~ W e l c o m e * T o * D I S ~

The sinewy ink of shadows seemed to tremble as the restless boughs of Sylvayan Forest shuddered and sighed, wavering gently in the midnight breeze.

Its fathom were needy though, demanding a wind that washed down through ancient pathways of rich black soil and decaying leaves. There was a distinct bite to the atmosphere that clung distinctly to the boisterous canopy of scattered evergreens. Deciduous timber and gnarled, elderly trees spilled recklessly into the clear night sky, reaching up into the indigo canvas of star strewn fields.

Goliaths these trees, each peculiar and distinctive and clearly displaying a unique personality that set them apart from one another. Their countless whispers and unforgiving sighs were all that seemed to voice a protest to the winds which shattered the tranquil peace that had been this ungodly hour of eternal night. These wooden guardians had seen the passing of time, and continued to stand firm in their task. They were the eternal historians who chaperoned each passing moment with baited breath. They alone knew the truths within the lies, the stories left untold, and the paramount importance of the inconsequential. No one dared to trespass uninvited amid these ancient titans…

But something did stir within the cover of rustling leaves and tangled branches, prowling in the bramble of thorny thicket within the deep recesses of the woods. Footfalls came in silent precision, Toed paws heavy with razor talons traversed a winding pathway through the underbrush as if patrolling the area. /Snap/ went a twig in the night.

For a moment the figure stood perfectly still. The dark silhouette of the massive creature of both feather and fur was outlined by breaths of lunar ambiance which streamed through the gaping opening of intertwined limbs overhead.

A lone ranger astride a large white steed passed boldly through the trails in which the trees made spread, scanning the area with an uneasy gaze. Whether it was a hunter, or a rogue who merely took the wrong turn, it mattered not. He didn’t belong here.

The creature’s body became rigid and tensed behind the brush in which he crouched. Rattling breaths became shallow and concentrated as the nightly predator watched the figure in the distance. And as the wind shifted, casting a plethora of aromas up into his keen senses, something changed.

In one breath’s time, the beast charged out of the brush, sprinting with furious strides which ate up the ground with ease and devouring the distance with alarming speed. His stealthy approach had been quickly abandoned at the frightened squeal, alarming and frantic, of the white horse as it reared and turned before galloping haphazardly through the forest as he the dark beast gave chase..

Mighty wings bumped and scratched against twigs and branches as they tried to spread, spewing a wave of splintered wood and debris in the creature’s wake. The wooded guardians permitted no flying in their domain, reducing the predator to run like a common animal through these mystifying woodlands. And as his rage grew, a blistering screech ripped from the beast’s throat, bouncing off the trees and echoing through the forest like a piercing scream in the night.

A patch of open space was seen in the distance, and the horse and rider were galloping straight for it. The perilous chase through the darkness would not last long…

Don’t go into the open… Don't do into the open... don’t go into the ope-..

Foolish man.

A sound similar to a gunshot cracked out into the night as two large wings unfurled and caught wind. Feathers sliced swiftly through the chilly air, gaining momentum before a mighty downward sweep forced the beast into the air and well ahead of the intruder. The predator of feather and fur landed with a crash in the way of the galloping steed. The rider tugged and the reins, but to no avail. Their momentum was far too much to stop on a dime.

CRACK.

That was the sound that rang out as the creature slammed his head into the galloping horse, throwing both it and its rider backwards and toward the trees. The crack sounded as the horse’s body snapped against the tree and fell atop its rider, who was now attempting to squirm painfully out from beneath the dead equine. A deep growl rippled through the air as the beast prowled forth toward his kill, before placing a forepaw on the side of the horse, pinning the human to the ground.

The shadow-enthroned creature cocked his eagle-like head sideways and down, analyzing the corpse and the writhing man beneath his talons.

