Inside the Fire

Chapter 10: Hunting

    Song to listen to: And the Snakes Start to Sing

    Moran twitches in his sleep, awakening slowly. He takes deep breaths to take in his surroundings, he's in his self-made cave. The Traveler leans against one of his haunches, the underground cave is cold, and while unconscious his body had moved towards the heat source of the room. Having the human there, depending on him, even if it was only for heat, Moran wasn't sure if he particularly liked it. To have someone depend on him for anything, he was used to how others had used him,
    'Is this not another form of that?' He can't help but think.
    Nevertheless, he scoups the human into one of his hands and eases away from him, making sure to wake him.
    'He is lucky that I tolerate him.' Moran afirms to himself. 'Tolerate, and nothing more.'
    He lays Nemüir down carefully, as not to wake him. The human's desire to stop him from doing what he wants is... frustrating. Moran doesn't want to kill him before he gets what he wants from him. He exits the main cavern before morphing back into a human, slipping into the skin easily from familiarity. It's convenient to have the cave systems, he shudders to think what pain he'd be in if he had to hold this human shape for more than a month.
    His clothes are waiting where he left them, he takes a moment to feel the air on his flesh before covering himself with the pungent garments. The clothes are excessive, but he understands he's never been the best as disguise and humans have become more suspicious as of late. Fooling both their eyes and noses appease them to his presence. Since he's slept, the runes he needs to check on the runes he's carved into the town.
    Moran refreshes the spell around himself, making it difficult to notice him, he checks behind a tapestry on the inside of the gate, no one has discovered this one, he bites open his thumb and rubs his blood into the creases of the rune, prssing his hand against it he chants the spell that goes with it. He continues on, every 50 meters refreshing the runes he's hid, moving inward towards the town center in a spiral. Moran carves fresh ones in places that needed them and new ones that he'd thought to add while he slept, strengthening the hold he has over the humans of the town. So many tenuous threads of thought run through him, a web of connections where his mind is the nexus. He buries it deeper into his mind, to keep the ebb and flow of natural human thought from driving him insane. There is a limit that even he must adhere to.
    As he walks, he observes what his work has wrought. The humans are unilaterally more miserable than before. A few serial killers on the loose, one of them had garnered a taste for prostitutes, and with there being so few to begin with, many men had sexual desires that weren't being met. One such man was stopped in mid stride, eyeing a young girl, no more than 14 years of age, lean over a fence to wave at a friend passing on the far side of the square, accompanied by her mother. The man watched how her clothes slithered over the soft shape of her body, his mind running wild. Moran can feel his power thrumming into the man, daring him to go deeper into his desires, the man takes a step towards the girl and pulls up short. The girl had jumped down from her perch and had flung her long hair back over her shoulder, her abundantly young face had taken the man by surprise. Her body notwithstanding, her face was still that of a child, and the spell broke from his mind. He carried on with his once forgotten tasks, determined to forget his dark fantasies.
    'Poor thing,' Moran thinks snidely, 'He believes he has a choice in the matter.'
    How the man had broken free of Moran's grip? He doesn't know. He considers strengthening the spiral further, but his thumb aches from all the work he'd done today, and he'd rather not bite it open again. Blood magic is one of the few forms he's capable of, or bothered to learn. There are other's that would have been less painful to practice, but they either took patience he didn't have, or required reading from a forbidden library that no longer exists. Even if it did, only the King was permitted to enter, something Moran is not. Not that reading particularly appealed to Moran he surmises, but being told he was not allowed makes him want to do it all the more. Even blood magic, he doesn't know if anyone else had thought to combine it with rune craft, but as far as he knew, he was the only one to practice this new outlet. A mastery over word and binding life to it through his blood. It's a true bastardization of both the root crafts were originally created for.
    Some humans are ready to be reaped, Moran tests the level of boredom he feels compared to the possible loss of human souls he would be free to consume. If he kills the killers now, it leaves more for him to consume later. Moran smiles, decided, he is going to harvest some today. Not all of them, he reasons, only the ones that have fully given into their nature. Although there are a dozen or so human murderers, only two were are far past what other humans would consider to still be members of their species.
    Indeed, they are on the verge of devolving into a new species entirely. If left unchecked, new curses would be born from their feral blood, twisting their bodies and changing them to be better suited to the hunt they so enjoyed. His curiosity to see what manner of creature they'd become is overpowered by his thirst for their souls. Murder is their purpose, and that is the purpose he desired for himself.
