Light had fled with the coming of the new moon, omen of beginnings and endings, and Vargralar crouched in the brush with thirst burning in his stomach. Closer... closer drew his prey; his muscles tensed, waiting until the just the right moment before he burst out of the thick foliage onto the pair of travelers. Black fur, crimson eyes and terrible white teeth beneath the stars of the inky sky, all in a whirl, were all that the victims could see of him as he leapt.
It was an ending that came first under that moonless sky as the beast landed upon the young swordsman, tainted sight seeing every warm vein in the man's body as if it were glowing hot. The tall, dark-haired man was torn apart in an instant, his arm scarcely beginning to reach for his sword before it was ripped from his body, a shrill feminine scream rising from his companion afterwards, delayed in its comprehension. The fiend lifted the ragged stump of arm to let the blood drain into his waiting mouth, crimson ichor pattering over his large red tongue, his nostrils flaring to draw in its scent. The man's remaining arm tried to reach for the dagger at his belt, but the wolf-fiend's jaws were upon his throat before he could make any use of his quickly fading strength, claws rending his ravaged body.
Vargralar drank his spilling blood with a savage grin as the delicious, warm ichor poured down over his thirsting jaws. Slurping it from the torn throat as the flow slowed, he moved on to tear open the man's tunic and the flesh beneath, mouth slurping and gnashing as he drew in the warmth of hot blood. The mad beast devoured his victim's blood wholly, the rich crimson flow drawn deep into his hungry belly before he flung the husk of the man into the forest, leaving the body resting coldly in the brush. The place would become haunted with the young swordsman's restless spirit, most likely, which suited Vargralar perfectly. More shades stalking his forest meant more power for his necromancy.
Blonde Marinne, cowering at the edge of the path, had been unable to do more than scream and stumble as the huge black beast burst forth from the shadows of the eerie forest, tearing her lover asunder in the blink of an eye, her fractured memories unable to coalesce as she knelt in shocked horror, mouth agape. Lar had been one of the house guard, and she had long admired him despite her family's plans to marry her to a distant lord. They'd never have been allowed to be together by Marinne's family, so they had eloped, and taken the path through this forest of evil repute, judging that it would be the last place they would be expected to travel through.
They hadn't considered that there might be so much truth to the evil rumors about the place, and now they would never be together—not even in death.
Vargralar licked the last of the blood from his lips, then turned to the girl, who still stood rooted to the spot in utter shock. The beast who had burst from the thick crowding of gnarled trees had once been human; his body retained some of those features, though his magic had warped him into a twisted, ravening wolf-demon with long, ragged teeth and crimson eyes. Swinging his furry fist, he struck the girl a cruelly bruising blow upon one ample breast, toppling her to the ground in a whirl of golden curls and frilled skirts. Growling, he mounted her petite body, drawing in the scent of her skin. Sweet blood. Rich blood. His body, irrevocably altered by his use of the black arts upon himself, could sense with his vampyric form that this girl was delicious, far more so than the wretch that he had just slaked his thirst upon. This girl he would keep alive, at least for now.
But he would not make her life pleasant.
Breaking off a thorned branch, he snagged off of her body the pieces of jewelry in those materials to which his altered body was vulnerable, gathering them into a leather pouch to be destroyed later and curling his lip contemptuously at the holy symbol that had been around her neck, a glyph of supposed protection that would give her no defense against what he had in store for the girl.
Marinne was shuddering and gibbering, her sheltered life having done nothing to prepare her for an experience like this. Yes, Vargralar thought, she would be sweet. He breathed deep of her scent, shuddering at the exquisite perfume of her fear as he seized her shoulders with his hairy, clawed hands. Steering her off of the faintly beaten path, overgrown somewhat since he'd come into dominion over the vicinity, the warped necromancer tumbled Marinne into the thick bracken beneath the grimly looming trees, thorns snagging her lace-trimmed clothes and milky skin.
He considered the dress that the girl wore for a moment, beautiful black velvet with accents of white lace, her light blonde hair done up in ribbons and curls that framed her face sweetly, giving her an innocent look despite her nubile age. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the dirt and disarray, but the necromancer noted it easily enough. She was pleasing to look upon, but he had no use for dressing the girl so modestly. Rending claws ripped Marinne's blouse open, tearing open the underwear beneath as well, though he only nicked the soft skin underneath as he stripped her savagely, the girl's violet eyes gazing up at him unbelieving. Lar had never had her body; it had been too dangerous to consider while they were in her family's castle.
