Blackfeather Woods jack the ripper

there was a taste of blood on the air. one so pungent that it tickled the dark whiskers on the beast's face. he carried the taste of his last victim in the back of his throat like a sour reminder that he was still the way he was. it drove him to madness to know that he was trapped within the confines of a body with no soul. the devil would surely not have placed the markings there if he had not wanted the ghoul to attend. so, he did. 

the beast drew closer to the edges of the strange pack. from within, he scented life, but the macabre sighting of the bloody marks against their border was peculiar to him. sniffing closely to the edge of the terrain, the reaper felt his mind drift back to the days of his youth and the life that had been so prematurely stolen away from him. if he was dutiful, he was certain that he could steal it back. 

drawing his crown upward, the beast parted his lips and released a gurgled howl of summons for his acceptance into their lands. surely, it was what was destined to be.