The Friends of Our Enemies...

The wolf sat there, he examined the navokha, looking them over, and decidng they wouldnt hurt him, he laid down.

Arkenfel and his wolves got to the trade station but didnt get to close, not wanting to disturb it and garner the attention of the entire force there. People tended to not like when he attacked outposts. He waited, shrouded near a road so that he could pounce and get any travelers not careful enough to hear the shallow breathing of the wolves or see the strange foot prints in the road.

Arkenfel was brought back into the Navokha village where some of the Navokha people were waiting on his return.

He looked around and asked "Where is the person we needed to talk too? I have more than enough heads." The wolves put them done infront of him.

The village around Arkenfel was primitive and crude. The spears and pikes created a thick barrier against the swampy island in a circular area, which was mostly dried mud and moss. Homes made of roughly chopped wooden logs held together by vined ropes stretched out across the area in disarray; some were situated on crooked wooden stilts while others sat on the dirty ground or were nestled up in the creeping willows. There was a modest bonfire crackling near the center, with a roughly carved stone altarpiece around it, and what looked to be a longhouse or community building behind it. There was a sickening smell in the air, resembling blood, death, and ashes. If Arkenfel looked closely, he might notice that many of the pikes forming the walls were topped with bodies - humans, animals, and forms that had decayed so badly as to be completely unrecognizable.

About a hundred villagers had come out of their homes to see the newcomer. Most of them, at first glance, almost looked inhuman - many of them had grotesque body modifications and were covered in bone piercings and misshapen scars. Some even appeared to have tusks or horns, as if the bones of wild creatures had been implanted into them. Even for an Atrumite, these people may be seen as shockingly outlandish.

The warriors of the village circled around Arkenfel and his wolves, keeping their weapons ready but holding a good distance. They looked as if they'd like nothing more than to tear him apart and string him out across the village as decoration. Some shouted out in their own language, and the villagers responded with violent-sounding remarks.

"Outsider!" A female voice hissed from within the crowd, as Arkenfel was led towards the bonfire. "The heads of Ekh'nara are hideous tokens of your hunt. You are welcome, so long as my people can stand to not taste your pretty flesh like leeches." The woman speaking was covered in tattered, wraith-like rags that wrapped around her body and hung down in long, flowing tendrils. Her long hair was wild and thick, and the bone piercings strung across her face gave her a menacing appearance. She held a gnarled, spiked wooden staff in her hand. "Speak!"

Arkenfel was no normal atrumite he was not in the least disturbed by thier appearance and he actually looked at these people with a widening, insane smile and increasing interest, as if they were his own people. His demonic eyes would be glowing slightly and certain parts of his skin gained the red and black mottled scale like appearance as if his demon half was feeling comfortable around them, but of course it would, they were as close to demons as anything on Elysium besides him.

He stood and got off of the wolf and said loud "We both have a common enemy! These...Ekh'nara as you say, are the common enemy of all free people! We like nothing more than to rip them apart! Show them fear! Sadly we are not enough, us and our people to kill them all. We need help, and from what we have seen, you have quite the good time ripping these disgusting excuses for human apart! We respect and appreciate this, and would like to form an agreement between our people, Atrum Veneficus, and yours. Let them know that neither of us stand alone in these battles! Because they, do not either."

"You have a taste of the blood in the sky. Poisoned, isn't it?"

She beckoned Arkenfel to come forward. The warriors stepped back, but their eyes locked on Arkenfel.

"Come, boy. Bring me one of their heads. That one...it is so pretty..." She pointed to the severed head of Agent Markson.

He picked up the head and walked forward "This one was determined, we had fun killing him. So did our wolves" he chuckled and handed her the head and smirked a toothy smile, his teeth becoming like a predator's.

The woman greedily snatched it from his hands and wrapped her fingers around the twisted, frozen face as if it were a precious gem. She examined it for a moment, staring into Markson's eyes as if she had something to say to him. She then held the head up proudly, hissing something in her own language, and the Navokha people began to roar and cheer and cackle like a pack of rabid hyenas. She slammed the decapitated head down onto the surface of the stone altar behind her.

"Nakh'eivashka! Ceremony! Come, children! Pile them up!!"

The warriors stepped forward, collecting the heads off of the ground and tossing them onto the altar. The people swarmed around, excited in a bloodthirsty, beastlike way. Arkenfel would either be pushed forward by the throbbing crowd, or given the chance to slip out quietly before their 'ceremony.'

Arkenfel would be INCREDIBLY interested and would stay, as close to the altar as he could get, more of his body becoming the black and red demon scale like skin, it would be noticeable now and he would be smiling at the ceremony, wanting to see it up close.

The villagers chanted ferociously and tried to swarm the altar - the warriors had to keep them back, from tearing at the severed Tryscarian heads. One of the warriors brought forth a leather satchel that was writhing, as if something was moving inside of it. The witch grabbed hold of it and began to twist off the ties that held it shut. A voice boomed out from the doorway of the longhouse behind them, in the Navokha language. The villagers quieted down, and the witch looked towards it. A man stepped forward, wearing only ragged leather pants and some bone jewelry. He had a few streaks of blood marked down across his face. He and the witch exchanged words for a bit, and from their interaction it would seem as if this man was the superior. If Arkenfel listened closely, he might catch the names Khovakaa and An'Khoroth.

