The hunter's words, fuelled by hate and anger, carried through the world, drifting through the thin veil that separated this world and The Other Place. Her chants landed on a thousand ears, causing all sorts of growling, screaming, chittering, yowling. A chant of blackness, of desire, of impure yearnings; this is what demon's lived for, with several of the creatures attempting to answer the summons, eager to corrupt the mind of some occult obsessed youngling, looking forward to nothing more than carrying out their every whim and watching the human's world fall down around them, laughing in the background, gleefully reminded them that it was all their fault. However, their attempts to answer were in vain, prompting several screams of frustration, the sounds echoing around The Other Place.<br/><br/>The human realm tugged at Pzloem's soul, forcing him to take a guise that a human could comprehend, not the strange, twisted monstrosities that roamed his home plane. He pondered for a moment, the pentagram filling with thick, acrid smoke, twins orbs of yellow staring out from within. From what he could see, the girl that stood before him was not the usual sort who called upon his kind for help. She was dressed far more formally than those who used the magics she was employing, or at least, she was dressed a different kind of formally: she had abandoned the robes and mask, instead opting for something far more... boring. The demon vaguely wondered if times had changed, if there was no show in summoning demons anymore. At least there was the blood: while it was technically necessary, it made the whole thing feel far more<i>proper</i>, and would make her job far easier than if she had forgone it.<br/><br/>The smoke slowly began to dissipate, revealing a creature which may have been comprehensible, was not pretty to look at: it had the head of a wolf, the snout encasing rows of sharpened, jagged teeth, the head crowned by the horns of a buck, twisted and scorched black by flame. The chest seemed like that a man, yet covered in light grey fur, the chest ripped open to expose bone and blood, a still beating heart visible. The front legs seemed too long and too frail, ending in spindly digits, the back legs also seeming oddly elongated, but ended in hooves, leaving he creature as tall as a man on all fours. It was a guise Pzloem had picked up many years ago, now one close to whatever passed for his heart.<br/><br/>The creature moved to the edge of the pentagram, lowering is face down to the floor, where the blood was pooling steadily. It sniffed at the stuff slowly, before looking up at it's summoner, stalking around the circle slowly as it focused on her with yellow eyes. "You're a hunter..." it said, voice sounding raw and broken. "Why are you summoning me? What could you possibly want from me?" The demon sounded angry, but equal parts confused. It dearly wanted to harm this human, but also wanted to know exactly what was going on, this not being a situation it was used to.