Marinne's mind could only vaguely put together thoughts in its current state, but she knew that the monster in front of her intended to do something to her that she did not want it to do, and attempted to struggle, only to be punched in the stomach with the side of Vargralar's fist, knocking the wind out of her and creating another purpling bruise as his large, hairy hand came down like a hammer. Eyes full of tears and hurt emotion gazed up at him, pleading not to be hurt more, but Vargralar was devoid of mercy, leaning over her like a vulture over fresh death for a few moments before punching her again, slapping and beating the little nobless' tits before grabbing them and squeezing them, threatening with sharp fingernails that were practically claws. She wailed, shuddering like a marionette without strings each time he struck her, the spoiled little nobless never having been beaten in her life.
Vargralar enjoyed hurting her, tearing some symbolic virginity to a sadistic touch and licking his lips at the betrayed tears in the girl's eyes; eyes that could not comprehend why anyone would want to hurt her this way. The only thing that made it easier for her to accept was the fact that what she saw before her was a warped monster in the vague shape of a man, rather than a man as she had ever seen one.
Marinne's world had been torn asunder when Lar had been, but the necromancer was far from finished when it came to ripping any remaining security and dignity from under her. Rising up with a feral roar, the transfigured necromancer gazed down at the young noblewoman he had just disrobed, his crimson eyes seeing the flow of that sweet blood with their necromantic sight, seeing where it disrupted into knotted bruises where he'd beaten her. Licking his lips, he caressed his cock hungrily, speeding the erection that was already forming from the excitement and the warm meal in his belly.
His cock was held in a hairy protective sheath like a beast's, but when it emerged, it had the shape of a man's, except for the round, hard nodes all over its shining ebon length. With one foot, he kicked Marinne over onto her stomach, still caressing himself as he rumbled in his throat with a different hunger than before. As he came to full hardness, he spat some of his thick saliva onto the tip of his cock, and with no further lubrication, rammed the cruel shaft into Marinne's tight little anus, reaming the virgin hole open. She did scream then, a sound of pain torn from the traumatized girl as he took his prize, his hairy body bearing down on her as he adjusted the position in which he mounted her naked, vulnerable body.
Soft, creamy skin was soon marked with red upon Marinne's back, while Vargralar licked at the wounds that his claws had opened, his hips slamming against the soft curve of the girl's buttocks. His cock was an agonizing poker in her ass for her, a glow of wicked pleasure for him as he ravished her, his thick froth of spittle landing on her shoulders as he took her in a wild frenzy. Her anus spasmed, wasted blood trickling from it as he ripped her. No matter—Vargralar's black arts were not without ways to repair a damaged body, even if they were far less pleasant for the patient than those of conventional mage-healers. His claws continued to rake her back, drawing shuddering gasps from the girl, his long, blood-red tongue lapping up the welling red blood that seemed almost black upon her pale back in the starlight.
Vargralar pounded into Marinne's tight anus for what seemed like hours to the terrified nobless, though it was not half as long as she thought. His fangs sank into her throat, and she thought in her addled mind that she would die—perhaps hoped that she would, to end the torment and the grief. She was indeed sweet-blooded, Vargralar found, truly delicious as he had hoped. The attempts of the nobles to keep their bloodlines pure, so often only amplifying the taint of the scum in their veins, had in this one bred a finely filtered ambrosia. Surely, he mused, this was what those traditions of blood purity had been meant to preserve. The necromancer drank his fill, adding some of the girl's essense to that of her fallen lover's in his belly, the last thing akin to closeness they would ever have. But while Lar's blood had been dull, everyday fare, Marinne's was something to savor, something to keep enjoying until its full potential had been drawn out.
Slowly, the fiend released her neck after drinking what he wished, and sealed the bite with a small wracking spell that knit the flesh. Finally, his body tensed and his cock heaved, spewing a black necromantic ichor into the girl's bowels as he howled with triumphant pleasure, his crimson eyes upraised to the moonless black of the sky.
Vargralar's cock remained stuffed in Marinne's rear for a while, the thick goo he had ejaculated inside her settling, then he slowly pulled back. Drawing out of her, he tried to force his shaft into her mouth, but the girl was beyond responding at the moment, merely letting her lips fall open around the invader. He thrust into her a few times, letting her taste his foul cock, then slowly drew out once more, growling as the starlight shone off his terrible fangs. The leathery palm of his hand struck her cheek a great slap, rocking her head, and he pushed his cock into her mouth once again, but still, no response came but drool across his bestial shaft. Marinne was beyond reason in her shock.
Curling his feral lips contemptuously, Vargralar rose and kicked the senseless blonde in the side, enough to make a satisfying sound without damaging her organs—that could come later. Bending once more and grabbing the girl, he tossed her over his shoulder to carry her off to his lair, licking his lips as he made plans for what he would do with her later, his claws digging into her buttock to hold her more firmly in place as he carried her down a different, hidden path from the one she and Lar had been heading down. Above, the starry black sky was devoid of any moon—an omen of beginnings and endings.