It had been days since Jeremiah's last meal. After his last attack, the guardsmen had suspected his presence and had taken small precautions to keep the streets safe at night; feeble two-man patrols and lookouts from watch towers around the main district of Lómëdor. While it wasn't enough to completely stop him, it had hindered his hunting significantly. Now he had to wait until the opportune moment at the darkest of the night hour before he could risk slipping through the shadows for another feast. It was no longer the dawning of the full moon, but Jeremiah still held some of his primal instincts. He still saw the world in blotched colors of black and white. There was no stopping his blood-thirsty appetite at this point.
Lives would be sacrificed to sate the wolf within.
A stray guardsman, no older than twenty, strolled by the mouth of an alley. He was too preoccupied with his dull spear to notice the pair of blood red eyes staring at him hungrily from the back of the narrow pathway. Jeremiah's cloak fit around him like a shroud of living shadow as he dashed out through the covering darkness that the towering buildings casted over all of Lómëdor. Though he moved with unparalleled speed, his footsteps never sounded through the streets. He was a phantom on the prowl, his sprint low and fluid as he approached the back of the guardsman. With a flick of his wrist, his curved dagger was in his grasp and he swiftly brought it to the neck of his victim. The man didn't even get to utter a full gasp of surprise before he was gargling on his own blood.
The crimson fluid filled his severed windpipe until air could no longer flow freely through it's passage and his lungs became deprived of that desperately needed oxygen. A few sputters of fleeting life and then silence. The cracks of the street became filled with the delicious liquid that simply wreaked with a luscious scent. He could no longer contain his lust for flesh. His dagger disappeared into the sleeve of his cloak and within a matter of seconds he was ravaging the corpse. Dragging the lifeless body into a nearby alleyway, Jeremiah feasted on his kill with relentless fury. His knife-like fangs dug into the flesh of the man before ripping it from the bone and swallowing it whole. It didn't taste the same when he was in his human form, but it was still heaven.
For minutes he devoured his hard-earned meal in earnest. Nothing had ever tasted so delectable in so long. His veins pumped with the adrenaline from his last kill and his mind was clouded with a bleak sensation of euphoria. His eyes were wide with craze and blood-lust. He needed more. This kill only seemed to make his hungry grow and he needed to satisfy his urge for meat. There were plenty of guardsman around these parts, but their flesh had a slight salty tinge to it that Jeremiah could do without. Perhaps a traveler or maiden would wander this section of town and come unsuspectingly into his city-made abode. Blood drizzled down his chin as he snarled. Relishing in the thought and the powerful stimulation overwashing him, Jeremiah stood and arced his back as his head bent back and his throat opened. A blood-curdling howl erupted from between his lips and showered the sky with it's haunting melody. It sounded foreign in his human tongue, but other humans wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
Jeremiah was slowly receding into the mind of the wolf that held his soul and he liked it. He didn't want to change back and he didn't want this infliction lifted. If anything, he sped the process up by forcing the transformation whenever he could. The line between man and beast was blurring and he was starting to resemble more of the later in his human form. This was the power of Lycanthropy. The same power that turned the former bard into an unstoppable behemoth of claws and muscle. This was Jeremiah and that wasn't going to change for a while.
Auereliano thrummed his knuckles against the table in time with the dwindling band, guitars like sleepy willow trees drifting with the auger of a thinning crowd. His game table sat nearly empty, the chairs twisted haphazardly and abandoned as the Rauko’s luck improved. The only remaining player was a city guard, pale faced youth held together by armor and spirit; to Auere’s eye, the boy wasn’t old enough to shave. Dissention aside, Auereliano enjoyed taking the city’s money, four hands of poker and the guard’s hard earned check was his. The tow headed boy grumbled and, overwhelmed with the chance of recovering his losses, took Auereliano’s offer of credit with mumbled assent. The players retreated as the stakes ascended and Auereliano’s night was over quicker than usual, the stack of wooden chits in front of him a crag of broken dreams. The demon rolled a clean cigarette, leaving his supply of the dragon quiet in the folds of his cloak, and watched the guard’s face melt through the spectrum of emotions. Auereliano wrote the boy love letters with rings of smoke, smiling as his face went from white to green; the lean the demon had on the chair meant only one thing. It was time to pay the piper or be food for the rats.
“Listen Auere,” the guard began, the frog in his throat croaking for effect, “I won’t be able…”
Auereliano held up the cigarette and swayed it in time with the music. “Shhh,” he whispered, his voice thick like curdled milk. “I don’t want to hear excuses, Albert; I want to hear gold hitting this table.” Debts were collected two ways: with force or with blatant threats. Auereliano preferred the insistence of subtly, the curve of a displeased frown or the tension in the strap of muscle along the wide scale of his shoulders. Auereliano gripped the back of the guard’s chair and smiled his Cheshire grin, his eyes a platitude of contempt. He squeezed the wood until it groaned and leaned his mouth close enough to press against the young man’s ear.
