It was quite unexpected to become so infamous in such a short time. Jeremiah Valystro was one of the most wanted men in Lómëdor. This, however, was not due to any crimes he committed as Jeremiah. As a matter of fact, he could walk the streets as he is now and never be arrested or even stopped for questioning. No, there was something deeper within Jeremiah that caused him to be known as 'The Beast Of Lómëdor'. Something sinister and primal in instinct and needs. The Werewolf that he became was known throughout the city streets as a behemoth of terror. The scared little humans called his Lycan form 'Bloodspill' because of the massive body count that followed his hulking black form.

No one who dared pursue him had ever survived more than a five minute encounter. He was too strong for those who fought with brawn and too fast for those who fought with speed. He was the pinnacle of nature's predators and Jeremiah hadn't met a single soul that could preoccupy the attention of the slobbering animal that he so willingly transformed into. It was a need for food that had first led him to hunting the citizens of Lómëdor, but now he wanted something greater. He wanted to be tested; to have his strength pushed to the limits of its capacity and beyond. He was starving for competition and his new abilities made it near impossible to find worthy adversaries. He needed to delve into the inner darkness of this beast and draw out the malevolent powers that slept deep inside of him. He wanted to evolve into something greater than the simple Werewolf that he was. Something even darker...

A house of four. Not bad for his first slaughter of the night. The husband put up the most fight; sticking him with a barbed arrow in the shoulder, but in this form, Jeremiah shrugged it off like a bee sting. He let out a devastating roar that nearly deafened the entire family before sawing through the man's midsection with his massive claws. His bleeding corpse flew into the nearest wall and fell limp to the floor. The wife screamed and made a run for the stairs but Jeremiah snarled and leaped straight through the stair rail and tackled her through the house wall. Slamming against the cobbled surface of the city streets, the woman's spine broke in nearly three places. Jeremiah found this death satisfactory and perked an ear at the little girls small cries. What a pity to kill them before they could be ripened. But a rampage was a rampage and he couldn't make exceptions. He cleaved through the wall to find both children huddled against one another, seeking refuge in an imaginary defense.

How pathetic.

Jeremiah stabbed through their skulls with a focused jab of his taloned hands and tossed their skewered bodies to the floor. The night that was once filled with the symphony of gore and pained cries fell eerily silent. Silent save for the slushing sound of Jeremiah's feasting. He was such a messy eater. Organs and flesh flew this way and that as he tore through their bodies like a kid through a Christmas gift. Just as he finished the girl's body, his ears suddenly perked and a deep, resonating growl escaped his throat through bared fangs. Someone was approaching and trying to be silent, but there was no sneaking up on Jeremiah's acute hearing. Was he being hunted? Had the predator become the prey? What a humorous predicament this was. Jeremiah turned to the entrance of the house and lowered his gigantic body as far as it would as his muscles tensed and his lips pulled back in a horrific snarl that would frighten a pack of rabid mountain lions. Who dared interrupt his meal time? Who!?

The night air was warm and refreshing, filled with a salty mist that carried over from the sea. The night stars hung in the sky like little lanterns huddled around the moon. They alone provided more than enough light for the vampire Seraph. With the small amount of light that they gave off he could see through the darkness as though it were day.

The vampire pup stood in the middle of the upper room of a two story building. Splintered wood littered the blood steined floor. A beast had ransacked this home and its poor inhabitants, a beast rumored to belong to the darkness. Seraph did not know which was more nauseating to him, the gruesome crime or that thought that the beast might be an agent of Raku.

Seraph turned his head toward the gaping hole in the wall. He could have sworn he heard a scream. His senses were heightened by his curse. He could here the despair in the scream from quite a distance. Almost a mile, he thought to himself. Could it be the beast again?

The vampire made haste towards the scream. With the use of rapid transportation, Seraph reached his destination in only a few seconds. He stood still for a second not knowing what to expect. He knew the scream had come from the general area, but he could not be precise. He had no clue where the beast was or what it looked like.