In a blink of an eye, he snapped downwards and took up the head of the intruder into its hooked beak. With a mere flex of his neck, the creature dragged him out from beneath his horse before throwing his head up and devouring the being whole. He then pecked at the horse, stripping the sinew clean off its skeletal hoard with ease. Once the feast had been enjoyed, the creature turned and parted from the scene and back into the cover of the trees, leaving nothing behind save for a large pool of blood and a few fragments of bone.

This powerfully built creature of robust muscle and lengthy raven foliage vanished silently back into the night, scanning the cellophane shadow though orbs of glimmering amethyst. A Griffin this beast was; guardian of the skies and of the ancient historians of whom he took his refuge… a creature of myth. But how could a creature of fantasy and fairy tales be out here?

No mortal has ever trod upon these lands without vanishing without hardly a trace. These woods, like nearly the rest of this Godforsaken world, bore a literal philosophy “Whatever goes in, never comes out”.

Without a beating heart, how could one possibly confirm or deny the existence of such rare creatures that dwell in the shadows?

It is said to lurk in this very place, but some have claimed to have seen the creature while others believe its just a folk lore fairy tale and yet its existence is very much real like that of the other creatures.

Believe what you may, but when you feel a slight breeze and a low cry from near by it means its closer than you think. No matter what you do to try and protect yourself it will always find you by the aura.

Any life sized object whether dead or alive it will become its food and in the form of a wounded young girl anyone or anything will come to help in that opportune moment is when it strikes.

The two things that stand out on this dragon would be the semi broken horn and the scar on its right eye from the fight it had with an obsessed human man who wanted the dragon's head on their trophy wall. The fight did not last long as the human man was the one who ended up losing because of one little thing they wanted that made them lose their life. No other human dared to come near the dragon since they did not want to end of up as dragon food.

This dragon will always be lurking about trying to see whose the next human to enter its sight and start a fight.

A gentle quiet fell over the eerie wood, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves as trees used the subtle breeze as their voice. Branches shuddered then fell silent, the copse becoming almost completely still. A low rumbling slowly grew loud as yet another creature of myth bounded through the forest, trampling fallen twigs and foliage under swift hooves.

The beast appeared to be the result of some indecisive god, with a lithe cervine body, intricate antlers and a long tail with a smoky wisp at the end similar to those of the noble lions painted on crests. Short, soft fur covered the majority of his body with scales lining his spine and running down his limbs partway. More voluminous tufts graced areas of his thin legs and neck, giving him a whimsical appearance.

In this moment, however, there was no whimsy to his movements as he galloped at full speed through the underbrush. An arrow protruded from his neck, droplets of dark blood dotting the ground as he ran. His breathing was labored and heavy, lungs rasping as air was heaved in and out in deep panting breaths. He ached down to his bones, his joints groaning and creaking as he forced his legs to carry him further, hooves pounding the soft earth and digging up mounds of dirt where the tips clawed the ground.

A frighteningly short ways behind him, a young hunter had set chase to his fleeing prey. The qilin hazarded a glance behind him, startled by the shrinking distance between him and his pursuer. He was honestly surprised this human had been able to successfully catch him off guard; the man had seemed to be a confident but green in his skill as a hunter. The deer-like beast cursed his stupidity in falling for the ruse. He continued to run as he watched the man gain on him, blood loss and fatigue weakening him and slowing his usually speedy pace. By the time he realized he had no idea where he was placing his hooves, it was too late, a protruding tree root catching his front right limb and sending him tumbling down a steep incline to his side. He rolled down the hill, moss and mud collecting in his fur as he tried desperately to regain his footing.

The Asian beast came to a sudden, unexpected stop as he collided with some dark, hard obstruction, the impact eliciting an odd yelp from his throat. He shook his head, mane swinging as he tried to collect his thoughts, looking around in a heavy daze as he took in his surroundings. He was pretty sure he had never been in this part of Sylvania and, if he had, he certainly didn’t remember. Lifting his bleeding neck, the qilin leaned against the shadowy object he’d run into, using it as leverage as he slowly stood on thin, shaky limbs.

As he moved, he could feel his scaly side slide against…… fur?

