A dull flash of deeply coloured, unpleasant light, and Kobasratha formed within Vaulthuz's cave. The monster was an impressive figure of a black like midnight, muscular and bare-chested, with cold, blue eyes, softly glowing. About as tall as a large human, but with antler-shaped horns over a foot long which made him even taller. He had a number of spikes along his back, and a tough hide like an animal's. There was nothing animalistic, though, about the cruel intelligence betrayed by his horrid movements, and the way he examined his surroundings. He exuded an intimidating, otherworldly aura that would encourage any sane person to stay away if at all possible. He was a demon.

He strode swiftly and purposefully towards the entrance, pausing only briefly to acknowledge Vaulthuz, the creator of the portal that had brought them both to Ecetopia. He inclined his head in a show of respect to his superior, but said nothing. He simply continued on his way, leaving the cave and arriving at what he would later learn was called Riverdale. It didn't take him long to get to work. All he needed was a body to inhabit, then someone stupid or desperate. The first came quickly, as such a thing was easy to find this late, and the second soon followed.

To be specific, that second thing was a drunk, stumbling out of a tavern with several bruises and a broken nose. All fresh, as well. Perfect.

"Looks painful." Said Kobasratha, in the body of a thirty-something, brown-haired man, commenting on the drunk's injuries. "Someone do that to you on purpose?"

"So what?" The drunk replied. "Yeah, they did."

"Well, I could hardly imagine you're particularly happy with them right now, could I? Sounds to me like a little revenge is in order."

The drunk began to laugh. "Now yer talkin'. Did yer have anythin' par- partic- [i]particular[/i], in mind?" He said, struggling with the polysybillic word.

The conversation carried on for a few minutes longer, and soon they had a contract written up. Essentially, Kobasratha would grant him the power to enact his revenge, and in return the drunk would use that power in aid of Kobasratha until the death of his soul, or his release from the contract. What Kobasratha didn't explain was in what way the power would manifest. Then, once the contract was signed, in blood, of course, the change began.

Claws. Scales. Wings. A hawk's eyes and a bloudhound's nose. The drunk was not human any more. He was not particularly powerful by the standards of creatures like him, but he was far superior to a typical human and a match for a capable one. He was the first demon to be born on Ecetopia.

He grinned, and flew off in the dark, in search of his prey. In search of Mergoux.