The minion had no name of its own. A lowly creature, it knew what it was and what it served: its hunger and its queen. It snarled at the wretched thresh circling its kill, perhaps looking to rush in while it was distracted by feeding. Oh, and it was so easy to be distracted by this fine meal. Exactly how long had it been since any had tasted the meat of the frail two-legged creatures that screamed so sweetly when you bit into them?
The minion knew not.
Just that it had been too long. So many ages trapped in the UnderRealms, forced to hunt and feed on the creeping urmin and inferior thresh such as the two that bumbled through darkness behind him, splashing and grunting in the brackish brown waters that flooded the ruined village. Minion kept one eye trained on them but knew itself to be safe from attack while it remained in the pool of light where it had dragged the carcasses to feed in peace. Thresh did not stray into the light. It would burn the hide from their backs.
Minion grunted in good humor as it tore off a limb and stripped the meat from the bone by pulling the tasty treat out through three layers of fangs. So sweet and soft, not at all like the meat all minion recalled from the ancestor memories of long ago, when their kind moved upon the upper world with freedom. Legend dimly recalled these creatures as being much tougher and stringier on the fang. They often tasted sour, it was said, and it wasn’t unknown to have to spend a good long time chewing on their gristle and bones.
It pulled off a leg and crunched happily through the thick upper thigh, almost giddy with pleasure at the warm juices that still squirted and the rich, heady marrow that lay inside the bones. The meat was well marbled with fat, lots of gorgeous yellow fat.
Oh, Her Majesty was going to be pleased when minion reported back to her that the path to the upper realm was clear again.
As long as it could remember to save some of the feast for the offertory. It would not do to come before the throne with a full belly and empty claws. It had seen even daemonum superiorae go into the blood pot for less.
Minion snarled a warning into the dark as it sensed the thresh working up the nerve to charge, perhaps imagining that if they were quick enough, they might get in and out of the light without being too badly burned. It could understand that. The smell of fresh meat must be driving them to madness. Minion knew it was having trouble restraining itself as it drove a snout deep into the steaming, still-quivering viscera of one of the prey.
It just tasted so gooooooood.
So good indeed that minion, never really known for intelligence and restraint, did not pause to think about from where the light in which it squatted and ate was shining. It had imagined at first that the great golden armored beast on which the prey was riding would flee when it attacked. But no, it sat, seemingly uncaring of the fate of its masters, howling with a rhythmic thumping sound that reminded minion of mating season. Perhaps the chariot beast was in season, and if that was the case, waiting to see what the male of the species was like might be foolhardy on minion’s part. Its bright eyes shone forth, illuminating the remains of the meal. But no warmth shone from them. Not like the dangerous heat that pulsed off the fires this prey was known to carry through the night sometimes. Fire that could consume vampyri and Hunn and Fangr in a twinkling and that could harm and even kill a whole rank of minion were they foolish enough to remain exposed to it for too long.
The meat, however, was … distracting. It melted in the mouth and sat warm and heavy and pleasing in all of its stomachs. If only the prey had not died so quickly, minion might even have had the pleasure of a live meal and bloodwine, a delicacy so rare even in the older times that it was spoken of as myth. There were ancient minion it had known that claimed to have eaten so and spoke of a special tincture that infused the prey meat when they were allowed to baste in the juices of their own terror during a meal.
Minion doubted those stories now.
How anything could contain the hunger long enough to bother with such refinement, it did not know.
This meat was just so sweet.