Amber eyes opening wide, he stumbled away from the unknown surface, taking a few steps back and craning his neck upward to see the imposing griffin in full. Looking over the other from curved beak to sharp talons to massive, folded wings, he froze where he stood, quivering in fright. He felt like he couldn’t move, paralyzed by an amethyst glare.

The creature pondered his rotten luck: hopefully escaping one predator only to fall into the clutches of another.

The Griffin, belly full and mind now somewhat at ease, had settled his massive form onto the slope of a steep hill and curled his tail around his large figure. It wasn’t usual that a creature of this rarity would rest out here in the open, but no one ever bothered this animal, save for occasional hunters and lost critters here and there. As the beast’s carefully yet majestically chiseled head lowered onto his folded forepaws, a large, fuzzy ear twitched at the sound of distant clattering. Landslides and tumbling rocks were not scantly known in this terrain, especially in this area of steep foothills and cliffs. The dreary haze of the ‘after hunt’ was settling in, slowing the creature’s reflexes as the body prepared to gather and use energy for digestion.

He was going to pay no mind to the forthcoming sounds or to the suddenly rustling noises taking place at the top of the cliff. Hardly anything had ever bothered his slumber in the past, the griffon wasn’t going to bother. That is, until whatever it was that was falling rammed into his side. The griffin’s eyes snapped open with a startled grunt before raising his head, arching his neck enough to turn and identify what had hit him.

Indeed, a giant this predator was. A normal Griffin would be only the size of a lion with light, earthy-colored tones scattered throughout their bodies. But with the massive space, remote territory, and no natural predators such as the Manticore or the competition of Harpies, the Griffin was allowed to adopt an incredible size and unusual color of feather and fur. Without a moment’s hesitation, mane and feathers crowning his crest rose and ruffled at the sight of the alien creature that had disturbed his soon-to-be slumber. The beast gave a low growl similar to that of a lion’s as he shifted and rose to his paws.

The concentration that was fixed on the quilin was swiftly averted as a new, yet at the same time familiar scent came into the open: The human that stood at the top of the foothill. Another...?

A screech worthy of only a bird of prey once more shot from the creature’s solid beak as he sprang over the wounded creature and charged. The beast allowed himself the energy to take several swift bounds up the steep hill, his large talons ripping up and shredding the ground in order to restrain him from tripping and tumbling back down the hill. However, he was forced to stop nearly at the top, where the creature of raven fur and foliage shot up on his hind legs and unfurled the lengthy wings to the sides in a threatening manner. Brandished and lashing for-talons, ruffled fur and angered hissing added to the threatening display presented to the younger hunter. Sheer intimidation was the key in this situation; the griffon didn’t have the spare energy at hand to be wasting on yet another chase. If there had to be another killing, it wouldn’t be for food.

The Asian beast clumsily took a few steps back, tripping over his own hooves and falling onto his flank. He craned his neck to see the griffin shift and rise to his feet, massive beaked face looming above him. He was going to die… He was going to die right here and now… After centuries of life, he would meet his end at the claws of this dark predator… This was honestly not how he thought he would die, considering the number of times he had been hunted by humans. He tried to catch his breath and calm his terror as he awaited death.

As the larger creature turned his head away, Yao took it as his chance to search for an escape. While glancing around for a means of avoiding the feathered and furred creature, he caught a glimpse of the hunter who had followed him to the top of the incline.

The predatory screech made him cringe as he dropped to the forest floor, watching the griffin leap over him. He knew he should be fleeing while the griffin and hunter held each other’s’ attention, but he couldn’t help but watch, stunned that the other creature had not attacked him and even more so that he was averting his fury to the human who had been after the Asian.

The hunter was forced backward in sheer terror at the frightening display. He immediately bolted, running back toward town with severe second thoughts on his career choice.

