Vercci saw the inhumanely long shadow of the cannibal first, projected onto the sides of the Corridor, twitching and distorting unsettlingly in the lamplight that backlit the beast. The unreal quality of this predecessor caused Vercci to grip the sides of the block of foundation he was hiding behind tightly with anxious desire. Gradually the shadow shortened to a more human size and the footfalls became more audible although they were still fleetingly light against the stone.
Vercci registered in some deep part of his mind, one of the few areas that was not wholly devoted to his present observation, that Myron was retreating behind him, one terrified step at a time. Vercci spared one second to glance at the youth; his eyes were wide, every vein in his throat tight with fear and he was groping blindly behind him for some grounding structure he could lean against and perhaps gain strength from before beginning his fear fueled run away from the cannibal and back to the welcoming lights of the distant bar.
Vercci whipped an arm out, clutched the young man by the shirt collar and with prodigious strength, flung him into the very heart of the cannibal's filthy nest. Myron was so startled by this action that he could not help himself from crying out in surprise as he went stumbling face first into the pile of rags and bones.
Immediately the ethereal shadow of the cannibal halted, froze and then moved. Vercci had never seen anything move like that, and almost before he could react the cannibal man was in the corridor, bunching himself to the ground in one fluid stroke before springing into Myron, a supple mass of muscle and sinew, a low hissing growl escaping the mans throat. Vercci allowed himself to be awed and watched hungrily as the cannibal grabbed Myron by the face, long fingers splitting the skin and digging in deeply.
The young man had time for one piercing shriek before the cannibal had wrenched his own body to the side and back with such force that Myron's face was taken with him in a spray of crimson. After the twitching body slumped to the floor a strange stillness seeped into the atmosphere, the calm before the storm.
The cannibal squatted low on his haunches and sniffed at the mass of bleeding flesh caught tight between his fists that had, mere seconds ago, been a recognizable face. He toyed with it in an interested manner; unfurling the lump of flesh that had been the nose, before letting it flop flaccidly back into the mess. Then his curiosity waned and the tossed the face onto the cobblestones where it struck with a sickening smack.
He hovered over the rest of the body, the bits of humans he knew much more intimately than their faces and ran his fingers down the collarbone and pectoral muscles, to the light dimpled raises of the ribs. Here, he dug in; his hand in the shape of a spade and separated the skin from the muscle with dexterous ease, allowing the cooling blood to pool beneath him and not in the least troubled by it. While one hand peeled the skin off in glistening, elastic strips, the other set to work digging out the muscle and piling it on the nearest rag. As the cannibal labored, he lifted a strip of steaming meat to his mouth and ate it greedily. Vercci had never been so enthralled with anything in his life. It was time to make this beast his.
Vercci stepped boldly from his shadow enshrouded hiding place, some ten feet directly before the cannibal. The mans blood drenched face swung to him immediately, causing deep red flecks to dot the ground, but he did not charge as recklessly as he had Myron. No, he crouched low to the ground, ready to spring in an instant, but hesitated. The human was not raving, shouting, rushing or defiling his nest…it was standing, with no obvious weapon and staring at him. Voldo could sense no fear from this man, nor loathing and that, more than anything was what held him back. Voldo studied the man intently and all at once growled low in his throat, causing the blood already accumulated around his lips to run, as though he had sensed something in the human that he did not like. Something he found more threatening than jeers, or swords. He did not know what it was but the man unnerved him.
Voldo rose to his full height, not bothering to keep his back hunched as was his custom and habit, so that he stood a few inches taller than the intruder. He growled menacingly while moving steadily forward, showing that he was obviously the stronger of the two and was not going to abandon his territory or fresh kill.
This seemed to have the opposite effect on the intruder, who smiled broadly, a manic gleam in his eye. The intruder moved his arm slightly to his hip and Voldo leapt at him, swinging his long arm about in an arc and catching the man in the temple. The intruder went down heavily and Voldo was on him in a moment, straddling his chest, both arms now raised in preparation to rip the bare throat out.
Immediately, and from behind, a white-hot pain erupted in the small of Voldo's back. He let out a dry screech and twisted about both to see what had caused him this pain and to evade it but saw nothing but Vercci's knee, which was covered in his blood. He vaulted off of Vercci's chest, moving into another attack position, but Vercci had used the cannibal's brief interlude of pain to draw his long sword.
Voldo became frenzied as soon as the cold, gleaming metal caught his eye. In a mad rush he flew at Vercci, and while flowing into a sliding kick, felt himself falter; the wound on his back was affecting his left leg. Rage and confusing at his limbs sudden uselessness tore at him and he compensated by lashing out with his left arm, still using the momentum he'd manage to gather.