    It's the one thing that has made sense to him, the hunt. How shall he do it today? He wonders, the humans have already given a look a name, one he has used many times in the past to hint them specifically. Demon they had named it. Although there is scripture referring to the Goddess of death using twisted beings to exact vengeance for those that would ask for it, those that were considered "pure". Moran can't help but roll his eyes, nobody is pure, everyone is simply differing shades of gray, and he intends to feed on only the darkest of hues. If he were to assign himself to one, it'd be the darkest black, and he takes great pride in that fact. He will do everything he can to maintain his demonic image, even if it means he must appear to be doing "good" work.
    He follows the scent of blood, it's a few days old now, whoever the murderer is, he hasn't washed the blood out from under his nails. So he lives alone, he would have tried harder to hide it if there was someone that lived within close proximity to him. It is a male, on the more slender side, Moran finds the tracks the smell is coming from. Either a victim has wounded him, it's from an old injury, which Moran doubts, humans rarely survive from a gate this bad for long, or he's pretending a disability. There's a sour note to the smell, and it grows only stronger the closer Moran gets to the source. He knows what the smell means, he may already be to late to reap a human. If he had his way, he would only consume these creatures, but alas they are truly rare, and the younger they are, the more animalistic they are.
    Moran recalls one that he had stumbled on, it was a few decades old to the life, and had been quite intelligent. He'd let it live out of respect for the intellect it had become, and the creature was quite discreet with it's killings. As rare as they are, immortality among them was even rare-er, the intelligent one the only one he'd found that hadn't aged. If there were more out there like that one, they are very good at hiding.
    The sound of eating comes from behind the door,
'Ah,' Moran thinks, 'He has company.' And internally laughs at his own joke. Odd that he hadn't noticed the smell of a companion, he must have kept them here to snack on later. A moan comes from the victim. There's something that's quite common with these things. They can't just consume humans, the victim also has to be living. Moran does enjoy playing with his food, bit that's not quite what they do. And his food is rarely sentient.
    'Not that that counts for anything.'
    He pushes the door open, entering. 'Novice mistake, definitely lives alone.'
    They're in a backroom, one without windows, the outside walls are made of brick, thick wood separates the rooms. At least he's planned for noise discipline. Moran nods to himself.
    The creature is crouched with it's back to him, the whore whose entrails he feasts on raises her hand to Moran, her eyes pleading. Moran smiles at her and winks. It notices her raised hand, it can feel Moran behind it. Slowly, it raises onto it's feet, it's frame molting back into a human shape. It steps as it turns, putting the woman's body behind it. By the time it faces Moran, it appears completely human, besides the blood on its face, and a distant glazed look in it's eyes. It sways slightly, off balance from being on two legs again. The creature hums and pushes out a few unintelligible words, Moran's face falls in disappointment.
    'I don't know why I'd hoped it would be intelligent, they very rarely are.'
    He smiles at it invitingly anyway,
    "The door was unlocked," He widens his eyes with innocence, "Are you available to talk with me about our savoirs the goddesses?"
    It struggles with concious thought, the strain of thinking and holding it's human form waring on its face. Confusion, hunger, it's mouth opens and closes with sounds it thinks are words. Moran nods thoughtfully, as if responding to what it's trying to say. There's nothing concrete being thought in it's head, Moran knows it hadn't understood his question. With the way it is now, the only words it knows are the ones to lure unsuspecting woman into it's home. But soon, it will lose even that. Once it's human side is completely lost, so to will it lose every lure it's ever had and will have to rely on the strength it's new shape will have.
    "I'll cut this short then," Moran scratches under his chin, and points at the legs of the maimed where, "What do you have there?"
    This was not something it wanted pointed out, it glances back at the woman, it's lips pulling back in a hiss. It's teeth push up against its lips, dull fangs descend from inside it's mouth, the jaws widening, the creature whips back to Moran, furious. It's hands shrink, forearm bones extending out of its skin, connected in a hook like fashion, it's stumach drops to nestle in it's pelvis, it's rib cage lengthening, forming more into a plated torso, protecting it's heart. It's back legs thin, pulling the muscle from it's thighs and into it's lower back, it's spine retreating into the muscle tissue. The eyes had sunk into it's head, it's nostrils pulling wider over the face. The hair remained where it would be on an anatomically correct human.
    It charges Moran, and he realizes that he'd forgotten to bring a weapon with him. It swings a hook at him, he grabs the offered "hand" and pulls it in the direction it had been running, twisting along it's forearm and grabbing it's throat with another hand he puts it into a head lock. With it's arms too long, it gaspes, and scrapes at the air uselessly. After trying to throw him off, it's shoulder blades lengthen, ripping themselves free of it's skin becoming sharp. It's not enough to cut through Moran's skin, but he can feel bruises forming where the "blades" had shot out and jammed into him. He jumps off it's back, no longer able to keep his firm grip over it's neck. It's collar bones curve up to provide a barrier over it's throat, with it so new, it's still evolving to it's environment.
