Snippet #2714005

As they had set out into the lake Red instead opted out, choosing to discretely leap from the boat as they sailed on. He had studies to attend and the water would only prove an impediment to him. It was decided best that he not put this off as sailing from the island was likely to prove difficult without a suitable raft. He was fairly sure they weren't going to lend him one for this task as they were far from forward-thinking, so he believed.

He landed upon the sand with his flesh net in one hand and a wicked dagger in the other, his impact very slight as he hardly kicked up many granules. Even without a means of flight he was quite capable of jumping great distances and landing with a cat's own grace. His crimson eyes scanned the foliage obscuring the way beyond. He could not see it but there were definitely predators watching, some more keen than others. This deep in the forest predators were thick in number. He'd have no difficulty in attracting one.

Kneeling down in the sand Red held out one of his wrists. With a dagger clutched in hand he cut open the veins in his arm, spilling precious crimson fluid onto the sand below. That delicious cold kiss of a blade was all too familiar a sensation, one that he could practically feel every time he closed his eyes. That's how well acquainted he was with the act of spilling his own blood.


In the sand he remained kneeling, his eyes closed as he let the blood slowly drip from his arm. He knew that this beast though it was canny indeed would not be able to resist the temptation of prey that remained still and seemingly unaware. Seeming was the keyword there as he was far from unaware of events taking place in the dark of the obscuring brush. As far as it was concerned Red was just bleeding out and resting, the type of scenario he figured he could sell with ease and draw out something to play with.

It's approach was punctuated not with sound but with a brief reprieve from the the natural echoes of the focus. Where one might feel truly alone he knew he was anything but that.

Out from the bushes it leapt. A massive panther pounced from the foliage at Red. It opened it's gargantuan jaw, easily capable of swallowing him whole. In that instant he sprung into action, casting the net from his hand over the panther's head. As it was in mid-leap it was unable to avoid the web of flesh, crashing straight into the weave. Though large as the panther was the net's span was vast enough to engulf the entirety of the panther's head.


The trap was sprung. With a wave of his hand the net pulled up, taking the panther up into the air by it's head. The beast thrashed most violently however the net only remained firmly clasped as it continued to ascend, the panther in tow. It fought hard, pulling at the strands of the net with both it's foreclaws and hindclaws. It would have bit into the net if it were able but it seemed it couldn't get any of the lines into it's maw. A few of the lines connecting throughout the net were torn in this conflict however Red was on top of the issue, using his dark magic to rebind the net's weave every time a portion is broken.

The air became furious. As the beast's distance from the ground grew the air became more and more violent. Bursts of wind impacted the head numerous times, harming the net little but causing significant pain to the panther beneath it. The feline's panic started to reach a fevered pitch as the air begun crushing the net over it's head, pressing down in a mighty display of pneumatic force. It was yowling and screeching with pain, it's body twisting and winding frantically in a desperate attempt to escape. It could not prevail however as it only continued to climb higher into the air.

With one last high pitched cry the panther's life came to a sudden and horrifically bloody end. The air seemingly detonated with a crack, smashing into the net and subsequently the panther's head from all around in a violent implosion. It's skull and jaw were shattered into many pieces, rupturing inward whilst the contents were promptly forced out. Eyes, brains, tongue and blood all erupted from the apertures of the panther's head. The corpse of the panther fell now that it was free of it's own head, shortly followed by the net as it had served it's purpose.


Red, standing not too far off from the scene, was showered in blood, viscera and small bits of bone. He was grinning like a madman, arms outstretched like he was welcoming the fall of rain. He certainly welcomed this sort of rain that was for sure.

He started to chuckle. The chuckle started to build into a low cackle. This cackling only continued to build before erupting into full blown laughter, Red howling with amusement at the sight of this discovery. His laughter echoed throughout the woods, able to be heard even from the remote shores of the island within the lake. Only after a solid few minutes of maniacal laughter did it finally start to die down. One could only laugh so hard for so long before needing a moment to breath after all.

Aaah... It's so much fun discovering new and interesting ways to bring suffering to the worlds!


