Decay

Decay crouched with the rest of his Toom. Despite being the Xemmoni ruler of the American Northwest, at least in his eyes, Decay liked getting his hands dirty. He knew his personal power became increased faster every time he devoured a soul, but the real reason he was out hunting remained that he loved to kill. Nothing got him off more than taking an innocent and then feeding on its life essence.

Sure he could claim that he was softening up the resistance in the area, but it would only be a half truth at best.

The constant rain and bellowing clouds of mist did nothing to slow the pack of Xemmoni Glooms. It was their element. It would be like asking a bird if the air bothered it or if a fish was angry about being in water.

Around them the leaves hung heavy with moisture and the water ran off them in threads. Small streams had formed within the clinging trees. Mud remained a constant and helped camouflage their soaked grey robes as they looked on at the trap they had set.

Much of the backwoods of the Olympian peninsula had already been claimed by his species before the real conflict had even begun. His minions were preparing these newer forces of recently corrupted Xemmoni to move out in mass behind his team’s wake.

His plan was to take Winthrop and then head due south avoiding Seattle. Other groups could lay claim to the city and battle for its prizes as they liked, but win or fail, Decay knew more than most that Seattle’s days were numbered.

He had his sights on loftier goals.

Wintrop might seem like a small step, but the little things added up and it would certainly not make sense to alert the local Law Enforcement while they still possessed the abilities to harm parts of his soon to be growing army.

Ghoul’s hoarse voice spoke over the patter of rain. “I can’t wait to feast on this town. Finally we’ll be allowed to do whatever we wish—all the things we deserve will be ours.”

“Yes,” Decay started. “Our waiting is over, but remember feast on the weak, but Darken the tainted and strong wherever you can. As our power grows, so shall our army.”

But then the time for words had finished for a police cruiser was slowly approaching the car wreck that he and his Toom had created. Its flashing reds and blues appeared blurred by the rain like a water color painting bleeding across a page.

The officers regarded the heaps of twisted metal complete with limp bodies for only a moment before exiting their squad car. Together the two men rushed forward, splitting up so they could each investigate one of the destroyed vehicles.

Decay nodded as he brought up the fog. Soon it surrounded the scene, but the officers remained too focused on the grisly sight they took in to notice. Taking advantage of their distraction, the Glooms advanced like ghosts moving through an undulating sea of grey.

Decay reached one of the officers first. He let his sickle fill his hand, but instead of slicing the man’s throat, he drove the rusted blade into his lower back. The officer gasped and arched backwards. Decay grabbed the man’s neck with his free hand and drew the man against him and deeper onto his sickle.

“Officer I would like to file a complaint.” Only a groan answered him. “I was hoping there’d be more of you.” A wicked laugh escaped his lips as he started to breath in the man’s life essence, which his race called Baal.

Splitting into two groups, much as the officers had done, his Toom fell on the dying men. They drained them dry of their life and spirit.

Ghoul wiped blood away from his mouth. Decay shook his head. His oldest follower could never keep himself from taking a bite or two. “They called in for back up.”

“As expected and their back up will call in for back up. Soon nothing will stay between us and the town.” His red eyes glowed in the darkness. “Soon nothing will stand between us and the world.”