Selena's expression, though filled with pain, managed a smile at the screams and tears of the beast as the silver poured across its flesh. If it was unwilling to accept death silently, then it would have to suffer for its sins before ultimately facing justice. Then again, she couldn't be entirely sure it even felt pain, or whether this was just one more attempt at buying empathy where there was none.
It even attempted to reason with her. Like the monster had any thoughts of its own besides continuing its existence and spreading its own sickness to others. How did it know how long Selena could persist for? She had strength, she was justice. Even if her body perished, her spirit would persist, and it would hound this demon until she could drag them both into hell.
That was the price one paid, when one sought to struggle with demons.
Yes...if need be, there was that flask. The Hunter's Elixir, the forbidden drink, that damned the soul of those who consumed it in order to give them that extra strength to keep fighting. But Selena didn't need it. Not yet. Not when she had the monster right where she wanted it. "If you truly wish to repent," Selena repeated, and behind the wolf the remaining swords rose silently into the air, "then die."
And with one quick sweep of her wand, the remaining ten blades sliced forward to impale the beast.
Go tell that long tongue liar Go and tell that midnight rider Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down
Roan closed her eyes momentarily in frustration as Selena’s expression didn’t change. This woman wasn’t going to give up. She would chase Roan until she dropped and that wasn’t something she wanted on her conscious. Especially because she knew her strength and knew how hard that hit had to be if it took her full on without resistance. And the lycan was damn near sure she could have more endurance to get away than Selena had to chase. Desperate thoughts ran through her head mingled with the pain of her mangled hand and wrist. There was nothing she could do to stop this. Simply by making her mistake at the bank she had doomed them both to pain.
And then the woman was on the offensive again. The second her wand wrist moved Roan took action. She didn’t wait to see what spell was going to be shot at her, the lycan just dropped. Knowing Selena it could be a killing curse and she wasn’t going to chance it.
She shrieked in pain as she braced the drop with her wrists and her injured one bore the weight. Something whizzed over her head menacingly though the blinding burns from the silver kept her from thinking about it too much. Whimpering, Roan pushed herself up into a crouch and faced Selena again ready to run. She was done with this cat and mouse game, it was time to just put distance between herself and the witch because Selena could only apparate so much with that injury.
If this is to end in fire Then we shall all burn together Watch the flames climb high into the night
Selena was so certain of her victory, and beginning to feel the effects of her injury, that she was not prepared when the lycan dropped. The ten blades swam through the air to destroy the beast, but instead they all missed their target. Some flew the the air, piercing through clothing and clattering the racks to the floor, but one impaled its own mistress, and two others cut through her arms before falling to the floor.
The judge felt the blood running along her bare arms, exposed to the air through the cuts in her robe. The pain from the long blade in her stomach was sharp and deadly, and through heaving breaths she managed to turn it to dust. She gasped heavily, her vision beginning to swim. Damn the beast. Damn her own assurance in victory. Selena swallowed hard as the light became too much for her eyes.
The witch stumbled to the ground unconscious in a pool of her own blood.
Go tell that long tongue liar Go and tell that midnight rider Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down
Horror dawned on Roan’s face as she looked over Selena. Apparently she had more of those silver swords and those where what the spell was about. If the lycaness hadn’t ducked she would have surely died if not from impalement but from the silver burning inside her. Instead one had impaled her attacker and others had sliced her. Tears came harder. This wasn’t what she wanted! If Selena had just listened to her and let her go then nobody would have gotten hurt. Hell, if she had offered her a more passive way out other than ‘die’ then nobody would have gotten hurt.
The woman walked over and looked at the witch passed out on the ground in her own blood. The offending blade was dissolved and gone which was letting more blood flow freely. Roan didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want this woman to die and put another life on her account but she wasn’t going to stay around and help her. Desperately the lycaness looked around and saw the shopkeeper standing outside the shop in fear. Mustering a shaky deep breath she yelled at him. “Call for help and put pressure on her wound!” It was more than the woman deserved but Roan was determined not to be a murderer anymore.
