Information

Kumori has a minion!

Chayn the Spyte

Kumori
Legacy Name: Kumori

The Nightmare Celinox

Age: 7 years, 6 months, 2 weeks

Born: September 2nd, 2018

Adopted: 7 years, 1 month, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: February 3rd, 2019

Statistics

• Level: 10
   
• Strength: 25
   
• Defense: 25
   
• Speed: 27
   
• Health: 25
   
• HP: 25/25
   
• Intelligence: 33
   
• Books Read: 33
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Mr. Malakai Thorne stood out, no doubt about it. He kept his beard precisely trimmed, the sharp lines echoing the angles of his face. His eyes held a cold gleam; always assessing, as if calculating what your life might go for on the open market - if only the right buyer came along. Money wasn’t just something he possessed; it was something he pursued, acquired, and wore. People murmured his name in the circles where fortunes flowed, and when he entered a room, you didn’t just see him. You felt his presence, like the lingering scent of costly cologne that never fully faded after he was gone.

He was always on the lookout for the next big payoff, always tuning in to any bit of rumor that might lead him to more cash. He kept a small black notebook crammed with contacts; people who slipped him hints and secrets, anything that might give him a leg up. One of those contacts, Riva Sloan, was particularly sharp-tongued and dangerous. She was the one who brought him the most intriguing bit of news he’d gotten in some time: rumors of a legendary creature. Not just any creature; a cat that could speak to the dead.

Supposedly, this supernatural cat lived in the decaying old manor at the edge of town. It had been condemned years ago, but no one had actually put in the effort to demolish it. The house just sat there, crumbling, and either ignored or avoided by everyone.

Mr. Thorne was stunned, and very suspicious about how such a magnificent resource was so close to home. How did something so valuable slip past his network? He decided he needed to have a little talk with Riva. She had a spiteful habit of withholding information, usually hoping to wring more money from him. She never seemed satisfied with her cut; always acting like she deserved a bigger portion of his wealth.

Still, Malakai was intrigued enough to pay the manor a visit. If this turned out to be well worth it, he might actually increase Riva's commission percentage to five percent; the lowest end of industry standard, and a bit more than he preferred to dole out from his near infinite wealth.

He didn’t want anyone to see him, so he waited until the last traces of daylight disappeared before heading out. He knew he was violating curfew, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Earlier, he’d instructed his servants to pack a generous bottle of cream, a thick filet of salmon, and a mixture of beef and lamb pâté. With any luck, that banquet would lure the cat into doing what he needed. Animals always followed food, didn’t they? This had to work.

The night was alive with the sound of insects; crickets shrieking like cicadas, louder than usual for this season.

Malakai made his way toward the manor, its silhouette hunched and ominous beneath a low, hanging moon. The old estate had once been magnificent, but now it looked like nothing more than a forlorn, rotting shell. He was grateful that the gate was hanging wide open. The wood seemed so damp and swollen he half-expected it to squelch under his hand, or collapse into dust.

He stepped over the edge of the property, and in an instant, everything went utterly silent. Malakai stopped in his tracks. The crickets cut off, and the moon’s silver light faded. He glanced upward and his stomach clenched; the sky was bleeding to an eerie crimson and the moon seemed to be washed in blood.

Fighting panic, he stepped back onto the sidewalk. Immediately, the redness vanished. The moon softened again. The crickets resumed as if nothing had happened. He stood there for a moment, breathing in and out. Then he made himself cross the property line again. Just as before, the air shifted: the crimson dusk settled over him, the insects fell silent, and the thick odor of rotting wood and mushrooms enveloped him.

Malakai understood then: this place, the land, and that decaying old manor, belonged to the creature. Her power seeped into every corner. He was leaving the safe, well-lit world he knew and stepping into a realm where his wealth and reputation meant nothing. He would have to tread carefully here.

The manor itself looked like it was falling apart; its walls were pockmarked and flaking away like rotting flesh. The yard was choked with dead weeds that seemed to rustle and whisper against one another, making his skin crawl. The path was nearly gone, smothered by dead vegetation, and dust clung to his expensive shoes as he walked. He wrinkled his nose.

Up close, the house was even worse. The porch sagged so much he had to watch each step or risk twisting his ankle. The paint had peeled away, leaving bare wood, and the door, once solid, now just hung there, gray and splintered. The protective urethane coating had crumbled, revealing wood that was badly cracked and split.

It seemed like a strange place for a powerful necromancer to live in. Still, Riva’s message had been clear: all the rumors led here. Malakai straightened his shoulders and knocked.

Silence. Then the door groaned open, slowly. A doorman appeared. Well, you could call it a "doorman" if you wanted to be generous. It was a corpse, no mistaking it, staring at him with lifeless, glassy eyes. It emitted a low, gurgling growl from the back of its throat, sounding vaguely inquisitive.