Coming to his senses with the hunter gone, Yao turned his attention to the arrow still protruding from his neck. The tip wasn’t barbed and was instead simply the wood of the shaft sharpened to a point, easy enough to remove for anyone with opposable thumbs or any appendage that could form a decent grip. Unfortunately, the Chinese myth’s hooves did not fall into either of these categories, causing him to scrape futilely at the weapon. His chest still heaved as he tried to catch his breath, confirming to him that he would not be able to outrun the griffin should he change his mind and decide to attack or give chase.

He gave up after a moment and lay against the side of the hill, dizzy and exhausted from blood loss. Yao knew he could try changing into his humanoid form but wasn’t certain how the wound would translate or that he’d have enough energy to sustain himself like that. He watched the griffin out of the corner of his eye, hoping desperately for a miracle that could save him.

The soft, faint sound of slow footsteps and the crackle of leaves had earned the Ghoul his prey; a young male human, shivering as he had walked the filthy ground, along a poorly shaped path through Cemetaire. In a swift, burst of movement, the human had been slain with a slash to the throat; beady, azure eyes watched as the human dropped to the ground-however, to top it off, his head hit one of the countless number of tombstones tucked into the dirt of the graveyard. The tombstone was stained with crimson, which slowly proceeded to pool around the limp body of the human; yet, this only increased the urge to feed. Sighing quietly, more with content than anything else, Francis strode out into view from the darkened, foggy atmosphere in the graveyard, his steps alone making little to no sound on the leaf-littered ground, unlike that of the human's had. The evident reek of blood now stunk thickly throughout the graveyard, as the crimson substance flowed from both the slash at the human's throat, as well as the fairly noticeable, deep gash in the side of the human's head, where the tombstone had struck it.

The strong scent hung in the air enough for the Ghoul to suck in a content breath; the reek of blood that he now admired as Francis knelt down, blonde hair brushing against his cheeks, beside the motionless body, azure gaze flickering with a ravenous, and fairly cruel desire. Finding a wandering human couldn't exactly be considered rare, though it didn't happen often, considering that not many would dare venture into a graveyard in a place that bore no light. Only the darkness, and nothing more. Seeming to purr a bit as his lips brushed the wound ripping into the male human's neck, the French Ghoul seemed to chuckle quietly, before parting his lips just slightly, enough to sink his unnaturally sharpened teeth into the torn-up flesh. As far as the Ghoul was concerned, a decent meal hadn't passed by in ages, not even a single corpse dumped. Or at least, none that he was aware of, or had possibly been picked off of or scavenged by the other residents of Cemetaire, carnivorous or not.

Thus, the quick kill would be enough to satisfy him for a few days; that was, as long as no one else decided to intrude on his meal. Emitting a rather soft growl, it seemed that the single bite hadn't been enough as Francis began to tear further at the mutilated flesh, snapping and biting, or draining small portions of blood, the crimson liquid streaming down his parched throat to soothe the dull ache. The flesh tore with each nip or bite of his teeth as the Ghoul began to devour his meal; his hunger terribly vast that the beast barely seemed to be taking the time to chew, choking now and then before he did slow down a bit.

He was crouched over the mangled corpse, face hidden by the shadow of the blood-stained tombstone. While he now paid little attention to his own surroundings, the reek of blood in the area could very easily attract unwanted attention.

The heavy scent of blood in the air roused the demon from his slumber. It technically wasn't sleep, but more like resting his eyes. He sighed, stretching his limbs to rid the feeling of exhaustion that wore him down.

Once he was fully awake, he tilted his head slightly upwards to find the direction the scent was coming from and deducing what misfortunate creature happened to perish in such a dreary place. The scent he picked up was from a human. Male to be exact. Poor creature, he thought. To die in a place that isn't home. Not that it mattered to him anyways. This place technically ended up being their home after their mortal life ended. The demon just shook his head to disperse the current thoughts and began to walk ever so silently towards the destination lying ahead, smirking to himself as the scent grew stronger as he neared the dead man.

Arthur, the name he used when he was mortal, stood behind the ghoul, looking at the creature devouring the mangled corpse. The way it was being eating was a disturbing sight, but to the demon, it was the equivalent of a beast. He still upheld some of his gentleman morals as a demon, which was one of the only qualitities that made this creature from Hell feel human.