     'Which means, if I'm going to kill it, I'll need to do it quickly. But it might also be fun to see how far it will go to survive.'
    It shakes it's head, gaging and coughing, it lurches at Moran, with both hooked hands and it's mouth open wide. He dodges into it's encircling arms and upper cuts thr beast, the force lifts it off of the fround and it's top half slams into the sealing. Taking advantage of it now being dazed, Moran grabbed a hooked hand and flings it into one of the stone walls. The air gets  knocked out of it, it gurgles and struggles go get up. Moran feels it needs more motivation, so far it has only been acting to protect it's prey, but what would it do if he removed that from the equation?
    Moran makes it to the woman faster than her deprived brain can register, but her eyes close peacefully, somehow knowing that her pain was about to end. Without a second thought, Moran breaks her neck, his excitement raising with the creatures noise of alarm.
    This is what it had needed, a hook loops over his shoulder, yanking him back into it's waiting teeth. It naws at his skin, unable to break the surface. Moran reaches back and grabs it's exposed collarbones, he can feel the teeth sharpening to the creatures intense desire to taste his blood. He leys his nails turn back into claws and rips through the sheer skin around the collarbones, gripping them tightly. Something is moving from underneath it's rib cage, Moran slams his feet into the creature's, holding them in place and thrusts his hips back into its squishy stomach. In one fluid motion, he breaks the creatures collarbones free from it.
    It finally screams, making the first inhuman sound since the his, it's blood soaks into Moran's shirt. He hisses in frustration at the lost article of clothing, he'll have to restart the build ip of grime on another shirt. Moran turns the collarbones in on the creature, stabbing them back into it's neck. Twisting himself, he lands a solid punch into it's soft belly, feeling something rupture within. It vomits up blood and intestines,with Moran facing it's rib cage now, he watches as thin bsrely formed arms separate themselves from it's chest and grab at his face. It's hip bones grow and shield it's underbelly, leaving only a crack of unprotected  belly. The small hands catch in hair, pulling at it, grapping the small arms, he pushes it towards a eooden wall, it's legs scramble to oppose the direction. It's hooked hands claw at the ground, the creatire continues to shriek. He releases the tiny arms in exchange for the long ones, pulling them close into his self, he crouches and thrusts himself and the the creature into the wooden wall.
    The shoulder blades stick soundly into the wall, the hands release Moran in the confusion, he dances out from it's reach, a hint of anger in his eyes. Moran controls his anger, he was having fun until his shirt had gotten ruined, he curses the creature for the wasted weeks he had spent cultivating a human smell. He doesn't really feel like playing with the creature anymore, but he can hear the other serving victims still in the house, it would be better if they saw him in human form, no matter how inhuman he fights, the can't claim to have seen anything else. Moran retracts his claws, forcing them back into nails.
    The creature thrashes against the wall, retracting it's shoulder blades just pulls it it closer to the wall. It screams in rage and frustration, it's shoulders and hips break, and reform, it's entire body rearranging to have it's hook hands and feet pushing against the wall. With a concentrated heave, it's finally free, it's head twists until it looking at Moran upright again. Moran watches in awe, momentarily distracted from his angst. Muscles contact, push, and change to it's new method, only it's hair and feet remain human. With the latest change, it's human thoughts are now a distant memory, now all it knows is the hunt, and it's loathing of Moran.
    'It's a shame to kill something so unique.' There is little feeling behind Moran's thought.
    It steps around him wearily now, placing It's feet with care, looking for an opening. It's teeth chatter nervously, only now without It's humanity is is able to sense the superior predator. Being ruled by instinct, it's body longed to flee, but the rage at Moran remains. Death, it's body warned it, revenge, the mind would reply. The urges war against each other as it circles Moran, making no move to strike, but appraising him still. Moran mirrors it's movements, keeping his back from it. He isn't afraid that can really harm him, but his insincts won't allow him to take any unnecessary risks.
    Someone is approaching the house, the creature can't sense them, but Moran knows the mind a little to well for how little time he's spent with the owner. He can hear an edge of hysteria to the normally monotone tenor of the thoughts, but he doubts the worry he hears is for him.
    'They will have a weapon on them, finally he will show some usefulness.'