Malakai steadied himself. “I want to speak to your mistress,” he said, voice nearly even. “The necromancer called Kumori.”

The corpse didn’t reply. It simply opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter with what remained of its hand. He followed, eyes fixed on the thing’s strangely fluid movements, like a dance in slow motion. Zombies were supposed to shuffle, right? Or stumble. Sure some could run, depending on the movie, but this one glided, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. It was somehow much creepier than the movies. Too smooth. Too unnatural.

They moved through the foyer into the grand hall, or what was left of it. Once, the place must have been beautiful. Now it was only peeling paint, ripped wallpaper, and shattered wood littering a floor that might have gleamed in better days.

A figure awaited him: a Nightmare Celinox reclined on a tatty throne-like chair. Her fur so black she was nearly invisible except for the shine of black crystals jutting from her back. A robe draped her, cut to let the crystals pierce through, decorated in front by a pattern resembling a green skull surrounded by faintly glowing runes. Kumori regarded Malakai with a black, unblinking gaze, as if weighing the value of his soul. Malakai was not used to being the one being sized up.

The Celinox raised a paw and propped her chin on the back of it, letting long black claws dangle in the empty air below. Her lips curled in a smirk. “Malakai Thorne,” she purred, increasing the creeping unease. “You’ve made quite the reputation. People thought you’d become Shingami’s next prey. Imagine their disappointment when they find out that your destiny lies with me instead. So, what is it you want from me, little mortal?”

Malakai fought not to flinch. “I want answers,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “You speak to the dead. I want their secrets. Their treasures. I’ll pay whatever it takes. Here—” He set a crystal goblet of cream on the table, then offered a plate with fish and pâté. “I bring you this offering as a mere taste of what I can give in exchange.” The scent of freshly made food seemed to momentarily overpower the moldering smell of the decaying building.

Kumori's tail twitched. Malakai blinked in confusion as a second tail did the same. Weren't there stories from a distant land about animals with multiple tails? Neko... something? Oh, yes, Nekomata. A creature from Japan. Cats that could raise the dead and... and... what else? Make them dance? He glanced around. At the room’s edges, dead men and women stood waiting at the edges of the room, swaying slightly, as though they heard music he couldn’t.

The Nekomata reached out, hooked a tiny bit of meat pâté on the very tip of her claw and brought it to her muzzle. She lazily licked it into her mouth, her dark gaze never leaving the man standing before her.

“The meat’s good,” she said at last. “But, you know, despite what everyone says, grown cats don’t need, or even want, milk.”

Oops.

"I apologize, Lady Kumori," Malakai gave a stiff little bow, trying to sound respectful.

“Just tell me what you want for the information, and I’ll make sure you get it. What would you like? Food prepared by the greatest chefs in the land? Cushions stuffed with the finest down?"

The Celinox released a low, scornful hiss. "Paltry offerings,and insulting. Do you really imagine I’m some simple beast, pleased with a full stomach and soft bedding?”

Malakai faltered, caught off guard. “Uh…”

The cat's lip curled to reveal a single, razor-sharp fang that was so white it almost glowed against the darkness of the rest of the creature. The one bared fang was as much a threat as it was an insult. The icy disdain seemed even more insolent on the face of a feline.

Kumori finally gave a tiny, dismissive snort. “I want a servant,” she declared, pinning him with her black eyes. “One I can claim, body and soul. Someone who’ll serve me even after death. I’m sure you can think of someone useful.”

The talisman around Malakai's neck grew uncomfortably warm for some reason. He tugged it away under his shirt, muttering softly, but his brain was already spinning. Nikolas Buckley sprang to mind, an irritating contractor always hounding him about overdue bills and threatening to send it to collections. Mr. Thorne would not miss him, and his disappearance would also be convenient for making the demands for payment go away.

“I know someone,” Malakai said. “How long do you need to get the information?”

Kumori’s black eyes glittered. “Three days. That’s enough time to find my payment, isn’t it? And a warning, Mr. Thorne: I always collect. Try to cheat me, and I’ll simply take what I want from you.”

The talisman burned even hotter, and Malakai winced. “You will have your servant in three days, Lady Kumori,” he promised in clipped tones. He turned and hurried out, desperate for fresh air.'

.

Three days later, Malakai dragged a bound, trembling man to the manor’s door. The man’s muffled cries barely slipped past the gag as he writhed in his ropes.

“Help me with this,” Malakai barked at the doorman... Door zombie? Ugh, whatever it was, the thing seemed used to taking orders.

The zombie stooped without a word and helped drag Nikolas Buckley into the main hall. He was promptly deposited on the floor between Malakai and Kumori.

Kumori looked as if she hadn't moved from her spot on the chair in the three days that had passed. She certainly hadn't changed her robe.