Suddenly a wolf burst through the side of a house carrying a woman with it. Seraph stared in horror. It was not just a wolf; it was much more than that. It was larger or more human like. The pup knew just from the look of it that it held much power. He could also tell that it was a manifestation of evil just like his immortal father.

Seraph tried to stay quiet as he drew closer to the creature while it went barraging back into the house. The sounds ripping and shredding was coupled by the screams of children. The vampire's mind went numb with rage. The creature was more despicable than he could have imagined.

Seraph slowly drew his Drow Bastard Sword as he trotted over the debris from the building. He tried to be sneaky and quite using the element of surprise to his advantage, but his foe was not so easily approachable. Its bestial senses could not be fooled.

Seeing that there was nothing left to do other than attack, Seraph threw his hand up using telekinesis to knock over the candles and lanterns in the room extinguishing their flames in attempt to blind the beast. The pup then charged forward with his long sword extended in front if him in hoped to keep the beast at more than an arms length away.

Seven weeks. Almost two months. The time that had been spent by one Shadovar Concordance members. Over a month and a half spent by one member of the most fearsome guild throughout Ea, spent doing the job of city guards for them. Spent being ‘good’, and ‘wholesome’, and everything he shouldn’t be given his allegiance. Oh there were still those pretending to work, and he most certainly left them to their own devices during the day. However, the nights in Lomedor had taken a violent, wretched turn as of late.

Gored citizens were left littering the streets, their entrails painting demolished homes and faces twisted into naked horror. The city guards always seemed to magically miss these slaughters, faces pale when the sun rose upon entire city blocks drenched in dead corpses. Of course they were oblivious; ignorant to the suffering. The city guard had never been funded well enough; though a few individuals were sharp and dedicated, the dull donkeys making up the rest of it brought them crashing down.

It didn’t help that all of the citizens were somehow deaf to the screams of those being slain. Cowering under some table, most like. Out of survival they should have been finding guards as soon as they heard something – what made them think they were immune to the ‘Beast of Lomedor’? There was no end to selfishness in this city, even in the face of death. But it was home, and through some nostalgic loyalty Nathaniel found himself trying to help.

The first month the warrior hadn’t stepped into the night at all. He worked solely during the day, using everything at his disposal to try and put clues together. The man could hardly be called a genius, but he had a talent for figuring things out. More than that, he had a talent for finding people who could figure things out. A coin here, a promise there – it all added up. Plus, the warrior had been blessed with a loyal tracker.

The tracker was brilliant, even if a tad young. The hardest aspect was the lad being unable to come himself, and instead having to rely on Nathaniel to bring the clues. Most of which were found by his familiars. The worker had been a good sport, even as the items were tampered with and he had to send his employer back out to retrieve more things. Eventually the boy had just taken to writing out a list of things to look for, and kept his voice so silken sweet the other hadn’t throttled him at the prospect of doing the laundry for someone.

The month had slipped by quickly. Through a long work effort, the tracker had finally told Nathaniel all that he could do without visiting had been done. If there was more for him to accomplish, it’d have to be done at the actual scene. The Shadovar member had considered it, but finally decided not to. If it was the kind of creature the few survivors claimed it to be – the very same his tracker thought it was, then it wouldn’t be good to tip it off too much. Nathaniel didn’t mind being in danger, but he was protective of his tracker – fond, even.

The following weeks saw him struggling to put the pieces together himself. The warrior chased the trails of destruction, ate in the pubs and mingled around, trying to learn what he could. It was hard, for the beast seemed to move on quickly. Nathaniel was never one for patterns, and without a map the danger-prone man couldn’t properly analyze the attacks. Instead, he walked the streets in the dead of night, his drake sent to streak through the night and try to find the beast.
Without night vision, the snow drake had little to rely on besides its sense of smell and hearing. So, whenever it smelled blood or heard screaming, it’d been quick to return to its master. Nathaniel didn’t have time to stop simple muggings, and was far from a vigilante. Stopping killers was nice, but it hardly made the streets safer in the long run and it didn’t help his reputation at all. Plus, there’d been a few awkward instances where he’d intruded on private “meetings”.

