<font color=430000 face=georgia size=1>YOU SHALL KNOW ME BY THE TRAIL OF BLOOD</font>

He is unhurried in this as he is in all things.

It has been many a passing moon, a fair few seasons that have bled one into the next, since he had cast the sprawling length of his shadow upon the proverbial doorstep of Old Moladion. It cannot be said, not with any measure of certainty, what ethereal cogency had persuaded him to make his return... and yet nevertheless here he lingered, in this land bludgeoned by Mother Nature and seemingly pilfered of its former glory. Leaving behind only but a whisper of potential� the promise of what could one day transpire. A whispered foretelling of the fate that would one day befall the mindless masses of this land that had digressed yet again the state of nauseating complacency that it had before. So long he had lingered, a master of the long shadows that swathed him and shielded his traveling carcass from the prying eyes of the dullards. So long had he existed as lord of the unknown, exuding unexpected patience in his every action, silently and dutifully testing the borders of each new kingdom in turn, slithering as some hellish serpent against the unseen lines of their �territories� to try their resolve, their vigilance� their attentiveness. What he had discovered had drawn that characteristically macabre grin to the brims of his massacred lips. Too long had they existed in this haze of relative peace; too long had it been since they had born the insurmountable heft of subjugation.

The time for their reawakening was close at hand.

However, despite the intensity of his insatiable thirst for their lifeblood, his hunger for the chaos and depravity that once had been, a far more personal matter plucked away coyly at the base of his brain. In truth it had been many years since last he had laid eyes upon this particular wench; however, to operate under the assumption that he could have ever forfeited her memory to the cruelty of time passed was a heinous folly. It could never be said of Abraxus that he was a doting sire, that he harbored any manner of love for his offspring as others so often did; his heart was not one softened by the treacheries of love, nor of familial bond. He always had and always would continue to serve only himself, what bonds he did form with others of his species merely a conduit to the pursuit of his own abominable whims. His offspring, both the old and the new, were subjects of this perilous upbringing. And yet he does not seek to subdue the curiosity that plucks away at him as that all-too-familiar aroma curls against every olfactory sensor.

He follows her in uncharacteristic silence, for normally he cares not for the resonance of his footfalls, having long ago ascertained that there existed upon this earth no creature that could easily bring him harm. On this day, however, he lingers in her wake as an unseen sentry, placing himself strategically downwind of this, his eldest daughter, seeking only to gather what information she might choose to forfeit� knowingly or otherwise. The great ashen beast is all too aware that he, himself, is being trailed, though with far less care than he has exercised. His newest progeny pursue him, surely out of some morbid and innately enticing curiosity for their sire�s habits. For now, it seems, he is at least somewhat inclined to allow the annoyance of their attentions.

Abraxus moves to unveil himself, the shadows of the hour birthing him as some demonic plague, one overlarge paw placed purposely within one of the many pools of gathered precipitation. The resulting splash echoes eerily from the wooden totems which surround them, the resonance fading into the ether beyond as he draws his considerable heft to a halt. �Stella.� Her moniker is issued as a lowly growl, a garbled command ripped from a throat that bears just as much damage as his fa�ade. The pinched and knotted flesh of his irrevocably damaged maw twists into a grin that could echo no true happiness. It is a mockery of glee, a practice in salacious misdirection. �It has been too long��

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