"My, my, what a sight!" spoke the demon loudly, enough to startle the other. "You planning on sharing? Or must I take that corpse from you by force?" He added on, crossing his arms as he sat on the tombstone, one leg over the other, watching the blood run down the corner of the ghoul's mouth. It took a lot of self-control from kicking the other monster in the face to get a bit of that corpse. Something about blood drove him crazy. And the fact that red was one of his favorite colors. It looked quite nice on him actually.

Another death had called The Reaper to the area, her scythe in hand, she began to walk towards the site of the death to collect the soul. Her pale skin had a light glow to it from the moonlight, her long white hair fluttering a bit from the soft breeze, her cold purple eyes scanning the area in case she misses any souls on the way.

"Ghoul and Demon, figures..." She spoke softly as she walked closer, a cloth wrapped around her mouth and nose to block out most of the scent of fresh blood. She strapped her scythe onto her back, inspecting the area from a distance to find the soul. "At least I can feed thanks to them..." She finally found the soul crumpled behind a gravestone, possibly freaking out from being killed or still believing it's alive.

She shook her head, no matter how many times she saw it, it still looked stupid when souls didn't accept they were dead. Her scythe was removed from her back with a swift motion, and the soul was struck in the side with the blade. The soul begin to light up before being sucked into her scythe. "And now to wait til they kill another one..." She sighed, sitting on a gravestone, watching the two from a distance.

At any other time, surely Francis would have eaten slower, or at least he wouldn't have made such a mess. But, the Ghoul was merely famished, and thus, this ravenous behavior was a result of it, as the Frenchman wolfed down bits of his meal. Yet, the sound of the rather sudden voice caused the Ghoul to jump quite a bit in alarm, having been caught off guard; however, the familiar scent of the opposing creature-a demon, no less-hit him in an instant, which only heightened his senses. Francis paused for a moment, straightening up just slightly, enough to glance up toward the demon on the tombstone; a quiet growl escaped the Ghoul's bloodied lips, the sticky crimson substance streaming from the corner of his mouth and dripping from his chin. The Ghoul had made quite a mess of himself when he'd fed, giving no consideration to how it'd affect his appearance; ah, well, it couldn't be helped for this famished monster, either way. Yet, right now, it wasn't his appearance that Francis worried for; it was the presence of the demon, which came off as bluntly threatening, to say in the least.

He glared sharply up at Arthur, his azure eyes shifting color just slightly, darkening, before their original hue was restored. "Non." The Ghoul growled out simply, his posture growing rather tense at this point; he shifted positions, so that he was yet again crouching somewhat over the bloody corpse of the fallen human. He wasn't exactly selfish about keeping his meal to himself; this Ghoul was merely famished from the lack of flesh and blood for countless days-surely this was reason enough to fight for his meal? It was already evident that this Ghoul was going to behave aggressively; after all, his meal had been both interrupted, leaving Francis in a nasty mood, and threatened to be taken by this demon.

"Perhaps you'll have to use force; forgive me, but I won't be giving this up anytime soon." Francis hissed out slowly, eyeing the demon in distrust, carefully wiping a bit of blood from around his crimson lips. Though, the Ghoul was never the best when it came to fighting-in fact, he was terrible at it. Sneaking in silence was what he preferred, if he did need to attack, especially when it came to hunting for prey; yet a full-blown fight between another monster? No; most certainly the Ghoul would loose such a battle, though in his mindset, it was worth to at least attempt to protect the little food he managed to hunt down so effortlessly.

The demon was not at all pleased with the answer he received. But it was obvious the other would respond in that way. No matter. He'd have to use the least amount of force to get that corpse from the Ghoul's hands.

"Pity." He replied, getting up from the tombstone and dusting the front of his suit for imaginary dust particles. Arthur crouched to Francis' level on the other side of the corpse, looking at him dead in the eye. He stared at him for a few seconds before smirking. The demon leaned forward, grabbing the other's chin firmly while wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth with one finger with his free hand. He licked the blood of his finger as he stared at the Ghoul, amused.

