the roof seconds after a gurgled cry of terror.

(the attack of Crsh is open to play off of)

[Craven Delights]

Rhydin Aquifer, Pumphouse House 54

“Find the blockage Harry?” Fingers curled into a death grip on the release valve to keep the drain fan stopped, his slate-gray eyes looked to the pool below while speaking to his counter-part through a waterproof headset. Reginald Smythe tried his best to see where Harry’d moved to in The Pit since this was the most dangerous of their duties. Alarm goes off, one of them suits up, thankfully Reginald managed to win the round of Roshambo, and go swimming in the sludge water that came in to be filtered.

“…something….scratch…”

Leaning over the rail as best he could and still keep the lever stopped, Reginald swept his eyes along the path of the safety cord. The second he let go of the lever, that cord would start to wind up like a tape measure. “You broke up Harry. Repeat. You broke up repeat what you said.” Bronzed lips tuck down in a heavy frown.

“My face-plate got twisted around Reggi. But I’ll need to come back up, something down here scratched across my chest, opened up a bit of the suit. Probably just a piece of scrap that slipped through, we’ve had it bef-“ Actions opposing his words, the safety cord started unraveling like a fish running away with the reel.

“What the hell are you doin Harry, any deeper and you’ll be in the rotor house. A sinking feeling set his hand inching towards the catch to shut down the cord as it got dangerously close to the last few feet of length.

“…aaaaAAAAAGH!”

Hands rip the headset from his ears as the inhuman scream etched its horror into his mind. Without a hand to hold, the lever to the drain fan jerked upright and set the counter weights retracting the safety cord. Breath coming in worried heaves Reginald slapped the shut-down alarm to stop the fan then jumped to the manual crank, as the cord couldn’t move fast enough to his sense of things.

Muscle strains as he fights whatever kept pulling on the cord when the crank jerks to a stop throwing him off balance. Staggered from the sudden reversal of momentum, Reginald slipped over the railing. His last sight before plunging into the murky waters being the sign stating the railing had been approved for employees of all heights. Water thrashes before all is still.

“Regg?…Harry? We just got the alarm alert, what’s going on down there?” Silence greets the voice coming over the P.A. “Pumphouse 54 where are you?” The weight system starts back up and extracts a bloodied safety harness.

(this is open to be played off of))

[Craven Delights]

The second Myra died

“Welcome to a city that'll bring you to your knees,” he softly murmured as eyes shot open feeling one of his flowers ripped from the soil of his garden. “I see the children in the rain like the parade before the pain.” No movement made to grab his vest as the Singer of Songs levitates up from the mattress and glides to his feet. “Chase the star I’mma turn you into a maniac.”

Gasping as Cain rose from the bed; Maerlyna sat up and watched him with abated breath. He only woke when something was happening. Quickly she gathered her clothes, ready to follow him at a moments notice.

Eyes shift from brightest blue to deepest red as his mind expanded from their tunnels and beyond. Down each corridor, he passed with his thoughts, feeling movement. Both living and undead were in his realm beneath the city. “You dealin’ with a true villain.”

Focused, the Singer of Songs left his chambers as memories of the blooded bring a spark of energy to his lips in the form of a release word. Corporeal body fell away as he became the Wraithwind; a desiccating vortex of swirling darkness, its only warning came in the shape of a faint chime like a tornado from the Abyss.

On a wasp’s trajectory, he blew through empty tunnels following the path of Myra, form swirling under the same manhole she had stood beneath just moments ago. Rising and passing, the cover blown from its resting place he lifted into the sky to see her body lie desecrated on a roof like some animal.

Feet touch down as Cain lets go of the spell, his entire body beginning to shake at the sight. Someone attacked what belonged to him. He looked into her eyes and saw only one thought, her final “Do you hear me now?” Kneeling he closed her eyes and bowed his head.

“How long can I keep pretending to be? That all the stars in the sky could mean something to me.” Shaking he summoned the Wraithwind one final time, following the scent northeast towards the Aquifer. Yes, there would be blood tonight.

