Post by Sylph on Mar 5, 2007 5:25:55 GMT -5
So it was Romulus, was it? Fenrir's ally. Had the situation been less grave, had Hayzie death not been lingering on her frazzled mind, Sylph would have snorted in derisive laughter. Romulus, a young looking undead, suckling at the metaphorical teat of the great wolf, trailing around after his lycan friend like a child. He probably even had a brother called Remus in his real life, before he had been turned, just - of course - to complete the cliche. In the midst of the grief ridden forest though, any ironic humor there had been was utterly lost on Sylph, and at the Nosferatu's mention of Roan Sylph's purple head snapped around to stare at the fire mage, all other thoughts momentarily forgotten. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising that Roan had met a vampire before now. She was the adventurous type after all, stubbornly adventurous Sylph added absently, knowing that it was likely that it was this trait alone that had led the Hufflepuff into trouble, and it was well known that a family of Nosferatu dwelt in the mountains above Drakborough. What was surprising, however, was the vehemence with which Roan flew at the blood sucker, slapping him across his pallid face with shocking force before dragging him up by the scruff of the neck. Clearly there was more at work here than Roan's usual penchant for fighting beings more powerful than herself. What it was though, Sylph had no idea. Instinctively she tried to rise to help her friend, but her legs were weak, unsteady, and she remained stuck on the forest floor, looking helplessly on as whispers hissed from between clenched teeth. So much hate there...
It ended as Sylph knew it would, with the vampire's superior strength used to fling Roan away as if she were little more than a rag doll, and the pasty night dweller laughing. The noise grated on Sylph, re-sparking her anger. How dare he say that! Hayzie's death needed to be avenged, Sylph needed it, her sanity demanded it and if Romulus wanted to stand beside Fenrir in this fight, then he too would fall, immortal or otherwise. If silver was for Fenris, then wood would take care of this Romulus. And there was plenty for the taking in this dead wood forest. But there had been nothing to say that this walking corpse was going to take the wolf's side, or at least lift one of his clawed fingers to help the lycan in any physical fight. Why should Sylph attack him outright, as of yet unprovoked? She wouldn't win while her legs were int his state, quick movements would mean everything. Then again, if Romulus did start to attack them if and when Fenrir returned, the hunters would be fighting on two fronts - a hopeless endeavor. An uneasy silence fell, the two sides mute. Sylph's legs tensed reflexively.
Then, as before, she thought she caught the faint sound of footfalls. Fenrir was returning! Simultaneously her stomach sank and her heart lifted - either he would die, or she would. Hayzie's wand would not fail her this time. She focused all of her attention on her battered and aching legs, rubbing them vigorously. She had to be ready. Once she felt her limbs could support her weight she pushed herself up and groped for first the wand and then for the silver dagger. The shining blade was dulled with drying blood and other fluids, and it was in the moment when Sylph was wiping the weapon in the sparse grass that the great wolf-man entered the clearing once more in his typically self-important and pseudo-dramatic style, eye oozing horribly and blood trickling from a chest wound Sylph couldn't remember anyone here inflicting.
Gentlemanly?! she thought scornfully as he began yet another speech. That you are not. Murderer. Madman. He blustered on. Sylph drew herself up, slow and steady, and stared him down, her glittering green eyes staring into that face, that mask of death that had brought Hayzie to her doom. Her fingers clasped repeatedly at her borrowed wand. Automatic.
"I stand." It was a statement, flat and level, but a challenge also. "No sword to wield perhaps" - her lips curled savagely upward, fierce furious elation, battle-lust, never taking her blazing gaze from her enemy. "But I stand. I ask no other to aid me, but then, some I will never have to ask." A glance to Roan, to James, thus making her point, and her words ended, but mentally she threw a final parting shot at Fenrir's telepathic enabled brain. And when we are done with you, naught but crows meat on the game keeper's gibbet you shall be. As if prompted by her very thoughts, the Earth mage summoned his golem as a temporary shield. Sylph found herself admiring the man who had annoyed her so to begin with; he had talent indeed, she'd have to talk to him after all this was over - if she lived that long. If any of them lived that long.
OOC: bleugh. Lameness.
It ended as Sylph knew it would, with the vampire's superior strength used to fling Roan away as if she were little more than a rag doll, and the pasty night dweller laughing. The noise grated on Sylph, re-sparking her anger. How dare he say that! Hayzie's death needed to be avenged, Sylph needed it, her sanity demanded it and if Romulus wanted to stand beside Fenrir in this fight, then he too would fall, immortal or otherwise. If silver was for Fenris, then wood would take care of this Romulus. And there was plenty for the taking in this dead wood forest. But there had been nothing to say that this walking corpse was going to take the wolf's side, or at least lift one of his clawed fingers to help the lycan in any physical fight. Why should Sylph attack him outright, as of yet unprovoked? She wouldn't win while her legs were int his state, quick movements would mean everything. Then again, if Romulus did start to attack them if and when Fenrir returned, the hunters would be fighting on two fronts - a hopeless endeavor. An uneasy silence fell, the two sides mute. Sylph's legs tensed reflexively.
Then, as before, she thought she caught the faint sound of footfalls. Fenrir was returning! Simultaneously her stomach sank and her heart lifted - either he would die, or she would. Hayzie's wand would not fail her this time. She focused all of her attention on her battered and aching legs, rubbing them vigorously. She had to be ready. Once she felt her limbs could support her weight she pushed herself up and groped for first the wand and then for the silver dagger. The shining blade was dulled with drying blood and other fluids, and it was in the moment when Sylph was wiping the weapon in the sparse grass that the great wolf-man entered the clearing once more in his typically self-important and pseudo-dramatic style, eye oozing horribly and blood trickling from a chest wound Sylph couldn't remember anyone here inflicting.
Gentlemanly?! she thought scornfully as he began yet another speech. That you are not. Murderer. Madman. He blustered on. Sylph drew herself up, slow and steady, and stared him down, her glittering green eyes staring into that face, that mask of death that had brought Hayzie to her doom. Her fingers clasped repeatedly at her borrowed wand. Automatic.
"I stand." It was a statement, flat and level, but a challenge also. "No sword to wield perhaps" - her lips curled savagely upward, fierce furious elation, battle-lust, never taking her blazing gaze from her enemy. "But I stand. I ask no other to aid me, but then, some I will never have to ask." A glance to Roan, to James, thus making her point, and her words ended, but mentally she threw a final parting shot at Fenrir's telepathic enabled brain. And when we are done with you, naught but crows meat on the game keeper's gibbet you shall be. As if prompted by her very thoughts, the Earth mage summoned his golem as a temporary shield. Sylph found herself admiring the man who had annoyed her so to begin with; he had talent indeed, she'd have to talk to him after all this was over - if she lived that long. If any of them lived that long.
OOC: bleugh. Lameness.