"Now, do you really want to fight me? Or just give me share of your killing." The demon kept the amused grin on his face, not letting the creature look away from his piercing gaze. He was hoping the other would get intimated and just give up, as usual. He really didn't have it in him to fight right now because it would be a waste of energy. If need be, he'd have to persuade him. At least he enjoyed working his charms, even if it meant harming a fellow monster. "After all, we're friends~" He cooed, tilting his head to one side, blinking only once.

Francis's darkening eyes narrowed when the demon had crouched, though he evenly met Arthur's stare without flinching; yet, he couldn't help but hiss a bit when he felt the opposing demon grab a hold of his chin. Knowing better than to pull away, mostly out of caution, the French Ghoul only glared into the demon's spine-chilling gaze; unable to even flinch, he only watched as the demon licked the crimson blood off his finger, eyeing Arthur in mild disgust. "..Non, you and I both know I don't want to. But, I will if I must." The Ghoul growled quietly in reply, though the demon's next few words did seem to catch Francis off guard. As far as he was concerned, the Frenchman generally did at least try to be sociable among the other monsters and ghastly beings that lingering in this wretched world, though this was quite troublesome, depending on the said monster Francis attempted to communicate with. Many were aggressive, others too quiet to even be noticed, while others just couldn't stand being among the other monsters. And, overall, there wasn't much to do other than attempt communication, kill, or sit and simply be, let's face it, bored.

He scowled, shifting a little, then emitted a soft, dry chuckle before he finally spoke up. "Friends? Now, that's a first, coming from you. I don't think the two of us have ever gotten along." The Ghoul purred out; though his tone leaned to more of a sly, playful one; his azure eyes flickering with slight amusement for a few moments as he gazed at the demon evenly, while a smirk began to twitch up the corners of Francis's pale, bloodied lips.

Arthur couldn't help but be pleased by his actions towards Francis. He noted the disgust the Ghoul sowed, making a mental note to kick it up a notch sometime later. As he finished licking the blood off, he let go of his chin, debating whether to keep crouched or stand up. He went with the former. "I'm glad you choose the correct answer this time, my friend." Replied the demon, grinning before his expression turned serious.

"Well, there's always a first time for everything. Plus, it'd benefit that we become friends and put aside our differences for the time being in this situation." He said, watching his face carefully as he let the words sink in. Lately, food has been scarce for the creatures and any little morsel, such as the one near their feet, was highly valuable for their existence. If the situation imporved, the whole friend thing would be disregarded.

This time, Francis did flinch a small bit once his chin was released, and the ghoul glanced aside briefly, as if he were too irritated to even set eyes on the demon. Visibly, he was rather put off at the word 'friend' yet again, though this was mostly due to how stubborn the Ghoul was being right now, considering who he was currently conversing with. Eyeing Arthur questioningly when his expression had shifted rather abruptly, Francis listened in silence as the demon spoke, quirking an eyebrow as he watched Arthur closely, icy blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was indeed true, what the demon had said; while the food was scarce, it wasn't just Francis or Arthur suffering from it-no, it was just about every creature lingering in this forsaken world.

Frowning, it took the Ghoul a moment or two to decide, raising a hand and wiping an remaining blood from his lips before Francis finally spoke up in a quiet growl of sorts. "..You do 'ave a point.." He agreed a little gruffly, but otherwise emitted a faint sigh, keeping his piercing, azure gaze settled on the demon in front of him. "Perhaps you're right, in fact..Just this once, mon ami. When the food shortage is over, friendship doesn't apply with us." The Frenchman added, eyeing the mangled corpse on the ground before he returned his gaze to Alfred. "..Help yourself while you can." It took another moment before Francis hesitantly leaned back a little, eventually yet finally stepping to the other side of the corpse and crouching there, azure gaze flickering over to the demon wordlessly.