Ooops

[Tyralor]

The tendrils of pain lanced through its lungs as it breathed. The softest rumble of a gurgle exchoed in its lungs, and forced the montrosity to lean over just a trace. Slow and careful it breathed, minimizing the torment as much as was viable. Habit, by this point in time, and it had long lost any true sense of pain. But the memory remained. Memory of pain that had remained for thousands of years. Maybe more, maybe less. It was so difficult to keep track of time in the lower planes.

Fingers scratched the back of the other hand. Blackened chunks of flesh, ripe with gangrene tumbled loose without causing a flinch on the emasculated visage. AS swiftly as the chunks of flesh were shed, new chunks, equally infected with disease grew, replacing the loss with their own twisted version of regeneration. Fingers edged upwards, to scratch at the red rash that streaked the forearm. Lengthly fingernails, tough as iron, drew blood and sent the splattering hiss of heated flow to the ground below. For a period of time at any rate. Invariably its form would mend itself sufficiently to stave off death.

A green swirling mass had beckoned it here. The green mass had been a significant contrast to the never ending plains of red upon which it roamed. Curiousity had been bound to drive it. A new hellish form of torment, or possibly an escape. There'd been little thought put forward into its decision. Anything was better than where it had begun.

An arm rose up to grasp the branch of a tree. It was good to feel something other than dust and rock under its grip. It was good to feel the pain abate just a bit further, as it was transfered to the tree. A tree that sprouted mold between cracks in its bark, and beetles from its wood. Leaves swiftly shrivelled and tumbled to the ground, before the tree collapsed where it had been. Not even a stump remaining, but moist, rotten and moldy wood.

The arm lowered, concealling once more the splotches of black underneath the arm. Merely one of the warning signs of the bubonic plague. No surprise registered on its face, as the pink eye that it continued to possess swept the remains of what had once been a majestic pine.

There'd been other presences in the hole as it'd crawled through, and crawled out. Little things that were orange and giggled. Demons, there was no doubt. Montrosities that had some relation to itself. Some connection that wasn't determined. No mind had been paid to the chattering nonsense of the quasits returning to the demonic planes. Their relevance easily forgotten. They couldn't linger more than a moment or two in his presence either. Nothing could. Everything was subject to his disease. His frustration. His curse.

Flecks of blood dotted its lips once again, as the tuberlocis plaguing his chest revealled itself once again. Or perhaps it was the scurvy that had taken the health of his mouth from him. Foul breath came in pants regardless, as the demonic entity stumbled onwards. There was a need to know. Something that plagued its mind, as so many other diseases ravaged its body.

Civilization was not so difficult of a location to find. The air was ripe with the scent of burning wood, and sweat. Still, it was loathe to draw too close. It needed an answer first.

There had been a panicked scream as it had emerged. An entity in too close proximity, and discovering the foul nature of the demon. A horse, outside the tavern with eyes rolling white in fear and pain. Boils had grown swiftly on the equine's hindquarters, before they burst with a flow of blackened puss. Sweat had covered its flanks, as it squealed and tugged at the reins which held it to the tavern. Foam around its mouth took on a reddish touch, as lungs collapsed in a swirl of disease. A last tug, before the grip of the fever grew too much for the horse's mind to grasp, and it'd fallen over. A last noise, a final protest, and then naught but a shudder and it lay still. This was expected by the demon.

A pair of forms had emerged from the edges of civilization and drawn in towards the forest's border instead. They would suit. None others had arrived. They would have to. It edged closer, cautiously and carefully. It needed to know. The girl seemed mesmerized by the man. So much so, that she didn't notice the first droplet of sweat that beaded on her forehead, in this otherwise cool night. Nor, did she pay particular attention, to the elongating of the canines as the man drew her closer.

"Hey!" There'd been a shout behind it, and startled, not even understanding the language, it had turned. She wasn't much to look at really. Not even half his height. No more than five feet or so. She even looked to be a little bit surprised. There was nothing in her hands, but traces of parchment, and a stick near her feet. The skirt she wore was insignificant to him, as attire wasn't something he was familiar with. He certainly, had never seen Calandra before. Had no idea who or what she was. Except, that she was not ill. She was not dying.

And this frightened him.

The vampire drew back, startled before he'd managed to pierce the neck of the victim. She was shaking in his arms now, and his aura would not calm her. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open in silent terror. Her face was splotched with heat and disease. A gurgling noise emenated from her mouth, as she tried to breathe and found that breath did not arrive in her blood filled lungs. She fell to the ground, and the vampire stepped back, hissing in disbelief. What had caused that?

Another step backwards from the undead caused it to suddenly snarl in surprise and pain. Had it stepped on something? A few more hobbling steps drew it to a rock, and it was swift to draw off the boot it had been wearing, only to stare in bewilderment at the black spots on the soles of it feet. One of which had burst and oozed black blood. The flesh around his thumbnail was starting to shrivel and peel back.

The vampire had run in the end, howling his disbelief. Even the vampiric constitution, the perceived immunity to disease had not been capable of fending off the countless forms of parasites, bacteria and virus that had assailed it. Eventually, he'd succumbed to the multitude of diseases. His flesh eaten away, the blood upon which he survived poisoned from within, and his muscles dissolved.

It was a sufficient test. The demonic curse was still active. For the moment though, it withdrew into the wild to ascertain precisely where it was, and what it would do here. For now.