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Description
Death, can be a beautiful thing. Some say it is the end of this life and others believe it is the beginning of a new. It does not matter if it is the end or the beginning; it is an unavoidable point in the life of any person or thing. The death of one fuels the life of another.
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The source of any village, town, or city is the farms. More dependent on farming are smaller villages, struck with poverty and drought. Many die each year and are replaced with young, frail life.  Today was a day of great loss; this loss was not caused by drought, famine, or disease. This loss was what they called murder. Well, Mal would not agree. He was living, breathing, and hungry just like the filthy vermin living a few miles away in a tiny swarm called a village.

He sat in the field of wheat which swayed lightly in the cool summer breeze. The moon was not out this night but there was a faint red glow illuminating his target. Backwards it crawled, pleading, begging, and sobbing not to die. What a foolish thing to ask.

"Did you believe you could live forever? You ask me not to kill you but death would come one day, you know that."

"And today is not that day! Oh please, I have a family." The prey's voice cracked and trembled, shaking like the individual blades of grain. Mal could not help but laugh, a deep sinister chuckle that chilled the warmth of the night.

"Please. You act like they could not live without you. They will have to one day. The world is cruel. People are cruel and most of all, selfish. They will be angry, question why you left them. Then they will cry, and then they will forget you."  His lips parted, slowly twisting upwards into a grin that held all the evil of the world.  "You are going to die here. It will hurt. And you will die screaming and pleading for it to end. I will grant you that wish." The smooth tone in his voice was so gentle and soothing that his prey stopped trembling for a moment and his muscles relaxed. His voice was a set of warm arms, offering him eternal embrace. Short lived peace.

The prey stood and stumbled with his first few steps before bolting off towards the tree line. Mal's soft glowing red eyes narrowed, a snarl sounding close to a wolf's followed and he was in pursuit. His prey was clearly as unintelligent as he thought. What human could ever outrun him? Their collision could be described as a steam engine hitting a deer; a loud crack of bones, a scream of sheer agony, a loud thud, and then silence. Mal grumbled, more a noise of inconvenience than discomfort, and stood up. With an elegance that matched royalty, his hands smoothed over his red velvet overcoat. His long limber fingers plucked away blades of grass, flicked away the dirt, and tucked his black locks into place.

At his feet, the prey struggled for breath. Desperate eyes looked up to the victor, Mal assumed what he tried to say next was another begging cry; unfortunately the man's ribs were crushed and most of his body broken.

"Please? Look at you, on the verge of death and still you beg? Do you believe you could recover from this?" There was a shocked tone in his otherwise emotionless, deep, and cold voice. "I do not know your name, but soon I will. You have a family you say? Well, you put up a good fight. Maybe I will stop by and let them know you died with some honor…if you want to call it that." The prey's eyes grew wide and the blood spilling from his mouth began to gush. "Don't make your heart race; I can't enjoy you if you are dead. Do not worry, I won't need another one of you rats for a long time. But maybe, just maybe, I will have some fun with your kin." Another sinister grin and Mal was above him, a foot on either side of his broken body. The tall beast leaned down and let their faces linger inches from one another. "I will enjoy this."

The hunter and the hunted sat in silence for a moment. The man, the victim, sat there staring up into the glowing red eyes of this…thing. No one knew what Mal was. He was the village legend. Of course, this man who now fell victim to him was one of the nonbelievers. Mal worked in such a manner, taking the nonbelievers, torturing them, and then making them believe just what the stories told. It was an ego trip.

Mal let one slender finger dip into the mouth of his prey, further degrading him, and let it soak with blood. Slowly, he pulled it from his victim and sucked it clean. His eyes shut in sheer bliss, leaving them in darkness for a moment. After a moan of ecstasy his eyes opened, burning brighter than before, and he looked down at the dying man.

"Victor. Amazing what you can learn from a little blood. Once I am finished, I will know everything. Every memory, every detail, and every bit of knowledge you probably do not process, will be mine." Mal knew it registered that that meant the location of his family and all other important information by how the man tried to crawl and move. His body was far too broken and he ended up gurgling in pain. Enough, even this beast had some respect. It was quick.

Simple death.