    Moran hisses at the fiend, distracting it from footsteps that would soon come within it's range of hearing. The creature baulks, then rallies, it can see now that the only way out, is to fight Moran. It straifs towards him, trying to make it's movements erratic, but doesn't move to harm him, it's goal now is evasion. He applauds it's efforts at being clever, it's forced some intelligence back into itself, but it wont be enough. It analyzes his every move, trying to stratagise against his every move, while reacting to any percieved threat he shows it. All at once it leaps to his feet, stopping short if him, and twin arm blades shoot out from it's back, one pierces Moran's shoulder, drawing blood for the first time. The other nearly misses his face, nicking his ear instead, ripping a jagged streak into it. He snatches the one next to his face, enraged he bites into the arm and rips it from the main body. With fluid turn he forces the other blade out of his shoulder, and jams the other blade against the creatures head. Somehow it had had the forethought to thicken it's skull, Moran had used excessive force in trying to pierce the creatures brain, the arm sliding through his fingers, the blade on the end slicing deeply into his fingers.
    The room grows hot in an instant, Moran loses control of his rage and resorts to a small version of his true form, and roars at the creature. The creature screams from the heat, it's skin thickening in response, growing leathery to protect itself. Moran bites into the creatures back, crunching  the plated rib cage and flings it into a wall. He can feel his body rebelling against the size he's desperately moderating, it would not be helpful to him to erupt out of this building, or so he tells himself. Moran jumps on the creature, and rips the cosest limb to him off, slowly, it's blood spattering onto his face. This clears his mind for a moment, helping him think rationally again, he forces himself back into his human form, feeling a little sheepish at losing his temper at an inconsequential being. The creature is pushing the remaining small blade arm on it's back to the front, to replace the one Moran had just ripped off.
    Nergüi rushes into room, he'd sensed Moran's outburst, he doesn't want to think about how he'd known Moran was upset. But to his surprise, Moran turns to smile at him, and waves a severed human arm.
    "Do you think you could loan me one of your arms?" Moran jests, adding a wink.
    Nergüi blinks rapidly, trying to process the question as the creature hand stands and kicks Moran into a wall. He turns his attention to the monster, it's so like many of the creatures he's hunted in the past, but a monster this evolved would have needed to have been through alot to have gotten to this point. Nergüi unsheaths his sword, this is an evil he can kill.
    "What have you done to this?"
    Moran pulls himself out from the agacent room,
    "Why do you assume it's my fault?" He grimaces at the fresh bruises in his back.
    He's fairly indestructible, but even he can't keep this up for much longer.
    "When isn't it your fault?" Nergüi mumbles under his breath.
    The creature mistakes Nergüi as an easier target, lashing out at him with the hooked hand. Nergüi deftly deflects the attack, and swings his sword in a tight arc, severing the hand in one motion.
    Moran catches Nergüi's sword in his uninjured hand, and yanks it free from his grip. He pushes him out of the way, and pins the sharp hand to the floor by it's forearm. Nergüi's face falls in embarrassment, he hadn't noticed the secret attack.
    "Really, I thought you were a monster hunter, human." Moran allows a pointed smirk at Nergüi, keeping his peripheral senses on the creature.
    It lurches at Moran, it's mouth wide and eager to sink it's teeth into him. Without breaking eye contact with Nergüi, her wrentches the sword free of the floor boards and with barely a flourish, severes the creatures bottom jaw from it's face. The creature gags on it's own blood for a moment, before Moran let's his claws reform and shoves his hand in the shape of a knife into it's exposed throat, and rips it's spine out through it's mouth. It collapses to the ground, without the conduit of it's spine, it's body lays twitching on the ground, it's blood coating the floor. And to be certain the creature is dead, Moran digs his claws into it's eye sockets and severs it's head from the rest of it's body, throwing it through the hole it had made with him. Nergüi's face is unreadable.
    "There are other victims further down the hall." Moran dangles the welfare of other humans to snap Nergüi out of whatever had him stuck. True to form, Nergüi's hero complex is activated.
    "Where?" His eyes grow serious.
    Moran rolls his eyes, flips the sword around, with its handle towards Nergüi.
    "There aren't many doors in this place, they're behind one that doesn't conduct sound."
    Nergüi's eyebrows lower in frustration, but his expression is oddly, relieved.
    'Why the relief?' Moran considers asking, but doesn't know if he actually cares.
    Nergüi takes the sword from Moran, and uses it to stand back up, and sets to cleaning off the blade. He sets off out of the room, Moran hears him open one door, a pause, then the opening of another door, followed by muffled screams. Moran listens to Nergüi comfort the other humans, and feels a little jealous at how gently he treats them. Not jealous that he doesn't treat him that way, but jealous of the comeradere all humans are able to feel towards one another. His soothing words and actions win over the other humans emotions, that is something Moran can never do.