But Vercci was ready for this, had known that the wound he'd given the beast would render it impossible for him to use his full agility and sidestepped easily. Grinning demonically and even chuckling in a crazed staccato, he plowed the hilt of his sword into the back of the cannibal's skull and Voldo stumbled twice before loosing consciousness.
Vercci exhaled between his bared teeth in a low whistle, his combination of adrenaline and excitement making his breath quick and ragged, but he enjoyed passionate outbursts such as these. His only regret was that the cannibal was no longer a threat to him, and he had no way to release the energy coursing through him. Still, he understood that he could not transport the man, or tend to his wounds while in such a state so he crouched near the sprawled cannibal and waited for himself to calm.
His head throbbed painfully where the cannibal had hit him and he would probably have a painful welt and colorful bruising by dawn, but he cared little. The man had been just as fierce as his rumors suggested and Vercci had delighted in watching him rip Myron's face off and then proceed to dissect him. When the cannibal had greedily devoured a strip of the young mans chest, Vercci had been hard pressed to keep from emitting the moan of pleasure the act had elicited from him.
Remembering something at the edge of his mind, Vercci turned his eyes from the cannibal's filthy hide to the ravaged corpse of the young man lying nearby. Standing jovially but wavering slightly from the blow to his head, Vercci crossed the short distance to the corpse and squatted above it. He smiled fiercely as he looked into the skinless visage, tendons and bone wrapped in velvety muscle now laid bare, the eyes impossibly wide and grotesquely large without the lids to enshroud them. He patted it on the shoulder and said,
"And now you are freed from the slums." It took prodigious amounts of his self-control to keep from laughing out loud in the dark alleyway. He began to rise, but quickly bent back down to the body as he remembered something else. Reaching into the dead mans pocket, he removed his money purse and tucked it safely back into his own clothes. He then fished through Myron's other pockets, removing only a few coins, but pocketing them all the same. He truly had no use such small amounts, but it was better to have too much than too little.
"You won't be needing these anymore, eh?" He asked the macabre, now permanently grinning head, jingling the coins about above the body. The grin was infectious and Vercci went now to the cannibal, feeling calmed enough to bind and treat the man before heading back to his mansion with his prize.
Vercci removed a great length of rope as he leaned over him, taking the wiry arms and tying them tightly about the wrists, doing the same to the ankles, and then binding the arms and ankles together. This arrangement would allow the cannibal to walk, but not run and would prevent him from kicking or punching. Vercci pulled loosely at the bindings, making sure they were not so tight as to cut off the cannibal's circulation.
He then knelt over the mans lower back, lifting the tattered gray shreds of shirt to reveal skin of nearly the exact same filth ridden color underneath. The wound he'd inflicted during their struggle was threadlike, but deep and bleeding steadily. Vercci realized he'd narrowly missed puncturing a major artery of the spine, which would have caused the cannibal to suffer instantaneous and fatal shock. He knew this to be true by his own cruel experiments on slaves.
He took out a salve he kept within his traveling purse, unscrewed the lid, and smeared some of the opaque paste into and around the wound. That should keep infection at bay. Removing a needle and rather thick thread, he stitched the gash closed with prodigious care, hoping the grime that adhered to the cannibals skin would not become trapped within his body.
Vercci leaned back on his haunches, surveying his work and nodding to himself. He was a very effective healer but only because he was also a very effective torturer, and to cause the most damage to his prey, the victim would have to stay alive long enough to sustain it. He'd once kept a woman alive for months, all the while cutting off non-vital parts of her body and stitching her up, simply to see how long she'd last. It had been an interesting experiment and he had learned some very useful things about the human body.
Getting to his feet, and gingerly rubbing his rapidly bruising temple, Vercci prepared to lift the unconscious cannibal to his feet and drag him back to his horse. He stopped short and removed the decorative and now bloodstained sash that wound about his knee. The sash concealed a small dagger that was strapped to his knee with a leather sheath. He made a mental note to have the blade cleaned once he returned home.
He took the sash and tied it about the cannibal's neck, keeping the long end in his hand and pulled.
The cannibal slumped towards him limply, dragging heavily against the cobblestones. Satisfied with his improvised leash, Vercci crouched, took the man about the middle and pulled him to a half standing state. He then pulled one long arm about his shoulders, so that the cannibal was hanging off of his right side, his feet bumping against the ground uselessly. Stumbling slightly under the extra weight, Vercci began the short walk back to the bar, grinning through the light perspiration dotting his face and happier than he could remember being.