Eyes of the Beast - Part 1

"His name was Gedran Phos, as far as we can tell, My Lord."
Karriden kept his back to the adjutant as he spoke, his gaze locked on the twisted remains that lay at his feet. He could hear the uncertainty in the young Hellknight's voice, the hesitation. The young man should have learned to overcome such displays, but time and again he had proven his usefulness to the Order, so such a lack of control could be overlooked.
"'As far as we can tell', Farn?" He asked, his horned helm lending his voice a hollow, steely quality. Behind him, the younger knight gulped audibly, his next words coming out in a stammered rush.
"W-well, Paralictor...as you can see, there isn't much left of the remains to easily identify the victim. But reports of Maste Phos' last known whereabouts, as well as a witness who places Gedran Phos fleeing in this direction last night, support that the remains do, indeed, belong to Master Phos."
The adjutant fell silent again, the tensions palpable as Karriden held his position, his expression unreadable behind cold steel.
"See that the remains are taken for study, adjutant." Whether they belong to this Phos or not, we have something roaming our streets and murdering our citizenry. This cannot stand."
"As you say, My Lord." Farn intoned, the adjutant hurrying off to carry out his superior's orders. As the younger man vanished beyond the narrow alleyway's entrance, Karriden finally turned from the twisted body and removed the sheaf of papers from where he had tucked them under his arm. At the top of the pile was as much information as the Order of the Scourge had been able to gather on Phos in the hours since his body had been discovered and tentatively identified. By all reports, the man had been a worthless lowlife, a mercenary and thug of the lowest order with a reputation for causing trouble. That someone would want Phos dead was hardly surprising. It was the manner of the killing, however, that many of the Order's top investigators found difficult to explain.
The man had been torn, rent asunder by something powerful, and his death hadn't been the only such case in Egorian. In the last six months, over a dozen men and women had been killed in a similar manner. All evidence pointed to some sort of beast stalking the city's streets, but thus far all of their attempts to find the creature had proven fruitless.
Karriden growled, crumpling the papers and tossing them aside. There was nothing there that stood out, nothing that clearly linked him to the other victims. If the Order had any hope of putting an end to these killings, they would have to do more than blindly flail about in the dark while waiting for some sort of pattern to emerge.
His armor clanking harshly with each step, the Paralictor muscled past a crew of leather-clad Armigers as they arrived to retrieve the body, hi gaze sweeping the street until he found Farn standing with a small knot of men, his helmet tucked in the crook of his arm as he briefed them. Karriden closed the distance quickly, looming over the man and placing a gauntleted hand on his shoulder.
"You mentioned a witness to Phos' flight, Farn. Take me to them."

* * *

The storm that had lashed Egorian for the last several days had renewed its downpour as Karriden moved along a narrow lane through one of Egorian's seedier neighborhoods. He detested even setting foot in such a breeding ground of disorderly filth, but a true Hellknight could not allow personal distaste to interfere with his duty, lest chaos be allowed to fester and undermine the city's very stability.
Ahead, Farn kept a quick pace, his hood pulled up and his head down to ward off the worst of the downpour. Karriden's adjutant had changed from his Hellknight armor into something far less distinctive, though his attempts to get the Paralictor to do the same had been met with cold silence.
"My Lord, they've already been questioned by the Order once, today. An armored Paralictor showing up on their doorstep could make extracting any more answers from them difficult."
"They will answer me," the Paralictor had replied, brushing off the lesser man's protests. Now, as the wind and rain lashed his crimson cloak out behind him and water began to soak through the underpadding of his armor, he began to wish he'd heeded his adjutant's advice if only for comfort's sake. Yet what was done, was done, and he would not allow a minor annoyance to get in the way of the answers he sought.
They came to a stop in front of a run-down building, the sign out front proclaiming it to be a tavern, the "Succubus' Den". Karriden snorted, glancing over at Farn and tilting his head toward the sign.
"You're certain we're in the right place, adjutant?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"Bold...using demonic imagery so." The Paralictor muttered, his gaze returning to the boldly leering succubus painted onto the sign, though the cracking and chipped paint showed that it hadn't seen care in quite some time.
"Not everyone can keep devils and demons straight, My Lord," Farn said with a soft chuckle. "And believe me, this establishment, seedy as it may be, is hardly a den of demon cultists."
Karriden shot the man a curious look, though Farn seemed to ignore it as he stepped toward the tavern's door. How the younger man knew of this place was hardly important, however, so he held his tongue. Farn drew back his hood and pushed open the tavern's door to step inside, and Karriden followed close behind him, though he was forced to duck to avoid catching his horned helm on the rough lintel.
The interior of the Den was just as run-down as the outside, its common-room filled with mismatched tables and chairs and illuminated only by a few flickering lanterns hung from the ceiling. As Karriden straightened, the low murmur that had filled the room a moment before abruptly stopped, every gaze swiveling warily toward the armored visitor and his companion. Even the serving girls, clad in laughable costumes attempting to mimic the succubus on the sign, stopped in place and stared.
"Few of them have seen one of your stature this close, My Lord," Farn assured him, though the smile that ghosted across his features showed that he was simply trying to placate the man. "Pat them no mind and follow me." He motioned toward the bar, the younger man making his way over as his superior followed in his wake. The bartender averted his gaze as the pair approached, busying himself with cleaning a spot on the bar in front of him. Farn offered the man a pleasant smile, and Karriden saw a glint of silver as he placed his hand upon the bar and slid something toward the portly man.
"Is Miss Kara still about, Nelan?" He asked, Karriden finding himself mildly surprised by the young man's charisma. The nervous, toadying adjutant he was familiar with had seemed to melt away the further they had gotten from Egorian's wealthier districts. The tender blanched , but quickly snatched up what Farn had offered, his eyes darting between the adjutant and Karriden looming behind him.
"She's not working, but she rents out a room in back. If she's still here, that's where she'll be," the man grunted. "But she's already had to deal with your sort once, today. So don't you dare-" He stopped short, giving a startled shout and moving around the bar with surprising speed for a man of his girth as Karriden turned and headed for the door at the back of the room.
"My Lord!" Farn shouted, but he ignored the man, backhanding the bartender aside as he leapt in his way and pushing through the door into a dark hallway beyond. He was through with being patient. Some creature was loose in the streets, in his city, and Farn wanted to play diplomat. He'd had enough. He was Karriden Draegar, a Paralictor of the Order of the Scourge, and he would find his answers.
There were several doors lining the hall, but only the one at the far end had any sort of latch to speak of. Taking his chances, Karriden pushed on the door, growling under his breath as he found it locked. He lifted an armored foot, kicking out harshly, the effort rewarded with a splintering of wood and a startled shriek from the small room on the other side. The chamber was nearly pitch-black, though the Paralictor had no trouble spotting the slim figure of a young woman huddled on the bed, the ratty sheets clutched against her fearfully.
"Miss Kara..." The Hellknight breathed, stern voice echoing hollowly in his helm. "I believe we need to talk."

To Be Continued...