    He hides in the room with the now twisted human body of the man that had become a creature. Moran looks at him with thoughtful interest. What about his spell had inspired this human to hunt, and eat his own kind until he became the creature he was today? Had something he'd transcribed into the surrounding area caused him to abandon the rest of humanity in his pursuit of a most despised and taboo pleasure? Moran kneels next to the corpse, looking for any sign that would differentiate him from the rest of humanity. The mans smell was now human, even though Moran had indeed consumed his soul, the creatures mind had not remained. Does that mean that it had wanted to die?
    Without proper clothing to wear, Moran with attract too much attention for his spell to work. He could try to pretend to be blind, human inherently avoid looking at those with disabilities, but that may back fire with a blind man covered in blood. But he can't stay here, humans will grow curious and want to gawk at the dead body. Pieces of it are strewn around the room, Moran crouches and pick a rib off of the ground. Only minutes ealier it had taken the shape of a thin small arm, but now that it was severed from the source, it had returned to it's original form. He hears the Traveler approach from behind, he'd just finished delivering the human victims to the proper authorities. Moran doesn't look up from the bone, instead he presses a finger into a pointy edge of the rib.
    "Do you know what causes men to become these things?" Nergüi asks.
    Moran isn't surprised by the question, as far as this human knows, he may be an expert on the subject of creatures being able to take on a different shape. He consideres the question for a moment, then decides to be truthful in his answer.
    "I don't know for certain, but-" he tosses the bone aside, and stands up to circle the corpse until he faces Nergüi, "there's something wrong with your blood."
    He scratches under his chin, Nergüi can see that there's more to what he has to say.
    "Much like my own people, you humans taste disgusting, there's s smell to you that is almost repulsive, it's unique to your species, and gets stronger when you," Moran nudges the remaining arm with his foot, "become something else."
    Nergüi shakes his head, dumbfounded,
    "How was there one here? This town has maybe 11,000 souls in it, I didn't expect to see one here, if all places."
    Moran smiles sheepishly at Nergüi,
    "Now that part is my fault," his face grows serious, "I am influencing this entire town to give in to their own worse desires, this one just needed less prodding than most."
    "Influencing? How- nevermind, I know you won't tell me." Nergüi sighs with frustration.
    Moran can't help but smile at his comment,
    "So you aren't a complete idiot, could have fooled me."
    Nergüi makes a face,
    "Why do you insist on being an ass-hole?"
    Moran raises an eyebrow,
    "And here I thought you were a goddess fearing man, such a strong word for a pure human."
    "My faith is in question, at the moment." Nergüi avoids Moran's eyes.
    'Is he trying to make me feel guilty for enslaving his soul? He really is an idiot.' Moran think to himself.
    He takes an angry breath in through his nose, and notices that the Traveler smells bad. His anger shifting back to a more pleasant mood.
    "I need your clothes, give them to me." The Travelers attempt at controlling him had made him not in the mood to ask politely.
    As before, Nergüi's body immediately complies,
    "Wait a moment!" Nergüi protests, "You can't just-" he gasps as his skin is exposed to open air.
    Moran waves a hand at him as he starts stripping his undergarments off as well,
    "Keep your underwear, I have no need of that." Moran nearly shudders at the thought of the human substances that often cling to their under clothes. He inspects the clothes, the Traveler's sense of style is exotic... but these will do for now. Even different, they shouldn't draw too much attention to him.
    "I can't walk around without clothes!" Nergüi protests, covering himself as best as he can.
    Moran mocks innocent astonishment,
    "Of course not! I would never want to harm your reputation in that way." As he says it, he imagines the Traveler walking around in his underwear, and the looks he would get from fellow humans.
    "You wouldn't-" Nergüi pauses, realising making demands make worsen his current predicament, "Please don't make me."
    Moran appreciates the effort Nergüi had put in, and he want's to encourage him to being more polite to him, so he relents.
    "He didn't live here," Moran points at the corpse, "But he has clothes in the first room you entered in the hallway before finding the other humans."
    Relief floods Nergüi's face, he nodds appreciatively and rushes to find some clothes.
    Meanwhile, Moran changes into the traveler's clothes, noting their similar heights, and feeling a little miffed that the Travelers is more filled out than he.
    'I can't help that I was born premature, now can I? ' His diminished and sickly stature was a source of grief for him, no matter how many times he'd relived killing the creature that had breached his egg before it was time, it wasn't enough to comfort him on the the loss he'd felt to be grave. Him being pale had followed him his entire life, and had only fueled the name he'd ever known. No one calls him by it anymore, his little excursions into this realm had seen to that. Because of this, he is powerful enough to kill anyone who calls him by his given name.