“You wouldn’t want me to inform your superiors of your little gambling habit, especially since you should be on patrol…” Auereliano let the words hang in the air, shrugging innocently. Quick eyes found the gold band around Albert’s ring finger and the edges of his mouth quirked with touching sentiment. “Or maybe I should pay a visit to your young wife. Perhaps she and I can settle your debt.” Lasciviousness made his face brutal, and Albert took a moment to imagine the demon touching the flesh of his wife...his face went crimson and he opened his mouth to impart harshness. Auereliano held up an empty palm, eyes slipping shut.
“Calmate hijo, it would be better for you to figure out a way to pay your debt to me instead of flying off the handle, no?” Auereliano lifted a dark brow and returned his smile to his lips, eyes glimmering behind heavy lids. “Do we have an accord?”
Albert sat quietly in the small game room, letting the sounds of the late night players overlap the hint of music, now just rhythmic hopscotch in between sets. He dabbed at the sweat on his upper lip with a filthy handkerchief and pleaded sympathy with his eyes. After a few tense moments, he finally covered his face with his hands and spoke in a muffled monotone. “I only have half…”
“Not enough,” real anger beginning to creep into the Rauko’s voice.
“But,” Albert continued, “my friend will let me borrow the rest.”
Auereliano clapped the guard hard enough on the back to make his lungs rattle. “Wonderful, where is your friend?”
Albert looked stoically out of the sole window into the streets of Lomedor, his face tensing suddenly. “Oh…he’s…oh…” Albert stood quickly, gathering the plates of armor he had removed to game and his weapon, hurrying toward the door. Auereliano peeled out of his chair and followed with a sneer, catching him in the empty streets and whipping him around before he could go any further.
“Oy, where do you think you’re going, eh?” Albert nearly dropped his gear, his eyes wild.
“I’m late for my patrol, Auere. Edward is going to kill me!” Auereliano shook the guard once, hard.
“I’m going to kill you, worry about me.”
Albert, who seemed to have forgotten the gravitas of his situation, tried to hurry through an explanation “We have dual patrols tonight, some last minute order. If our supervisor finds out I’m late, we both lose our jobs. And then you don’t get paid.”
Auereliano slapped the guard hard on the back of his blonde head. “Well then, fool, run and I’ll follow you.” They streaked along main city streets and alley ways, Auereliano keeping up with the guard who, frantic, tore deeper into the dark. They came sliding to a stop by an alley opening, Albert’s face screwed in concentration. Auereliano leaned against the wall and began to roll another cigarette, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“He’s not here.”
Auereliano passed his tongue along the paper and sighed. “If you made me run all this way for nothing, I’m going to eat your soul.”
“No, shh,” but it was unnecessary. They both could hear it despite the combined sound of their haggard breath and their conversation. A wolf howl, thick and strangely echoing along the walls of the alley, gripped them at the base of their spines. It was a chilling sound, and the Rauko was instantly wary of this sudden breach of the city night. Albert turned his face into the alley and stiffened, Auereliano peaked around the corner, trying to keep his sight picture to a minimum.
“Edward,” Albert whispered, taking a step forward. Auereliano could see an abandoned heap that looked strangely like a small human. Sharp eyes accustomed to midnight gloom and he could tell that the heap was indeed a body, just what was remaining from a vicious mauling. “EDWARD!” Albert screamed out, rushing into the alley.
“Easy boy,” Auereliano managed, but it was too late. He couldn’t tell the guard about the shadowy figure he saw at the end of the alley. He couldn’t scream out to the guard, hurtling into the darkness, about the way blood looks strangely silver in the moonlight. And he didn’t have a chance to mention that the stranger in the shadows wore that blood like a penitent mask. Auereliano drew a single sulfur match from his pocket and only struck it when Albert realized he wasn’t alone in that alley way. The guard drew his sword, crying out, “Who goes there?” but the demon knew it was too late. He lit the match and watched to see what beast it was that hunted men tonight and what he would do to the unlucky guardsmen.
There was nothing left of the corpse after he was through with it. When they stumbled upon the human's discarded body it was nothing more than bone, unwanted organs, and drool-covered flesh. A disgusting sight indeed. Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen, taking refuge in one of the alleyways nearby. His howl was nothing more than a sign of his ecstasy; a simple spur of the moment, if you will. However, it seemed to do much more than make his blood boil. It was a beckon of sorts, bringing more victims to the slaughter. One smell just like the other; a filthy human with salty flesh. The other, though, smelled...different. It was the scent of sulfur and onyx. Such a peculiar scent made discerning the race an impossible task for Jeremiah.
He didn't have long to think on the matter, though, for the human had acted. His emotions seemed to skyrocket upon the sight of the ravaged corpse at the mouth of his alley and he entered the narrow pathway in search of revenge. Jeremiah's eye still held a fiery menace against the strong darkness that enveloped the alleyway and the mere sight of them froze the guardsman in his place. His sword was at the ready but it shook violently in his hands. He would be no match for him. His dagger flew into his hand without much effort and Jeremiah jumped forward and made a swift arc into the air with his curve blade before landing outside of the alleyway. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him before wrapping around him like a shroud as the guardsman fell. Nothing more than a precise swipe to the neck severed the jugular and sent a spray of blood splashing against the wall.