“I’ve brought your payment, necromancer,” Malakai announced, wiping sweat from his brow. He hated exerting himself physically, but if the information was as good as he hoped, it would be worth it.

“So you have,” Kumori replied, her eyes never so much as glancing at the terrified man who was making muffled wailing noises. "And in turn, I have this," he produced a crisp white envelope, so stuffed with papers it bulged at the sides.

Malakai accepted the envelope and and tore it open. His eyes scanned the elegant handwriting. Inside were detailed instructions to a hidden treasure, deep in the Vale of Hungry Shadows. There were step-by-step directions, with warnings for every danger along the way.

“Are you satisfied with our deal?” the Celinox asked.

“I am.” Malakai’s smile twisted, sharp and cold. “We’re finished here, thank the gods.”

He gripped the envelope and its contents like a lifeline, then turned away from the necromancer. Hopefully, he could leave before Nikolas started screaming.

He barely noticed the shadows thickening around Kumori, moving and writhing as if they were alive. He missed the otherworldly glow in her eyes, and the way the darkness began to stretch, not toward the helpless man on the floor, but straight for Malakai.

He did, however, feel the slithering, sliding, skin crawling tentacles of darkness coil themselves around him. The room began to spin, and Malakai felt his consciousness slipping away, like sand between his fingers. "What...?" he barely managed to croak out.

Malakai realized too late that he had made a terrible mistake; Shingami hadn't come for him because Kumori had claimed him as her own. One deadly entity of punishment had respectfully given way to the claim of another. Then the pain hit him: real, searing pain tearing through every inch of his being. He screamed, feeling his soul wrenched out, bound tight in chains spun from pure darkness. Everything dimmed, even his vision. The envelope slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. The darkness closed in around him.

.

Nikolas Buckley could only whimper, eyes wide with terror. He couldn’t look away. Was he next? Would the Celinox seize him and drag his soul into darkness?

As the trembling man watched in horror, Malakai’s screams abruptly ceased. The shadows slithered back. Mr. Thorne, or what remained of him, straightened and faced them. His face hung slack, eyes empty. His skin, once warm and tan, now appeared gray and lifeless.

The Celinox stepped close, cupping Malakai’s face for a moment, a cruel smile twisting her muzzle. "The greedy ones always make the best laborers, once turned," she murmured, almost to herself. Slowly she turned, and her black gaze fell on Nikolas.

She stooped down to eye the helpless man, before shaking her head in disgust. “No, you will not do. Good men, honest men, do not serve the darkness quite so well.”

With a sharp flick of her claw, Nikolas’s ropes fell away. “Take the envelope, Nikolas. Follow the instructions,. and payment for your work will be fulfilled many times over.”

Nikolas ripped off his gag, his hands trembling. “Er... I don't mean to bite the paws that freed me, miss, lady, ma'am...” He gulped. “But… why am I still alive?”

He risked a glance at Malakai, or what was left of him, already shuffling off to join the other thralls, moving in that eerie, swaying walk.

“We have our rules, Nikolas, my boy,” the Celinox replied, her tone distant, as if she’d already lost interest. “Souls of sinners have a certain… flavor. Yours doesn’t. Stay careful, and the darkness here won’t notice you, nor will the things crawling out of it.” She turned her gaze toward him one final time. “You have no idea how truly lucky you are, to come face to face with a Sin Monster, and live to tell the tale.”

Nikolas swallowed hard, clutched the envelope like a lifeline, and stumbled out of the the decrepit manor. He didn’t look back. He’d had enough of necromancers and nightmare houses for one lifetime. As he crossed the property line, the blood red moon vanished, turning to the cool, blue-white light of a normal night. As he hurried home, the streets seemed to be missing their usual menace.

Of course, he realized with a kind of numb acceptance, the forest had its quota of death tonight.

-------------------------

Name: Kumori

Type: Nekomata / Necromancer

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Known Rules: Kumori rules over the sin of Greed and tends to be relatively passive in her seat of power. Rather than actively hunt her victims, she lets her victims come to her. Tales of her ability to speak to and control the dead is a pull that no sinner of Greed can pass up. Learning the location of long-forgotten or hidden treasures from the dead draws them like moths to the flame. Upon making a deal with the nekomata, the Greedy are taken, their souls captured, and their undead bodies put to use. She has no use for those who are not blinded by greed, and can be helpful and even beneficial to the honest and good people she may occasionally encounter. She is still considered too dangerous to approach without good reason, and even then, it is highly risky.

Combat: As a member of Vyces' platoon, Kumori cannot be successfully fought or killed. The Hunters do know where she is; rare for a Sin Monster. However, since they cannot capture or kill her, they tend to leave her to her own devices, seeing her as a necessary evil.

Pet Treasure

Dead Person

Pet Friends