Bazille Coreling
Posted by Meg
Kai sends us a demon from a demon’s point of view.
Its eyes opened.
Black and beady, they soaked in the darkness that enveloped its newly shaped form, swiveling back and forth in the star enlightened night, as it surveyed its surroundings in an attempt to find something to satiate the burning rage that filled him from within. He could feel the fires of the Core far below him, a connection that drove him and all of his kind in their attempt to reassert their kind into their rightful place of control over the humans.
He was one of the more unique breeds of the corelings. A bastard child of the mimics, the Bazille was only able to take the shape of something that it consumed. There was no retention of that animal or humans abilities, but rather just an impression of its stolen self.
On almost all levels of competency that were measured by the ranks of corelings, the Bazille feel miserably short. In its true shape, it was small, a hand shorter than the clay coreling, lacking in natural armor and strength, and was forced to rely on its cunning and natural ability for stealth. This combined with its particular talents set it apart and above most of his counterparts.
Its one physical proficiency arose from the ability to detach its jaw as it prepared to bite, allowing it to expand its mouth around anything short of a stout oak’s trunk. Sharp, biting teeth rimmed its jaw beyond the line of sight, down into its throat lining up like a set bear trap, just waiting to engulf its nearest victim.
This ability allowed him to consume its prey, forcing down small and large objects alike into its prodigious stomach where some form of magic of conversion took place, creating a shifting that transformed him into a likeness of the creature that had just been eaten.
The second, and ultimately more important, trait that allowed for the Bazille’s rise in the ranks of importance, was through the act of impression came the ability to escape the pull back down into the Core for a brief period of time. Each time it varied, sometimes it lasted minutes, sometimes a hour. He was sometimes charged by the princes to gather info but most often it was spent taking unparalleled, evil joy in mauling some unfortunate family that had the misfortune of its house being far enough away from neighbors that its screams weren’t heard. It had something to do with the protection gained by the Impression, but eventually the sun’s despicable rays burned through the shell and once again he was yanked back down to the dark depths of the Core.
A shock of excitement that never got old took a joy ride up and down his spine every time the shock bloomed onto the unsuspecting faces of his victims as their favorite pet opened its maw and consumed as messily as possible on of their own.
Tonight he had formed in the wide expanse of a recently harvested field. He rose out of the ground on all fours, hunched low and close to the ground, always trying to wait to show himself at the last possible moment. The putrid smell of cut corn stalks hit its wide nostrils, grimacing as it turned its stomach. He assumed that it probably smelled good to the humans, but nothing but freshly torn skin and blood waiting to be spilt perked up its taste buds. To his kind, nothing but that smelled or tasted remotely palatable.
He began to move, his movements were sly and subtle as he moved towards the west, hoping to get every second he could away from the inevitable rising of tomorrow’s sun. There was a small house on the far edge of the field and the fire of a family’s evening activities shone brightly through a warded window. As he passed through the gate into the front lawn of the house he felt the awkward and slightly painful burn of wards that weren’t drawn for him but still hurt nonetheless. His kind was rare and the wards that affected him and his brethren hadn’t been rediscovered following the Great War.
He’d heard the rumors of late concerning the one covered in wards, the one who had taken down the giant coreling last fall. He’d heard the rumors spoken in hushed and fearful tones that the human was rediscovering wards long thought lost. He’d heard a lot in his day, but if there was anything he’d learned throughout the years was that most rumors were overblown and even if it turned out to be something even close to reality that worry was for another night. This night was for eating.
His dark shelled form slid quietly through the shadows of house making a circuit of the house looking for something bite into before he made his way into the home. The smell of the humans was beginning to overwhelm his senses and any modicum of patience was starting to slip away under the wave of anger and rage until he heard the quiet purr of a farm cat coming from the rear of the house. He moved closer, quieter than before, until he hovered over the small form, his tongue flitting out in tiny quick flicks as he licked his lips in anticipation.
The moment passed quickly as his teeth making quick and silent business of the animal’s body. They were bloody and covered in tiny bits of hair and gore as they spread into a wide, villainous smile as the swirl of magic and mystery began to churn in his stomach as the transformation began. It had never seen what the change looked like, but from his perspective it happened in less than five breaths. A few moments of heavy breathing and then the world shifted to reflect its new vantage point.
The scent of flesh was still the same but the burn to consume was stronger after the transformation. It always was; the necessity to replenish the magic expelled coupled with the hunger made for a condition that raged until his whole body trembled with barely contained energy. Each step was troublesome as his new feet moved silently towards the door where he raised its paw, claws extended, and began to scratch at the door.
It didn’t take many scratches as he heard footsteps begin, moved towards the front window and he watched the curtain get pulled aside and looked up to see a small human peek outside. She looked out to see what was causing the noise; a look of confusion spread across her face until she looked down and saw him. She smiled, a quiet giggle escaping past her lips as she moved to open the door to let the cat in.
The Bazille would have laughed along had its feline form allowed it, but settled for a smile, another smile of joy but for a completely different and much more malicious reason as it cracked its jaws in preparation for the evening’s snack.
Thank you to Kai for this entry! I love that it was from the point of view of the demon! Very creepy and creative.
Well written!
I like this guy