Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons

Ira
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Posts: 161

Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons Apr 3, 2022 4:39:11 GMT

Post by Ira on Apr 3, 2022 4:39:11 GMT

Chittering. Skittering. Slithering. The small things of the world dominated the space between the surface and the deep dark. Here Cicatrix found herself wandering. The reconstitution of her physical form took ages longer than expected. However, she could not be too upset about it. Her lair had been destroyed along with her previous form. In fact, the casualties she had inflicted on the Devils mandated that they destroy every trace of her from existence.

“Sweet little creepy crawlies, Cicatrix miss you. Yes miss you she did. So glad to be home…” Cicatrix muttered quietly, lowering her body slowly in the cold and filthy waters in the depths of the catacombs. Rising up, her clothes steeped in filth, she held aloft a large cockroach. Grinning and giggling, Cicatrix began earnestly whispering to the insect.

“Oh yes darling, tell us of the time Cicatrix have missed. Tell Cicatrix secrets… oh, oh yes. Mhm. Really? Oh nasty, dirty scoundrels. Well, scurry off. Scurry scurry! Find Cicatrix more secrets. We have not forgotten our children.”

Gently, she set the cockroach back down into the muck. As the soft feet of the insect crawled off her fingers, Cicatrix’s head rotated 180 degrees to look behind her. The bones in her neck cracking and snapping as she moved. A wide smile crept across her face as she seemed to see something else in the darkness. Realigning her head properly, she shuddered and started making her way deeper into the catacombs. Cicatrix did her best to look like a normal, albeit a little lost, young woman.

Unfortunately, the demon had long ago forgotten what normalcy was among humans. In addition to that, she was unable to completely transform herself in a manner that would afford her a proper disguise. Cicatrix’s clothes were perhaps the most convincing part of her disguise. A pair of brown trousers and a, formerly, white blouse. However, the same could not be said of the rest of her. Cicatrix’s head held two large, twisted horns, and her back a pair of massive insect-like wings. Her eyes, although convincingly human, were a sickly yellow and entirely non-functional. Instead, Cicatrix ‘saw’ entirely through a mixture of tremorsense and blindsight. This limited details on the things she ‘saw’ but gave her a much larger perception radius.

And she perceived something deeper in the catacombs. Something that also perceived her. As she neared her target, she announced herself. Her voice took a kinder, more desperate tone. As though she truly were a lost girl.

“Hello? Is someone there? Please, help me, I’m lost…”

Last Edit: May 26, 2022 0:13:20 GMT by Ira

Quirbles
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Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons Apr 6, 2022 0:23:32 GMT

Post by Quirbles on Apr 6, 2022 0:23:32 GMT

”What curious whimp’ring spurs from thy tongue.”

What was once before the woman now spoke from behind, the soft inquiry gliding along stone coffins that lined each wall. Were she to look beyond her shoulder, a tall fellow stood a ways down the hall, seated within the comfortable darkness of the catacombs. He was nearly bathed in it, that encroaching midnight— ever-soft in its embrace, cradling his form as if he had been born from its darkened fabric all the same. Only his eyes, twin bonfires in the dark, shone through. They were, naturally, affixed upon the woman.

”Methinks thine own cries befit the siren’s call, my dear,” He spoke, voice lilting somewhat into a small modicum of amusement before his quiet solemnity resumed. ”And I am no sailor torn abreast from vessel.”

The man kept his distance, refusing to approach. His large cloak shifted somewhat, then fell once more into stillness, a cautious wringing of hands beneath.

”I wot the sorrowful lament of women forlorn, dear siren. ‘Tis not what I hear now, with mine own ears. Speak thine intent, prithee, and speak not of lies.”

Last Edit: Apr 11, 2022 18:21:19 GMT by Quirbles

Ira
Member

Posts: 161

Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons Apr 13, 2022 22:14:27 GMT

Post by Ira on Apr 13, 2022 22:14:27 GMT

Cicatrix listened closely as the new entity spoke. She twisted her head around to look behind herself, seeing the form of something skinny and elvish standing amongst the shadows. Her head remained perfectly still as her body twisted around, limbs folding and latching onto the wall as she slowly crept from floor to ceiling. With her body latched to the ceiling by fingers digging effortlessly into the stone and a head twisted simultaneously upright and far too much in the wrong direction, Cicatrix started laughing.

The laughter melded back and forth from genuine and fake as tears streamed down her cheeks. Suddenly, she released herself and snapped upright. Slapping herself into seriousness, Cicatrix smiled sweetly and responded to the elf. "Cicatrix so sorry! So sorry! No deception and no fear have been meant, not at all. We hear your words, smooth, silky, sweet, Cicatrix likes them. Long time has passed since we heard language with lovely framework, form, function... It is nice."

