Pathfinder: Circumscribing the Locust VII - Rakshasa Messiah

The following is based on the rakshasas detailed in Pathfinder: Curse of the Crimson Throne #3 

Clad in silk embrodiered with gold and gem stone, these exquisite specimens of flesh seemed like displaced royalty. Kings and queens with armies of glassy eyed attendants had made their way through the bustling town, with all in the marketplace parting before them hurriedly.

Carried within carriages left at the city gates and now within sandalwood planquins decorated with mother-of-pearl reliefs, they had finally decided to emerge to bask in awe and descending daylight. The sun burned orange as it descended, shining on the meager dirt street that led to their destination. The central, brahmin controlled temple with glyphs veiled in goldflake. Amongst a populace either too ignorant to recognize them in truth or too wise to impede them, these rakshasas approached the end of their pilgrimage without any regard for the gawking onlookers native to the region if not the city itself.

The people could not help but stare, for the dichtomy of possessing blood of this world interlocked with the Other that tethered their souls made the fiendish presence subtly intoxicating. This magnetism, along with appearance of being more beautiful than any most low caste would ever see in their lives, had drawn quite a few men and women, as evidenced by the flocking admirers and syncophants they'd gathered along the way.

A careful onlooker with an eye for fashion would remark that their beauty was contingent on the dance between flesh and clothing, between modesty and revelation. Never mind the powerful enchantments that hid bestial faces and fur, nor should one considered that silk covered those reversed appendages that no illusion could ultimately hide. Such features marked them as more than the mortals they had once been, fiends in truth but of a racial meritocracy one could join if one could only master the blessing of Samsara, if one could attain freedom from hated Moksha.

Yet even among these exalted reincarnationists one's debauchery and cruelty could result in further ascension, an inheritance of power continually given to oneself upon reentrance into this life. These fiends were the rulers and potentially the messiahs of their fellow rakshasas, and their returns cowed even the greatest, or at least the wisest, of the race's elders into visiting with gifts for the newborn in hand.

This particular rebirth, of this particular rakshasa maharaja, had called out to every member of this fell race from paths hedonism and scheming into something that could seen as religious fervor. Or perhaps it was more a passionate terror, for to these fiends this child heralded a coming slaughter. The weight of the reborn demigod pressed on their minds and souls as if it's arrival into the world had produced an imbalance, a debt that could only be paid by the departure of many lives in turn.
This was why they had brought the enthralled to this newly unhallowed ground, as a currency given in offering that they hoped would serve as a buffer between them and the finality they sensed was fast approaching.

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Hiding in curtains of sunfire and shadow, the fey woman of ebony complexion watched with orange eyes the admittance of the rakshasas into what the local populace believed to be a temple to the multitude of Vudrani gods. Sensing the need to render judgement in her seven marut companions, she turned to glance at them over an onyx shoulder and smiled as if too over eager children.

Her teeth were bright and flickering, having been chiseled from the same fires used to forge the swiftly setting sun.

"Remember, we have come to witness the birth. We do not come to punish, but instead only to learn."