Flight took over again. Heading back out the door she came in Roan stopped only to steal a cloak and a pair of shoes from the store. Holding both in her arms she took off again into the town.
If this is to end in fire Then we shall all burn together Watch the flames climb high into the night
Post by Leseur Follet on May 19, 2011 9:07:08 GMT -5
Leseur Follet had been away for a long time, too long in fact. He had needed a few things from his own country of France. Most of which had been a peace of mind. His days in Spain had begun to torment him. His own disease had driven him to wonder if his current career as a professor at a notable wizarding school could possibly continue. Yes, he had been able to somehow hide his lycanthropy as far as he could tell. How long could he have possibly kept up the ruse though? It would only be a matter of time before he was asked to perform a feat of magic with his wand or be exposed to silver somewhere down the line.The inevitable day when he was discovered had loomed over him like death watched all the souls of people on Earth.
And so he had made up an excuse for Talon Windwaltz that he had a sick relative in France and absolutely had to see to her recovery. He could leave without fear of losing his job immediately, however, whether he had been replaced remained to be seen.
The Herbology professor had dreaded seeing his family again after becoming a lycan. He didn't want to have his family see what he'd become. He had not gone back to see them. To them he would be a stranger. His family would expect to hear the stories and see if he'd learned any new charms or spells from the brilliant Windwaltz and all he would be able to do was wave his wand around like a muggle might try to. He would have preferred to have his family think he was dead than to lie to them.
Leseur Follet stood with a bag in each hand and eyed the familiar architecture which was so different from his native France. Drakborough was alive and bustling on this beautiful Spring day. The women wore their sun dresses and low cut shirts. The men had on their shorts, t-shirts, and tank tops. Everyone was apparently ready for the summer heat. Leseur himself wore a black tank top but kept on his familiar black jeans. His hair which had grown shaggy was back to it's normal styled lift in the front. Leseur was back, for the moment, anyhow.
The herbology professor walked by a shop where a crowd seemed to have just gathered and people were calling, "Doctor, get a Doctor!" and "Someone's hurt get help!". Leseur was a doctor, although he was limited by his non-magical capabilities he still could use herbs to heal. Pushing his way through the crowd, the "doctor" finally arrived at the gruesome scene. Blood and much evidence of a magical struggle. Was it the last Gucci purse on sale? Sexy heeled shoes? Only the witnesses and victims knew.
Either way, it was time to get to work. Leseur entered the circle of people that surrounded the bleeding woman and kneeled down with his bags and began searching through one. The scent of blood filled the room, at least for him. That's almost all he'd been able to smell since he walked into the shop, that and someone had shat themselves near the robes. It was awful.
After pulling out what he though might be needed to help the woman Leseur placed his hands on the woman to see if she still had a pulse. He felt a sensation similar to burning pins and needles. Was it silver dust? It must have been. He needed gloves to do this. Conveniently, a pair was within a few steps of his current position, this was a clothes store after all. He took a moment to look at the woman before getting back to work treating the woman.
Leseur immediately grabbed someone from the crowd, gave them a shirt and told them to hold it on the wound and apply pressure while he began mixing anything he could find within his bags that he thought might help and began applying it liberally to all the wounded areas. Time was of the essence and this woman had little of it left with all the blood she was losing.
In France, not only had the professor gained back his sense of sanity, he had also acquired some of Frances native healing herbs which he had used up previously in Spain. With this having happened he was glad he had the forethought to do so. He ground up some dark purple flowers in a pestle and made a fine purple powder. Crushing the flowers emitted a very strong and very dry, fruity smell like a white wine. He began sprinkling the crushed petals on the wounds and the blood began drying up over the wound creating scabs up and down her arms and on her torso. It would stop the bleeding temporarily until they got her to an actual hospital, was there even one nearby? The only place Leseur knew of that had a hospital was Firefox University. Would she have to go there? "Can anyone here apparate?" Said the professor desperately, gloves covered in blood.
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5