:Demons: Primary Definition: Evil Force in Physical Form
A lone male stands at the stoop of a large, dilapidated building. In his hands is a strip of paper, the material weathered and yellowed while an address is scrawled in crisp and clean calligraphy. Chewing at the inside of his cheek, the male's gaze flicks from the paper to what numbers still hang on the structure, trying to match the address that a scarlet haired vixen had passed him earlier that eve. Briefly his eyes close, remembering the hustle and bustle of the Haven, the smell of alcohol perverting the air, and the pulsing rhythms of the DJ driving the citizens to dance against each other in a lewd fashion. Then there was her; the red-head that wore so little, body writhing in a manner as if to lure in onlookers. She had come to him, slipped him the address, and with the bat of her lashes she disappeared into the night. Now here he stood, shaking but eager; into the building he went.
The first thing that was apparent was that the building seemed unused. It was dark, ragged curtains drawn, an intricate table set for many.. but filmed in residue and time. Taking cautious steps towards the table, a sudden wail echoed off of the walls, female in pitch. Adrenaline pulses through his veins as the man locates the stairwell, scaling floor after floor as the shouts and pleads get louder and more desperate. Finally the stairway opens into one large room, though this room is inhabited not by age and grime.. but by twisted creatures. All eyes turn on him, but his eyes settle upon the heap of flesh that sits in the center of the floor, blood pooling from the mess and shaping a pentagram. Tearing his eyes from the corpse, his stomach threatening to force him to wretch, he takes in faces one by one. Horns that protrude from foreheads, scaled tendrils that tear free from the flesh of a man's back - writhing eagerly, wings of one woman, leathery and tipped with blade-like claws... and finally, sitting nearest the sorry excuse for human remains - that woman.
The woman's legs are crossed, her pale flesh stained near black with the blood of the victim, her ruby lips parting to show a broad grin coated in the crimson substance. "Ah.. our guest of honor!" Her words bit at his soul, something sinister and otherworldly in the tone. But still the man stands there, unable to move, petrified by the terror of the situation. The woman moved from her thrown, still holding that gore-filled grin, but her form began to shift. Her flesh blisters and falls away, darkness consuming her form as she nears him. But the man's eyes are locked with hers, and as she gives a beckoning motion with her hand, the male can't seem to resist.. walking towards the creature - compelled. Within moments the demoness was upon him, tearing his throat out with her maw of fangs. Seconds later both victim and hunter were lost to the horde of grotesque creatures all vying for their own piece of flesh.