Thread: Yo Ho, Ho, And A Bottle of Rhum on a Dead Man's Chest;;

Hearing her reply, he instantly got the feeling that the 'business' had to do with him in some way, but he didn't know what. It didn't seem threatening like she was planning a trap or anything so he brushed off the feeling of suspicion he had. Hearing her order, Torean sneered but nodded assent. I'll be there, he said in his raspy voice, in a tone of nonchalance. But he did not move until she was gone from the room. He could feel her and sense where she was like a small beacon emitting a signal every once and a while that he felt like a small wave washing over him. There was a haughtiness in her as she walked down the street and through her, he indirectly sensed the fear of those she passed. Smirking, he rose from the ground and looked around the dark room, thinking of what he could possibly bring. It had been a long time since he'd left this house, or this city and everything was kind of cozy for him. A feeling of nostalgia came over him as he looked around there was the chair he'd broken when he'd gotten in an argument with the demon one evening. He remembered the night, the beast had cornered a mother and her son in an alleyway, killing them both without batting an eye. But those memories and that kill were also Torean's and that night he'd refused to go out again when the demon grew hungry once more. It had been a struggle of wills as he'd fought with the creature inside, the chair becoming a victim in the midst of his internal fight. He'd gone out again anyways, but still he remembered the event and associated it with the chair that lay half in pieces, tipped over and resting on it's splintered seat. That pile of skulls over there in the corner were a group of drunken friends who hadn't been too careful in selecting an alley to walk home through after leaving a pub. He sometimes played with them remembering the shock, fear, and pain on their faces as they'd been sliced down under his blade. On that far wall was a splatter of blood from a banker he'd lured in from the street, the man passing by the house too closely and walking too slowly as he'd been counting his money. The man's coin purse was still lying around here somewhere... Yes, this nest had served him well for a long time and he'd be pulling up his roots now to leave it all behind. But there was also a part of him that was eager to leave this dump behind, for the first time getting excited about something other than killing someone. She'd said something about her crew being elite or whatever, so that meant he was going to have to keep a tight leash on the demon when on board her vessel. He could do it of course, but it was a minor annoyance that he'd have to wait for his meals and only let Locke out when ordered to. But, the demon had agreed to her condition so it must be alright with it. But with Locke, there was always a loophole, always a way to push someone's buttons and if she were not completely direct and cover all her bases, the demon would find a way through. Walking over to the bureau that's feet on one side had rotted through so it slanted and leaned against the wall, he opened the cracking doors and started to go through his clothes. Then It was there, hovering inside his head and speaking in his ear. Hungrig , it said in a whisper that sounded like a cross between a snake and breaking glass. Torean stopped what he was doing momentarily and sighed. He'd just fed it an hour ago. Granted, there was no set times that it liked to be fed, seemingly random in it's need but still it was annoying how persistant it was. Torean nodded and took a deep breath, continuing what he'd been doing. He peeled his jacket and shirt off, the clothes coming away like a second skin being removed, dirty and crusty from months of being worn. His torso coming into view showed a hard, lean muscled form with scars crisscrossing his flesh. Most of his victims were cowardly common folk, defenseless and innocent, but there had been others who despite their fear or because of it had fought back. He'd been mortally wounded 13 times in all, and a normal man would have died from every last one. But not Torean, with the demon inside healing him quickly to protect it's vessel. He redressed quickly in a musky and slightly wrinkled flowing white shirt, a brown leather vest over top of it and a dark overcoat with wooden buttons. The pants and boots he had on before stayed, still in somewhat good condition, but even so pretty old and weathered. He only had one pair. It wasn't the richest outfit ever, but it was what he had gathered over the years. After it's initial remark, the demon continued to whisper excitedly in his head, pestering him to hurry up like it always did. Beautiful fleisch wonderful fleisch smooth and pulsing ready to tear delicious screams screaming musical enchanting blood flowing spilling warm and bitter bones breaking cracking snapping like twigs... Torean could normally ignore it and push it to the back of his mind if he was preoccupied, but after a while it got to him. I know, he said, making a small bundled pack of some other shirts from the closet. But the demon only got louder practically drooling in it's excitement. Tear the fliesch! Rip it to shreds! Pull the heart out and squeeze tightly! Stabbing stabbing with blade and tooth! Lick the blade! the thing was practically purring in delighted anticipation. I KNOW! Torean said angrily, slamming the doors on the dresser shut, the thing practically falling apart from the harsh treatment. He held his head a moment breathing deeply as the demon continued to talk, back to whispering now. Then with a sigh, he stood up straight, slinging the bundle over his shoulder as he walked from the room and left the house. The few people about generally ignored him but in such a way as if they were making a deliberate effort to shove him from their consciousness. Anyone who was present as he left the house would know immediately through subconscious intuition that he was the owner and their minds fled from such knowledge like blind and