He had little time to bask in the mirth that was exploiting the world's features for his own gain as he could feel a number of heartbeats nearby. Both the spilling of blood and the sound of his voice had drawn a number of new guests to this little party he was having. For as much fun as popping the heads off kitties was for him he had gotten his result. His estimate to the numbers approaching were fairly high, at least six or seven roughly. He lacked the biomaterial to manage this quantity of assailants, at least ones this large, for now.

"Aperire Corpus!" Sparing no more time he got to work, casting his dark magic upon the cooling body of the dead panther. It was initially resistant at first but seeing as it was no longer alive there was little behind the magic resistant quality of the beast's very matter to oppose his arts. Slowly the corpse opened up down the middle, flesh and bone splitting to fold upon like some form of gruesome flower. With a wave of the hand the twisted remains of the net flew to him and closed over the opening of the beast's corpse. It pulled the sides up until the body formed the shape of a bowl, holding it in place as Red willed.

With hardly a second to spare he climbed inside the carcass of his recent kill. Standing within he reached over and with a firm yank pulled the still heart from the creature's chest, holding it up into the air in a ritualistic manner. Blood was always freshest straight from the heart. The blood that had yet to drain out from the heart's severed aorta flowed out, running down the sides and along the arm, traveling earthward until the blood reached the wound he had made in his arm. The beast's blood flowed into his veins, absorbed yet not lost within him until little remained with the heart. For that final amount he reached into the wound in his arm and pulled it open further, reaching two fingers and a thumb inside his own forearm. From here he produced a vial he kept stored within his crimson essence, a complicated phenomenon which hemomancers with decent training will know and make full use of well throughout their career. Using the vial he encapsulated the blood within, sealing it with a cork. With the blood sample secured he tucked the vial into his blood vault within him through the right forearm's open wound before sealing the opening up with coagulated blood.


He could hear the sounds of paws, claws and other assorted noises an animal's limbs made against dirt as they emerged from the greenery. A pack of raptors along with a bear and a couple boars erupted, charging for the scene of the bloodshed. Red simply bid them adieu as with a motion of the hand the corpse vessel he stood within shot fast off the beach and across the surface of the water. He had just repurposed the dead panther into a makeshift boat, magic propelling it along the surface of the lake. The speed with which it was traveling was quite astounding for a boat, the rate at which it had left the beach having sent Red himself fallen into the back of the boat. He simply slumped down on a cushion of intestines as the boat made quick time in sailing to the island. Red closed his eyes and soaked in the cool wind in his hair as the distant sounds of frustrated predators howling could be heard fading in the distance. The creatures weren't long to turn on each other when it was readily apparent that Red was well too deep into the lake for them to pursue.

In little time he soon came ashore, riding his cat-boat up onto the earthen beach surrounding the airport. Standing up with a content smile he stretched his arms out and stepped out from his large nightmarish canoe. He was quite glad to be on solid earth since he readily did not trust the waters that Alexia seemed quite dependent upon. Taking the opportunity while he still had it he had his scab peel off on it's own, the vein reopening to absorb the rest of the blood from the dead panther. He figured it might be some time before he can find an opportunity to carve open some other lucky being and drain it of blood so he drained as much as he could from this kill of his. Given it's size he was not concerned about going hungry or running dry anytime soon. Dark lords know he'd sooner take his chances with the critters of the jungle before he'd turn to drinking the water for sustenance.

As he drained the dead panther dry it shriveled up, becoming dry and stiff like it was ready to break apart at the slightest provocation. Once deprived of it's fluids it was hardly seaworthy, hence why Red chose to wait on draining his prey entirely before coming to the safe-ish island shores. With his little ride taken care of he got to work primming himself up to be only the fanciest fellow present. He let his own blood flow along all the fibers of his attire before casting away any of the blood that was now filthy with sand and other debris off into the water before him, reabsorbing the clean sanguine fluids. As he was done he looked good as new, just like a gentleman would walking out to the party in a freshly steamed suit. Not a single stain of blood remained, nary a single red mark of the crimson fluid would dare stick to his clothing.


He looked out to see the others hauling old junk from the tag-along merchant into the historical base. Yawn, a boring task fit for thralls.