Valley of Aram

TRIGGER WARNING: Threats of violence, more freaky voice stuff

It felt wrong to stoop low and cover his face, the mouthpiece of the gods should not be so humble. But the sun rose high in the sky, it ached his eyes and head, and dried his skin painfully. Unfortunately, the many miracles of Cil Raasv did nothing to cure his damnable paleness.

A black cloak would have to do. Hooded figures were hardly unusual, but he nonetheless worried somewhat about being noticed. A voice in the back of his head soothed him, goaded him forward. Yes, yes it will be alright. It has been too long since a death-priest walked the villages, nobody would recognize one when they saw it. Besides, the library knew him, and would not pester him.

Once inside, he stood up, no longer shrinking from the sun. He looked around. Sniffed subtly. Cinnamon. The cur was in here somewhere.

None would recognize them: Yet another guise, this one decidedly a Majda. Braided, long, dark hair, skin a deep violet, made up in white. Conservative clothing that looked wealthy but not truly rich. Cooped up in some corner of the library, this elf wasn't a rare sight, and they always studied books within the magic sections. Today's topic was on warding the undead, written in a near-western tongue, but not native to the region.

Andrei wandered aimlessly through the library with a grim countenance. "There" he heard something whisper. "There. There." He followed it through the halls of books, silently brushing past the other patrons, politely excusing himself as he moved around them against the flow of foot traffic.

That one must be it. He could almost make out the pages in the elf's hand from there, without even approaching. Somehow or other, it was making him angry.

A hand came down heavily on the paper in front of Zaany. Curled hands raked down the page, crinkling the paper, tearing it. "Dinner was a bit... LATE today, master Lownoise." He rasped. He held up a ruined page, looking at it with disgust. "Here I thought you had better taste in books."

He held his fist, and the ruined page, over a reading lamp, letting it burn.

Somewhere in that chair was a stiff tail, hidden by illusion. The elf at the table stared at Andrei, keeping a flat expression, quietly closing the book as the offending hand moved away with its desecrated page. "Destroying library property, foreigner? And such a rare tome. You could so easily be banned."

And yet the violet being's breathing was quick and shallow.

"I will destroy more than library property you traitorous idiot." He wiped the ash on his robe. "As if it matters. We happen to be familiar with that book, and it is as wrong as it is rare." He snorted.

"I will give you an opportunity to explain yourself. Cil Raasv takes no pleasure in petty revenge. I however, just might." Andrei reached out, touched the elf's face. His hand was dry as the paper he'd ruined. "You could make it up to me with a gift. I prefer edibles."

And they flinched from the touch. Just barely, but it was there. Their nose crinkled. "Might you set your papery, dead flesh alight, next you ruin a book."

They pulled away from him, slipping back and out of their chair. However, aside from over the table, they were trapped between a shelf and the wall, and the robes seemed rather bulky and constricting.

"Are you too lazy to prepare your own meals?"

"What, and deprive you of your station in life?" The too-many voices were back, but they were quiet. They quieted fast, leaving only Andrei. "If you must know, my time is being spent on further research. Research even you might benefit from. Getting used to this body... comes with some growing pains. I do not have the energy, yet, to continue working and feed myself at the same time."

The second voice was back. "The mind of the death priest is turned towards higher functions. The right of the holy is to be served by the unclean. Do your job without complaining, and the blessings of the vulture will be upon you. Fail, and you may meet them sooner than you wish."

The dog was a disobedient one, but mentions of blessings... of treats, as it were, caught their attention. "And what does this godling offer as blessing for keeping your pathetic hide fed?"

"You are a researcher, yes? You pour over books and papers as if you were a religious student." The voices rasped, but not in an unfriendly way. "Would you care to speak to their authors? They are all here... all of them. They all come here eventually. We could tell you. We could tell you so much." Whispers darted near the elf's ears.

"Or perhaps an old woman, who knew where the best grove was for finding fire-weed? Or where a box of jewels lies forgotten? Or even knowing something of the future? Does a god disappoint? All the blessings fall like shed feathers, gently on the heads of the devoted."

