The air stilled.
Caelun's looming silhouette emerged from the shadowed arch of Babel Tower, a mountain of silent menace swathed in a dark cloak. The savage adornments on his waist holding meathooks and the pelt of something too large to be a bear, rattled faintly with each step, and his head wreathed in blackened horns which changed shade wildly across wherever they grew from his body from deep bloody red to shiny pitch black to the puerest ivory, grew wildly and without purpose blending with a savage silver mane which seemed to blend with the thick body hair which would resemble the fur of an ape were it not a touch too thin, shined ominously in the full moon's light, golden eyes gleamed, old, predatory and super-natural, like nature's perfect curse upon the world. For a long breath, no one moved. Even the constant shuffle and murmur that usually filled the Guild Plaza fell into a hush so deep, the wings of a fly might've been heard above it.
Then came the whispers. Murmurs of the wicked yet regal savage which no doubt came from the depths of the dungeon not just because he was monstrous but because none would have missed something like that going in.
A guild employee, young and trembling beneath his green uniform and a sense of poorly-hidden dread, stepped forward. It was his duty to keep order, to identify threats that emerged from the Dungeon. But he was in no way equipped to deal with a group like this- a squad of level fives escorting what looked like a walking calamity. His voice faltered as he questioned Caelun's nature.
Carmine handled it.
She smiled and repeated their rehearsed excuse, the same paper-thin story they'd fed others along the way. "Tamed monster," she said. "Unusual, yeah- but docile enough to be transported outside the dungeon safely." Before the man could object, she slipped a small sack of coin into his chest with one hand and wrapped the other around his shoulders in a casual half-embrace, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Despite her abundant beauty her form radiated danger, thick musculature accentuated by her sleeveless steele cuirass, custom fitted for her, frankly massive bust, thick callused hands which spoke of a lifetime of combat visible through fingerless brown leather gloves fitted under steel bracers, thick treated leather pants reinforced with chainmail covered her wide ample hips and perfectly shaped thick muscular rear with thighs to match, completed with knee high steel sabatons, a shield bearing Ishtar's mark rested on her back accompanying a gnarly spiked mace, wich must have weighed at the very least 15 kg, each draped in her long flowing deep wavy crimson hair, He barely reached her collarbone. The message was clear. His jaw worked silently for a moment, then he turned to the slowly gathering crowd and barked an unconvincing order for them to carry on.
They did- but cautiously, eyes locked on the horned behemoth in their midst.
Caelun hated the attention. Reminded him of 'home'.
He could've moved more discreetly through the city on his own, flitting between alleyways and backstreets. But vanishing into the night now would only make things worse. A monster that suddenly disappeared into Orario would spark panic. Better to be seen and whispered about than hunted. So he walked, ignoring the fearful stares and the veiled murmurs that followed him like a second shadow.
The city changed gradually as they moved.
The streets became more decadent, the lights warmer, the air thicker with perfume and something more primal- more carnal. He noticed the shift immediately- the wary caution in people's eyes began to fade, replaced by a simmering curiosity. They had entered Ishtar's territory, he assumed, the goddess apparently presided over the concepts of passion, beauty and conquest, though that didn't mean those concepts weren't fiercely battled over.
Here, the glances that followed him were different. Still cautious, still wary of his power, but laced with something else entirely- intrigue, and to his slightly unsettled surprise, lust. Women passed in silken veils and thigh-slit dresses, their eyes drinking him in without shame, his exotic features, gargantuan stature and prominent horns giving him an otherworldly yet primitive allure. He recognized warriors in them too- Amazons, mostly= many of whom were clearly members of the Ishtar Familia. A few daring escorts even catcalled, one referring to him as a, and I quote- "walking monument of flesh." another far more blatant, clearly drunk and by extension far more rowdy shouted "SHOW US THAT COCK BIG BOY! Hahaha!"
Caelun froze. He felt heat bloom in his chest and rise into his cheeks. His face darkened, stained by the telltale black flush of his cursed blood. He cast his head downward. Saying he was unused to this treatment would be the understatement of the millennium.
The catcalls stopped abruptly. A cold sweat broke on the faces of those particularly boisterous few.
Every woman bold enough to voice her admiration was met with a scathing glare from Carmine with an accompanying sneer so ferocious it might as well have been a threat- no a promise of violence. She didn't say a word, but the look in her amethyst eyes made it clear- Caelun was hers. Like a bear defending its kill from a pack of hungry wolves.
He blushed deeper. But this time, he didn't look away, holding his head high and taking in the woman in front of him.
He was older than the city itself, older than many of the gods who resided in it. Yet being seen this way- desired, coveted- and solely for his might- was new. Entirely alien. But to feel that gaze from Carmine, to see her stake a quiet, possessive claim on him in front of so many...
He liked it.
They continued onward. The Red-Light District was a glittering thing of firelight and perfume, of pleasure houses and narrow balconies carved from marble and stone. Music drifted from behind silk-draped windows. People paused and turned as the party passed, whispering in rapid tongues about the horned monster who walked beside the warriors of Ishtar.
And then, before them, rose the temple.
A palace of stone and rosewood, covered in carvings of blooming flowers and coiling vines. Lanterns flickered within, casting gold light through stained glass. The very air around it seemed warmer, scented with incense and divine presence. Ostentatious, decadent- exactly what he expected.
He had arrived at the temple of Ishtar.
The center of the Red-Light District. The seat of a goddess whose beauty was matched only by her ambition.
The next stage of his journey had begun.