So little Ayre the demon fly had taken to hiding in the snow drake’s fur, directing him like some mighty rider. The creature’s sight in the dark was strong; it was used to playing tricks after all. Unfortunately, by the time they got close enough and then returned to Nathaniel, it was typically too late to kill the monster. Fate would have him turn up moments too late, if just to frustrate the human into submission.

Clearly it had over-looked him being stubborn as a mule. Even with all the setbacks he had continued, instead going out with drake on shoulder and sending him short distances ahead. It helped keep the flight between them short, ensuring the animal informed him of danger as quickly as possible. This method was a little more thorough and meant many nights were spent without encountering the beast, but Nathaniel knew when the time did come, he wouldn’t merely miss it by a few steps.


Tonight had seemed like any other. They were out near the port, anticipating such a place might be chosen because it had been left otherwise undisturbed. The smell of fish was making Nathaniel’s stomach turn, but his animals had a thankfully stronger constitution. It was eery for such a boisterous town during the day to be abandoned, but that was how it appeared tonight. The clopping of his war horse’s hooves echoed on the sides of buildings, marking his position. Perhaps the magician could goad the beast into attacking him. By the hair of Ita the citizens could use it.

Derisively the beast snorted, warm breath hanging in the cold air like a metaphor. The snow drake sniffled in response, shifting its bulk and ruffling its snow white feathers. Nathaniel scanned the stretch of street ahead, choosing to not free the creature yet. It would need to turn a corner before it was entirely beyond view, and that was too far a distance for him to get there in time if the Beast was fleeing. Though Jakabok may of known this, he was certainly not pleased.

The human pressed harshly against the equine’s ribs with his legs, urging the onyx animal on. It gave an irritated snort, but picked up the pace. Within moments they were at the crux of the corner, moonlight streaming down on the cobbled streets. There was still the uncomfortable stillness, the blanket of night sinister in its silence. A tug on the black hairs he was fisting bore the mighty stallion left, who began to trot down another street.

CRASHH!

The warrior stopped halfway between freeing his flighty companion, his steed rearing viciously. Both hooves pounded upon the ground like thunder when it landed, and as soon as it did all noise died again. Where was the sound of more shattering buildings, of further destruction in the wake of a milk moon? Nathaniel hauled his horse round once more, going the opposite direction he’d chosen and chasing the sound he’d heard. The drake needed no encouragement to take flight, looking for the startling noise. The duo of horse and man followed at its heels, eventually coming upon the grisly sight of mangled home and fallen bodies.

The horse reared again, pulled into a sharp halt a few houses short of the figures ahead. The human wasn’t a hero; as a young man he’d been an outright coward. The thought of danger made him sick, the slightest discomfort brought on begging. It wasn’t a blissful experience, but it’d thankfully been in the past.

Looking upon the massive frame of a werewolf – a true werewolf, not those whimsical lupines, brought all those feelings back. His breath hitched, eyes wide in shock. Nathaniel was pulling hard on his horse’s mane – too hard, but he was oblivious to its pain. The actual horror of seeing that thing made him want to flee and abandon his fool-hardy “good intentions”.

But the second figure was enough to make him pause.

Though Nathaniel couldn’t see much, he knew the other was humanoid in its figure. And he also knew that the beast would likely rend the person limb from limb given the chance. It shocked him back into his goals, back into the present situation. He wasn’t a coward, not anymore. The slow descent from his horse was not out of fear but immaculate control – his slow approach was not a need to flee but a growing hatred.

When the human was halfway he drew his sword, extending its full length in time to stand nearby. “So. You are the mighty beast of Lomedor.” The warrior ignored the other there, speaking directly to the bloodied monster. He was infinitely aware of the presence however, and it brought a steadiness to his voice his heart was desperately trying to find. “Huh. I thought you’d be bigger.” Nathaniel struck an offensive pose, as the night was suddenly bathed in darkness.

So much for being evil.