Temozarela/Emicrade
Emicrade, The Clock Without Numbers Or Hands
Atop Temozarela's citadel (which is really an extension of Temozarela's form) there is a great clock, with no numbers and no hands. The great clockwork mechanisms hidden behind its milky white face tick away, inscrutable in their purpose. Occasionally, the mechanism will erupt outwards and go hunting, a great clockwork beast carved of bone and black Malfean iron, crackling with acidic green light. Emicrade, the most inscrutable of all of Tharalstrazix's souls, lurks within his burrow atop his lord Temozarela, biding his measureless time until he can escape and bring all continuity into unison and destroy the blasphemy of separated time.
Emicrade represents unmeasured time, whether the measurements are simply ignored, infinite, or unknown. His mind (if it can be called that) functions without solid time, and as such does not change. To Emicrade, all summonings are as one summoning, all wounds as one wound, all hunts as one hunt, all meals as one meal, all facts as one fact, all mysteries as one mystery. Emicrade lives his boredom as an eternity and an instant at once, and revels in the white-hot infinity collapsed into a second that is victory and slaughter.
He appears as a great beast, something like a cat, or perhaps some terrible lizard, at times like a boar, or some great worm or slug, or all of these at once. His every whirring component is soaked in a lubricant that causes all who touch it to erupt in hideous tumors. Every cog and gear, every whirring wheel, is razor-sharp and fiercely strong. Eyes it has wherever the acidic lightning that is its life-energy shows through its mechanical shell. These gateways to madness are its only weak point. They can open and close in a heartbeat, so it is useless to strike at them. Great chunks of the living mechanism must be torn away to open holes large enough to score blows.
The ticking of clocks and the ringing of bronze bells is agony to Emicrade, and he cannot enter a domicile at noon if the inhabitants know it is noon, or have some inkling of the notion that it might be noon or thereabouts outside.
Offspring
Nemmu, The Wide-Eyed With Blank Stares
The nemmu are less prolific than some demons, but not rare by any means. They are roughly 2 feet in height, and are docile and largely harmless. In appearance, they are potbellied imps with stumpy limbs, small mouths and ears, and a single large eye that is nearly 6 inches in height, and almost 8 inches wide. Their one extraordinary gift is hidden in this gargantuan organ. When a nemmu turns its blank gaze on an object, it can instantly draw that object into a small pocket universe free of ordered time. A flower can slumber within and emerge fresh as the day it was picked. A piece of toast can be sucked within, and emerge cold but not stale. The timelessness is not logical, and so it is unwise to hide living things within the nemmu, for they will experience every instant of the time missed, and possibly much more, but without any of the physical side effects. The nemmu absorb objects apparently at random if given free will, and are often used as handy storage devices by their summoners. They are calm and placid, or appear so at least, and their willing service can be secured by an offering of a squash or a broken hourglass.
Longrenhimm, The Scissor Men
The longrenhimm keep to the shadows of Malfeas, for their kind have an emnity with Ligier and his offspring whose root cause is not spoken of. They are nearly six feet in height, and resemble humans in the vaguest sense possible. What they really call to mind is a gigantic ostrich with chainsaws for skin. Long-necked, with hooked steel beaks and thousands of tiny blades on chains that never stop writhing and clicking along covering their metal skeletons and crackling green life-force, they are heralded by a clicking noise like knucklebones on a tiled floor when they are calm, and a fearsome shrieking when angered or fearful. They love the scent of fear extruded by all denizens of creation, and as such are given to tormenting and toying with their prey before moving in for the kill, inevitably near a very public place, into which they will usually toss the corpse after savaging it and feeding. They can be enticed into service by the promise of fear and savage violence. If one is demonstrably more powerful than a longrenhimm, the creature will not disobey or attack them unless ordered to do so by either their summoner, a more powerful demon, or someone yet more powerful than the person in question, or unless they think they can get away with it.
