Of Blood and Beasts
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
The air stank of stale beer and wet cows, but above all else it smelled of blood, not the coppery scent that came after a fight, but the sickly sweetness of rot that sank into stone and timber alike. Most would not have thought that odd of a butcher's shop, but the six gathered outside that night as the rain fell ever thicker over Tyrosh knew far more of blood than most. They had seen it spilled in battle, in sacrifice to strange and thirsting gods, and some of them from other purposes besides.
Maelor shivered, and not against the trickle of rain that had found its way past his cloak and down his back. He'd seen his share of killers, young as he was the boy counted himself one too, but some things... some people could still give him that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, the smiling killers, the ones who did not care one whit for the blood spilt.
"So, shall I bring one of them out here to have a chat?" the blood-drinker asked with the lazy smirk of one showing off in good fun. The boy did not begrudge her the fangs, or even the absence of a heart-beat. He counted friends those who likely did not even have a heart of any sort, but something about how lightly she spoke of killing reminded him forcefully that not all the monsters were on the other side of the sagging weather-beaten walls.
"I don't like her," Glyra admitted in a whisper after Wyla had vanished into mist.
"How come?" Maelor asked, startled, leaning close. Though she had grown kind in her own odd way, the gremlin was still not one to become upset over the hows and the wherefores of things. Only deeds truly mattered in the games of the fey.
"Because she gets to have all the fun!" the red-headed girl who was not child in truth said, voice rising slightly in aggravation.
"Do not let her smiles fool you, cousin," the crow-headed archon said, his voice grave. "She is chained against herself. The pain she inflicts upon others echoes upon her own soul in ways hidden from her eyes by the veil of her curse."
The advice only earns a familiar roll of the eyes from the little fey. "If you think you are having fun then you
are having fun, you don't have to get agreement or permission, that's why it's called fun and not duty."
Fortunately for the conversation the arrival of Wyla and her latest puppet soon interpreted the discussion which Maelor suspected could last until the end of days without one persuading the other.
"You might want to save some of the cattle..." she began. Seeing the looks directed at her the blood-drinker sighed, much put upon. "I mean the
actual yearlings, the ones in the pen over there," she motioned to the pen. "Some of them only became beasts quite ah... recently, according to Torgen here. The magus who rules this place makes a habit of stealing children away then transmuting them into cows or pigs and having them cut up and served to the families, after they have been properly inspected by the customer of course."
"Wouldn't they change back once killed?" Garin asked, sounding sick to his stomach.
"They have a spell for that too... a daemon, really," the dead woman explains, looking suddenly sympathetic to Garin's feelings if nothing else.
"I always did wonder, what would happen if I fed someone to a conjured bear," Vee interjected darkly, her words holding more of the marshlands than usual.
"You'd get a rather unsightly mound of flesh to clean up once the beast was gone," Wyla replied instantly.
Maelor almost asked if she was speaking from experience, before thinking the better of the question. Instead he reminded Vee, "There's more use to them if we feed them to the snake or the trees."
The girl huffed. "Don't suppose we can ask either to make it hurt more, is there?"
The crow-spirit sighed but he did not speak up, eyes still looking to the north where the signal for the attack would be given. Even it must have known some battles were not worth fighting.
OOC: Did not want to interrupt the combat for more combat, so here's a bit more about how daemon cults operate and of course some character development.
