Wessley has a minion!

Giorti the Thanatos

"Well aren't you a pretty one?"

He swooped down and landed with a graceful THUD! upon the wooden banister. As he leaned forward his feathers gleamed in the pale moonlight that barely managed to creep in through the cracked mosaic window above them. The large, dusty chandelier creaked, having been moved to do so by the wind he had stirred up in his descent. His sharp beak twisted into an evil grin. Oh, how those humans shook before them. He could smell their fear.

They were friends, those humans. Young as well. Out for a late night adventure in the rumored haunted house. Actually, it had been more than a rumor. To mention its name was a social taboo. It was said that a monstrous being lived there, collecting broken things just as he collected the broken wishes of those he killed. Children - even adults, really - had been repeatedly warned to stay away. But they were only looking for a good time. They never thought they would get... this.

His pitch black eyes gleamed. "Would you like to hear my story?" he rasped, moving closer just ever so slightly. He could feel each shaky breath they took. It delighted him. "I tell it to everyone, you know." Unsurprisingly, it never got out. He happily hopped over to the other banister. The humans jumped - oh, how they jumped! - when he landed, and they ended up at least a foot back from where they were standing. Humans, he thought. And how terribly common of them. He swayed back and forth lazily, teetering on the edge of the wood on which he stood. Always afraid of death. They should know... His tongue slid out and licked the edge of his beak. It had been a while since his last dinner... His wings began to spread themselves... But then they stopped. He had almost forgotten. His story! He told it every time, you know.

"Well!" he said crisply, sitting back down on the seat he had made for himself. Once again, the humans jumped, but he took no notice. "You see, far back - very far back, in fact, probably before you were even born..." He paused and seemed to think a bit. "No, I would say as far back as probably before your parents were even born. Yes, that far back. Either way, very long ago this house was owned by a very wealthy and prominent family in--- you know, I suppose this would have been before your parent's parents were born. Hm... Well, in any case! This was owned by a very wealthy and prominent family." He rapped his talons for a few seconds. His last dinner must have been a long while ago... He sighed. "I worked for the master of the house. My master. I was his ever faithful servant." He looked up, but only for the dramatics and to see them follow the movement of his head in shocked awe. "I will admit, however, that he was not the nicest of men. Torturing, plundering, pillaging, selling souls and things of that like. I will state again that he was quite powerful. It seemed no one could stop him... And then, of course, things went a bit... sour. He owed some debts."

He leapt off the banister and landed on the old wooden floor, making it creak under his weight. The humans scrambled back away from him. "Horrible debts," he intoned. "To horrible people." Slowly, stealthily, he was moving towards the people. He was famished and his story was running out of words. He could feel their heartbeats pulsating through his talons as they hit the floor. His wings yearned to stretch themselves. "My master was fearful - for the right reasons, of course. And he was clever. He decided to leave, and, with some help from some certain customers he charged me to take care of this house. My talons are rooted in this ancient foundation... my feathers painted into the wood. My beak curves alongside every light and my eyes - the painting on the walls, ever watching." His voice dropped down to a hiss of a whisper. "My soul, chained in every room... I will always guard this house." He let his wings fly open and his head reared back with pleasure. "Forever!" he growled, charging towards the humans, laughing as they tried to run.

And so the game continued, as it would, he presumed, for centuries to come. Foolish humans, he thought. Always afraid of death. His meal scurried before him. They should know... He swooped down. I'll find them anyway.