Slowly, Cicatrix awkwardly lifted a leg and took a step toward the elf. Her bare feet and toes seemed to be the most human thing about her as the beetle wings on her back gently fluttered. Something under her arms twitched as she took another long, awkward step, causing a sound to ring throughout the catacombs like that of a low groaning beast. She slapped it to quiet it and spoke once more, giggling as she did, "Cicatrix sees you, Cicatrix knows you are special. So special! Hehe-hehe. Cicatrix is here to make nests... Special places for her children. But Cicatrix has another intent. Fantastic! New ideas! Plans for you! Hehe-hehe! You are powerful, but perhaps you would like to be stronger? Cicatrix can make you stronger."

She was truly shameless, and she knew this, but her intents shone through like the illuminated pages of a book in a library. She had no ill will towards the elf, rather, she sought to make a pact with him. She was, also, curious if the elf saw her for what she truly was. More than just some monster prowling the depths of a city. More than a frenzied beast looking for prey. More than a little crazy bug woman. Of course, Cicatrix also wondered if the man could tell her a bit about what she had missed over time. He would prove especially useful if he wasn't afraid of her.

Last Edit: May 26, 2022 0:13:06 GMT by Ira

Quirbles
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Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons May 25, 2022 4:45:27 GMT

Post by Quirbles on May 25, 2022 4:45:27 GMT

”What fervor thou holdst,” Haev ruminated with a murmur from the shadows, one hand crossing over the other. He regarded the queer maiden with quiet repose. Her attempted ingratiations would not go unnoticed, nor would her pleas for his strength.

”Like a roynish beast from reeky cage. What a curious sort thou’rt indeed.”

He lifted one hand beneath his eye, drawing his gaze to look over the neatly-manicured nails held beneath the chin. He drew a finger over one of them, then let the hand fall once more to its twin, covering it.

”Oh, thou must’nt give me power. I am but a simple traveler, indeed. But— perhaps thou’rt enticed by a stronger foe?” Haev offered the woman a light smile, disarming beneath the scarce light of the catacombs. Amongst the corpses of the underground, he was like any other— as far as she would know, if he had any say in it. But if she was what he thought her to be— it was best to tread lightly, indeed. Let her believe him a lowly vagrant, at least for now. Let her set her feastly sights upon a different target.

”Wouldst thou know the name Alaric Byrne-Moreau?”

Last Edit: May 25, 2022 4:45:48 GMT by Quirbles

Ira
Member

Posts: 161

Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons May 26, 2022 0:11:43 GMT

Post by Ira on May 26, 2022 0:11:43 GMT

Cicatrix couldn't help but giggle as the man spoke. Slowly, she began her waltz towards him. Her steps were slow but erratic in their positioning as she gently placed one foot in front of the other. The man acted humble, which is strange for someone of highborn status to do in any scenario. But this man? A man who spoke with eloquence and grace whilst crawling around in the depths of ancient, corpse-ridden tunnels? It had to be a ruse. However, it played into Cicatrix's curiosity. She felt no desire to demand any truthfulness from the being. Continuing to move closer and closer toward the man, she crooked her ear towards him as he mentioned another name.

Alaric Byrne-Moreau? No, this name... It is unfamiliar to us... Cicatrix lied, Perhaps yourself could speak more to us? Tell us secrets? More we desire to know about this, Alaric Byrne-Moreau. More we desire to know about- YOU!"

At that, Cicatrix lunged at the man. Throwing her whole body in his direction and rapidly beating her wings to increase her speed and distance. The tunnel would fill with the sounds of cicadas as if thousands of the little bastards all at once began their maddening songs. She was attempting to grapple with the man in order to pin him down and get a good look at him. Beat his head into the floor a few times maybe for good measure? At least, this was her intention with her insane leap forward.

Last Edit: May 26, 2022 0:12:51 GMT by Ira

Quirbles
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Not to be confused with Annasiel, site owner and head administrator

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Dark Tunnels and Darker Demons Jun 16, 2022 15:11:32 GMT

Post by Quirbles on Jun 16, 2022 15:11:32 GMT

The elf regarded his guest for a moment too long, it seemed, for her rambled chitterings broke away into a frenzied rush that toppled him to the ground. She had connected with him for but a moment, yes— but as he fell back, the darkness embraced his spindly form. With a sweep of the shadow, as if he were a mirage in the mind’s eye, Haev Atoran disappeared into the earth. The ground lay undisturbed and unoccupied, and Cicatrix crouched alone.

”O hound, I am afear’d thy longing shall end in vain. Mine own name is of a trivial sort.” The croaking melancholy echoed around the demon, disembodied and ethereal; he made no attempt to show himself again, lest the demon try to sully his jacket once more. ”Or perhaps thy efforts are not impressive enough for me to consider giving thee so much as a name.”

A chuckle sounded from the far wall.

”Good hunting, o hound. Good hunting indeed.”

And then, as was often the case in the catacombs, the air fell into silence once more.

Last Edit: Jun 16, 2022 15:12:04 GMT by Quirbles