The voices almost sounded kindly. "But when the mouthpiece of the gods is silent, all of these good things will be buried again, like so many bones in a field. Dog though you are, you have potential. And is not a body such a small price to pay?"

The demon yet stared, and finally let out a small almost-grunt. "Fine."

The elf finally brushed past the chair, hesitating only briefly before pushing past Andrei. He wanted fed. Fine. He could be fed. Their own stomach was content already from a previous night's meal, but they could hunt.

"Good dog." The voices rumbled after them. Andrei turned and watched them go, only stopping when others would possibly find the staring strange. No, they wouldn't recognize the earthly dead if they saw one, but it was only through carefulness that it would stay that way. He sneered at the book, left on the table and shut it.

"Traitorous idiot." He mumbled.

TRIGGER WARNING: Gore, more freaky voice shit, violence, allusion to some weird kinky sexual crap, man, someone get the hose

Strong command of the magic of enchantment and, lesser so, illusion granted the demon the ability to ferret away bodies to their rooms without much worry of being caught. But, better yet, as always, was simply bringing a live one back to kill, instead.

Barely more than a child, but with flesh to spare, the dog wasted little time in revealing theirself and taking the mind of the gargantuan Duntra youngling. And the vaasa dragged the body by its wrist into Andrei's room, not bothering to knock, tearing its throat out on his floor. Staring silently.

Andrei was hunched at his desk- a familiar posture, one that almost made him look normal again. The black eyes that glared back at the elf ruined that illusion. "Good." He said solemnly.

Something about his face almost seemed sad. If there was guilt, however, it was quickly replaced by hunger. The dead being knelt down to the body and pulled out a small, dull knife. He plunged it into the victim's belly.

"I am going to feed, now. You do not have to sit and watch, if you do not have a mind to."

The elf soon sat there, instead of the dog. And their look of disdain... "And I am unclean." Their nose was wrinkled, and they climbed to their feet, slinking from the room to find the usual loose robes worn in their rooms.

Andrei ate ungracefully. Any decorum the "priest" pretended to have caved in when it came to a feeding. The liver went first, with great relish. The 'lesser' pieces like the stomach and kidneys were next. He ate quickly, barely stopping to chew. He paused a moment- to cover the face of the dead. Whatever human part left of him still felt that much. He trembled for a moment and seemed oddly conflicted.

He wolfed down a few more bites of flesh, and then stood, wiping his mouth on the clothes of the dead. "I have eaten what I can. I will finish this... later." He grabbed the corpse and heaved it up, carrying it. His stomach was rounded, bloated looking. He waddled as he walked. The heavy dead barely seemed to phase him, despite a frail appearance.

Dressed, the demon lurked in the front room, perched on the couch, robes loose as usual, but elegant. Pinprick lavender eyes followed the dead thing into the washroom, and out, disgust still quite apparent on their face. "Are you going to make a habit of that? I prefer the tub for other things."

And they looked over his frail yet bloated body, narrow nose wrinkled. "How useless. Why would you give up your warm, working body for this caricature? Broken in so many ways. I hope you did not expect to see the butcher's wife again."

"I did not know that it would happen." His voice fell flat. If the death god was in him, they were placated and silent. His voice sounded unhappy.

"One of the many dangers of doing a ritual in a second language. This form... has its blessings. It is dry, yes, it is blinded and hard to look at. But it will not age. It will not die... natural comforts are the price to be paid. You can never get something for nothing. Not even from a benevolent god like my beloved vulture."

He sat down with a sigh. "I do not suppose she will want to see me like this. If I continued to carouse with her, and her husband saw me like this, the risk would be high that I might be recognized for what I am. I suppose that is another sacrifice. The loneliness will be a sacrifice."

"At this rate, it'll be rather obvious you are a walking corpse. Why don't you even try to take care of yourself?" And then they choked a laugh. "You speak as if you could even please her. You are a corpse, you do not even have a heartbeat. You are broken in so many ways, and that is one."

