If thou openest not the gate to let me enter,
I will break the door, I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.

"Goddamn you Baphomet" The voice falls upon empty ears as she moves through the snow cover rocks and she gingerly picks over them. Ishtar was not a gentle creature. She was not a gentle soul, and Baphomet would certainly get more than an earful when she saw him next. Her abdomen had already begun to swell, making her normal streamline figure into that more closely resembling that of a tick. It was not the figure that she liked to portray. Hers was a dark mind, with a temper and a disposition that would be most unfavorable to cross. Finally though, she stopped long enough to realize that this was as good of a place to make a den for herself than any. It was a common ground but barely traveled. She could hear a waterfall not far off, thus a water source would be relatively easily accessible. All she had to do was rid this hole of it's current occupant. A badger.

Ishtar feared no one and nothing. She was born of the dark blood, and body marked as one of the Fallen. Her yellow eyes focus to the dark light as she sticks her nose into the burrow. Almost instantly there was a growl and a foolhardy attack against her. What did this badger ever hope to succeed at against one of the Choosen Fallen? Her bloodlines where ancient, strong and undestructable. She backed up only to lure the creature to the ground level where she promptly lunged, grabbing hold of of the creatures scruff and shaking her head to beat it against the rock that stood at the gateway to the den. When she dropped it, she knew it was still alive simply unconcious.

She could of had mercy on the poor stupid creature but really, what was the sport in that? She was not particularly hungry but her teeth tore through the soft flesh of the badger's belly as it continued to grasp desperately to it's pathetic life. She tore and ripped through the tenderest, choiciest parts, barely bothering to chew as she went through.

After a few mouthfuls she saw back on her haunches, cleaning the blood from her paws and legs. Ishtar left the carcass in front of the den, a sinister grin came over her stained features as it gasped a few more times before bleeding out. Soon enough some hapless creature would find the carcass. Crows would come to pick over the meat, with vultures to help. Perhaps a wolf would be stupid enough to think that it was a free meal and she could make it known that the Fallen had arrived to their precious Moladion. She slipped into her new blood-christened den to rest from her journey. She curled up within the darkness, drifting off into a light sleep vowing to find Baphomet as soon as she had recovered.

ISHTAR.