(songs used are Young-Hollywood Undead, Been to Hell-Hollywood Undead, Forever –Drake, Hear Me Now- Hollywood Undead. His movements through the tunnels open to be played off of)

[Craven Delights]

On the trail…

A cloud of living death drifts above the city following the scent of one who stole from it. Swirling energies from the Abyss implode and reshape through its course, weaving and looping to match pace with a darting figure...and gaining. A gust of natural wind offers the small surge required as the cloud descends and shifts. Eyes narrow as he hears its heart beating heavily in elation at its most recent kill.

Their bodies collide with explosive impact as Cain drew upon the distance of his fall and his prey its natural speed. Teeth and claws snap at the Singer of Songs as both roll for superior position across a shingled rooftop. Ignoring its claws his lips find purchase against its neck and latch, its putrid blood filling his mouth with metallic oil. Images flare to life before his mind. Flashes of water and blood, then Myra....all ready dead. Her throat severed by another, it merely scavenged the cadaver after the other left. The scuttling flash of memory triggers something forgotten.

Their rolling struggle is met with open air as the lip of a shingled roof leaves them behind. Free falling was short lived as they came down upon metal and glass. Hands act quickly and find a grip on hair and chin. With one powerful twist a body falls limp, its spinal cord shattered with the snap of its neck. Glass and bits of metal slowly push free of his cut flesh as it starts to heal. Rolling free of their landing pad he fell to his knees and looked across the odd creation of metal, rubber, and glass curiously as he sees "Aston" stamped across a back panel and “Martin” wobbling on the ground. Its roof caved in from nearly a ton of combined force as if the fist of some god descended upon it with a wrathful fist.

Righting himself as several vertebrae pop back into place, he looks around a moment, catching the faint pulse of sirens not far off. Nostrils flare to give him a sense of the area and finds another has been this way. Spurs sing a tune for all of two steps as he heads in the sirens direction, passing under a sign directing visitors to the city Aquifer. Then speed takes over as buildings blend into one solid tunnel of warped stone. So close to the next way marker he could nearly taste its inky blood.

Stopped short at an iron door his eyes flash red, looking back the way he came feeling two more flowers plucked from his garden. Howling, hands rip the barrier from its rusted hinges as he descends the stairs beyond. He had a trail here; there was nothing to be done for the sisters now that they didn't have to worry about the news of Myra's death. She could tell them herself.

The Singer of Songs grinds his teeth against the combined irritation of flashing lights and pulsating sirens as he darted through the bowels of the building. The scent long faded outside but a nagging urge pushed him lower till he came to stand before yet another door. “Pumphouse” sprayed across the top of its frame in thick black lettering. Misting through the gap below the door he hovered over a room filled with water, catching the scent of fresh blood.

[Craven Delights]

Stepping from the catwalk his animated flesh descended into the frigid, dark, waters. Drifting with the current to the very bottom, his pale hands shone like beacons against rusted metal as Cain shifted through the shredded iron of the filter cover. Pulling on the collective of his remaining garden Cain’s eyes, once a striking blue, shift to shades of red. Forcing the muted tones of unyielding black unfold into displays of heat by varying degrees.

He didn't swim so much as glide through the waters. Pushing off the lip of the filter he passed the bent remains of a giant fan. Weight carried him down the passage, feeling the pressure of each new depth. As the pipeline leveled out a series of choices were presented, four in fact. The scent of blood flows down each with equal strength. Metal split into a chicken's foot, the bottom ripped outward showing the fourth way where something had peeled the metal back to get inside.

Hedging around the gutted length of pipe his eyes glanced down to see a lithe shape, all sinuous tentacles and feminine proportions dart past the door to the Abyss. Lips mold into a frown as he pushes off to get some distance between them, unsure if it be friend for foe. Reaching through the root system of his garden, the Singer of Songs brought forth a faint crackling energy to his fingertips just in case.