The man turned his attention towards Arkenfel.

"My Poison Witch tells me you bring my village a blood-feast of Ekh'nara. Is this true?"

He did catch those name but he knew he was not fully accepted here yet and he didn't know if he ever would be, so he didn't mention nor use the names. He just smiled and nodded "We did yes. It was our pleasure. Killing is what we do best, and it is what we like best."

"Yes...I see. Come, join us. You are our guest. You bring us a feast, and so your name will be written in the spilled Ekh'nara blood." He turned back to the witch. "Khovakaa, nekh va'khena."

At the man's gesture, the witch finished untying the bag as she held it over the heads. A pile of writhing, slimy, black leeches spilled out like the organs of a rotten, gutted animal. They fell upon the severed heads and slithered across them, each of them attaching themselves to any available surface on which to feed. The crowd cheered yet again as they watched the leeches sucking out what was left of the blood.

He smiled and nodded "Thank you, We're guessing you are the...leader here?" he said as he stood besides An'Khoroth and chuckled at the sight before him "Reminds us of a summoning i had to do once...just minus the leeches" he chuckled and smiled more.

"Yes. I am An'Khoroth. In your language, I believe...the Blood-Sun. And you?"

The villagers chanted An'Khoroth's name, as hundreds of leeches nearly covered all of the severed heads. Blood began to seep out onto the altar, and Khovakaa ran her fingers through it, streaking it across her face to mark the ceremony. The warriors came forth from the crowd, doing the same, and then some of the women - including the ones that Arkenfel had spoken to earlier.

He smiled and nodded "We are Arkenfel, known to my brothers in Atrum as The Demon Lord, or Demon-Kin. Take your pick, we like any of the three" he laughed a bit to himself as he watched the ritual "What is the significance of the ritual? Is is...religious in anyway? If you dont want to share it with an outsider we understand completely and you have the right to be secretive if you'd like of course."

"Demon-kin? Aroth'nhakva." An'Khoroth watched as his people greedily swarmed the altar, painting themselves in the blood of Arkenfel's Tryscarian victims. "Khovakaa - teach him."

An'Khoroth pulled Arkenfel towards the side of the crowd and Khovakaa, somewhat reluctantly, explained. "We mark ourselves in the blood - we gain their power. Their souls. We feed the leeches, our children, and they bring us great Sight...of the Blood in the Sky. You taste it. I know you do. Just a little, Aroth'nhakva. The Ekh'nara are a pretty feast - and they will all be our feast soon. You understand? You do not know how yet. Come, learn. Do as we do, and you will see. Yes. You will see, Aroth'nhakva."

Khovakaa gestured to the altar. Many of the Navokha were in a frenzy, covering themselves in the blood of their fallen enemies in the sadistic ritual.

Arkenfel walked forward and did as they did and covered parts of him in the blood, as the rest of them they could see in his eyes he was in a blood frenzied state though he did not seem it. If they were watching him closely, which i was guessing they were, parts of his arm would seem to move and the skin would move as if something under it was moving, growing. Same thing on his back and legs and he smirked and laughed a bit "We think...we may like you people quite a bit."

"Yes, Aroth'nhakva. You taste it." Khovakaa turned to An'Khoroth and they exchanged a few words in their native language, and then An'Khoroth stepped forward.

"You stay with us tonight. And tomorrow, we will send you home with a message for your...'Atrum Veneficus,' that your people may join our war. Your blood is good. We will fight together."

Arkenfel nodded and smiled then he felt the changes in his body and bid them to step back "Step back please....our true form is showing itself and it could get...messy if your too close..." it would be obvious his bones were cracking and growing and changing beneath his skin.

An'Khoroth called for the others to step back, and they watched with interest as Arkenfel began to...change. Khovakaa and the others watched with great interest, seeing that the blood had drawn something out in this beastlike man from Atrum. They watched closely, observing every detail.

From his back large bone structures that would be wings erupted from his skin, spraying blood on the ground as darkness filled in the spaces where the flesh used for gliding on the wind would be. Spikes of bone would rip out of his skin along his arms like spikes as it forms almost like an armor over his arms, and legs and half of his upper body. Two horns came from out of his forehead and he let out a small feral roar and he smiled at them "We're sorry about that..." he straightened out and laughed.

An'Khoroth looked on with a great amount of interest. The villagers' reactions were mixed from awe to terror and everything in between, but Khovakaa seemed particularly interested and approached Arkenfel. "What...is this?"

Arkenfel smiled "Oh this? This is just our true form. We make ourselves look human so blend with our society better. We are a human and a demon, and incredibly powerful demon, mixed into one body. That's why we talk as if we were many."

Khovakaa stepped closer to Arkenfel. "Tell me more about this...demon."

Arkenfel smirked and chuckled "You want us to explain the demon? Alright. The demon is us, we are the demon. The demon was a lord of the underworld, a powerful creature of the place where all demons live. We tried to summon and control it, but we could not control it. We and the demon merged but we were to powerful of a summoner for it to completely possesses us and we now share a body with it. It was a demon of death, it called itself dek'za but in our language it was Aren'el. Our name was Alkanful but when we merged together we changed our name to Arkenfel." He looked at Khovakaa and smirked showing his fangs "Is that all you wanted to know?