Jeremiah righted himself slowly before glancing in the direction of the strange being stand a bit from him. A playful smirk sat on Jeremiah's lips before he turned and floated back into the alley. His kill lay strewn against the cobbled floor, blood forming a thick puddle underneath the body. The sight of it all made Jeremiah's mouth water. He let the drool spill overtop of the rickety armor as he ripped the faulty plates off and exposed the bare skin beneath. Without a second thought, Jeremiah lowered his head and tore into the sweat-covered flesh of the human. He tasted much sweeter than the other, but there was still an unwanted tang of salt that left his mouth slightly dry afterward. He growled at it and spit the meat out. His hunger wasn't worth eating a second helping of salty meat. Instead, he drifted out of the alley again and stared down the last man in his domain. The sole victim to this red moon of slaughter.
His cloak showed nothing but hungry red eyes and a snarling mouth of sharpened incisors. Even in his human form, Jeremiah resembled something of a humanoid beast. He was giving in to the wolf and it was showing on nearly every feature he held onto outside the transformation. How could one stare down the dreaded snarl of an approaching wolf with such placid indecision?
The cigarette in Auereliano’s mouth was a red eye in the basking shadows of long night hours, the brim of his hat throwing his profile in hard angles, obscuring the texture of his face. Obfuscation of intent only lasted if the last card wasn’t dealt, his tenure as a gambler taught him patience in the face of failure. He inhaled and exhaled in one continuous motion, moving through the mist of tobacco smoke, smiling briefly around his cigarette as he pushed off the corner of the alley. Auereliano bit back the bitter taste of an uncollected marker, his well earned gold lost in slow growing puddles of blood. It would sate him to survive the night; Arda had proven to covet strange bedfellows, sharp toothed men like the one that snarled before him now. He had left his sword leaning against a crooked legged chair back in the smoky confines of this evening’s game hall. It would be useless to him anyway; he would not test his luck with the creature unless both of his hands were free. He’d have a better chance plying slight of hand with his speed and depth of arcane with his strength; a sideshow magic act, but he was gauging this man’s countenance to be failing on the side of feral. If the tricks insulted him, then perhaps the simple logic of ego persisted in his mind and the night wouldn’t end in black Rauko blood mixing with human foulness. Auereliano bet on the man left in the beast and watched his words.
“I assure you, perrito, my blood tastes no better.” Auere watched his steps with sloth, each foot taking ten heartbeats to fully plant on the ground. His mimed walk through molasses gave them space; he removed the smoke from his lips with a wince. “You must be hungry,” he peddled his eyes to the sky for a moment, keeping the man in his peripheral. “But can you feed if you are dead? Does the grave offer you a better bounty?”
The demon gambler backed a few paces into the alley, kicking at Albert’s body with a disinterested grunt. “You never knew when to back down from a bad hand,” he muttered, kicking him again, harder this time. Auereliano returned his eyes to the snarling man and tried to find tells in his features. Snapping teeth were framed by unruly locks of hair shaded in speckles of slate, the only absolute would be that he had one chance. Slim as it was, he thought of options.
Auereliano slammed his fist into the alley wall, threatening to make the entire house of cards crumble around him. He risked the violence to reach out to the man, picking up broken pieces of brick and crushing them in his palms. They cut into the pads of his fingers, making rivets of pitch colored blood blend with the thickening dust. Slowly, eyes always on the beast, he began painting a circle around Albert’s prone corpse. He started at the furthest end of the body, circling counterclockwise as he spoke.
“This man was a poor card player.” Auereliano smiled with pearlescent teeth, grin like the maw of a cackling hyena. “You seem to be an aggressive opponent, quick to bet, push the pot high, huh?” He duck-walked around the body, narrow eyes dropping for a moment to pass his boot heel in the boy’s blood. “Lomedor knows you are here and when they find these pretty pictures, they will double the watch. You are strong, but are you invincible?”
The demon stood at the head of the faux protection circle, dusting off his hands and grimacing. It would do nothing but confuse the beast and incense the man; Auereliano’s brief contacts with Lycanthropes revealed a constant personality quirk. To assume they turn the mundane as easily as a bite is an insult they cannot bear. He teased the wolf while he pleaded to the man. “You cost me a lot of money, cachorito, so if all you have for me are barks and growls, we can dance here and now.”
“But if you want to live three more nights in this town, you’ll gather your senses and follow me. I’m poor, but money can be won again. You’re hungry, but food is found in more places than alley ways.” And Auereliano dealt his last card, feeble in the face of slathering hunger but the only hand he had to play. As he waited for the creature to react, though, he started a mute mouthed cantrip that might just be his only ace in the hole if the dog chose to bite.