Beyond the gaping maw, the faint touch of something akin to bone seemed to have been drug along the left passage. Carefully he spread his fingertips to match each mark. Claws perhaps? If not fingernails trying to delay the inevitable, either possibility meant another encounter. Another push set him drifting further on, following the trail of scrapes. Very little time elapses before the length of pipe opens into a natural space. Even one such as he could appreciate the beauty displayed before his eyes. Rock and coral long denied the sun glimmer with their own phosphorous light.

A strange fish, all clear membranes, save a purple source of light, undulates a path deeper into the cavernous spacing no more than a stones throw away. Watching it descend brings a curious vision to his eyes. Struggling with some aquatic amalgamation is what looks like a young woman. Curiously he watches the battle as they drift lower, noting her life force diminish while the victor readies for the kill. Then suddenly it’s as though the strange predator is ripped from her by an unseen hand. The water around this strange, human begins boiling without a heat source. As quickly as it happened, the girl is gone from his sight. However, her no so little friend remains.

Dazed, it floats in a languid pose. Perhaps trying to sort through what had become of its meal. Rather than wait for it to come around, Cain moves to put himself against the wall of the underwater cave and kneels. Hands set between his feet against the stone, the Singer of Songs pulls upon that crackling energy of Shauri. Making it build as her memory shows, he utters the release word and pushes with his legs at the same time.

Not daring to blink, he quickly brought his hands together above his head in a double-fist. The focused force of the spell fires him, like a fanged torpedo, into the creature as it had begun to turn away from him. Even under water, a telling crack resonates from the impact between his balled up fists and its spine. Energy still to dissipate, his path continues beyond the now crippled, and pathetic, thing and out of the water to land heavily upon the distant shore.

“Dunda dadada da datada,” a smirk played across his thin lips as he mutters the little instrumental. The chime of his spurs a supporting fanfare celebrating his cheap victory over the unknown creature as he walked away, changing to mist that seeps through the rocks of a caved in passageway.

[Craven Delights]

The amorphous cloud paused at the caved in passage as it presented another series of choices much like the flooded pipe. Tumbled fragments of stone form a natural stair to an upper level while the left takes a sharp turn leading to another section of the natural caverns. The trail went cold at the waters edge behind it, swirling back to a corporeal shape, Cain drifts up the rocky stair to find himself in the lower levels of the ‘Combs’.

Anger from Myra’s death gradually faded as steps drifted closer to his own domain. One of the weeks old signal markers for his garden to follow glittered softly ahead. Exhaling the built up water from his lungs, it spills down the front of his chest to clean off grim from the natural stair. Eyes look up and down the dark intersection pondering which road to take.

"Come, let us die together,"

Pulling close to the nearest archway he flattened himself to the stone and slowly crept upwards to cling, like a spider, to the apex of the arch. The beauty about mortals, they never look up. Holding fast to the stone under his fingertips, the Singer of Songs watched as a pair came into his line of sight. One of whom is recognized from an aquatic struggle not long ago.

“But the Revenants are easy, like cattle. Let us demolish their herd, and find whatever prize we can." The voice that had alerted him before now recognized as the redhead.

Carefully licking his lips, an eye took to each. Weighing them as his gaze lingers on the taller of the pair. Though the power to call upon the demonic had long faded from his veins, he could still smell the taint of Hell upon her. This one hid much it seemed. While the other appeared in the awkward stages of teendom. Long, angular limbs, but a face pretty enough to attract an adventurous male. Certainly this pair would be worth the dangerous endeavor of taking them.

Tracking their movement he slowly came down once they were roughly twenty paces away. Fingertips hold fast to the lip of stone on the archway as he descends with the stealth of a drifting cloud. Toe to heel, he made sure not to set his spurs off as the pair drifted around the far corner of the passage.

The brunette snickered faintly, the sound whispering away into the dark. "To the victor go the spoils."

A faint smile plays across his lips at this parting comment from the devil fish. As the pair was now traveling his direction, it seemed a grand idea to stalk their progress. Perhaps they’d find out what had led to Myra, and her sisters, death. Shifting into the mists once more, he stayed low to the floor like a light fog. This far down such wasn’t unheard of, not by a long shot. His only concern now was what seemed to be causing small tremors throughout the underground.

(dialogue posted with permission)