Description
Death, can be a beautiful thing. Some say it is the end of this life and others believe it is the beginning of a new. It does not matter if it is the end or the beginning; it is an unavoidable point in the life of any person or thing. The death of one fuels the life of another.
----
The source of any village, town, or city is the farms. More dependent on farming are smaller villages, struck with poverty and drought. Many die each year and are replaced with young, frail life.  Today was a day of great loss; this loss was not caused by drought, famine, or disease. This loss was what they called murder. Well, Mal would not agree. He was living, breathing, and hungry just like the filthy vermin living a few miles away in a tiny swarm called a village.

He sat in the field of wheat which swayed lightly in the cool summer breeze. The moon was not out this night but there was a faint red glow illuminating his target. Backwards it crawled, pleading, begging, and sobbing not to die. What a foolish thing to ask.

"Did you believe you could live forever? You ask me not to kill you but death would come one day, you know that."

"And today is not that day! Oh please, I have a family." The prey's voice cracked and trembled, shaking like the individual blades of grain. Mal could not help but laugh, a deep sinister chuckle that chilled the warmth of the night.

"Please. You act like they could not live without you. They will have to one day. The world is cruel. People are cruel and most of all, selfish. They will be angry, question why you left them. Then they will cry, and then they will forget you."  His lips parted, slowly twisting upwards into a grin that held all the evil of the world.  "You are going to die here. It will hurt. And you will die screaming and pleading for it to end. I will grant you that wish." The smooth tone in his voice was so gentle and soothing that his prey stopped trembling for a moment and his muscles relaxed. His voice was a set of warm arms, offering him eternal embrace. Short lived peace.

The prey stood and stumbled with his first few steps before bolting off towards the tree line. Mal's soft glowing red eyes narrowed, a snarl sounding close to a wolf's followed and he was in pursuit. His prey was clearly as unintelligent as he thought. What human could ever outrun him? Their collision could be described as a steam engine hitting a deer; a loud crack of bones, a scream of sheer agony, a loud thud, and then silence. Mal grumbled, more a noise of inconvenience than discomfort, and stood up. With an elegance that matched royalty, his hands smoothed over his red velvet overcoat. His long limber fingers plucked away blades of grass, flicked away the dirt, and tucked his black locks into place.

At his feet, the prey struggled for breath. Desperate eyes looked up to the victor, Mal assumed what he tried to say next was another begging cry; unfortunately the man's ribs were crushed and most of his body broken.

"Please? Look at you, on the verge of death and still you beg? Do you believe you could recover from this?" There was a shocked tone in his otherwise emotionless, deep, and cold voice. "I do not know your name, but soon I will. You have a family you say? Well, you put up a good fight. Maybe I will stop by and let them know you died with some honor…if you want to call it that." The prey's eyes grew wide and the blood spilling from his mouth began to gush. "Don't make your heart race; I can't enjoy you if you are dead. Do not worry, I won't need another one of you rats for a long time. But maybe, just maybe, I will have some fun with your kin." Another sinister grin and Mal was above him, a foot on either side of his broken body. The tall beast leaned down and let their faces linger inches from one another. "I will enjoy this."

The hunter and the hunted sat in silence for a moment. The man, the victim, sat there staring up into the glowing red eyes of this…thing. No one knew what Mal was. He was the village legend. Of course, this man who now fell victim to him was one of the nonbelievers. Mal worked in such a manner, taking the nonbelievers, torturing them, and then making them believe just what the stories told. It was an ego trip.

Mal let one slender finger dip into the mouth of his prey, further degrading him, and let it soak with blood. Slowly, he pulled it from his victim and sucked it clean. His eyes shut in sheer bliss, leaving them in darkness for a moment. After a moan of ecstasy his eyes opened, burning brighter than before, and he looked down at the dying man.

"Victor. Amazing what you can learn from a little blood. Once I am finished, I will know everything. Every memory, every detail, and every bit of knowledge you probably do not process, will be mine." Mal knew it registered that that meant the location of his family and all other important information by how the man tried to crawl and move. His body was far too broken and he ended up gurgling in pain. Enough, even this beast had some respect. It was quick.

Simple death.