"You don't know that. I haven't even tested it yet." He looked down at himself grimly. "Haven't really been in the mood. My mind has been rather...somewhere else. My skull is crowded."

"'Tested' it." Their brow was raised high, the now-usual sneer cocked on their lips. "It does not come naturally to you? How sad."

Oh, the slave was acting quite out of station.

"How lovely, that you can not even be alone, either." There was a clipped laugh.

"Yes. Never alone. You should know better, then, to let your guard down." Thick voices rasped in return.

Andrei shook his head. "There is a shard in me-a pinion, stuck in me, of the god. It distracts me from many former pleasures... but that is not to say it does not work, or that the benevolent vulture would not give that gift to their servant, if the servant asked."

His hand wandered to his crotch, uncouthly. "I can still feel it, when I am touched."

It was very clear from the stiffness of the seated demon that every time the voices came, they were disturbed. It still wouldn't stop them from running their mouth, though. Rare that anything would, really.

"Don't suppose you bothered asking for a much more generous piece, hm?" Scathing little shit.

"You never complained." He muttered in response. "Besides, if I see one I like, I could merely TAKE it. Shall I try yours on for size?"

The voices mocked. "Or maybe wear your ears or tail? If you don't make yourself useful, I just might."

"At your size, you'd die of bloodloss if you so much as had an arousing thought. If, of course, you weren't already a papery, stinking, walking corpse." Still, the shift in their thighs was noticeable. Even sitting, though, they managed to just tower over him, and stared down their long nose.

"HahahaHAHA" a cacophony of cruel voices barked back at him. "A death priest, bleed to death? Come now, dog, I thought you were less stupid."

He stood up, staring. "But... perhaps not, especially considering how you try my patience. Yes, maybe I will castrate you, and take more of you than that! The piece is the least of the worries. I could flay you so that you live through it and wish you hadn't. I could make you wish for something kind as death"

The creaking voice quieted suddenly. "Or this could be spared... if only you ask the god nicely. Forgiveness is one of many blessings. But for you... you should earn it."

"Or perhaps you should be quite nice to me, otherwise, live in your loneliness forever. No one wants to lie with a corpse. But I can maybe close my eyes and pretend you're someone much more handsome."

"If you are so concerned about loneliness, perhaps all the friends you've made over the years should come back out to play?"

The whispers crawled along the walls with faint cries of "vaasa!" Andrei took a step forward and grabbed the elf by the neck. "If you think yourself so handsome, I suppose I could wear your face as a mask, and hide my own poor, lowly countenance? I trust your opinion and clearly you think very highly of this face... it is painted so prettily."

The elf found theirself wheezing in the man's grip, still looking down at him, mouth a tight frown. Despite how wide their eyes were, despite the vibration of terror in their body, their sharp teeth spat, choked out: "Toy of a godling or not, do not think I can not destroy you, and all here."

Fire smoldered between their clenched claws. "My death or dismemberment would be useless for you, and you'd quickly be found out without my magic."

"Your magic means nothing to a god. There will soon come a time where I practice openly. Where these mortals bring me sacrifice of their own accord, and beg favors."

His grip tightened. "You must wish for death. You seem intent on courting it. You have the attention of the death god now, what shall it do for you?"

The fire fizzled out in their palms, their eyes closed, clenched. Well, this entire situation was quite stupid. Their voice was taken, most of their magic inaccessible. The main escape would be blocked in this city. Why had they let him grab hold?

The elf leaned almost limply into the grip, fingers loose and hanging. One eye finally peeked open, watery, staring down at him still.

Andrei relented. Slowly, the elf was released. He took a step back. "Tell us. Why do you enjoy running your mouth, even if it runs off a cliff?"

The voices almost purred. "Surely you do not entirely wish for death,... but you do seem to wish for pain. Is that the blessing you request, Master Zaany?"

