CENTURA
Something was moving. Now, in its mind, 'moving' meant two things: one, it was good food, and two, it was bad food. Other demons were bad food, but dogs...they were juicy and crunchy and they made its poison seep through from the points of its legs in delight. Centura shrieked in happiness, purple liquid seeping from his spear-like feet and onto the dead leaves, which crumpled and curled up into a tiny black ball. Those living animals would turn shriveled and burned too, once it found them. Oh yes, and it would make sure that they would die nice and slow, wallowing in their own blood. They tasted better that way. Blood was kind of like sauce, sickly sweat and mouthwatering. With that thought in mind, Centura rushed towards its next meal, screaming and crashing randomly into unfortunate trees.
~-~-~-~
MICANDON
Long forked tongues extended from the gnarly roots, their faces glittering with dirt as black as midnight. They reached out from the carcass, tips digging into a dry and crusted palm, letting black goo trickle down the indents that they made...
He wasn't really dead. Death was only...temporary. His fingers drew back, and a long red ribbon unfurled itself to lick up his own blood. Then it drew back into his mouth, and he snapped his head to the side. It made a satisfying cracking noise. The white patches on his mottled skin seemed to glow in the darkness of this forest. His arms drew up in an impossible angle that would have probably ripped his shoulder blades from his body, if he wasn't a demon.
Finally, Micandon withdrew into a slightly more normal shape, tongue flickering out once more to take in the surroundings. Immediately, black aura pulsed wildly from his ghostly eyes, and he dug his claw-like fingers into his skin again. Made himself bleed. Why? For no reason. But this scent was never wrong, and he knew at once that there were dogs in this forsaken place once again.
Then, he made a clicking noise. Once.
Which basically meant that he was very, very, very pleased.
