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Stubborn was a part of her nature unfortunately. No matter the situation, the demon had a vice much like the rest of her race and her species and relatives. Pride was such a friendly sin though. She knew so many of them and THEY didn't have any problems like this. At least not that she knew of. THAT ASIDE, she had pride in her, (thanks great-grandpa) and she was living up to the sin fabulously. Getting beaten so many times hurt an ego but that was not going to stop her. She was determined and stubborn just like a roach! She could beat one of those mist monsters no problem. Determined to prove it, she'd spent the last hour trying to find another misty space in the haunted house.

It was proving more difficult than anticipated, and she nearly gave up when she'd happened by a set of double wooden doors. Twin trees carved into the woord. One last door she told herself. One last door. And just like that, the demoness found herself swallowed by white and shades of grey.


Sitting, almost expectantly was a grey and black and somewhat oddly growing green catlike being. Hissing with her mandibles that tended to remain in her face, Leva crouched, feelers trying to sense anything. Yet there was nothing but mist to her. Once again, she'd be fighting blind.

When normal claws failed her at her first shot, Leva switched gears. She'd try what came naturally. With a wide smile, her jaw unhinged, mouth parts moving as fire and a mass of sticky web shot from her maw at the creature. It hit, trapping the beast for a short while in the painfully burning web of sticky FEAR. The sight alone was enough to bolster Leva's spirits and have her trilling in absolute delight. She was the apex predator, and she would make all in this place kneel before her or die in their pitiful rebellion that was their ugly existence.

Nightmare demonesses, Leva thought, were just naturally, this good.


HP: 24
DMG: 9
Mob HP: 6

It was ironic that she would miss again and repeat the same mistake twice. Tail out, teeth in softer flesh. It had the demoness howling in rage and pain, spinning to free herself. This cat was going to pay dearly for that insult to her pride.

HP: 18
DMG: 2
Mob HP: 4

It was not a clean death she gave the thing. No. She had it by it's neck when she dove for it's face, her mouth parts unhinging as they gnashed and gnawed until naught was left but a raw stump and a lifeless husk that was quickly tossed aside.

She wiped her mouth and fluffed her hair and combed her feelers. Ah, such a rewarding kill. She ought to rip the throats of her prey out more often it seemed. Good for the stress.

HP: 12
DMG: 1
Mob HP: 0