frightened sheep. As Torean turned down the street walking with purpose, he stared ahead blankly, intent upon his goal. The constant yammering of the thing inside him started to affect him in another way as well, the hunger of the beast starting to fill him and become a part of him. The feelings the desires washing over him as if they were his own intensified with every step. But he didn't let It out, walking down the cobbled streets with a cool, wolf-like grace. Tonight, the hunting ground was the Queen's Blessing, a pub and inn he hadn't been to in a while. Mostly, to avoid detection from the local authorities, Torean went well out of his comfort zone to hunt. Although he'd had a few of the city watch as his meals, he didn't like the thought of more of them coming down to bear on him. He'd fought in battles before facing off against 15-20 men by himself and had come out alive, but the sort of attention the police would bring was not one he wanted to encourage. This pub had been one of the first he'd killed in on arriving in this city, before he'd even found the house he currently lived in and had since branched further out because of the pub's close proximity to his dwelling. But tonight since he was leaving...well, why the hell not? He entered the building, the air filled with raucous laughter and multiple conversations going on at the same time. A homey merriment pervaded the air, as well as the sweet smells of cooking and the faint sound of music coming from some corner of the room. Men and women filled the tables in the front room and he glanced over them with a keen eye. Nobody paid him any mind, his presence practically invisible now that he was in hunting mode--the ability to quiet the demon so much that the cloud of dread that usually surrounded him faded to near-nonexistance. And the demon quieted willing, knowing the necessity to appear normal to catch people unawares. They'd done this countless times and it was something Locke found extremely exciting despite the dampening of it's presence. It loved to watch Torean hunt for him, the man having to find clever ways to draw people away without them suspecting anything was wrong. Walking through the room, Torean's eyes swept over everyone carefully, looking at legs and gullets and shoulders, faces and anticipating the looks of fear and pain that would be most enjoyable. Then he spotted her, a barmaid, weaving through the room with a tray held aloft and mugs of ale upon it. Auburn tresses hung down her back and she was tall and curvy under her aproned skirt. When she stopped at a table to lay down the drinks she glanced at him and he gave her a charming smile and a wink. Instantly the woman blushed, smiling and biting her lips as she looked away. She started to make her way back through the room to the back door that led further into the inn. By the way she swayed her hips purposefully and glanced back at him, Torean knew he should follow. He made his way along the same path she had ad went through the swinging door the noise and bustle instantly muffled when he was on the other side. He found her in a secluded crevice and with a smile swooped in and wrapped his arms around her. She was pliant yet nervous, squirming under his hold like a skittish deer, but returning his advances with flirtatious interest. Tonight, I will make you my Queen, he whispered huskily into her ear and he could feel her start to get more eager ad hot against him. Puling her along, he led her out the back through the kitchen and into the alley beside the pub, pressing her against the wall as he kissed her neck and let his hands roam over her body. She made soft cooing noises and ground against him, his body responding but not to her sexuality--his dick grew hard in anticipation of what was to come next. She yelped in delight when he bit her neck, giggling excitedly then yelped again in surprised pain. She shoved him away with furrowed eyebrow and her eyes went wide when she saw the blood staining his lips and trickling down his chin. Like a flash of lightning, the demon was there, smiling gruesomely with black eyes shining and sthe young woman screamed as the teeth bore down on her once more, the sound ending abruptly in a wet gurgling as her throat was torn to pieces. A sense of euphoria filled him as he felt the life slip from her and the sensation of her blood pouring down his throat, his teeth digging, tearing and sinking into her flesh. The knife was there as well, stabbing deep into her stomach and his hands pulling the wound open wider, divng in to play with her warm organs, pulling them out and letting them fall to the ground as he dived in for more. All of it filled Torean with bliss as he let the demon control him and move his body the way it wanted to. Then the girl was dead and slumped to the ground against the wall as he stepped back, breathing heavily in the night air. He gazed at her empty eyes and licked his fingers clean as he put the bloodied knife away in his boot. Feeling a joyful numbness as he walked away, te blood on his face and clothes faded as the demon retreated back into the depths and he let out a relieved sigh as it started to recount in a haunting whisper it's favorite parts of the kill before fading off into a trance-like slumber. His heart still beating fast and the pleasure from the slaughter still pumping through him, he made his way in the direction of the direction of where the Captain was, her presence fixated in his mind like a compass point. By the time he'd made his way nearer to the docks, he'd calmed down and started to breath in the smells around him with a faint optimism. It was only when he saw the Captain again standing and waiting for him, that he realized th girl he'd just killed beared a small resemblence to her. He couldn't quite remember if it had been the demon who'd picked the woman out or himself, but he shrugged it off as nothing more than coincidence. With his bundle slung over his shoulder he approached her languidly giving her a blase' nod of acknowledgement. Good evening, Captain , he said with a derisive sniff.