He seized the hair of their goatee and held their face to his own. "I can grant you that."

The elf did not answer. At first, they slumped back into the couch, involuntarily gasping for breath, limbs collapsing in front of them, as if meekly protecting their middle. But then they hissed, scrambling to keep from falling as they were yanked forward by their finely-cared for facial hair.

"...You've changed." It was a whisper, breathy.

"Death will do that to you."

TRIGGER WARNING: Reference of previous violence and sexytimes, more gore

Andrei hadn't even needed to ask; there was a body lying on the couch waiting for him.

Lurking in a chair across the room was the demon, drowsy looking but immediately alert when the man entered the room. Loose robes were hardly done up; the thick bruises on their thin neck had only partially healed. Fast, but he'd apparently done quite the number on the elf. One could only imagine what their thin hips might look like....

Seated uncomfortably, the elf nonetheless straightened, chin lifting to, once more, look down their nose at the newly commanding ghoul.

"Have you considered asking your godling for a home? This is getting dangerous. Unlike you, my meals are half so sloppy. And surely you do not expect to continually evade awareness, coming in here." Finally, lower, "Personally, I do not care for sharing such close quarters to you any longer."

"Not godling. God." The voices snapped in return, but quickly diminished, almost as if 'Andrei' was insisting on control over his new 'temper.'

"I have asked them for a place of my own, yes. Despite what you might think, neither I nor Cil Raasv have been in the business of keeping slaves, even if they did deserve it. And they agree with you that this inn is less than comfortable."

He pulled the body from the couch and began to carry it to the table. "It is likely that I will soon take up residence in the mortuary temple here in town. The vulture wishes to reclaim it. After that... if all goes well, perhaps a new temple will be built for them. Or one of the forgotten ones restored. Either way."

He began tearing open the body's belly.

"You are alone in this. What makes you think taking a temple is feasible? How quickly will you be torn down? You only control me because I allow it. You can't blackmail an entire city."

The elf had quite literally rolled their eyes at the correction. Their brow rose. "Have you no access to a private property? Surely someone had died recently with none to inherit their home. A place to retreat as needed, to build."

And, quietly, "And what is my relation, if you are not in the business of slave keeping? 'Servant' would imply my willingness." It was a taunt.

"Those temples belong to me. They were built in my honor and they were mine and will easily be again." An angry voice roared at him.

Andrei rubbed his face. "It isn't a matter of taking anything by force. I will have employment there and with the large reservoir of knowledge at my command, will easily and quickly rise through the ranks until I am as good as its owner. I will then begin to collect followers in secret. The death cults still exist, even if they are persecuted. They would be more than glad..."

He looked up from his gruesome dinner. "Though perhaps there is a 'friend' I could recruit, too. She seems to have wealth enough."

Zaany stared at the possessed ghoul, smirked at how easily it was prodded.

"Who?"

"The woman who helped me translate these books in the first place. That family has enough to spare. Perhaps they could be persuaded to make a religious donation." He chucked a bit. "It could not hurt to ask. At any rate, I am not worried for myself. When you feed on death, you aren't likely to go hungry."

He looked down at the corpse he'd been cutting into, took out a piece and ate it almost daintily. "As for you, well. I suppose that depends on what you plan on doing if you are set free."

The elf laughed loudly. "Her husband is generous only on certain ways. Religion...not one. You'd be better served looking elsewhere, for she is not much different."

There was a flash if teeth, an arched brow. "So you admit you think of me as some pet."

"Her husband isn't who I care about." He scoffed. "If I cared what he thought, would I have slept with her?"

He rolled his eyes at the elf. "Are you not some pet? You are obedient enough, you did bring dinner, but you're not entirely a slave either, now are you? Are you beaten like one? Are you kept in chains? I've only harmed you in ways you enjoy."

"You know nothing of her, do you? Too busy fooling around to discover even the basics."

Zaany sighed, stood with some effort, readjusted their robe. "I simply wish for a clear perspective of my current position."